rectified, and made amends for, in another. We are not therefore to expect that fire should fall from heaven in the ordinary course of Providence; nor, when we see triumphant guilt or depressed virtue in particular persons, that Omnipotence will make bare his holy arm in the defence of the one, or punishment of the other. It is sufficient that there is a day set apart for the hearing and requiting of both, according to their respective merits. gress through any profession, none seem to have so good a title to the protection of the men of eminence in it, as the modest man; not so much because his modesty is a certain indication of his merit, as because it is a certain obstacle to the producing of it. Now, as of all professions this virtue is thought to be more particularly unnecessary in that of the law than in any other, I shall only apply myself to the relief of such who follow this profession with this disadThe folly of ascribing temporal judgments to any vantage. What aggravates the matter is, that those particular crimes, may appear from several conside-persons who, the better to prepare themselves for rations. I shall only mention two. First, that, ge- this study, have made some progress in others, have, nerally speaking, there is no calamity or affliction, by addicting themselves to letters, increased thei: which is supposed to have happened as a judgment to a vicious man, which does not sometimes happen to men of approved religion and virtue. When Diagoras the atheist was on board one of the Athenian ships, there arose a very violent tempest: upon which, the mariners told him, that it was a just judgment upon them for having taken so impious a man on board. Diagoras begged them to look upon the rest of the ships that were in the same distress, and asked them whether or no Diagoras was on board every vessel in the fleet. We are all involved in the same calamities, and subject to the same accidents; and, when we see any one of the species under any particular oppression, we should look upon it as arising from the common lot of human nature, rather than from the guilt of the person who suffers. natural modesty, and consequently heightened the obstruction to this sort of preferment; so that every one of these may emphatically be said to be such a one as laboureth and taketh pains, and is still the more behind.' It may be a matter worth discussing, then, why that which made a youth so amiable to the ancients, should make him appear so ridiculous to the moderns? and why, in our days, there should be neglect, and even oppression, of young beginners, instead of that protection which was the pride of theirs? In the profession spoken of, it is obvious to every one whose attendance is required at Westminster-hall, with what difficulty a youth of any modesty has been permitted to make an observation, that could in no wise detract from the merit of his elders, and is absolutely necessary for the advancing his own. I have often seen one of these not only molested in his utterance of something very pertinent, but even plundered of his question, and by a strong serjeant shouldered out of his rank, which he has recovered with much difficulty and confusion. Now, as great part of the business of this profession might be dispatched by one that perhaps -Abest virtute diserti Messale, nec scit quantum Cascellius Aulus: Another consideration, that may check our presumption in putting such a construction upon a misfortune, is this, that it is impossible for us to know what are calamities and what are blessings. How many accidents have passed for misfortunes, which have turned to the welfare and prosperity of the per. sons to whose lot they have fallen! How many disappointments have, in their consequences, saved a man from ruin! If we could look into the effects of every thing, we might be allowed to pronounce boldly upon blessings and judgments; but for a man to give his opinion of what he sees but in part, and in its beginnings, is an unjustifiable piece of rash-so I cannot conceive the injustice done to the public, ness and folly. The story of Biton and Clitobus, which if the men of reputation in this calling would introwas in great reputation among the heathens (for we see it quoted by all the ancient authors, both Greek and Latin, who have written upon the immortality of the soul), may teach us a caution in this matter. These two brothers being the sons of a lady who was priestess to Juno, drew their mother's chariot to the temple at the time of a great solemnity, the persons being absent who, by their office, were to have drawn her chariot on that occasion. The mother was so transported with this instance of filial duty, that she petitioned her goddess to bestow upon them the greatest gift that could be given to men; upon which they were both cast into a deep sleep, and the next morning found dead in the temple. This was such an event as would have been construed into a judg-cates in the hall. ment, had it happened to the two brothers after an act of disobedience, and would doubtless have been represented as such by any ancient historian who had given us an account of it.