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Celestial equipage! and now came forth
the creation rise up to view one after another, in Spontaneous, for within them spirit liv'd,
such a manner, that the reader seems present at this Attendant on the Lord : Heav'n open'd wide Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound!
wonderful work, and to assist among the choirs of On golden hinges moving
angels who are the spectators of it. How glorious I have before taken notice of these chariots of is the conclusion of the first day! God, and of these gates of heaven; and shall here
Thus was the first day evin and morn: only add, that Homer gives us the same idea of the
Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsung,
By the celestial choirs, when orient light latter, as opening of themselves; though he after.
Exhaling first from darkness they bebeld; wards takes off from it, by telling us that the hours Birth-day of heav'n and earth! with joy and shouf first of all removed those prodigious heaps of clouds The hollow universal orb they filled. which lay as a barrier before them.
We have the same elevation of thought in the I do not know any thing in the whole poem more third day, when the mountains were brought forth sublime than the description which follows, where and the deep was made : the Messiah is represented at the head of his angels, as looking down into the chaos, calming its con
Immediately the mountains huge appear
Emerzent, and their broad bare backs up-heave fusion, riding into the midst of it, and drawing che Into the clouds, their tops ascend the sky: first outline of the creation :
So high as heav'n the tumid hills, so low
Dowu sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep,
Capacious bed of waters
We have also the rising of the whole vegetable Up from the bottom turn'd by furious winds
world described in this day's work, which is filled And surging waves, as mountains to assault Heav'n's height, and with the centre mix the pole.
with all the graces that other poets have lavished ou “Silence, ye troubled waves : and thou, deep. peace !" their description of the spring, and leads the reader's Said then th' omnific Word, “Your discord end!" imagination into a theatre equally surprising and Nor staid, but on the wings of cherubim
beautiful. Up-lifted, in paternal glory rode Far into Chaos, and the world unbom;
The several glories of the heavens make their For Chaos heard his voice. Him all his train
appearance on the fourth day: Follow'd in bright procession, to behold Creation, and the wonders of his might.
First in bis east the glorious lamp was seen, Then stay'd the fervid wheels; and in his hand
Regent or day, and all the horizon round He took the golden compasses, prepar'd,
Invested with bright rays, jocund to run In God's eternal store to circumscribe
His longitude through heaven's high road: the gray This universe and all created things :
Dawn, and the Pleiades before hiin danc'd, One foot he centred, and the other turn'd
Shedding sweet influeuce. Less bright the moon, Round through the vast profundity obscure,
But opposite in levelld west was set And said, " Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds,
His mirror, with full face borrowing her light This be thy just circumference, O world!"
From himn, for other lights she needed roue
In that aspect, and still that distance keeps The thought of the golden compasses is conceived Till night; then in the east her turn she shines,
Revolvid on heaven's great axle, and her reign altogether in Homer's spirit, and is a very noble
With thousand lesser lights dividual holds, incident in this wonderful description. Homer, With thousand thousand stars, that then appear'd when he speaks of the gods, ascribes to them several Spangling the hemisphere arms and instruments with the same greatness of
One would wonder how the poet could be so conimagination. Let the reader only peruse the description of Minerva's ægis
, or buckler, in the fifth cise in his description of the six days' works, as to book of the Iliad, with her spear, which would over. and at the same time, so particular, as to give us
comprehend them within the bounds of an episode, turn whole squadrons, and her helmet that was sufficient to cover an army drawn out of a hundred in bis account of the fifth and sixth days, in wbich
a lively idea of them. This is still more remarkable cities. The golden compasses, in the above-mentioned passage, appear a very natural instrument in he has drawn out to our view the whole animal the hand of him whom Plato somewhere calls the creation, from the reptile to the behemoth. As the Divine Geometrician. As poetry delights in cloth-Lion and the leviathan are two of the noblest pro ing abstracted ideas in allegories and sensible ductions in the world of living creatures, the reader images, we find a magnificent description of the will find a most exquisite spirit of poetry in the creation formed after the same manner in one of sixth day concludes with the formation of man, up
account which our author gives us of them. The the prophets, wherein he describes the Almighty Architect as measuring the waters in the hollow of the battle in heaven, to remind Adam of his obe
on which the angel takes occasion, as he did after his hand, meting out the heavens with his span, dience, which was the principal desigu of this kis comprehending the dust of the earth in a measure,
visit. weigbing the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance. Another of them describing the Supreme
The poet afterward represents the Messiah reBeing in this great work of creation, represents him turning into heaven, and taking a survey of bus as laying the foundations of the earth, and stretch- great work. There is something inexpressibly subing a line upon it; and, in another place, as gar. scribes that great period of time, tilled with so many
lime in this part of the poem, where the author de. nishing the heavens, stretching out the porth over the empty place, and hauging the carth upon no- earth were finished; when the Messiah aseended up
glorious circumstances; when the heavens and thing. This last poble thought Milton has ex- in triumph through the everlasting gates; when he pressed in the following verse:
looked down with pleasure upon his new creation; And earth self-balanced on her centre hung.
