for whom you lament offers you consolation. | plain that those your discourses are calcuMy last breath will, if I am myself, expire in a prayer for you. I shall never see thy face again. Farewell for ever. T.

No. 205.] Thursday, October 25, 1711.
Decipimur specie recti-
Deluded by a seeming excellence.

Hor. Ars Poet. v. 25.
Roscommon.

fated for none but the fashionable part of womankind, and for the use of those who are rather indiscreet than vicious. But, sir, there is a sort of prostitutes in the lower part of our sex, who are a scandal to us, and very well deserve to fall under your censure. I know it would debase your paper too much to enter into the behaviour of those female libertines; but as your remarks WHEN I meet with any vicious charac-on some part of it would be doing a justice ter, that is not generally known, in order to several women of virtue and honour, to prevent its doing mischief, I draw it at whose reputations suffer by it, I hope you length; and set it up as a scarecrow; by will not think it improper to give the pubwhich means I do not only make an exam-lic some accounts of this nature. You must ple of the person to whom it belongs, but know, sir, I am provoked to write you this give warning to all her majesty's subjects, letter, by the behaviour of an infamous that they may not suffer by it. Thus, to woman, who, having passed her youth in a change the allusion, I have marked out most shameless state of prostitution, is now several of the shoals and quicksands of life, one of those who gain their livelihood by and am continually employed in discovering seducing others that are younger than themthose which are still concealed; in order to selves, and by establishing a criminal comkeep the ignorant and unwary from running merce between the two sexes. Among upon them. It is with this intention that I several of her artifices to get money, she publish the following letter, which brings frequently persuades a vain young fellow, to light some secrets of this nature. that such a woman of quality, or such a celebrated toast, entertains a secret passion for him, and wants nothing but an opportunity of revealing it. Nay, she has gone so far as to write letters in the name of a woman of figure, to borrow money of one of these foolish Roderigo's, which she has afterwards appropriated to her own use. In the mean time, the person who has lent the money, has thought a lady under obligations to him, who scarce knew his name; and wondered at her ingratitude, when he has been with her, that she has not owned the favour, though at the same time he was too much of a man of honour to put her in mind of it.

'MR. SPECTATOR,-There are none of your speculations which I read over with greater delight than those which are designed for the improvement of our sex. You have endeavoured to correct our unreasonable fears and superstitions, in your seventh and twelfth papers; our fancy for equipage, in your fifteenth; our love of puppet-shows, in your thirty-first; our notions of beauty, in your thirty-third; our inclination for romances, in your thirty-seventh; our passion for French fopperies, in your forty-fifth; our manhood and party zeal, in your fifty-seventh; our abuse of dancing, in your sixty-sixth_and sixty-seventh; our When this abandoned baggage meets levity, in your hundred and twenty-eighth; with a man who has vanity enough to give our love of coxcombs, in your hundred and credit to relations of this nature, she turns fifty-fourth, and hundred and fifty-seventh; him to very good account by repeating our tyranny over the hen-peckt, in your praises that were never uttered, and dehundred and seventy-sixth. You have de-livering messages that were never sent. As scribed the Pict in your forty-first; the Idol in your seventy-third; the Demurrer, in your eighty-ninth; the Salamander, in your hundred and ninety-eighth. You have likewise taken to pieces our dress, and represented to us the extravagances we are often guilty of in that particular. You have fallen upon our patches, in your fiftieth and eighty-first; our commodes, in your ninety-eighth; our fans, in your hundred and second; our riding-habits, in your hundred and fourth; our hoop-petticoats, in your hundred and twenty-seventh; besides a great many little blemishes which you have touched upon in your several other papers, and in those many letters that are scattered up and down your works. At the same time we must own that the compliments you pay our sex are innumerable, and that those very faults which you represent in us, are neither black in themselves, nor, as you own, universal among us. But, sir, it is

