Latest news with #TheAthenianMercury
Yahoo
07-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
What Kind of Questions Did 17th-Century Daters Have?
Not long after my partner and I exchanged our first 'I love you's, I made an embarrassing confession. In the weeks leading up to the occasion, I had Googled how long one should wait before declaring their love, and combed through dozens of forums and articles in search of guidance. With relief, my partner blurted out: 'I did the same thing!' I imagined us both whispering our mutual question into the search bar, seeking a faceless chorus of counsel. We were far from the first to anonymously seek romantic prescriptions from strangers. In 1694, a lovelorn inquirer wrote to The Athenian Mercury, a periodical published by the English printer John Dunton, with a question not unlike mine: 'A lady who is in love desires to know how she may decently convince the other person of her passion?' The response she received from the paper's team of experts—that is, Dunton and his two brothers-in-law, under the guise of the 'Athenian Society'—was surprisingly sympathetic: 'Indeed, Madam, it's a ticklish point,' they replied, 'and you should know a man well before you try anything … To be plain with you, we find men to be an ungrateful sort of animal in such cases … But the best way will be to do it as decently as you can.' The Athenian Mercury, which consisted entirely of questions and answers, ran for six years starting in 1691 and received thousands of inquiries, many of them attempts at sussing out the tacit rules of dating and romance. As the historian Mary Beth Norton writes in the introduction to her delightful new book, 'I Humbly Beg Your Speedy Answer,' which collects and comments on a wide array of Q&As from the paper, many questioners invoked dilemmas that still vex people today: how to manage unrequited affections; how to extract oneself from a regrettable entanglement; how to recover from being 'slighted,' or ghosted, by your beloved. (Though not all are so relatable: One woman wrote in 1693 that she 'had the misfortune to have a young gentleman fall in love with me to such a degree that he became distracted and died.') Dispensing relationship advice was far from Dunton's mind when he launched the paper, which he referred to as 'the question project.' About half a century before Diderot's Encyclopédie, and three centuries before the invention of Google, Dunton intended to cater to the learned male patrons of London's new coffeehouses, who sought to educate themselves on subjects including science, medicine, and law. Readers sent in many such questions ('What is a star?' 'What causes smallpox?' 'Dancing, is it lawful?'), but the format naturally appealed to the perennial, very human confusion about how to navigate sex, love, and marriage. Soon enough, Dunton and his co-editors were flooded with queries such as 'How shall a man know when a lady loves him?' and 'Who are wisest, those that marry for love or for convenience?' [Read: Love is magic—and also hormones] Although both men and women wrote to The Athenian Mercury for romantic advice, Norton notes, Dunton tended to group questions about personal relationships under 'ladies issues.' More than 300 years later, relationship-advice columns are still often dismissed as frothy features of women's magazines. But throughout their long history, they have evolved in complicated ways, reflecting the winding path of gender politics—even as they have remained true to a single constant: Love is confusing and hard. Two of the most popular advice columns of the 20th century—Elizabeth Gilmer's 'Dorothy Dix Talks,' which ran from 1896 to 1950, and Elsie Robinson's 'Cry on Geraldine's Shoulder,' which doled out answers from 1920 to 1961—were informed by their authors' own experiences in unhappy marriages, as well as their relatively progressive views of women's rights. Their widely syndicated columns had major influence. In Asking for a Friend, Jessica Weisberg argues that Dix wielded outsize power over romantic norms. Weisberg cites a 1929 study on cultural mores in Muncie, Indiana, which found that Dix's column helped dictate townspeople's ideas about marriage—among them the notion that a wife should be more than 'a domestic drudge.' Robinson, for her part, advocated explicitly for gender equality. 'I'm tired of hearing the differences of men and women emphasized and exploited,' she wrote in 1922. 'It has built a wicked wall between the sexes and it's time we knocked it down.' According to Listen, World!, Julie Scheeres and Allison Gilbert's book about the columnist, Robinson recognized that women were often made to feel frivolous and isolated; she offered them a much needed sense of affirmation. 'Is your husband or your complexion growing dull?' she wrote in her announcement for 'Cry on Geraldine's Shoulder.' 