Chapter XXXVIII: Introduction (38)

I am very far from being an Enemy to Church Musick; but fear this
Abuse of it may make my _Parish_ ridiculous, who already look on the
Singing Psalms as an Entertainment, and no Part of their Devotion:
Besides, I am apprehensive that the Infection may spread, for Squire
_Squeekum_, who by his Voice seems (if I may use the Expression) to be
cut out for an _Italian_ Singer, was last _Sunday_ practising the same
Airs.

I know the Lady's Principles, and that she will plead the Toleration,
which (as she fancies) allows her Non-Conformity in this Particular;
but I beg you to acquaint her, That Singing the Psalms in a different
Tune from the rest of the Congregation, is a Sort of Schism not
tolerated by that Act.

_I am, SIR, Your very humble Servant,_ R. S.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

In your Paper upon Temperance, you prescribe to us a Rule of
drinking, out of Sir _William Temple_, in the following Words; _The
first Glass for myself, the second for my Friends, the third for
Good-humour, and the fourth for mine Enemies_. Now, Sir, you must
know, that I have read this your _Spectator_, in a Club whereof I am a
Member; when our President told us, there was certainly an Error in
the Print, and that the Word _Glass_ should be _Bottle;_ and therefore
has ordered me to inform you of this Mistake, and to desire you to
publish the following _Errata:_ In the Paper of _Saturday, Octob._
13, Col. 3. Line 11, for _Glass_ read _Bottle_.

_Yours_, Robin Good-fellow.

L.

[Footnote 1: Metaphor,]

[Footnote 2: that]

[Footnote 3: As the Roderigo whose money Iago used.]

[Footnote 4: Thomas Sternhold who joined Hopkins, Norton, and others in translation of the Psalms, was groom of the robes to Henry VIII. and Edward VI.]

L.

* * * * *

No. 206. Friday, October 26, 1711. Steele.

Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit,
A Diis plura feret--

Hor.

There is a Call upon Mankind to value and esteem those who set a moderate Price upon their own Merit; and Self-denial is frequently attended with unexpected Blessings, which in the End abundantly recompense such Losses as the Modest seem to suffer in the ordinary Occurrences of Life. The Curious tell us, a Determination in our Favour or to our Disadvantage is made upon our first Appearance, even before they know any thing of our Characters, but from the Intimations Men gather from our Aspect. A Man, they say, wears the Picture of his Mind in his Countenance; and one Man's Eyes are Spectacles to his who looks at him to read his Heart. But tho that Way of raising an Opinion of those we behold in Publick is very fallacious, certain it is, that those, who by their Words and Actions take as much upon themselves, as they can but barely demand in the strict Scrutiny of their Deserts, will find their Account lessen every Day. A modest Man preserves his Character, as a frugal Man does his Fortune; if either of them live to the Height of either, one will find Losses, the other Errors, which he has not Stock by him to make up. It were therefore a just Rule, to keep your Desires, your Words and Actions, within the Regard you observe your Friends have for you; and never, if it were in a Man's Power, to take as much as he possibly might either in Preferment or Reputation. My Walks have lately been among the mercantile Part of the World; and one gets Phrases naturally from those with whom one converses: I say then, he that in his Air, his Treatment of others, or an habitual Arrogance to himself, gives himself Credit for the least Article of more Wit, Wisdom, Goodness, or Valour than he can possibly produce if he is called upon, will find the World break in upon him, and consider him as one who has cheated them of all the Esteem they had before allowed him. This brings a Commission of Bankruptcy upon him; and he that might have gone on to his Lifes End in a prosperous Way, by aiming at more than he should, is no longer Proprietor of what he really had before, but his Pretensions fare as all Things do which are torn instead of being divided.

There is no one living would deny _Cinna_ the Applause of an agreeable and facetious Wit; or could possibly pretend that there is not something inimitably unforced and diverting in his Manner of delivering all his Sentiments in Conversation, if he were able to conceal the strong Desire of Applause which he betrays in every Syllable he utters. But they who converse with him, see that all the Civilities they could do to him, or the kind Things they could say to him, would fall short of what he expects; and therefore instead of shewing him the Esteem they have for his Merit, their Reflections turn only upon that they observe he has of it himself.

If you go among the Women, and behold _Gloriana_ trip into a Room with that theatrical Ostentation of her Charms, _Mirtilla_ with that soft Regularity in her Motion, _Chloe_ with such an indifferent Familiarity, _Corinna_ with such a fond Approach, and _Roxana_ with such a Demand of Respect in the great Gravity of her Entrance; you find all the Sex, who understand themselves and act naturally, wait only for their Absence, to tell you that all these Ladies would impose themselves upon you; and each of them carry in their Behaviour a Consciousness of so much more than they should pretend to, that they lose what would otherwise be given them.

I remember the last time I saw _Macbeth_, I was wonderfully taken with the Skill of the Poet, in making the Murderer form Fears to himself from the Moderation of the Prince whose Life he was going to take away. He says of the King, _He bore his Faculties so meekly_; and justly inferred from thence, That all divine and human Power would join to avenge his Death, who had made such an abstinent Use of Dominion. All that is in a Man's Power to do to advance his own Pomp and Glory, and forbears, is so much laid up against the Day of Distress; and Pity will always be his Portion in Adversity, who acted with Gentleness in Prosperity.