the house of this shameless creature is frequented by several foreigners, I have heard of another artifice, out of which she often raises money. The foreigner sighs after some British beauty, whom he only knows by fame; upon which she promises, if he can be secret, to procure him a meeting. The stranger, ravished at his good fortune, gives her a present, and in a little time is introduced to some imaginary title; for you must know that this cunning purveyor has her representatives upon this occasion of some of the finest ladies in the kingdom. By this means, as I am informed, it is usual enough to meet with a German count in foreign countries, that shall make his boasts of favours he has received from women of the highest ranks, and the most unblemished characters. Now, sir, what safety is there for a woman's reputation, when a lady may be thus prostituted as it were by proxy, and be reputed an unchaste woman; as the

hero in the ninth book of Dryden's Virgil
is looked upon as a coward, because the
phantom which appeared in his likeness ran
away from Turnus? You may depend upon
what I relate to you to be matter of fact,
and the practice of more than one of these
female panders. If you print this letter, I
may give you some farther accounts of this No. 206.] Friday, October 26, 1711.
vicious race of women. Your humble ser-
vant,
BELVIDERA.'

you to publish the following erratum: In
the paper of Saturday, October 13, column
3, line 11, for " glass,' "read "bottle."
Yours, ROBIN GOODFELLOW.’
L.

I shall add two other letters on different subjects to fill up my paper.

'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am a country clergyman, and hope you will lend me your assistance in ridiculing some little indecencies which cannot so properly be exposed from the pulpit.

A widow lady who straggled this summer from London into my parish for the benefit of the air, as she says, appears every Sunday at church with many fashionable extravagances, to the great astonishment of my congregation.

But what gives us the most offence is her theatrical manner of singing the Psalms. She introduces above fifty Italian airs into the hundredth psalm; and whilst we begin "All people," in the old solemn tune of our forefathers, she in a quite different key runs divisions on the vowels, and adorns them with the graces of Nicolini: if she meets with "eke" or "aye," which are frequent in the metre of Hopkins and Sternhold, we are certain to hear her quavering them half a minute after us, to some sprightly airs of the opera.

I am very far from being an enemy to church music; but fear this abuse of it may make my parish ridiculous, who already look on the singing psalms as an entertainment, and not part of the 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 of 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.'

enemies."

'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 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

Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit,
A Diis plura feret-

Hor. Lib. 3. Od. xvi. 21.

They that do much themselves deny,
Receive more blessings from the sky-Creech.
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 bless-
ings, which in the end abundantly recom-
pense 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 though that way of
raising an opinion of those we behold in
public 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 charac-
ter, 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 mercan-
tile part of the world; and one gets phrases
naturally from those with whom one con-
verses. I say, then, he that in his air, his
treatment of others, or an habitual arro-
gance to himself, gives himself credit for
the least article of more wit, wisdom, good-
ness, or valour, than he can possibly pro-
duce 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
life's end in a prosperous way, by aiming
at more than he should, is no longer pro-
prietor 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

THE SPECTATOR.

sentiments in his 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 showing him the esteem they have for his merit, their reflections turn only upon that they observe he has of it himself.

[No. 207.

chantments 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 prefered. 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 can look at a prosperous man, with a pleano man's rival, but every man's well-wisher; sure 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.

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 quence, but no ambitious prospects to purLucceius has learning, wit, humour, elothe great gravity of her entrance; you find sue with these advantages, therefore to the all the sex who understand themselves and ordinary world he is perhaps thought to act naturally, wait only for their absence, want spirit, but known among his friends to tell you that all these ladies would im- to have a mind of the most consummate pose themselves upon you; and each of greatness. He wants no man's admiration, is them carry in their behaviour a conscious-in no need of pomp. His clothes please him ness of so much more than they should if they are fashionable and warm; his compretend to, that they lose what would other-panions are agreeable if they are civil and wise 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 No. 207.] Saturday, October 27, 1711. of distress; and pity will always be his portion in adversity, who acted with gentleness in prosperity.

sion for superfluity at meals, for jollity in well-natured. There is with him no occacompany; 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.