'Let us then discuss the value of soft soap on complexions—and husbands … We shall sit together on the edge of the world. You have wanted a friend. I'M IT.' But advice columns have not always been sources of validation and solidarity. Despite her relatively liberal leanings, Dix was also 'a stern foe of sexual irregularity among her readership,' per a 1936 profile in Time magazine. As for the advisers behind The Athenian Mercury, they shared what Norton calls 'a broadly based Protestant outlook' and often frowned on what they deemed sexual misbehavior, including homosexual relationships and premarital sex. Some of the more insidious romantic-advice columns in the U.S. flourished after World War II, with the aim of disciplining women dissatisfied by marriage, who were beginning to articulate 'the problem that has no name' years before The Feminine Mystique. In No Fault, her memoir about divorce, Haley Mlotek discusses the history of such columns, including 'Can This Marriage Be Saved?,' which ran in Ladies' Home Journal from 1953 to 2014. In the early decades of the column, the answer to the titular question was nearly always yes, no matter how severe the wife's grievance. (The first columnist behind it, Paul Popenoe, was a known eugenicist whose zeal for marriage stemmed from a desire to propagate the 'fit'—that is, middle-class, able-bodied white people.) When a feminist collective staged a sit-in at the magazine's offices in 1970 demanding to edit a 'liberated' issue of the Journal, it decided to rename 'Can This Marriage Be Saved?' to 'Should This Marriage Be Saved?' (One member reportedly suggested that they simply shorten it to the more declarative 'Can This Marriage.') [Read: A divorce memoir with no lessons] Indeed, over the past century, many romantic-advice columns have functioned as one tentacle of what the scholar Jane Ward calls the 'heterosexual-repair industry,' which peddles advice based on the irreconcilable differences between straight men and women. 'Marriage experts recognized men's disinterest and violence toward women, and women's resentment and fear of men, as fundamental obstacles for straight relationships,' Ward writes in The Tragedy of Heterosexuality. As a result, Ward argues, early advice givers were more interested in perpetuating heterosexual unions—that is, framing men and women's mutual illegibility as natural—than in trying to improve gender relations. Notably, centuries earlier, the Athenian Society had urged women to be more skeptical of men—'the inconstancy, levity, and prejudices of our own sex being so very notorious'—rather than simply accept their faults. Today, the lovelorn more frequently eschew the authority of columnists in favor of crowdsourced advice. (I, for one, consulted a Quora forum as well as a number of magazine articles to answer my question.) As a result, relationship guidance has become more democratic but also more diffuse. On the subreddit r/relationship_advice, which has 16 million members, single posts can draw hundreds of responses, many of them conflicting. The greater autonomy people have today to make their own romantic decisions can feel simultaneously empowering and confusing. What's more, many people are dogged by the suspicion that they're living through the nadir of heterosexual love, which appears to be buckling under various pressures: Many men are falling behind educationally and economically, and, for some people, the logic of optimization has made dating feel like a chore. Where, internet denizens wonder, have all the 'real lovers' gone? But reading 'I Humbly Beg Your Speedy Answer' confirms that even when the norms of courtship and marriage were far more codified, and options in love and life were far more limited, dating was still an anxiety-riddled endeavor. 'There are indeed so many equivocations in love that it's much easier to be in the wrong than in the right,' the Athenian Society wrote to a reader who asked how a woman can tell whether a man is courting her 'for marriage or for diversion.' There was no code to crack, no hack to deploy. Romance is, after all, the ultimate test of one's judgment—which is why we so often outsource that deliberative labor and defer to the advice of others. But, as the Athenian Society told an inquirer in 1692, one thing remains as certain as ever: 'If you're a true lover, you can't despair at a little hardship.' Article originally published at The Atlantic
Atlantic
07-05-2025
- General
- Atlantic
The Surprising History of Romantic Advice
Not long after my partner and I exchanged our first 'I love you's, I made an embarrassing confession. In the weeks leading up to the occasion, I had Googled how long one should wait before declaring their love, and combed through dozens of forums and articles in search of guidance. With relief, my partner blurted out: 'I did the same thing!' I imagined us both whispering our mutual question into the search bar, seeking a faceless chorus of counsel. We were far from the first to anonymously seek romantic prescriptions from strangers. In 1694, a lovelorn inquirer wrote to The Athenian Mercury, a periodical published by the English printer John Dunton, with a question not unlike mine: 'A lady who is in love desires to know how she may decently convince the other person of her passion?' The response she received from the paper's team of experts—that is, Dunton and his two brothers-in-law, under the guise of the 'Athenian Society'—was surprisingly sympathetic: 'Indeed, Madam, it's a ticklish point,' they replied, 'and you should know a man well before you try anything … To be plain with you, we find men to be an ungrateful sort of animal in such cases … But the best way will be to do it as decently as you can.' The Athenian Mercury, which