The great Officer who foregoes the Advantages he might take to himself, and renounces all prudential Regards to his own Person in Danger, has so far the Merit of a Volunteer; and all his Honours and Glories are unenvied, for sharing the common Fate with the same Frankness as they do who have no such endearing Circumstances to part with. But if there were no such Considerations as the good Effect which Self-denial has upon the Sense of other Men towards us, it is of all Qualities the most desirable for the agreeable Disposition in which it places our own Minds. I cannot tell what better to say of it, than that it is the very Contrary of Ambition; and that Modesty allays all those Passions and Inquietudes to which that Vice exposes us. He that is moderate in his Wishes from Reason and Choice, and not resigned from Sourness, Distaste, or Disappointment, doubles all the Pleasures of his Life. The Air, the Season, a [Sun-shiny [1]] Day, or a fair Prospect, are Instances of Happiness, and that which he enjoys in common with all the World, (by his Exemption from the Enchantments by which all the World are bewitched) are to him uncommon Benefits and new Acquisitions. Health is not eaten up with Care, nor Pleasure interrupted by Envy. It is not to him of any Consequence what this Man is famed for, or for what the other is preferred. He knows there is in such a Place an uninterrupted Walk; he can meet in such a Company an agreeable Conversation: He has no Emulation, he is no Man's Rival, but every Man's Well-wisher; can look at a prosperous Man, with a Pleasure in reflecting that he hopes he is as happy as himself; and has his Mind and his Fortune (as far as Prudence will allow) open to the Unhappy and to the Stranger.

_Lucceius_ has Learning, Wit, Humour, Eloquence, but no ambitious Prospects to pursue with these Advantages; therefore to the ordinary World he is perhaps thought to want Spirit, but known among his Friends to have a Mind of the most consummate Greatness. He wants no Man's Admiration, is in no Need of Pomp. His Cloaths please him if they are fashionable and warm; his Companions are agreeable if they are civil and well-natured. There is with him no Occasion for Superfluity at Meals, for Jollity in Company, in a word, for any thing extraordinary to administer Delight to him. Want of Prejudice and Command of Appetite are the Companions which make his Journey of Life so easy, that he in all Places meets with more Wit, more good Cheer and more good Humour, than is necessary to make him enjoy himself with Pleasure and Satisfaction.

[Footnote 1: [Sun-shine], and in the first reprint.]

T.

* * * * *

No. 207. Saturday, October 27, 1711. Addison.

Omnibus in terris, quoe sunt à Gadibus usque
Auroram et Gangem, pauci dignoscere possunt
Vera bona, atque illis multùm diversa, remotâ
Erroris nebulâ--

Juv.

In my last _Saturdays_ Paper I laid down some Thoughts upon Devotion in general, and shall here shew what were the Notions of the most refined Heathens on this Subject, as they are represented in _Plato's_ Dialogue upon Prayer, entitled, _Alcibiades the Second_, which doubtless gave Occasion to _Juvenal's_ tenth Satire, and to the second Satire of _Persius_; as the last of these Authors has almost transcribed the preceding Dialogue, entitled _Alcibiades the First_, in his Fourth Satire.

The Speakers in this Dialogue upon Prayer, are _Socrates_ and _Alcibiades_; and the Substance of it (when drawn together out of the Intricacies and Digressions) as follows.

_Socrates_ meeting his Pupil _Alcibiades_, as he was going to his Devotions, and observing his Eyes to be fixed upon the Earth with great Seriousness and Attention, tells him, that he had reason to be thoughtful on that Occasion, since it was possible for a Man to bring down Evils upon himself by his own Prayers, and that those things, which the Gods send him in Answer to his Petitions, might turn to his Destruction: This, says he, may not only happen when a Man prays for what he knows is mischievous in its own Nature, as _OEdipus_ implored the Gods to sow Dissension between his Sons; but when he prays for what he believes would be for his Good, and against what he believes would be to his Detriment. This the Philosopher shews must necessarily happen among us, since most Men are blinded with Ignorance, Prejudice, or Passion, which hinder them from seeing such things as are really beneficial to them. For an Instance, he asks _Alcibiades_, Whether he would not be thoroughly pleased and satisfied if that God, to whom he was going to address himself, should promise to make him the Sovereign of the whole Earth? _Alcibiades_ answers, That he should doubtless look upon such a Promise as the greatest Favour that he could bestow upon him. _Socrates_ then asks him, If after [receiving [1]] this great Favour he would be content[ed] to lose his Life? or if he would receive it though he was sure he should make an ill Use of it? To both which Questions _Alcibiades_ answers in the Negative. Socrates then shews him, from the Examples of others, how these might very probably be the Effects of such a Blessing. He then adds, That other reputed Pieces of Good-fortune, as that of having a Son, or procuring the highest Post in a Government, are subject to the like fatal Consequences; which nevertheless, says he, Men ardently desire, and would not fail to pray for, if they thought their Prayers might be effectual for the obtaining of them. Having established this great Point, That all the most apparent Blessings in this Life are obnoxious to such dreadful Consequences, and that no Man knows what in its Events would prove to him a Blessing or a Curse, he teaches _Alcibiades_ after what manner he ought to pray.

In the first Place, he recommends to him, as the Model of his Devotions, a short Prayer, which a _Greek_ Poet composed for the Use of his Friends, in the following Words; _O_ Jupiter, _give us those Things which are good for us, whether they are such Things as we pray for, or such Things as we do not pray for: and remove from us those Things which are hurtful, though they are such Things as we pray for._

In the second Place, that his Disciple may ask such Things as are expedient for him, he shews him, that it is absolutely necessary to apply himself to the Study of true Wisdom, and to the Knowledge of that which is his chief Good, and the most suitable to the Excellency of his Nature.