when every part of nature seemed to rejoice in its
existence, when the morning-stars sang together, The beauties of description in this book lie so very and all the sons of God shouted for joy. thick, that it is impossible to enumerate them in this
So ev'n and morn accomplished the sixth day : paper. The poet has employed on them the whole
Yet uot till the Creator from his work energy of our tongue. The several great scenes of| Desisting, though unwearied, up reiurt'd.
Up to the heaven of heavens, his high abode; are naturally incited to indulge a curiosity in beThence to behold his new created world,
holding the person, behaviour, feature, and shape, The addition of his empire, how it shewd In prospect from his throne, how good, how fair,
of him in whose character, perhaps, each man had Answering his great idea. Up he rode,
formed something in common with himself. Follow'd with acclamation and the sound
Whether such, or any other, are the causes, all Symphonious of ten thousand harps, that tun'dAngelic harmoniex : the earth, the air
men have a yearning curiosity to behold a man of Resounded (thou rememberest, for thou heard'st) heroic worth; and I have had many letters from all The heavens and all the constellations rung,
parts of this kingdom, that request I would give The planets in their station list'ning stood,
them an exact account of the stature, the mien, the While the bright pomp ascended jubilant. "Open, ye everlasting gates !" they sung,
4«pect of the prince who lately visited England, and "Open, ye heavens, your living doors ! let in
has done such wonders for the liberty of Europe. The great Creator from his work return'd
It would puzzle the most curious to form to himself Magnificent, his six days' work-a world."
the sort of man my several correspondents expect I cannot conclude this book upon the creation, to hear of by the action mentioned, when they dewithout mentioning a poem which has lately ap- sire a description of him. There is always somepeared under that title. The work was undertaken thing that concerns themselves, and growing out of with so good an intention, and is executed with so their own circumstances, in all their inquiries. A great a mastery, that it deserves to be looked upon friend of mine in Wales beseeches me to be very as one of the inost useful and noble productions in exact in my account of that wonderful man, who our English verse. The reader cannot but be had marched an army and all its baggage over the pleased to find the depths of philosophy eulivened Alps; and, if possible, to learn whether the pea. with all the charms of poetry, and to see so great a sant who showed him the way, and is drawn in the strength of reason amidst so beautiful a redundancy map, be yet living. A gentleman from the uniof the imagination. The author has shown us that versity, who is deeply intent on the study of hudesign in all the works of nature which necessarily manity, desires me to be as particular, if I had opleads us to the knowledge of the first cause. In portunity, in observing the whole interview between sbort, he has illustrated, by numberless and incon-his highness and our late general. Thus do men's testible instances, that divine wisdom which the son faucies work according to their several educations of Sirach has só pobly ascribed to the Supreme and circumstances; but all pay a respect, mixed Being in his formation of the world, when he tells with admiration, to this illustrious character. I bave lis, that “ He created her, he saw her, and numbered waited for his arrival in Holland, before I would let her, and poured her out upon all his works.”—L. my correspondents kaow that I have not been so un
curious a Spectator as not to have seen Prince
Eugene. * It would be very difficult, as I said just No. 340.] MONDAY, MARCH 31, 1712. now, to answer every expectation of those who have Quis novus hic nostris successit sedibus hospes ?