consisted entirely of questions and answers, ran for six years starting in 1691 and received thousands of inquiries, many of them attempts at sussing out the tacit rules of dating and romance. As the historian Mary Beth Norton writes in the introduction to her delightful new book, 'I Humbly Beg Your Speedy Answer,' which collects and comments on a wide array of Q&As from the paper, many questioners invoked dilemmas that still vex people today: how to manage unrequited affections; how to extract oneself from a regrettable entanglement; how to recover from being 'slighted,' or ghosted, by your beloved. (Though not all are so relatable: One woman wrote in 1693 that she 'had the misfortune to have a young gentleman fall in love with me to such a degree that he became distracted and died.') Dispensing relationship advice was far from Dunton's mind when he launched the paper, which he referred to as 'the question project.' About half a century before Diderot's Encyclopédie, and three centuries before the invention of Google, Dunton intended to cater to the learned male patrons of London's new coffeehouses, who sought to educate themselves on subjects including science, medicine, and law. Readers sent in many such questions ('What is a star?' 'What causes smallpox?' 'Dancing, is it lawful?'), but the format naturally appealed to the perennial, very human confusion about how to navigate sex, love, and marriage. Soon enough, Dunton and his co-editors were flooded with queries such as 'How shall a man know when a lady loves him?' and 'Who are wisest, those that marry for love or for convenience?' Although both men and women wrote to The Athenian Mercury for romantic advice, Norton notes, Dunton tended to group questions about personal relationships under 'ladies issues.' More than 300 years later, relationship-advice columns are still often dismissed as frothy features of women's magazines. But throughout their long history, they have evolved in complicated ways, reflecting the winding path of gender politics—even as they have remained true to a single constant: Love is confusing and hard. Two of the most popular advice columns of the 20th century—Elizabeth Gilmer's 'Dorothy Dix Talks,' which ran from 1896 to 1950, and Elsie Robinson's 'Cry on Geraldine's Shoulder,' which doled out answers from 1920 to 1961—were informed by their authors' own experiences in unhappy marriages, as well as their relatively progressive views of women's rights. Their widely syndicated columns had major influence. In Asking for a Friend, Jessica Weisberg argues that Dix wielded outsize power over romantic norms. Weisberg cites a 1929 study on cultural mores in Muncie, Indiana, which found that Dix's column helped dictate townspeople's ideas about marriage—among them the notion that a wife should be more than 'a domestic drudge.' Robinson, for her part, advocated explicitly for gender equality. 'I'm tired of hearing the differences of men and women emphasized and exploited,' she wrote in 1922. 'It has built a wicked wall between the sexes and it's time we knocked it down.' According to Listen, World!, Julie Scheeres and Allison Gilbert's book about the columnist, Robinson recognized that women were often made to feel frivolous and isolated; she offered them a much needed sense of affirmation. 'Is your husband or your complexion growing dull?' she wrote in her announcement for 'Cry on Geraldine's Shoulder.' 'Let us then discuss the value of soft soap on complexions—and husbands … We shall sit together on the edge of the world. You have wanted a friend. I'M IT.' But advice columns have not always been sources of validation and solidarity. Despite her relatively liberal leanings, Dix was also 'a stern foe of sexual irregularity among her readership,' per a 1936 profile in Time magazine. As for the advisers behind The Athenian Mercury, they shared what Norton calls 'a broadly based Protestant outlook' and often frowned on what they deemed sexual misbehavior, including homosexual relationships and premarital sex. Some of the more insidious romantic-advice columns in the U.S. flourished after World War II, with the aim of disciplining women dissatisfied by marriage, who were beginning to articulate 'the problem that has no name' years before The Feminine Mystique. In No Fault, her memoir about divorce, Haley Mlotek discusses the history of such columns, including 'Can This Marriage Be Saved?,' which ran in Ladies' Home Journal from 1953 to 2014. In the early decades of the column, the answer to the titular question was nearly always yes, no matter how severe the wife's grievance. (The first columnist behind it, Paul Popenoe, was a known eugenicist whose zeal for marriage stemmed from a desire to propagate the 'fit'—that is, middle-class, able-bodied white people.) When a feminist collective staged a sit-in at the magazine's offices in 1970 demanding to edit a 'liberated' issue of the Journal, it decided to rename 'Can This Marriage Be Saved?' to 'Should This Marriage Be Saved?' (One member reportedly suggested that they simply shorten it to the more declarative 'Can This Marriage.') Indeed, over the past century, many romantic-advice columns have functioned as one tentacle of what the scholar Jane Ward calls the 'heterosexual-repair industry,' which peddles advice based on the irreconcilable differences between straight men and women. 