for whom you lament offers you consolation. My last breath will, if I am myself, expire in a prayer for you. I shall never see thy face again. Farewell for ever. T. Hor. Ars Poet. v. 25. thi plain that those your discourses are calcu 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 No. 205.] Thursday, October 25, 1711. and very well deserve to fall under your censure. I know it would debase your pa Decipimur specie rectiper too much to enter into the behaviour of Deluded by a seeming excellence. 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 pub which 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 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 them those which are still concealed; in order to selves, and by establishing a criminal com keep 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, 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 ce lebrated toast, entertains a secret passion for him, and wants nothing but an oppor tunity 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 obli gations 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. she '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 de hundred and seventy-sixth. You have delivering 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 fre quented 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 o some of the finest ladies in the kingdom By this means, as I am informed, it is usua enough to meet with a German count in foreign countries, that shall make his boast of favours he has received from women a the highest ranks, and the most unblemishe characters. Now, sir, what safety is ther for a woman's reputation, when a lady ma be thus prostituted as it were by proxy and be reputed an unchaste woman; as th ro in the ninth book of Dryden's Virgil you to publish the following erratum: In I shall add two other letters on different bjects to fill up my paper. Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit, L. Hor. Lib. 3. Od. xvi. 21. They that do much themselves deny, MR. SPECTATOR,—I am a country cler-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 A widow lady who straggled this sum- suffer in the ordinary occurrences of life. er from London into my parish for the The curious tell us, a determination in our enefit of the air, as she says, appears favour or to our disadvantage is made upon ery Sunday at church with many fashion- our first appearance, even before they ple extravagances, to the great astonish-know any thing of our characters, but from ent of my congregation. But what gives us the most offence her theatrical manner of singing the salms. She introduces above fifty Italian rs into the hundredth psalm; and whilst e begin "All people," in the old solemn ne of our forefathers, she in a quite difrent key runs divisions on the vowels, and dorns them with the graces of Nicolini: she meets with "eke" or "aye," which re frequent in the metre of Hopkins and ternhold, we are certain to hear her quaering them half a minute after us, to some prightly airs of the opera. 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 character, as a frugal man does his fortune; if either of them live to the height of either, I am very far from being an enemy to one will find losses, the other errors, which hurch music; but fear this abuse of it may he has not stock by him to make up. It nake my parish ridiculous, who already were therefore a just rule, to keep your ok on the singing psalms as an entertain- desires, your words, and actions, within the ment, and not part of the devotion: besides, regard you observe your friends have for am apprehensive that the infection may you, and never, if it were in a man's power, pread; for 'Squire Squeekum, who by his to take as much as he possibly might, oice seems (if I may use the expression) be cut out for an Italian singer, was last Sunday practising the same airs. either in preferment or reputation. My walks have lately been among the mercantile part of the world; and one gets phrases I know the lady's principles, and that naturally from those with whom one conhe will plead the toleration, which (as she verses. I say, then, he that in his air, his ancies) allows her non-conformity in this treatment of others, or an habitual arroparticular; but I beg of you to acquaint her, gance to himself, gives himself credit for hat singing the Psalms in a different tune the least article of more wit, wisdom, goodrom the rest of the congregation, is a sort ness, or valour, than he can possibly proof schism not tolerated by that act. I am, duce if he is called upon, will find the world ir, your very humble servant, R. S.' break in upon him, and consider him as one who has cheated them of all the esteem MR. SPECTATOR,-In your paper upon they had before allowed him. This brings emperance, you prescribe to us a rule of a commission of bankruptcy upon him; rinking, out of Sir William Temple, in and he that might have gone on to his he following words: "The first glass for life's end in a prosperous way, by aiming nyself, the second for my friends, the third at more than he should, is no longer proor good-humour, and the fourth for mine prietor of what he really had before, but nemies." Now, sir, you must know, that his pretensions fare as all things do which have read this your Spectator, in a club are torn instead of being divided. hereof I am a member; when our presi- There is no one living would deny Cinna lent told us there was certainly an error in the applause of an agreeable and facetious he print, and that the word glass should wit; or could possibly pretend that there e bottle; and therefore has ordered me to is not something inimitably unforced and of this mistake, and to desire diverting in his manner of delivering all his inform you sentiments in his conversation, if he were | chantments by which all the world are be able to conceal the strong desire of applause witched) are to him uncommon benefits and which he betrays in every syllable he ut- new acquisitions. Health is not eaten up ters. 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. 