written to me on that head; nor is it possible for me Quem sese ore ferens! quam forti pectore et armis !
to find words to let one kuow what an artful glance
VIRG. Æn. iv. 10. there is in his countenance who surprised Cremona; What chief is this that visits us from far,
how daring he appears who forced the trenches of Whose gallant mien bespeaks hin train d !o war? Turin; but in general I can say that he who beholds I take it to be the highest instance of a noble bim will easily expect from him any thing that is to mind, to bear great qualities without discovering in be imagined, or executed, by the wit or force of a man's behaviour any consciousness that he is man. The prince is of that stature which makes a superior to the rest of the world. Or, to say it inan most easily become all parts of exercise ; has, otherwise, it is the duty of a great person so to de-height to be graceful on occasions of state and cemean himself, as that whatever endowments he remony, and no less adapted for agility and dismay have, he may appear to value himself upon no patch : his aspect is erect and composed ; his eye qualities but sach as any man may arrive at. He lively and thoughtful, yet rather vigilant than sparkought to think no man valuable bit for his public ling; his action and address the most easy imaginspirit, justice, and integrity: and all other endow-able, and his behaviour in an assembly peculiarly ments to be esteemed only as they contribute to the graceful in a certain art of mixing insensibly with exerting those virtues. Such a man, if he is wise the rest, and becoming one of the company, instead of valiant, knows it is of no consideration to other of receiving the courtship of it. The shape of his men that he is so, but as he employs those high ta- person, and composure of his limbs, are remarkably lents for their use and service. He who affects the exact and beautiful. There is in his looks someapplauses and addresses of a multitude, or assumes thing subliine, which does not seem to arise from to himself a pre-eminence upon any other consi- his quality or character, but the innate disposition deration, must soon turn admiration into contempt. of his mind. It is apparent that he suffers the preIt is certain that there can be no merit in any man
sence of much company, instead of taking delight who is not conscious of it; but the sense that it is in it; and he appeared in public, while with us, valuable only according to the application of it, rather to return good-will, or satisfy curiosity, than makes that superiority amiable, which would other to gratify any taste he himself had of being popular. wise be in vidious. In this light it is considered as As his thoughts are never tumultuous in danger, a thing in which every man bears a share. It an- they are as little discomposed on occasions of pomp neses the ideas of dignity, power, and fame, in an
and magnificence. A great soul is affected, in agreeable and familiar manner, to him who is pos- either case, no further than in considering the prosessor of it; and all men who are strangers to him perest methods to extricate itself from them. If
this hero has the strong incentives to uncommon Creation, a philosophical poem; demonstrating the ex
enterprises that were remarkable in Alexander, he ence and providence of God. In seven books. By Sir Rx hard Blackinore, Knt. M.D. and fellow of the college of * He stood godfather to Steele's second son, who was tysicians in London.
named Eugene after this prince.
Viro. En. i. 206.