-0. duce such of the young ones into business, whose application to this study will let them into the secrets of it, as much as their modesty will hinder them from the practice: I say, it would be laying an everlasting obligation upon a young man, to be intro daced at first only as a mute, till by this counte nance, and a resolution to support the good opinion conceived of him in his betters, his complexion shall be so well settled, that the litigious of this island may be secure of his obstreperous aid. If I might be indulged to speak in the style of a lawyer, I would say, that any one about thirty years of age might make a common motion to the court with as much elegance and propriety as the most aged advo "I cannot advance the merit of modesty by any argument of my own so powerfully, as by inquiring into the sentiments the greatest among the ancients of different ages entertained upon this virtue. If we go back to the days of Solomon, we shall find favour a necessary consequence to a shamefaced man Pliny, the greatest lawyer and most elegant writer. of the age he lived in, in several of his epistles is very solicitous în recommending to the public some young men of his own profession, and very often undertakes to become an advocate, upon condition that some one of these his favourites might be joined with him, in order to produce the merit of such "Of all the your countlows who in their pro-whose modesty otherwise would have suppressed it. No. 484.] MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1712. Neque cuiqam tam statim clarum ingenium est, ut possit emergere: nisi illi materia, occasio, fautor etiam, commendatorque contingat.-PLAN. Epist. For has any one so bright a genius as to become illustrious in stantaneously unless it fortunately meets with occasion and employment, with patronage too, and commendation. 68 MR. SPECTATOR, It may seem very marvellous to a saucy modern, that mullum sanguinis, multum verecundiu, multum sollicitudinis in ore; to have the face first full of blood, then the countenance dashed with modesty, and then the whole aspect as of one dying with fear, when a man begins to speak;' should be esteemed by Pliny the necessary qualifications of a fine speaker. Shakspeare also has expressed himself in the same tavourable strain of modesty, when he says, In the modesty of fearful duty I read as much as from the rattling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence "Now, since these authors have professed themselves for the modest man, even in the utmost confusions of speech and countenance, why should an intrepid utterance and a resolute vociferation thunder so successfully in our courts of justice? And why should that confidence of speech and behaviour, which seems to acknowledge no superior, and to defy all contradiction, prevail over that deference and resignation with which the modest man implores that favourable opinion which the other seems to command? "As the case at present stands, the best consolation that I can administer, to those who cannot get into that stroke of business (as the phrase is) which they deserve, is to reckon every particular acquisition of knowledge in this study as a real increase of their fortune; and fully to believe, that one day this imaginary gain will certainly be made out, by one more substantial. I wish you would talk to us a little on this head; you will oblige, Sir, "Your most humble Servant." The author of this letter is certainly a man of good sense; but I am perhaps particular in my opinion on this occasion: for I have observed that, under the notion of modesty, men have indulged themselves in a spiritless sheepishness, and been for ever lost to themselves, their families, their friends, and their country. When a man has taken care to pretend to nothing but what he may justly aim at, and can execute as well as any other, without injustice to any other; it is ever want of breeding, or courage, to be brow-beaten, or elbowed out of his honest ambition. I have said often, modesty must be an act of the will, and yet it always implies self-denial: for, if a man has an ardent desire to do what is laudable for him to perform, and from an unmanly bashfulness shrinks away, and lets his merit languish in silence, he ought not to be angry at the world that & more unskilful actor succeeds in his part, because he has not confidence to come upon the stage himself. The generosity my correspondent mentions of Phiny cannot be enough applauded. To cherish the dawn of merit, and hasten its maturity, was a work worthy a noble Roman, and a liberal scholar. That concern which is described in the letter, is to all the world the greatest charm imaginable; but then the modest man must proceed, and show a latent resolution in himself: for the admiration of his modesty arises from the manifestation of his merit. I must confess we live in an age wherein a few empty blusterers carry away the praise of speaking, while a crowd of fellows overstocked with knowledge are run down by them: I say overstocked, because they certainly are so, as to their service of mankind, if from their very store they raise to themselves ideas of respect and greatness of the occasion, and I know not what, to disable themselves from explaining their thoughts. I must confess, when I have en Charles Frankair rise up with a commanding mier, and torrent of handsome words, talk a mile off the purpose, and drive down twenty bashful boobies of ten times his sense, who at the same time were envying his impudence, and despising his understanding, it has been matter of great mirth to me; but it soon ended in a secret lamentation, that the fountains of every thing praiseworthy in these realms, the universities, should be so mudded with a false sense of this virtue, as to produce men capas ble of being so abused. I will be bold to say, that it is a ridiculous education which does not qualify a man to make his best appearance before the greatest Iman, and the finest woman, to whom he can address himself. Were this judiciously corrected in the their distance; but we must bear with this false monurseries of learning, pert coxcombs would know desty in our young nobility and gentry, till they cease at Oxford and Cambridge to grow dumb in the study of eloquence.