In the third and last Place he informs him, that the best Method he could make use of to draw down Blessings upon himself, and to render his Prayers acceptable, would be to live in a constant Practice of his Duty towards the Gods, and towards Men. Under this Head he very much recommends a Form of Prayer the _Lacedemonians_ made use of, in which they petition the Gods, _to give them all good Things so long as they were virtuous_. Under this Head likewise he gives a very remarkable Account of an Oracle to the following Purpose.

When the _Athenians_ in the War with the _Lacedemonians_ received many Defeats both by Sea and Land, they sent a Message to the Oracle of _Jupiter Ammon_, to ask the Reason why they who erected so many Temples to the Gods, and adorned them with such costly Offerings; why they who had instituted so many Festivals, and accompanied them with such Pomps and Ceremonies; in short, why they who had slain so many Hecatombs at their Altars, should be less successful than the _Lacedemonians_, who fell so short of them in all these Particulars. To this, says he, the Oracle made the following Reply; _I am better pleased with the Prayer of the_ Lacedemonians, _than with all the Oblations of the_ Greeks. As this Prayer implied and encouraged Virtue in those who made it, the Philosopher proceeds to shew how the most vicious Man might be devout, so far as Victims could make him, but that his Offerings were regarded by the Gods as Bribes, and his Petitions as Blasphemies. He likewise quotes on this Occasion two Verses out of _Homer_, [2] in which the Poet says, That the Scent of the _Trojan_ Sacrifices was carried up to Heaven by the Winds; but that it was not acceptable to the Gods, who were displeased with _Priam_ and all his People.

The Conclusion of this Dialogue is very remarkable. _Socrates_ having deterred _Alcibiades_ from the Prayers and Sacrifice which he was going to offer, by setting forth the above-mentioned Difficulties of performing that Duty as he ought, adds these Words, _We must therefore wait till such Time as we may learn how we ought to behave ourselves towards the Gods, and towards Men_. But when will that Time come, says _Alcibiades_, and who is it that will instruct us? For I would fain see this Man, whoever he is. It is one, says _Socrates_, who takes care of you; but as _Homer_ tells us, [3] that _Minerva_ removed the Mist from _Diomedes_ his Eyes, that he might plainly discover both Gods and Men; so the Darkness that hangs upon your Mind must be removed before you are able to discern what is Good and what is Evil. Let him remove from my Mind, says _Alcibiades_, the Darkness, and what else he pleases, I am determined to refuse nothing he shall order me, whoever he is, so that I may become the better Man by it. The remaining Part of this Dialogue is very obscure: There is something in it that would make us think _Socrates_ hinted at himself, when he spoke of this Divine Teacher who was to come into the World, did not he own that he himself was in this respect as much at a Loss, and in as great Distress as the rest of Mankind.

Some learned Men look upon this Conclusion as a Prediction of our Saviour, or at least that Socrates, like the High-Priest, [4] prophesied unknowingly, and pointed at that Divine Teacher who was to come into the World some Ages after him. However that may be, we find that this great Philosopher saw, by the Light of Reason, that it was suitable to the Goodness of the Divine Nature, to send a Person into the World who should instruct Mankind in the Duties of Religion, and, in particular, teach them how to Pray.

Whoever reads this Abstract of _Plato's_ Discourse on Prayer, will, I believe, naturally make this Reflection, That the great Founder of our Religion, as well by his own Example, as in the Form of Prayer which he taught his Disciples, did not only keep up to those Rules which the Light of Nature had suggested to this great Philosopher, but instructed his Disciples in the whole Extent of this Duty, as well as of all others. He directed them to the proper Object of Adoration, and taught them, according to the third Rule above-mentioned, to apply themselves to him in their Closets, without Show or Ostentation, and to worship him in Spirit and in Truth. As the _Lacedemonians_ in their Form of Prayer implored the Gods in general to give them all good things so long as they were virtuous, we ask in particular _that our Offences may be forgiven, as we forgive those of others_. If we look into the second Rule which _Socrates_ has prescribed, namely, That we should apply ourselves to the Knowledge of such Things as are best for us, this too is explain'd at large in the Doctrines of the Gospel, where we are taught in several Instances to regard those things as Curses, which appear as Blessings in the Eye of the World; and on the contrary, to esteem those things as Blessings, which to the Generality of Mankind appear as Curses. Thus in the Form which is prescribed to us we only pray for that Happiness which is our chief Good, and the great End of our Existence, when we petition the Supreme Being for _the coming of his Kingdom, being solicitous for no other temporal Blessings but our daily Sustenance_. On the other side, We pray against nothing but Sin, and against _Evil_ in general, leaving it with Omniscience to determine what is really such. If we look into the first of _Socrates_ his Rules of Prayer, in which he recommends the above-mentioned Form of the ancient Poet, we find that Form not only comprehended, but very much improved in the Petition, wherein we pray to the Supreme Being that _his Will may be done:_ which is of the same Force with that Form which our Saviour used, when he prayed against the most painful and most ignominious of Deaths, _Nevertheless not my Will, but thine be done_. This comprehensive Petition is the most humble, as well as the most prudent, that can be offered up from the Creature to his Creator, as it supposes the Supreme Being wills nothing but what is for our Good, and that he knows better than ourselves what is so.

L.

[Footnote 1: [having received], and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 2: Iliad, viii. 548, 9.]

[Footnote 3: Iliad, v. 127.]

[Footnote 4: John xi. 49.]

* * * * *

No. 208. Monday, October 29, 1711. Steele.

--Veniunt spectentur ut ipsæ.