prosecules and enjoys the fame of them with the more Andromache, but Mrs. Oldfield; and though justness, propriety, and good sense of Cæsar. It is the poet had left Andromache stone-dead upon the easy to observe in him à mind as capable of being stage, as your ingenious correspondent phrases il, entertained with contemplation as enterprise; a Mrs. Oldfeld might still have spoken a merry epimind ready for great exploits, but not impatient for logue. We have an instance of this in a tragedy occasions to exert itself. The prioce has wisdom, where there is not only a death, but a martyrdom. and valour in as high perfection as man can enjoy St. Catherine was there personated by Nell Gwynne ; it; which noble faculties, in conjunction, banish all she lies stone-dead upon the stage, but, upon those vain-glory, ostentation, ambition, and all other vices gentlemen's offering to remove her body, whose which might intrude upon his mind, to make it un business it is to carry off the slain in our English equal. These habits and qualities of soul and body, tragedies, she breaks out into that abrupt beginrender this personage so extraordinary, that he ap- ning, of what was very ludicrous, but at the same pears to have nothing in him but what every man time thought a very good epilogue : should have in him, the exertion of his very self, abstracted from the circumstances in which fortune
Hola! are you mad? yon damn'd confounded dog
I am to rise and speak the epilogue. has placed him. Thus, were you to see Prince Eugene, and were told he was a private gentleman, Mr. Dryden, who, if he was not the best writer of
“ This diverting manner was always practised by you would say he is a man of modesty and merit. Should you be told that was Prince Eugene, he tragedies in his time, was allowed by every one to would be diminished no otherwise, than that part of have the happiest turn for a prologue or an epiyour distant admiration would turn into a familiar logue. The epilogues to Cleomenes, Don Sebastian, good-will.
The Duke of Guise, Aurengzebe, and Love TriThis I thought fit to entertain my reader with, umphant, are all precedents of this nature. concerning a hero who never was equalled but by cellent
epilogue which was spoken, a few years
I might further justify this practice by that ex. une man ;* over whom also he bas this advantage, since, after the tragedy of Phædra and Hippolytus ;* that he has had an opportunity to manisest an esteem with a great many others, in which the authors haro for him in his adversity.-T.
endeavoured to make the audience merry. Ji they
have not all succeeded so well as the writer of this, No. 341.] TUESDAY, APRIL 1, 1712.
they have however shown that it was not for want
of good-will. -Revocate animos, mæstumque timorem
** I must further observe, that the gaiety of it may
be still the more proper, as it is at the end of a Resume vour courage and dismiss your fear. French play; since every one knows that nation,
who are generally esteemed to have as polite a taste Having, to oblige my correspondent Physibulus, as any in Europe, always close their tragic enterprinted his letter last Friday, in relation to the new tainments with what they call a petite pièce, mbich epilogue, he cannot take it amiss if I now publish is purposely designed to raise mirth, and send array another, which I have just received from a gentle the audience well pleased. The same person who man who does not agree with him in his sentiments has supported the chief character in the tragedy upon that matter.
very often plays the principal part in the petite
pièce ; so that I have myself seen, at Paris, Orestes “SIR,
and Lubin acted the same night by the same man. “I am amazed to find an epilogue attacked in “ Tragi-comedy, indeed, you have yourself, in a your last Friday's paper, which has been so gene- former speculation, found fault with very justly, rally applauded by the town, and received such because it breaks the tide of the passions while they honours as were never before given to any in an
are yet flowing; but this is nothing at all to the English theatre.
present case, where they have had already their full “ The audience would not permit Mrs. Oldfield to course. go off the stage the first .night till she had repeated
“As the new epilogue is written conformably to it twico; the second night the noise of encores was the practice of our best poets, so it is not such a one, as loud as before, and she was again obliged to which, as the Duke of Buckingham says in his lie speak it twice; the third night it was still called for hearsal, might serve for any other play; but wholly a second time; and, in short, contrary to all other rises out of the occurrences of the piece it was conepilogues, which are dropped after the third repre- posed for. sentation of the play, this has already been repeated
“ The only reason your mournful correspondent nine times.
gives against this facetious epilogue, as he calls it, “ I must own, I am the more surprised to find is, that he has a mind to go home melancholy. I this censure in opposition to the whole town, in a wish the gentleman may not be more grave than paper which has been hitherto famous for the candour wise. For my own part, I must confess, I think it of its criticisms.
very sufficient to have the anguish of a fictitions “I can by no means allow your melancholy cor- piece remain upon me while it is representing ; but respondent, that the new epilogue is unnatural be- I love to be sent home to bed in a good humour. If cause it is gay.