-T.. have done more harm than those who have been "My Lord Clarendon has observed, that few men thought to be able to do least; and there cannot be a greator error, than to believe a man, whom we see qualified with too mean parts to do good, to be therefore incapable of doing hurt. There is a supply of malice, of pride, of industry, and even of folly, in the weakest, when he sets his heart upon it, that makes a strange progress in mischief. What may seem to the reader the greatest paradox in the reflection of the historian is, I suppose, that folly, which is generally thought incapable of contriving or executing any design, should be so formidable to those whom it exerts itself to molest. But this will appear very plain, if we remember that Solomon says, It is as sport to a fool to do mischief ;' and that he might the more emphatically express the ca lamitous circumstances of him who falls under the displeasure of this wanton person, the same author adds further, that' A stone is heavy, and the sand weighty, but a fool's wrath is heavier than them both. It is impossible to suppress my own illustra tion upon this matter, which is, that as the man of sagacity bestirs himself to distress his enemy by methods probable and reducible to reason, so the same reason will fortify his enemy to elude these bis regular efforts; but your fool projects, acts, and con cludes, with such notable inconsistency, that no regular course of thought can evade or counterplot his prodigious machinations. My frontispiece, I believe, may be extended to imply, that several of our misfortunes arise from things, as well as persons, that seem of very little consequence. Into what tragical extravagances does Shakspeare hurry Othello, upon the loss of a handkerchief only! And what barbarities does Desdemona suffer, from a slight inadver. tency in regard to this fatal trifle! If the schemes of all the enterprising spirits were to be carefully examined, some intervening accident not consider. able enough to occasion any debate upon, or give them any apprehension of ill consequence from it, will be found to be the occasion of their ill success, rather than any error in points of moment and diffi. culty, which naturally engaged their maturest deliberations. If you go to the levee of any great man, you will observe him exceeding gracious to several very insignificant fellows; and upon this maxim, that the neglect of any person must arise from the mean opinion you have of his capacity to do you any service or prejudice; and that this calling his sufficiency in question must give him inclination, and where this is there never wants strength, or opportunity, to annoy you. There is nobody so weak of invention, that cannot aggravate, or make some little stories to vilify his enemy; there are very few but have good inclinations to hear them; and it is infinite pleasure to the majority of mankind to level a person superior to his neighbours. Besides, in all matters of controversy, that party which has the greatest abilities labours under this prejudice, that he will certainly be supposed, upon account of his abilities, to have done an injury, when perhaps he has received one. It would be tedious to enumerate the strokes that nations and particular friends have suffered from persons very contemptible. "I think Henry IV. of France, so formidable to his neighbours, could no more be secured against the resolute villany of Ravillac, than Villiers, duke of Buckingham, could be against that of Felton. And there is no incensed person so destitute, but can provide himself with a knife or a pistol, if he finds stomach to apply them. That things and persons of no moment should give such powerful revolutions to the progress of those of the greatest, seems a providential disposition to baffle and abate the pride of human sufficiency; as also to engage the humanity and benevolence of superiors to all below them, by letting them into this secret, that the stronger depends upon the weaker. "I am, Sir, "Your very humble Servant." jolly man; which appearance cannot miss of captives in this part of the town. Being emboldened by daily success, he leaves his room with a resolution to extend his conquests; and I have apprehended him in his night-gown smiting in all parts of this neighbourhood. "This I, being of an amorous complexion, saw with indignation, and had thoughts of purchasing a wig in these parts; into which, being at a greater distance from the earth, I might have thrown a very liberal mixture of white horse-hair, which would make a fairer and consequently a handsomer appearance, while my situation would secure ne against any discoveries. But the passion of the handsome gentleman seems to be so fixed to that part of the building, that it will be extremely difficult to divert it to mine; so that I am resolved to stand boldly to the complexion of my own eyebrow, and prepare me an immense black wig of the same sort of struc ture with that of my rival. Now, though by this I shall not, perhaps, lessen the number of the admirers of his complexion, I shall have a fair chance to divide the passengers by the irresistible force of mine. "I expect sudden dispatches from you, with advice of the family you are in now, how to deport myself upon this so delicate a conjuncture; with some comfortable resolutions in favour of the handsome black man against the handsome fair one. "I am, Sir, your humble servant, "C. "N. B. He who writ this is a black man, two pair of stairs; the gentleman of whom he writes is fair, and one pair of stairs." "MR. SPECTATOR, "I only say, that it is impossible for me to say how much I am "Yours, "ROBIN SHORTER. 