'Marriage experts recognized men's disinterest and violence toward women, and women's resentment and fear of men, as fundamental obstacles for straight relationships,' Ward writes in The Tragedy of Heterosexuality. As a result, Ward argues, early advice givers were more interested in perpetuating heterosexual unions—that is, framing men and women's mutual illegibility as natural—than in trying to improve gender relations. Notably, centuries earlier, the Athenian Society had urged women to be more skeptical of men—'the inconstancy, levity, and prejudices of our own sex being so very notorious'—rather than simply accept their faults. Today, the lovelorn more frequently eschew the authority of columnists in favor of crowdsourced advice. (I, for one, consulted a Quora forum as well as a number of magazine articles to answer my question.) As a result, relationship guidance has become more democratic but also more diffuse. On the subreddit r/relationship_advice, which has 16 million members, single posts can draw hundreds of responses, many of them conflicting. The greater autonomy people have today to make their own romantic decisions can feel simultaneously empowering and confusing. What's more, many people are dogged by the suspicion that they're living through the nadir of heterosexual love, which appears to be buckling under various pressures: Many men are falling behind educationally and economically, and, for some people, the logic of optimization has made dating feel like a chore. Where, internet denizens wonder, have all the 'real lovers' gone? But reading ' I Humbly Beg Your Speedy Answer' confirms that even when the norms of courtship and marriage were far more codified, and options in love and life were far more limited, dating was still an anxiety-riddled endeavor. 'There are indeed so many equivocations in love that it's much easier to be in the wrong than in the right,' the Athenian Society wrote to a reader who asked how a woman can tell whether a man is courting her 'for marriage or for diversion.' There was no code to crack, no hack to deploy. Romance is, after all, the ultimate test of one's judgment—which is why we so often outsource that deliberative labor and defer to the advice of others. But, as the Athenian Society told an inquirer in 1692, one thing remains as certain as ever: 'If you're a true lover, you can't despair at a little hardship.'
Telegraph
06-04-2025
- General
- Telegraph
‘Not so hasty, good sir!': sex tips from the world's first advice column
The idea that would lead to the world's first personal advice column came to John Dunton while he was walking through a London park, one spring day in 1691. Dunton, a 29-year-old printer who liked to hang out in the capital's coffeehouses having wide-ranging discussions with his male peers over the newfangled drink, was looking for a discreet and efficient way to help them fill gaps in their knowledge. His solution, when it came, was simple. He would publish a twice-weekly broadsheet – cheap to produce and widely distributed by the capital's street vendors – filled with anonymous readers' questions, and with the answers supplied by Dunton and his two brothers-in-law, Richard Sault, a mathematician, and Samuel Wesley, a clergyman. Anonymity was key. Imagine a coffeehouse crowd (predominantly young and exclusively male) discussing astronomy. What if one of them did not know whether the Earth revolved around the sun or the other way round, but was afraid to reveal his ignorance? He could submit his question in confidence to Dunton's broadsheet, then read the response in a later issue. The Athenian Mercury, as the paper soon became known, would function as a kind of early-modern search engine. The first issue was printed on March 17 1691; today, we would say that Dunton's proposal went viral. Within weeks, so many letters were flooding in that the Athenians (as Dunton and his associates styled themselves) were asking, futilely, for men to stop sending queries until further notice, so that they could respond to the backlog of inquiries. Then, in the 13th issue, a reader presented an altogether different set of questions. Among other things, he asked if people too often married for money rather than love, and whether couples were marrying too young. There followed an even more unexpected query, from a 'lady in the country', asking whether women could also submit questions. Now, the Athenians would have to rethink the very identity of their readers, since henceforth they would be responding to questions not only from beyond the city limits, but, more surprisingly, from 'the ingenious of either sex'. And so The Athenian Mercury evolved into the world's first personal-advice column: not because Dunton had intended that outcome, but because the readers demanded it. Some of the questions (a selection of which are reproduced below, along with the Mercury's responses) were general in nature: 'Is there any real force in charms, amulets, love-powder, potions, etc., to procure love?' asked one reader in September 1691. 