If I had a mind to be learned, I Physibulus is, however, resolved to be inconsolable, could tell him that the prologue and epilogue were and not to have his tears dried up, he need only real parts of the ancient tragedy; but every one continue his old custom, and, when he has had his knows, that, on the British stage, they are distinct half-crown's worth of sorrow, slink out before the performances by themselves, pieces entirely de- epilogue begins. tached from the play, and no way essential to it. A tragedy by Mr. Edmund Neal, known hy the name of “The moment the play ends, Mrs. Oldfield is no Smith, 8vo. i7o4. Addisou wrote a prologue to this play
when Italian operas were in vogue, to rally the vitiated laste The Duke of Marlborough, who was at this time turned of the town in preferring sound to sense. Prior wrote the epic out of all his public employments.
logue here mentioned.
* It i. pleasant enough to hear this tragical genius is at present, I am sure, no way below your Asteria complaining of the great mischief Andromache had for conjugal affection : but I see the behaviour of done him. What was that? Why, she made bin some women so little suited to the circumstance laugh. The poor gentleman's sufferings put me in wherein my wife and I shall soon be, that it is with mind of Harlequin's case, who was tickled to death. a reluctance, I never knew before, I am going to He tells us soon after, through a small mistake of my duty. What puts me to present pain is, the sorrow for rage, that during the whole action he was example of a young lady, whose story you shall have $0 very sorry, that he thinks he could have attacked as well as I can give it you. Hortensius, an offihalf a score of the fiercest Mohocks in the excess of cer of good rank in her Majesty's service, haphis grief. I cannot but look upon it as a happy ac- pened, in a certain part of England, to be brought cident, that a man who is so bloody-minded in his to a country gentleman's house, where he was re. affliction was diverted from this fit of outrageous ceived with that more than ordinary welcome with melancholy. The valour of this gentleman in his which men of domestic lives entertain such few soldistress brings to one's memory the Knight of the diers whom a military life, from the variety of ad. Sorrowful Countenance, who lays about him at such ventures, has not rendered overbearing, but humane, an unmerciful rate in an old romance. I shall easy, and agreeable. Hortensius stayed here some readily grant him that his soul, as he himself says, time, and had easy access at all hours, as well as would bare made a very ridiculous figure, had it unavoidable conversation at some parts of the day, quitted the body, and descended to the poetical with the beautiful Sylvana, the gentleman's daughshades, in such an encounter.
People who live in cities are wonderfully " As to his conceit of tacking a tragic head with struck with every little country abode they see when a comic tail, in order to refresh the audience, it is they take the air; and it is natural to fancy they such a piece of jargon, that I don't know what to could live in every neat cottage (by which they pass) make of it.
much happier than in their present circumstances. “The elegant writer makes a very sudden tran- The turbulent way of life which Hortensius was sition from the playhouse to the church, and from used to made him reflect with much satisfaction on thence to the gallows.
all the advantages of a sweet retreat one day; and, “ As for what relates to the church, he is of opi- among the rest, you will think it not improbable it nion that the epilogues have given occasion to those might enter into his thought, that such a woman as merry jigs from the organ-loft, which have dissi- Sylvana would consummate the happiness. The pated those good thoughts and dispositions he has world is so debauched with mean considerations, found in himself, and the rest of the pew, upon the that Hortensius knew it would be received as an singing of two staves culled out by the judicious act of generosity, if he asked for a woman of the and diligent clerk.
highest merit, without further questions, of a parent " He fetches his next thought from Tyburn; and who had nothing to add to her personal qualificaseems very apprehensive lest there should happen tions. The wedding was celebrated at her father's any innovations in the tragedies of his friend Paul house. When that was over, the generous husband Lorrain.