Ov.[1]

I have several Letters of People of good Sense, who lament the Depravity or Poverty of Taste the Town is fallen into with relation to Plays and publick Spectacles. A Lady in particular observes, that there is such a Levity in the Minds of her own Sex, that they seldom attend any thing but Impertinences. It is indeed prodigious to observe how little Notice is taken of the most exalted Parts of the best Tragedies in _Shakespear_; nay, it is not only visible that Sensuality has devoured all Greatness of Soul, but the Under-Passion (as I may so call it) of a noble Spirit, Pity, seems to be a Stranger to the Generality of an Audience. The Minds of Men are indeed very differently disposed; and the Reliefs from Care and Attention are of one Sort in a great Spirit, and of another in an ordinary one. The Man of a great Heart and a serious Complexion, is more pleased with Instances of Generosity and Pity, than the light and ludicrous Spirit can possibly be with the highest Strains of Mirth and Laughter: It is therefore a melancholy Prospect when we see a numerous Assembly lost to all serious Entertainments, and such Incidents, as should move one sort of Concern, excite in them a quite contrary one. In the Tragedy of _Macbeth_, the other Night, [2] when the Lady who is conscious of the Crime of murdering the King, seems utterly astonished at the News, and makes an Exclamation at it, instead of the Indignation which is natural to the Occasion, that Expression is received with a loud Laugh: They were as merry when a Criminal was stabbed. It is certainly an Occasion of rejoycing when the Wicked are seized in their Designs; but I think it is not such a Triumph as is exerted by Laughter.

You may generally observe, that the Appetites are sooner moved than the Passions: A sly Expression which alludes to Bawdry, puts a whole Row into a pleasing Smirk; when a good Sentence that describes an inward Sentiment of the Soul, is received with the greatest Coldness and Indifference. A Correspondent of mine, upon this Subject, has divided the Female Part of the Audience, and accounts for their Prepossession against this reasonable Delight in the following Manner. The Prude, says he, as she acts always in Contradiction, so she is gravely sullen at a Comedy, and extravagantly gay at a Tragedy. The Coquette is so much taken up with throwing her Eyes around the Audience, and considering the Effect of them, that she cannot be expected to observe the Actors but as they are her Rivals, and take off the Observation of the Men from her self. Besides these Species of Women, there are the _Examples_, or the first of the Mode: These are to be supposed too well acquainted with what the Actor was going to say to be moved at it. After these one might mention a certain flippant Set of Females who are Mimicks, and are wonderfully diverted with the Conduct of all the People around them, and are Spectators only of the Audience. But what is of all the most to be lamented, is the Loss of a Party whom it would be worth preserving in their right Senses upon all Occasions, and these are those whom we may indifferently call the Innocent or the Unaffected. You may sometimes see one of these sensibly touched with a well-wrought Incident; but then she is immediately so impertinently observed by the Men, and frowned at by some insensible Superior of her own Sex, that she is ashamed, and loses the Enjoyment of the most laudable Concern, Pity. Thus the whole Audience is afraid of letting fall a Tear, and shun as a Weakness the best and worthiest Part of our Sense.

[Sidenote: Pray settle what is to be a proper Notification of a
Persons being in Town, and how that differs according to Peoples
Quality.]

_SIR,_

As you are one that doth not only pretend to reform, but effects it
amongst People of any Sense; makes me (who are one of the greatest of
your Admirers) give you this Trouble to desire you will settle the
Method of us Females knowing when one another is in Town: For they
have now got a Trick of never sending to their Acquaintance when they
first come; and if one does not visit them within the Week which they
stay at home, it is a mortal Quarrel. Now, dear Mr. SPEC, either
command them to put it in the Advertisement of your Paper, which is
generally read by our Sex, or else order them to breathe their saucy
Footmen (who are good for nothing else) by sending them to tell all
their Acquaintance. If you think to print this, pray put it into a
better Style as to the spelling Part. The Town is now filling every
Day, and it cannot be deferred, because People take Advantage of one
another by this Means and break off Acquaintance, and are rude:
Therefore pray put this in your Paper as soon as you can possibly, to
prevent any future Miscarriages of this Nature. I am, as I ever shall
be,

Dear SPEC,
_Your most obedient
Humble Servant,_
Mary Meanwell.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

October _the 20th_.

I have been out of Town, so did not meet with your Paper dated
_September_ the 28th, wherein you, to my Hearts Desire, expose that
cursed Vice of ensnaring poor young Girls, and drawing them from their
Friends. I assure you without Flattery it has saved a Prentice of mine
from Ruin; and in Token of Gratitude as well as for the Benefit of my
Family, I have put it in a Frame and Glass, and hung it behind my
Counter. I shall take Care to make my young ones read it every
Morning, to fortify them against such pernicious Rascals. I know not
whether what you writ was Matter of Fact, or your own Invention; but
this I will take my Oath on, the first Part is so exactly like what
happened to my Prentice, that had I read your Paper then, I should
have taken your Method to have secured a Villain. Go on and prosper.

_Your most obliged Humble Servant,_

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

Without Raillery, I desire you to insert this Word for Word in your
next, as you value a Lovers Prayers. You see it is an Hue and Cry
after a stray Heart (with the Marks and Blemishes underwritten) which
whoever shall bring to you, shall receive Satisfaction. Let me beg of
you not to fail, as you remember the Passion you had for her to whom
you lately ended a Paper.