'P. S. I shall think it a little hard, if you do not take as much notice of this epistle, as you have of the ingenious Mr. Short's. I am not afraid to let the world see which is the deeper man of the two.' ADVERTISEMENT. "DEAR SIR, Temple, Paper-buildings. "I received a letter from you some time ago, which I should have answered sooner, had you informed me in yours to what part of this island I might have directed my impertinence; but, having been led into the knowledge of that matter, this handsome excuse is no longer serviceable. My neighbour Prettyman shall be the subject of this letter; who, falling in with the Spectator's doctrine London, September 15. concerning the month of May, began from that sea- Whereas a young woman on horseback in an son to dedicate himself to the service of the fair in equestrian habit, on the 13th instant in the evening, the following manner. I observed at the beginning met the Spectator within a mile and a half of this of the month he bought him a new night-gown, either town, and, flying in the face of justice, pulled off her side to be worn outwards. Both equally gorgeous hat, in which there was a feather, with the mien and and attractive; but till the end of the month I did air of a young officer, saying at the same time, not enter so fully into the knowledge of his contri-"Your servant, Mr. Spec.," or words to that purvance, as the use of that garment has since suggested to me. Now you must know, that all new clothes raise and warm the wearer's imagination into a conceit of his being a much finer gentleman than he was before, banishing all sobriety and reflection, and giving him up to gallantry and amour. Inflamed therefore with this way of thinking, and full of the spirit of the month of May, did this merciless youth resolve upon the business of captivating. At first he confined himself to his room, only now and then appearing at his window, in his night-gown, and practising that easy posture which expresses the very top and dignity of languishment. It was pleasant to see him diversify his loveliness, sometimes obliging the passengers only with a sideface, with a book in his hand; sometimes being so generous as to expose the whole in the fulness of its beauty; at other times, by a judicious throwing back his periwig, he would throw in his ears. You know he is that sort of person which the mob call a handsome pose; this is to give notice, that if any person can discover the name and place of abode of the said of fender, so as she can be brought to justice, the informant shall have all fitting encouragement.-T. No. 486.] WEDNESDAY, SEPT. 17, 1712. Audire est operæ pretium, procedere recte IMITATED. All you who think the city ne'er can thrive "MR. SPECTATOR, "THERE are very many of my acquaintance followers of Socrates, with more particular regard to that part of his philosophy which we, among ourselves, call his domestics; under which denomination, or title, we include all the conjugal joys and sufferings. We have indeed with very great plews sure observed, the honour you do the whole frater-ing; but, in the case of gallants, they swallow illnity of the hen-pecked, in placing that illustrious usage from one to whom they have no obligation, man at our head; and it does in a very great mea- but from a base passion, which it is mean to indulge, sure baffle the raillery of pert rogues, who have no and which it would be glorious to overcome. advantage above us, but in that they are single. "These sort of fellows are very numerous, and But, when you look about into the crowd of man- some have been conspicuously such, without shame; kind, you will find the fair sex reigns with greater uay, they have carried on the jest in the very artityranny over lovers than husbands. You shall hardly cle of death, and, to the diminution of the wealth meet one in a thousand who is wholly exempt from and happiness of their families, in bar of those hotheir dominion, and those that are so are capable of nourably near to them, have left immense wealth to no taste of life, and breathe and walk about the their paramours. What is this but being a cully earth as insignificants. But I am going to desire in the grave! Sure this is being hen-pecked with your further favour in behalf of our harmless bro-a vengeance! But, without dwelling upon these therhood, and hope you will show in a true light less frequent instances of eminent cullyism, what is the unmarried ben-pecked, as well as you have done there so common as to hear a fellow curse his fate justice to us, who submit to the conduct of our that he cannot get rid of a passion to a jilt, and wives. I am very particularly acquainted with one quote a half line out of a miscellany poem to prove who is under entire submission to a kind girl, as he his weakness is natural? If they will go on thus, I calls her; and though he knows I have been witness have nothing to say to it; but then let them not both to the ill usage he has received from her, and pretend to be free all this while, and laugh at us poor his inability to resist her tyranny, he still pretends married patients. to make a jest of me for a little more than ordinary "I have known one wench in this town carry a obsequiousness to my spouse. No longer than Tues haughty dominion over her lovers so well, that she day last he took me with him to visit his mistress; has at the same time been kept by a sea-captain in and he having, it seems, been a little in disgrace the Straits, a merchant in the city, a country gentlebefore, thought by bringing me