did not proportion his provision for her to the cir“ In the mean time, Sir, this gloomy writer, who cumstances of her fortune, but considered his wife is so mightily scandalized at a gay epilogue after a as his darling, his pride, and his vanity; or, rather, serious play, speaking of the fate of those unhappy that it was in the woman he bad chosen that a man wretches who are condemned to suffer an ignomi- of sense could show pride or vanity with an excuse, nious death by the justice of our laws, endeavours and therefore adorned her with rich habits and vato make the reader merry on so improper an occa- luable jewels. He did not, however, omit to admo. sion, by :hose poor burlesque expressions of tragical Dish her, that he did his very utmost in this; that dramas and monthly performances.
it was an ostentation he could not be guilty of but “I am, Sir, with great respect,
to a woman he had so much pleasure in, desiring " Your most obedient, most humble Servant,
her to consider it as such; and begged of her also to
take these matters rightly and believe the gems, the X.
gowns, the laces, would still become her better, if
her air and behaviour was such, that it might apNo. 342.) WEDNESDAY, APRIL 2, 1712.
pear she dressed thus rather in compliance to his
humour that way, than out of any value she herself Justiciæ partes sunt non violare homines; verecundiæ non had for the trifles. To this lesson, too hard for a
woman, Hortentius added, that she mnst be sure to Justice consists in doing no injury to men; decency, in giving stay with her friends in the country till his return. them no offence.
As soon as Hortensius departed, Sylvana saw, in As regard to decency is a great rule of life in her looking-glass, that the love he conceived for her general, but more especially to be consulted by the was wholly owing to the accident of seeing her; female world, I cannot overlook the following letter, and she was convinced it was only her misfortune which describes an egregious offender.
the rest of mankind had not beheld her, or men of * MR. SPECTATOR,
much greater quality and merit bad contended
for one su genteel, though bred in obscurity; so " I was this day looking over your papers ; and very witty, though never acquainted with court or reading in that of December the 6th, with great de town. She therefore resolved not to hide so much light, the amiable grief of Asteria for the absence excellence from the world; but, without any regard of her husband, it threw me into a great deal of re. to the absence of the most generous man aliye, she flection. I cannot say but this arose very much is now the gayest lady about this town, and has from the circumstances of my own life, who am a shut out the thoughts of her husband, by a constant soldier, and expect every day to receive orders, retinue of the vainest young fellows this age has wbich will oblige me to leave behind me a wife that produced; to entertain whom she squanders away is very dear to me, and that very deservedly. She all Hortensius is able to support her with, though,
that supply is purchased with no less difficulty than that doctrine to this day. « Sir Paul Rycaut, the hazard of his life.”
says he, “ gives us an account of several well-dis “Now, Mr. Spectator, would it not be a work posed Mahometans that purchase the freedom of becoming your office, to treat this criminal as she any little bird they see confined to a cage, and deserves ?' You should give it the severest reflec. think they merit as much by it as we should do tions you can. You should tell women that they here by ransoming any of our countrymen from are more accountable for behaviour in absence, than their captivity at Algiers. You must know," says after death. The dead are not dishonoured by Will, “the reason is, because they consider esery their levities; the living may return, and be laughed animal as a brother or sister in disguise; and there at by empty fops, who will not fail to turn into fore think themselves obliged to exiend their charity ridicule the good man, who is so unreasonable as to to them though under such mean circumstances. be still alive, and come and spoil good company. They'll tell you,” says Will, " that the soul of a * I am, Sir,
man, when he dies, immediately passes into the “ Your most obedient humble Servant." body of another man, or of some brute, which he