Noble, Generous, Great, and Good,
But never to be understood;
Fickle as the Wind, still changing,
After every Female ranging,
Panting, trembling, sighing, dying,
But addicted much to Lying:
When the Siren Songs repeats,
Equal Measures still it beats;
Who-e'er shall wear it, it will smart her,
And who-e'er takes it, takes a Tartar.

T.

[Footnote 1: Spectaret Populum ludis attentius ipsis.-Hor.]

[Footnote 2: Acted Saturday, October 20.]

* * * * *

No. 209. Tuesday, October 30, 1711. Addison.

[Greek: Gynaikòs oudi chraem anaer laeízetai
Esthlaes ámeinon, oude rhígion kakaes.]

Simonides.

There are no Authors I am more pleased with than those who shew human Nature in a Variety of Views, and describe the several Ages of the World in their different Manners. A Reader cannot be more rationally entertained, than by comparing the Virtues and Vices of his own Times with those which prevailed in the Times of his Forefathers; and drawing a Parallel in his Mind between his own private Character, and that of other Persons, whether of his own Age, or of the Ages that went before him. The Contemplation of Mankind under these changeable Colours, is apt to shame us out of any particular Vice, or animate us to any particular Virtue, to make us pleased or displeased with our selves in the most proper Points, to clear our Minds of Prejudice and Prepossession, and rectify that Narrowness of Temper which inclines us to think amiss of those who differ from our selves.

If we look into the Manners of the most remote Ages of the World, we discover human Nature in her Simplicity; and the more we come downwards towards our own Times, may observe her hiding herself in Artifices and Refinements, Polished insensibly out of her Original Plainness, and at length entirely lost under Form and Ceremony, and (what we call) good Breeding. Read the Accounts of Men and Women as they are given us by the most ancient Writers, both Sacred and Prophane, and you would think you were reading the History of another Species.

Among the Writers of Antiquity, there are none who instruct us more openly in the Manners of their respective Times in which they lived, than those who have employed themselves in Satyr, under what Dress soever it may appear; as there are no other Authors whose Province it is to enter so directly into the Ways of Men, and set their Miscarriages in so strong a Light.

_Simonides_,[1] a Poet famous in his Generation, is, I think, Author of the oldest Satyr that is now extant; and, as some say, of the first that was ever written. This Poet flourished about four hundred Years after the Siege of _Troy;_ and shews, by his way of Writing, the Simplicity, or rather Coarseness, of the Age in which he lived. I have taken notice, in my Hundred and sixty first Speculation, that the Rule of observing what the _French_ call the _bienséance_, in an Allusion, has been found out of later Years; and that the Ancients, provided there was a Likeness in their Similitudes, did not much trouble themselves about the Decency of the Comparison. The Satyr or Iambicks of _Simonides_, with which I shall entertain my Readers in the present Paper, are a remarkable Instance of what I formerly advanced. The Subject of this Satyr is Woman. He describes the Sex in their several Characters, which he derives to them from a fanciful Supposition raised upon the Doctrine of Præexistence. He tells us, That the Gods formed the Souls of Women out of those Seeds and Principles which compose several Kinds of Animals and Elements; and that their Good or Bad Dispositions arise in them according as such and such Seeds and Principles predominate in their Constitutions. I have translated the Author very faithfully, and if not Word for Word (which our Language would not bear) at least so as to comprehend every one of his Sentiments, without adding any thing of my own. I have already apologized for this Authors Want of Delicacy, and must further premise, That the following Satyr affects only some of the lower part of the Sex, and not those who have been refined by a Polite Education, which was not so common in the Age of this Poet.

_In the Beginning God made the Souls of Womankind out of different
Materials, and in a separate State from their Bodies_.

_The Souls of one Kind of Women were formed out of those Ingredients
which compose a Swine. A Woman of this Make is a Slut in her House and
a Glutton at her Table. She is uncleanly in her Person, a Slattern in
her Dress, and her Family is no better than a Dunghill_.

_A Second Sort of Female Soul was formed out of the same Materials
that enter into the Composition of a Fox. Such an one is what we call
a notable discerning Woman, who has an Insight into every thing,
whether it be good or bad. In this Species of Females there are some
Virtuous and some Vicious_.

_A Third Kind of Women were made up of Canine Particles. These are
what we commonly call_ Scolds, _who imitate the Animals of which they
were taken, that are always busy and barking, that snarl at every one
who comes in their Way, and live in perpetual Clamour_.

_The Fourth Kind of Women were made out of the Earth. These are your
Sluggards, who pass away their Time in Indolence and Ignorance, hover
over the Fire a whole Winter, and apply themselves with Alacrity to no
kind of Business but Eating_.

_The Fifth Species of Females were made out of the Sea. These are
Women of variable uneven Tempers, sometimes all Storm and Tempest,
sometimes all Calm and Sunshine. The Stranger who sees one of these in
her Smiles and Smoothness would cry her up for a Miracle of good
Humour; but on a sudden her Looks and her Words are changed, she is
nothing but Fury and Outrage, Noise and Hurricane_.

_The Sixth Species were made up of the Ingredients which compose an
Ass, or a Beast of Burden. These are naturally exceeding slothful,
but, upon the Husbands exerting his Authority, will live upon hard
Fare, and do every thing to please him. They are however far from
being averse to Venereal Pleasure, and seldom refuse a Male
Companion_.

_The Cat furnished Materials for a Seventh Species of Women, who are
of a melancholy, froward, unamiable Nature, and so repugnant to the
Offers of Love, that they fly in the Face of their Husband when he
approaches them with conjugal Endearments. This Species of Women are
likewise subject to little Thefts, Cheats and Pilferings_.