'The only lawful charm to procure love, is love,' the Athenians replied, 'attended with zeal, assiduity, and discretion, and illustrated with fair and virtuous actions.' The first of what would be numerous scandalous questions also arrived before the year was out. Adopting a common ruse (recognised by the Athenians), a man claimed that he was writing on behalf of someone else: 'A friend of mine is like to have a child fathered on him,' he wrote. 'The mother confesses he never lay with her but once and then she was a maid. Query: whether it is possible to lose a maidenhead and conceive a child at the same time?' The Athenians responded in accordance with the belief, prevalent in the 1690s, that a woman could not become pregnant unless she had reached orgasm. 'A maid the first time undergoes too much of the rack and torture to be capable of acting her part effectually,' they replied. 'In addition, a young man's eagerness pushes him to do what is natural for him to do before the critical time. No physician will be so uncharitable as not to allow a possibility of an act of this nature, yet most would place it amongst those things that are next to impossibilities.' Female readers also sought advice about sexual misbehaviour. 'An impoverished gentleman on whom nature has lavished her stock to render him an unresisted instrument of melting the breasts of the softer sex has allured that gift from me which is only due to a husband and would willingly marry me,' wrote one, in July 1693. 'But my fortune being inconsiderable, I fear I should render myself despicable and irretrievably poor. My friends (relatives) have introduced a gentleman of an inviting estate, whose person I could like, had I not first seen my handsome deceiver. I am wracked with confusion what resolution I shall take.' The Athenians replied – as they usually did to such queries – with moral admonitions: 'First, repent; then either remain unmarried or marry him that has been so well acquainted with you, for you cannot justly marry any other. We had not printed this but that others might take warning by your example.' Although the letters were anonymous, they afford us extraordinary insights into personal lives in the past. For readers, the thrill of learning about others' transgressions was irresistible. The Mercury ran for six years; by the time the final issue was printed, on June 17 1697, the content had shifted towards essays and poetry. Along with his own declining health, Dunton's grief over his wife's death in May 1697 seemingly contributed to his decision to cease publication. He then took a course of action the Athenians themselves had advised against – quickly remarrying for money. When his wealthy, widowed mother-in-law realised his motive, she refused to finance him further, and he and his new wife soon separated. Which only goes to prove, perhaps, that when it comes to matters of the heart, however expert one becomes in other people's problems, solving one's own is rarely a walk in the park. 'Not so hasty, good sir!': 10 Questions Answered On ... Seduction Kissing Masturbation The Evils of Coffee Marrying for Money Honesty Being the Best Policy Disappointing One's Parents Lesbian Love Marrying without Maidenhood Adultery Seduction Q: A lady who is in love desires to know how she may decently convince the other person of her passion? A: Indeed, Madam, it's a ticklish point, and you should know a man well before you try anything... The best way will be to do it as decently as you can. First try to lead him into knowing how you feel. If that does not work, write to him. Then if that fails, tell him frankly about it, and so accustom him to your feelings that he may be forced to love you in his own defence. But be well assured of his attitude before you venture on to marriage. Kissing Q: Is interrupting discourse by repeated kisses rude and unmannerly and more apt to create aversion than love? A: Not so hasty, good sir! You have made great progress indeed in your amour... The truth is, kissing is a luscious diet... He must therefore remember to feed cautiously, as if he were eating melons. Moderation verily is an excellent thing, which he must observe... and kiss as well as talk, with discretion. Masturbation Q: I am a young man and very much addicted to a vice which I assuredly know to be a great offence against God... I made a vow not to commit the said sin until such a time was expired in hopes by such a course I should in time stop it. But before the time expired, I happened to see others committing the said sin, at which time I unhappily, though much against my will, did commit it, though I had no inclination to it. Query: whether by this I have broken my vow and what I ought to do for the future to keep it better? A: First, you did ill to promise not to commit it until such a time, whereas you should have resolved the same for your entire lifetime. By God's grace, that certainly was in your power as to this particular sin... Example can never require behaviour though it may strongly incline either to good or evil... Whence it follows that you have as much broken your vow as he who commits adultery has broken the seventh commandment. Our advice on the whole is that you heartily ask God Almighty's pardon for it, resolving by his grace never more to commit it; and that you devoutly and constantly attend the public service if possible every weekday and at least twice every Sunday... The Evils of Coffee Q: I'm now courting a young lady who is very