resembled in his humour, or his fortune, when he All strictness of behaviour is so unmercifully was one of us." laughed at in our age, that the other much worse As I was wondering what this profusion of learnextreme is the more common folly. But let any ing would end in, Will told us, that " Jack Free. woman consider, which of the two offences a hus- love, who was a fellow of whim, made love to che band would the more easily forgive, that of being of those ladies who throw away all their fondness on less entertaining than she could to please company, parrots, monkeys, and lap-dogs. Upon going to pay or raising the desires of the whole room to his dis- her a visit one morning, he writ a very pretty epis. advantage, and she will easily be able to form her tle upon this hint. Jack," says he, " was conducted conduct. We have indeed carried women's charac- into the parlour, where he diverted himself for some ters too much into public life, and you shall see time with her favourite monkey, which was chaised them now-a-days affect a sort of fame : but I cannot in one of the windows: till at length observing a help venturing to disoblige them for their service, pen and ink lie by him, he writ the following letter by telling them, that the utmost of a woman's cha- io his mistress in the person of the monkey; and, racter is contained in domestic life; she is blameable upon her not coming down so soon as he expected, or praiseworthy according as her carriage affects the left it in the window, and went about his business. house of her father or husband. All she has to do “The lady soon after coming into the parlour, in this world is contained within the duties of a and seeing her monkey look upon a paper with great daughter, a sister, a wife, and a mother. All these earnestness, took it up, and to this day is in some may be well performed, though a lady should not doubt,” says Will, “ whether it was written by Jack be the very finest woman at an opera or an assem or the monkey." bly. They are likewise consistent with a moderate share of wit, a plain dress, and a modest air. But
“ MADAM, when the very brains of the sex are turned, and “Not having the gift of speech, I have a long they place their ambition on circumstances, wherein time waited in vain for an opportunity of making to excel is no addition to what is truly commendable; myself known to you: and having at present the where can this end, but, as it frequently does, in conveniences of pen, ink, and paper, by me, I their placing all their industry, pleasure, and ambi- gladly take the occasion of giving you my history tion, on things which will naturally make the grati- in writing, which I could not do by word of mooth. fications of life last, at best, no longer than youth You must know, Madam, that about a thousand and good fortune? When we consider the least ill years ago I was an Indian brachman, and versed in consequence, it can be no less than looking on their all those mysterious secrets which your European own condition, as years advance, with a disrelish of philosopher, called Pythagoras, is said to have life, and falling into contempt of their own persons, I learned from our fraternity. I had so ingratialed or being the derision of others. But when they con- myself, by my great skill in the occult scienors, sider themselves as they ought, no other than an ad- with a demon whom I used to converse with, that ditional part of the species (for their own happiness he promised to grant me whatever I sbould ask of and comfort, as well as that of those for whom they him. I desired that my soul might never pass into were born), their ambition to excel will be directed the body of a brute creature; but this, he told me, accordingly; and they will in no part of their lives was not in his power to grant me. I then begged want opportunities of being shining ornaments to that, into whatever creature ! should chance to their fathers, husbands, brothers, or children.-T. transmigrate, I might still retain my memory, and
be conscious that I was the same person who lived
in different animals. This, he told me, was within No. 343.) THURSDAY, APRIL 3, 1712.
his power, and accordingly promised, on the word of a demon, that he would grant me what I desired
From that time forth I lived so very unblameably, Huc venit, hinc illuc, et quoslibet occupat artus
that I was made president of a college of brachmans, Spiritus; æque feris humana in corpora transit, Inque feras noster -OVID, Metam. xv. 165.
an office which I discharged with great integrity til All things are but alter'd ; nothing dies;
the day of my death. And here and there th' unbody'd spirit flies,
“I was then shuffled into another human body, By time, or force, or sickness dispossessid, And lodges, where it lights, in man or beast.—Deydes. minister to a prince who reigned upon the banks of
and acted my part so well in it, that I becane first Will HONEYCOMB, who loves to show upon oc- the Ganges. 'I here lived in great honour for secasion all the little learning he has picked up, told veral years, but by degrees lost all the ionoceeee ? us yesterday at the club, that he thought there might the brachman, being obliged to rifle and oppress she be a great deal said for the transmigration of souls ; people to enrich my sovereign; till at length I be and that the eastern parts of the world believed in came so odious, that my master, to recover his cre.it
Errat, et illinc