_The Mare with a flowing Mane, which was never broke to any servile
Toil and Labour, composed an Eighth Species of Women. These are they
who have little Regard for their Husbands, who pass away their Time in
Dressing, Bathing, and Perfuming; who throw their Hair into the nicest
Curls, and trick it up with the fairest Flowers and Garlands. A Woman
of this Species is a very pretty Thing for a Stranger to look upon,
but very detrimental to the Owner, unless it be a King or Prince who
takes a Fancy to such a Toy_.

_The Ninth Species of Females were taken out of the Ape. These are
such as are both ugly and ill-natured, who have nothing beautiful in
themselves, and endeavour to detract from or ridicule every thing
which appears so in others_.

_The Tenth and last Species of Women were made out of the Bee; and
happy is the Man who gets such an one for his Wife. She is altogether
faultless and unblameable; her Family flourishes and improves by her
good Management. She loves her Husband, and is beloved by him. She
brings him a Race of beautiful and virtuous Children. She
distinguishes her self among her Sex. She is surrounded with Graces.
She never sits among the loose Tribe of Women, nor passes away her
Time with them in wanton Discourses. She is full of Virtue and
Prudence, and is the best Wife that_ Jupiter _can bestow on Man_.

I shall conclude these Iambicks with the Motto of this Paper, which is a Fragment of the same Author: _A Man cannot possess any Thing that is better than a good Woman, nor any thing that is worse than a bad one_.

As the Poet has shewn a great Penetration in this Diversity of Female Characters, he has avoided the Fault which _Juvenal_ and Monsieur _Boileau_ are guilty of, the former in his sixth, and the other in his last Satyr, where they have endeavoured to expose the Sex in general, without doing Justice to the valuable Part of it. Such levelling Satyrs are of no Use to the World, and for this Reason I have often wondered how the _French_ Author above-mentioned, who was a Man of exquisite Judgment, and a Lover of Virtue, could think human Nature a proper Subject for Satyr in another of his celebrated Pieces, which is called _The Satyr upon Man_. What Vice or Frailty can a Discourse correct, which censures the whole Species alike, and endeavours to shew by some Superficial Strokes of Wit, that Brutes are the more excellent Creatures of the two? A Satyr should expose nothing but what is corrigible, and make a due Discrimination between those who are, and those who are not the proper Objects of it.

L.

[Footnote 1: Of the poems of Simonides, contemporary of AEschylus, only fragments remain. He died about 467 B.C.]

* * * * *

No. 210. Wednesday, Oct. 31, 1711. John Hughes.

Nescio quomodo inhæret in mentibus quasi seculorum quoddam augurium
futurorum; idque in maximis ingeniis altissimisque animis et existit
maxime et apparet facillime.

Cic. Tusc. Quæst.

_To the_ SPECTATOR.

SIR,

I am fully persuaded that one of the best Springs of generous and
worthy Actions, is the having generous and worthy Thoughts of our
selves. Whoever has a mean Opinion of the Dignity of his Nature, will
act in no higher a Rank than he has allotted himself in his own
Estimation. If he considers his Being as circumscribed by the
uncertain Term of a few Years, his Designs will be contracted into the
same narrow Span he imagines is to bound his Existence. How can he
exalt his Thoughts to any thing great and noble, who only believes
that, after a short Turn on the Stage of this World, he is to sink
into Oblivion, and to lose his Consciousness for ever?

For this Reason I am of Opinion, that so useful and elevated a
Contemplation as that of the _Souls Immortality_ cannot be resumed
too often. There is not a more improving Exercise to the human Mind,
than to be frequently reviewing its own great Privileges and
Endowments; nor a more effectual Means to awaken in us an Ambition
raised above low Objects and little Pursuits, than to value our selves
as Heirs of Eternity.

It is a very great Satisfaction to consider the best and wisest of
Mankind in all Nations and Ages, asserting, as with one Voice, this
their Birthright, and to find it ratify'd by an express Revelation. At
the same time if we turn our Thoughts inward upon our selves, we may
meet with a kind of secret Sense concurring with the Proofs of our own
Immortality.

You have, in my Opinion, raised a good presumptive Argument from the
increasing Appetite the Mind has to Knowledge, and to the extending
its own Faculties, which cannot be accomplished, as the more
restrained Perfection of lower Creatures may, in the Limits of a short
Life. I think another probable Conjecture may be raised from our
Appetite to Duration it self, and from a Reflection on our Progress
through the several Stages of it: _We are complaining_, as you observe
in a former Speculation, _of the Shortness of Life, and yet are
perpetually hurrying over the Parts of it, to arrive at certain little
Settlements, or imaginary Points of Rest, which are dispersed up and
down in it_.

Now let us consider what happens to us when we arrive at these
_imaginary Points of Rest_: Do we stop our Motion, and sit down
satisfied in the Settlement we have gain'd? or are we not removing the
Boundary, and marking out new Points of Rest, to which we press
forward with the like Eagerness, and which cease to be such as fast as
we attain them? Our Case is like that of a Traveller upon the _Alps_,
who should fancy that the Top of the next Hill must end his Journey,
because it terminates his Prospect; but he no sooner arrives as it,
than he sees new Ground and other Hills beyond it, and continues to
travel on as before. [1]

This is so plainly every Man's Condition in Life, that there is no
one who has observed any thing, but may observe, that as fast as his
Time wears away, his Appetite to something future remains. The Use
therefore I would make of it is this, That since Nature (as some love
to express it) does nothing in vain, or, to speak properly, since the
Author of our Being has planted no wandering Passion in it, no Desire
which has not its Object, Futurity is the proper Object of the Passion
so constantly exercis'd about it; and this Restlessness in the
present, this assigning our selves over to further Stages of Duration,
this successive grasping at somewhat still to come, appears to me
(whatever it may to others) as a kind of Instinct or natural Symptom
which the Mind of Man has of its own Immortality.