with him she would man in Hampshire, and had all her correspondences constrain herself, and insensibly fall into general managed by one she kept for her own uses. This happy discourse with him; and so he might break the man (as the phrase is) used to write very punctu ice, and save himself all the ordinary compunctions ally, every post, letters for the mistress to transcribe. and mortifications she used to make him suffer be- He would sit in his night-gown and slippers, and be fore she would be reconciled, after any act of rebel-as grave giving an account, only changing names, lion on his part. When we came into the room we were received with the utmost coldness; and when he presented me as Mr. Such-a-one, his very good friend, she just had patience to suffer my salutation; but when he himself, with a very gay air, offered to follow me, she gave him a thundering box on the car, called him pitiful, poor-spirited wretch-how durst he see her face? His wig and hat fell on dif- "To be short, Mr. Spectator, we husbands shall ferent parts of the floor. She seized the wig too never make the figure we ought in the imaginations soon for him to recover it, and, kicking it down of young men growing up in the world, except you stairs, threw herself into an opposite room, pulling can bring it about that a man of the town shall be the door after her with a force that you would have as infamous a character as a woman of the town. thought the hinges would have given way. We But, of all that I have met in my time, commend went down, you must think, with no very good me to Betty Duall: she is the wife of a sailor, and countenances; and, as we sneaked off, and were the kept-mistress of a man of quality; she dwells driving home together, he confessed to me, that her with the latter during the seafaring of the former. anger was thus highly raised, because he did not The husband asks no questions, sees his apartments think fit to fight a gentleman who had said she was furnished with riches not his, when he comes into what she was: 'but,' says he, 'a kind letter or two, port, and the lover is as joyful as a man arrived at or fifty pieces, will put her in humour again.' Ihis haven, when the other puts to sea. Betty is the asked him why he did not part with her; he answered, he loved her with all the tenderness imaginable, and she had too many charms to be abandoned for a little quickness of spirit. Thus does this illegitimate hen-pecked overlook the hussy's having no regard to his very life and fame, in put that there was nothing in those idle reports they had heard of such a scoundrel as one of the other lovers was; and how could he think she could condescend so low, after such a fine gentleman as each of them? For the same epistle said the same thing to, and of every one of them. And so Mr. Secretary and his lady went to bed with great order. most eminently victorious of any of her sex, and ought to stand recorded the only woman of the age in which she lives, who has possessed at the same time two abused, and two contented -." T. ting him upon an infamous dispute about her repu- No. 487.] THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 1712. tation: yet has he the confidence to laugh at me, because I obey my poor dear in keeping out of harm's way, and not staying too late from my own family, to pass through the hazards of a town full of ranters and debauchees. You, that are a philosopher, should urge in our behalf, that, when we bear with a froward woman, our patience is preserved, in consideration that a breach with her might be a dishonour to children who are descended from us, and whose concern makes us tolerate a thousand frailties, for fear they should redound dishonour upon the innocent. This and the like circumstances, which carry with them the most valuable regards of -human life, may be mentioned for our long-suffer -Cum prostrata sopore Urget membra quies, et mens sine pondere ludit.-PETR. While sleep oppresses the tir'd limbs, the mind' Plays without weight, and wantons unconfmed. THOUGH there are many authors who have written on dreams, they have generally considered them only as revelations of what has already happened in distant parts of the world, or as presages of what is to happen in future periods of time. I shall consider this subject in another light, as dreams may give us some idea of the great excellency of a human soul, and some intimations of its independency on matter. In the first place, our dreams are great instances of that activity which is natural to the human soul, has hinted, is in a very particular manner heightand which it is not in the power of sleep to deaden ened and inflamed, when it rises in the soul at a 'or abate. When the man appears tired and worn time that the body is thus laid at rest. Every man's out with the labours of the day, this active part in experience will inform him in this matter, though it his composition is still busied and unwearied. When is very probable, that this may happen differently the organs of sense want their due repose and neces-in different constitutions. I shall conclude this head sary reparations, and the body is no longer able to with the two following problems, which I shall leave keep pace with that spiritual substance to which it is to the solution of my reader. Supposing a man united, the soul exerts herself in her several facul- always happy in his dreams and miserable in his ties, and continues in action until her partner is waking thoughts, and that his life was equally diagain qualified to bear her company. In this case vided between them: whether would he be more dreams look like the relaxations