agreeable, her fortune and quality being equal to my birth and estate. But the problem is that she drinks an unsufferable amount of coffee, which I think is the reason for her coyness and aversion to my courtship. She has an aversion for me and therefore I hope some way may be found to make her less cruel. I beg your advice in this matter. A: It's not likely we can persuade the lady not to drink this stygian liquor if you yourself have no power over her. We know only two ways. Either get some of her friends to tell her the dangerous effects of coffee in both sexes – that it will make her look old, spoil her teeth, and the like... Or if that does not work, drink excessive amounts of coffee yourself in front of her until you have topped her consumption. Resolve to drink it as long as she does. Then possibly she will be influenced by her pity for your circumstances and fear that such intemperance will injure you, bringing on some paralytical distemper. This is especially true if she intends to marry you, for she won't want to set you so poor an example. Marrying for Money Q: Is it permissible to marry a person one cannot love in compliance to relations and to get an estate? A: The question must be answered in the negative, since such a practice would be the most cruel and imprudent thing in the world. Without love neither pleasure, profit or honour can be found in marriage. He then or she that marry for so base an end as profit without any possibility or prospect of love is guilty of the highest brutality imaginable... As one wittily observes, it is too general a truth to be feared that he who marries a woman he could never love will soon love a woman he never married. Honesty Being the Best Policy Q: Would it be greater prudence and honesty for a person of a narrow fortune to conceal his unhappy circumstances until after marriage or to make his mistress acquainted with the same as soon as he has gained her affections? A: We should think it the most prudent and most handsome way to reveal it to her before marriage, for a woman of sense will rather be pleased than otherwise that she can make the fortunes of a gentleman... But she might resent it very ill if a cheat should be put upon her, when she once comes to know it. Disappointing One's Parents Q: I am a young woman that has been very dutiful to my parents, but now they have proposed a match for me whom I cannot love. Therefore I humbly desire your advice: how shall I discharge my duty: shall I oblige my parents and live an uncomfortable life or disoblige them by refusing what they so earnestly importune me to? This is a real matter of fact, therefore I desire your speedy answer. A: As a child can't lawfully dispose of itself without the consent of its parents, so on the other side, we don't understand that the parents can marry their children without their consent... We think the many unhappy examples of such matches should prevail with parents. We think children are not undutiful if they deny their compliance. Lesbian Love Q: Is it possible for one woman to love another as passionately and constantly as if the love were between different sexes? A: As constantly they soon may, but as passionately how should they, unless they are a man turned into a woman? Marrying Without Maidenhood Q: I am a very young woman, of some quality and very pretty... A certain lewd and infamous disturber of my honour has, to be plain, been a little too busy where he had nothing to do. But I have since had the good fortune to enter matrimony... and I managed all things so that my husband knew nothing of the matter. However, I'm since my marriage extremely troubled for the cheat I've put upon him and the injury I conceive I have done him, which has so afflicted my mind that my body sympathises with it. I'm worn away to a mere skeleton. Your advice? A: Why did you marry him, which you ought not in strict virtue and honour to have done?... You ought to have been the wife of your first acquaintance or else always to have lived unmarried. We think you are however not obliged to accuse yourself to any upon earth. Yet you need to do it before heaven and endeavour to expiate your former habitual lewdness with one and cheat on the other by a continued hearty penitence. Adultery Q: I have long lived in an unlawful though successful amour. I have enjoyed all the favours that a lovely young woman can bestow. I am very sensible of the sin I commit, as well as the injury I do the husband... I therefore beg your advice what measures I shall take... to avoid the lovely tempter, who will not fail to press me to a continuance of our passion, which I am resolved to quit. A: In answer, we first hope the gentleman is in earnest and that he needs no more arguments to convince him of the absolute necessity there is of his leaving this damnable sin. He asks what measures he shall take to avoid her. But we'll go further, as we suppose the querist desires, and direct him how to break off entirely. This we'd advise him not to do personally... but by letter, in which if he please he may enclose this paper, which perhaps may make the breach incurable. If it does, so much the better, for he'll have the less trouble afterward. I Humbly Beg Your Speedy Answer, by Mary Beth Norton (Princeton University Press, £20), will be published on April 22