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 selfdenial 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 sunshiny 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 en

T.

Omnibus in terris, quæ sunt a Gadibus usque
Auroram et Gangem, pauci dignoscere possunt
Vera bona, atque illis multum diversa, remota
Erroris nebula-
Juv. Sat. x. 1.

Look round the habitable world, how few
Know their own good, or, knowing it, pursue?
How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice,
Prompts the fond wish, or lifts the suppliant voice?
Dryd. Johnson, &c.

some thoughts upon devotion in general,
In my last Saturday's paper I laid down
and shall here show 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 Se-
cond, which doubtless gave occasion to
Juvenal's tenth satire, and to the second
satire of Persius; as the last of these au-
thors has almost transcribed the preceding
dialogue, entitled Alcibiades the First, in
his fourth satire.

prayer, are Socrates and Alcibiades; and
The speakers, in this dialogue upon
the substance of it (when drawn together
out of the intricacies and digressions) as
follows

he was going to his devotions, and observ-
Socrates meeting his pupil Alcibiades, as
ing his eyes to be fixed upon the earth with

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 until such time as we may learn how we ought to behave ourselves towards the gods, In the first place, he recommends to him, and towards men. '-'But when will that as the model of his devotions, a short prayer time come,' says Alcibiades, and who is which a Greek poet composed for the use it that will instruct us? for I would fain see of his friends, in the following words: Othis man, whoever he is.'-'It is one,' says 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.'

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 con-
clusion as a prediction of our Saviour, or at
least that Socrates, like the high priest,*
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 philo-
sopher saw by the light of reason, that it No. 208.] Monday, October 29, 1711.
was suitable to the goodness of the divine
nature, to send a person into the world who
should instruct mankind in the duties of re-
ligion, and, in particular, teach them how
to pray.

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 peti-
tion 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.

-Veniunt spectentur ut ipsæ.

Ovid. Ars Am. Lib. 1. 99.

To be themselves a spectacle they come.

I HAVE several letters of people of good Whoever reads this abstract of Plato's sense who lament the depravity or poverty discourse on prayer, will, I believe, na- of taste the town is fallen into with relation turally make this reflection, That the to plays and public spectacles. A lady in great founder of our religion, as well by particular observes, that there is such a his own example, as in the form of prayer levity in the minds of her own sex, that which he taught his disciples, did not only they seldom attend to any thing but imperkeep up to those rules which the light of tinences. It is indeed prodigious to observe nature had suggested to this great philoso- how little notice is taken of the most exaltpher, but instructed his disciples in the ed parts of the best tragedies in Shakswhole extent of this duty, as well as of all peare; nay, it is not only visible that senothers. He directed them to the proper suality has devoured all greatness of soul, object of adoration, and taught them, ac- but the under-passion (as I may so call it) cording to the third rule above-mentioned, of a noble spirit, Pity, seems to be a stranger to apply themselves to him in their closets, to the generality of an audience. The minds without show or ostentation, and to worship of men are indeed very differently disposed; him in spirit and in truth.' As the Lacede- and the reliefs from care and attention are monians in their form of prayer implored of one sort in a great spirit, and of another the gods in general to give them all good in an ordinary one. The man of a great things so long as they were virtuous, we heart, and a serious complexion, is more ask in particular that our offences may be pleased with instances of generosity and forgiven, as we forgive those of others.' If pity, than the light and ludicrous spirit can we look into the second rule which Socrates possibly be with the highest strains of mirth has prescribed, namely, that we should and laughter. It is therefore a melancholy apply ourselves to the knowledge of such prospect when we see a numerous assemthings as are best for us, this too is explain-bly lost to all serious entertainments, and ed 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

* Caiaphas, John xi. 49.

such incidents as should move one sort of concern, excite in them a quite contrary one. In the tragedy of Macbeth, the other night, 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 rejoicing 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 prepossessions against