I take it at the same time for granted, that the Immortality of the
Soul is sufficiently established by other Arguments: And if so, this
Appetite, which otherwise would be very unaccountable and absurd,
seems very reasonable, and adds Strength to the Conclusion. But I am
amazed when I consider there are Creatures capable of Thought, who, in
spite of every Argument, can form to themselves a sullen Satisfaction
in thinking otherwise. There is something so pitifully mean in the
inverted Ambition of that Man who can hope for Annihilation, and
please himself to think that his whole Fabrick shall one Day crumble
into Dust, and mix with the Mass of inanimate Beings, that it equally
deserves our Admiration and Pity. The Mystery of such Mens Unbelief is
not hard to be penetrated; and indeed amounts to nothing more than a
sordid Hope that they shall not be immortal, because they dare not be
so.

This brings me back to my first Observation, and gives me Occasion to
say further, That as worthy Actions spring from worthy Thoughts, so
worthy Thoughts are likewise the Consequence of worthy Actions: But
the Wretch who has degraded himself below the Character of
Immortality, is very willing to resign his Pretensions to it, and to
substitute in its Room a dark negative Happiness in the Extinction of
his Being.

The admirable _Shakespear_ has given us a strong Image of the
unsupported Condition of such a Person in his last Minutes, in the
second Part of King _Henry_ the Sixth, where Cardinal _Beaufort_, who
had been concerned in the Murder of the good Duke _Humphrey_, is
represented on his Death-bed. After some short confused Speeches which
shew an Imagination disturbed with Guilt, just as he is expiring, King
_Henry_ standing by him full of Compassion, says,

_Lord Cardinal! if thou thinkst on Heavens Bliss,
Hold up thy Hand, make Signal of that Hope!
He dies, and makes no Sign_!--

The Despair which is here shewn, without a Word or Action on the Part
of the dying Person, is beyond what could be painted by the most
forcible Expressions whatever.

I shall not pursue this Thought further, but only add, That as
Annihilation is not to be had with a Wish, so it is the most abject
Thing in the World to wish it. What are Honour, Fame, Wealth, or Power
when compared with the generous Expectation of a Being without End,
and a Happiness adequate to that Being?

I shall trouble you no further; but with a certain Gravity which
these Thoughts have given me, I reflect upon some Things People say of
you, (as they will of Men who distinguish themselves) which I hope are
not true; and wish you as good a Man as you are an Author.

_I am, SIR, Your most obedient humble Servant_, T. D.

Z.

[Footnote 1:

Hills peep o'er Hills, and Alps on Alps arise.

Popes Essay on Criticism, then newly published.]

* * * * *

No. 211 Thursday, November 1, 1711. Addison.

Fictis meminerit nos jocari Fabulis.

Phæd.

Having lately translated the Fragment of an old Poet which describes Womankind under several Characters, and supposes them to have drawn their different Manners and Dispositions from those Animals and Elements out of which he tells us they were compounded; I had some Thoughts of giving the Sex their Revenge, by laying together in another Paper the many vicious Characters which prevail in the Male World, and shewing the different Ingredients that go to the making up of such different Humours and Constitutions. _Horace_ has a Thought [1] which is something akin to this, when, in order to excuse himself to his Mistress, for an Invective which he had written against her, and to account for that unreasonable Fury with which the Heart of Man is often transported, he tells us that, when _Prometheus_ made his Man of Clay, in the kneading up of his Heart, he season'd it with some furious Particles of the Lion. But upon turning this Plan to and fro in my Thoughts, I observed so many unaccountable Humours in Man, that I did not know out of what Animals to fetch them. Male Souls are diversify'd with so many Characters, that the World has not Variety of Materials sufficient to furnish out their different Tempers and Inclinations. The Creation, with all its Animals and Elements, would not be large enough to supply their several Extravagancies.

Instead therefore of pursuing the Thought of _Simonides_, I shall observe, that as he has exposed the vicious Part of Women from the Doctrine of Præexistence, some of the ancient Philosophers have, in a manner, satirized the vicious Part of the human Species in general, from a Notion of the Souls Postexistence, if I may so call it; and that as _Simonides_ describes Brutes entering into the Composition of Women, others have represented human Souls as entering into Brutes. This is commonly termed the Doctrine of Transmigration, which supposes that human Souls, upon their leaving the Body, become the Souls of such Kinds of Brutes as they most resemble in their Manners; or to give an Account of it as Mr. _Dryden_ has described it in his Translation of _Pythagoras_ his Speech in the fifteenth Book of _Ovid_, where that Philosopher dissuades his Hearers from eating Flesh:

Thus all things are but alter'd, nothing dies,
And here and there th' unbody'd Spirit flies:
By Time, or Force, or Sickness dispossess'd,
And lodges where it lights, in Bird or Beast,
Or hunts without till ready Limbs it find,
And actuates those according to their Kind:
From Tenement to Tenement is toss'd:
The Soul is still the same, the Figure only lost.
Then let not Piety be put to Flight,
To please the Taste of Glutton-Appetite;
But suffer inmate Souls secure to dwell,
Lest from their Seats your Parents you expel;
With rabid Hunger feed upon your Kind,
Or from a Beast dislodge a Brothers Mind.