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 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. If you go among the women, and be hold 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 Lucceius has learning, wit, humour, eloRoxana with such a demand of respect in quence, but no ambitious prospects to purthe 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 com pretend to, that they lose what would other-panions are agreeable if they are civil and wise be given them. well-natured. There is with him no occa sion for superfluity at meals, for jollity in company; in a word, for any thing extraord nary 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 satisfac I remember the last time I saw Macbeth, bears, is so much laid up against the day No. 207.] Saturday, October 27, T. 1711 Omnibus in terris, quæ sunt a Gadibus usque Look round the habitable world, how few Know their own good, or, knowing it, pursue? 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 In my last Saturday's paper I laid down have no such endearing circumstances to some thoughts upon devotion in general, part with. But if there were no such con- and shall here show what were the notions siderations as the good effect which self- of the most refined heathens on this subject, denial has upon the sense of other men as they are represented in Plato's dialogue towards us, it is of all qualities the most upon prayer, entitled Alcibiades the Se desirable for the agreeable disposition in cond, which doubtless gave occasion which it places our own minds. I cannot Juvenal's tenth satire, and to the second tell what better to say of it, than that it is satire of Persius; as the last of these a the very contrary of ambition; and that thors has almost transcribed the preceding modesty allays all those passions and in-dialogue, entitled Alcibiades the First, in quietudes to which that vice exposes us. his fourth satire. He that is moderate in his wishes from The speakers, in this dialogue upon reason and choice, and not resigned from prayer, are Socrates and Alcibiades; and sourness, distaste, or disappointment, dou- the substance of it (when drawn together bles all the pleasures of his life. The air, out of the intricacies and digressions) the season, a sunshiny day, or a fair pros- follows pect, are instances of happiness, and that Socrates meeting his pupil Alcibiades, a which he enjoys in common with all the he was going to his devotions, and observ world, (by his exemption from the en-ing his eyes to be fixed upon the earth with 25 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 dissention 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 shows 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 could be bestowed upon him. Socrates then asked him, if after receiving this great favour he would be contented 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 shows 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 event 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, 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 sk such things as are expedient for him, e shows 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 suitble to the excellency of his nature. In the third and last place, he informs him that the best methods 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 make 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 these particulars? To this, says he, the oracle made the following reply: I am better pleased with the prayers 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 show 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,* in which the poet says, 'that the scent of the Trojan sacrifices were 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 until 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, that Minerva removed the mist from Diomede's 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 | Being that his will may be done: which is is something in it that would make us think of the same force with that form which Socrates hinted at himself, when he spoke our Saviour used, when he prayed against of this divine teacher who was to come into the most painful and most ignominious of the world, did not he own that he himself deaths, Nevertheless not my will, but was in this respect as much at a loss, and thine be done.' This comprehensive petiin as great distress as the rest of mankind. tion is the most humble, as well as the most Some learned men look upon this con- prudent, that can be offered up from the clusion as a prediction of our Saviour, or at creature to his Creator, as it supposes the least that Socrates, like the high priest, Supreme Being wills nothing but what is prophesied unknowingly, and pointed at for our good, and that he knows better than that Divine Teacher who was to come into ourselves what is so. the world some ages after him. However that may be, we find that this great philosopher 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 religion, and, in particular, teach them how to pray. -Veniunt spectentur ut ipsæ. L. Ovid. Ars Am. Lib. 1.99. To be themselves a spectacle they come. Whoever reads this abstract of Plato's sense who lament the depravity or poverty I HAVE Several letters of people of good 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 imper keep 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 exalt pher, but instructed his disciples in the ed parts of the best tragedies in Shaks whole extent of this duty, as well as of all peare; nay, it is not only visible that sen others. 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 assem things 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 ut terly astonished at the news, and makes an exclamation at it, instead of the indignation which is natural to the occasion, that ex pression is received with a loud laugh. They were as merry when a criminal was stabbed. It is certainly an occasion of re joicing when the wicked are seized in their designs; but I think it is not such a triumph as is exerted by laughter. petites are sooner moved than the passions. You may generally observe, that the ap 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 agains |