and amusements happy or miserable? Were a man a king in his of the soul, when she is disencumbered of her ma- dreams, and a beggar awake, and dreamt as consechine; her sports and recreations, when she has laid quentially, and in as continued unbroken schemes, her charge asleep. as he thinks when awake: whether he would be in reality a king or a beggar? or, rather, whether he would not be both? In the second place, dreams are an instance of that agility and perfection which is natural to the faculties of the mind, when they are disengaged from the body. The soul is clogged and retarded in her operations, when she acts in conjunction with a companion that is so heavy and unwieldy in its motions. But in dreams it is wonderful to observe with what a sprightliness and alacrity she exerts herself. The slow of speech make unpremeditated harangues, or converse readily in languages that they are but little acquainted with. The grave abound in pleasantries, the dull in repartees and points of wit. There is not a more painful action of the mind than invention; yet in dreams it works with that ease and activity, that we are not sensible of when the faculty is employed. For instance, I believe every one, some time or other, dreams that he is reading papers, books, or letters; in which case the invention prompts so readily, that the mind is imposed upon, and mistakes its own suggestions for the compositions of another. I shall, under this head, quote a passage out of the Religio Medici, in which the ingenious author gives an account of himself in his dreaming and his waking thoughts. "We are somewhat more than ourselves in our sleeps, and the slumber of the body seems to be but the waking of the soul. It is the ligation of sense, but the liberty of reason; and our waking conceptions do not match the fancies of our sleeps. At my nativity my ascendant was the watery sign of Scorpius; I was born in the planetary hour of Saturn, and I think I have a piece of that leaden planet in me. I am no way facetious, nor disposed for the mirth and galliardise of company; yet in one dream I can compose a whole, comedy, behold the action, apprehend the jests, and laugh myself awake at the conceits thereof. Were my memory as faithful as my reason is then fruitful, I would never study but in my dreams; and this time also would I choose for my devotions; but our grosser memories have then so little hold of our abstracted understandings, that they forget the story, and can only relate to our awaked souls a confused and broken tale of that that has passed. Thus it is observed that men sometimes, upon the hour of their departure, do speak and reason above themselves; for then the soul, beginning to be freed from the ligaments of the body, begins to reason like herself, and to discourse in a strain above mortality." We may likewise observe, in the third place, that the passions affect the mind with greater strength when we are asleep than when we are awake. Joy and sorrow give us more vigorous sensations of pain or pleasure at this time than any other. Devotion, likewise, as the excellent author above mentioned By Sir T. Brown, M. D. There is another circumstance, which methinks gives us a very high idea of the nature of the soul, in regard to what passes in dreams: I mean that innumerable multitude and variety of ideas which then arise in her. Were that active and watchful being only conscious of her own existence at such a time, what a painful solicitude would our hours of sleep be! Were the soul sensible of her being alone in her sleeping moments, after the same manner that she is sensible of it while awake, the time would hang very heavy on her, as it often actually does when she dreams that she is in such a solitude. -Semperque relinqui Sola sibi, semper longam incomitata videtur She seems alone But this observation I only make by the way. What I would here remark, is that wonderful power in the soul, of producing her own company on these occasions. She converses with numberless beings of her own creation, and is transported into ten thousand scenes of her own raising. She is herself the theatre, the actors, and the beholder. This puts me in mind of a saying which I am infinitely pleased with, and which Plutarch ascribes to Heraclitus; that all men whilst they are awake are in one common world; but that each of them, when he is asleep, is in a world of his own. The waking man is conversant in the world of nature; when he sleeps he retires to a private world that is particular to himself. There seems something in this consideration that intimates to us a natural grandeur and perfer tion in the soul, which is rather to be admired that explained. I must not omit that argument for the excellency of the soul which I have seen quoted out of Tertulliau, namely its power of divining in dreams. That several such divinations have been made, none can question who believes the holy writings, or whe bas but the least degree of a common historical faith; there being innumerable instances of this nature in several authors, both ancient and modern, sacre and profane. Whether such dark presages, such visions of the night, proceed from any latent power in the soul, during this her state of abstraction or from any communication with the Supreme Being or from any operation of subordinate spirits, has been a great dispute among the learned: the matter of fact is, I think, incontestable, and has been looked upon as such by the greatest writers, who have been never suspected either of superstition or enthusiasm. I do not suppose that the soul in these instances is entirely loose and unfettered from the body; it is |