_Plato_ in the Vision of _Erus_ the _Armenian_, which I may possibly make the Subject of a future Speculation, records some beautiful Transmigrations; as that the Soul of _Orpheus_, who was musical, melancholy, and a Woman-hater, entered into a Swan; the Soul of _Ajax_, which was all Wrath and Fierceness, into a Lion; the Soul of _Agamemnon_, that was rapacious and imperial, into an Eagle; and the Soul of _Thersites_, who was a Mimick and a Buffoon, into a Monkey. [2]

Mr. _Congreve_, in a Prologue to one of his Comedies, [3] has touch'd upon this Doctrine with great Humour.

Thus_ Aristotle's _Soul of old that was,
May now be damn'd to animate an Ass;
Or in this very House, for ought we know,
Is doing painful Penance in some Beau.

I shall fill up this Paper with some Letters which my last _Tuesdays_ Speculation has produced. My following Correspondents will shew, what I there observed, that the Speculation of that Day affects only the lower Part of the Sex.

_From my House in the_ Strand, October 30, 1711.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

Upon reading your _Tuesdays_ Paper, I find by several Symptoms in my
Constitution that I am a Bee. My Shop, or, if you please to call it
so, my Cell, is in that great Hive of Females which goes by the Name
of _The New Exchange_; where I am daily employed in gathering together
a little Stock of Gain from the finest Flowers about the Town, I mean
the Ladies and the Beaus. I have a numerous Swarm of Children, to whom
I give the best Education I am able: But, Sir, it is my Misfortune to
be married to a Drone, who lives upon what I get, without bringing any
thing into the common Stock. Now, Sir, as on the one hand I take care
not to behave myself towards him like a Wasp, so likewise I would not
have him look upon me as an Humble-Bee; for which Reason I do all I
can to put him upon laying up Provisions for a bad Day, and frequently
represent to him the fatal Effects [his [4]] Sloth and Negligence may
bring upon us in our old Age. I must beg that you will join with me in
your good Advice upon this Occasion, and you will for ever oblige

_Your humble Servant_,

MELISSA.

_Picadilly, October_ 31, 1711.

_SIR,_

I am joined in Wedlock for my Sins to one of those Fillies who are
described in the old Poet with that hard Name you gave us the other
Day. She has a flowing Mane, and a Skin as soft as Silk: But, Sir, she
passes half her Life at her Glass, and almost ruins me in Ribbons. For
my own part, I am a plain handicraft Man, and in Danger of breaking by
her Laziness and Expensiveness. Pray, Master, tell me in your next
Paper, whether I may not expect of her so much Drudgery as to take
care of her Family, and curry her Hide in case of Refusal.

_Your loving Friend_,

Barnaby Brittle.

_Cheapside, October_ 30.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I am mightily pleased with the Humour of the Cat, be so kind as to
enlarge upon that Subject.

_Yours till Death_,

Josiah Henpeck.

P.S. You must know I am married to a _Grimalkin_.

_Wapping, October_ 31, 1711.

SIR,

Ever since your _Spectator_ of _Tuesday_ last came into our Family,
my Husband is pleased to call me his _Oceana_, because the foolish old
Poet that you have translated says, That the Souls of some Women are
made of Sea-Water. This, it seems, has encouraged my Sauce-Box to be
witty upon me. When I am angry, he cries Prythee my Dear _be calm_;
when I chide one of my Servants, Prythee Child _do not bluster_. He
had the Impudence about an Hour ago to tell me, That he was a
Sea-faring Man, and must expect to divide his Life between _Storm_ and
_Sunshine_. When I bestir myself with any Spirit in my Family, it is
_high Sea_ in his House; and when I sit still without doing any thing,
his Affairs forsooth are _Wind-bound_. When I ask him whether it
rains, he makes Answer, It is no Matter, so that it be _fair Weather_
within Doors. In short, Sir, I cannot speak my Mind freely to him, but
I either _swell_ or _rage_, or do something that is not fit for a
civil Woman to hear. Pray, _Mr_. SPECTATOR, since you are so sharp
upon other Women, let us know what Materials your Wife is made of, if
you have one. I suppose you would make us a Parcel of poor-spirited
tame insipid Creatures; but, Sir, I would have you to know, we have as
good Passions in us as your self, and that a Woman was never designed
to be a Milk-Sop.

MARTHA TEMPEST.

L.

[Footnote 1: Odes, I. 16. ]

[Footnote 2: In the Timæus Plato derives woman and all the animals from man, by successive degradations. Cowardly or unjust men are born again as women. Light, airy, and superficial men, who carried their minds aloft without the use of reason, are the materials for making birds, the hair being transmuted into feathers and wings. From men wholly without philosophy, who never looked heavenward, the more brutal land animals are derived, losing the round form of the cranium by the slackening and stopping of the rotations of the encephalic soul. Feet are given to these according to the degree of their stupidity, to multiply approximations to the earth; and the dullest become reptiles who drag the whole length of their bodies on the ground. Out of the very stupidest of men come those animals which are not judged worthy to live at all upon earth and breathe this air, these men become fishes, and the creatures who breathe nothing but turbid water, fixed at the lowest depths and almost motionless, among the mud. By such transitions, he says, the different races of animals passed originally and still pass into each other.]

[Footnote 3: In the Epilogue to Love for Love.]

[Footnote 4: that his]

* * * * *

No. 212. Friday, November 2, 1711. Steele.

--Eripe turpi
Colla jugo, liber, liber dic, sum age--

Hor.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,