IT has been remarked by Writers, whom a Deſire of adding to the Entertainment of the Public has incited to portion out their Endeavours into periodical Eſſays, that the firſt Addreſs, in the introduc⯑tory Explanation of their Plan, has occaſioned more vehement Corroſions of their Nails, and more frequent Rubbings of the Forehead, than any other ſucceſſive Compoſition; in like Manner as we find Men, who, upon their firſt Admiſſion into a Company of Strangers, betray ſeveral aukward Move⯑ments in their Deportment, ariſing from the different Ideas of Baſhfulneſs and Diffidence, which agitate their Minds until the initial Ceremonies are adjuſted. As I propoſe to hold a literary Intercourſe with the Pub⯑lic, and flatter myſelf with the Hopes of converſing with [2]many Hundreds of my Countrymen every Saturday, I cannot iſſue out my firſt Performance, without feeling an extraordinary Solicitude for the Event, and being diſconcerted by thoſe Alarms and Perturbations of Spi⯑rit, which are apt to ſeize People of Senſibility in their Tempers, when irreſiſtible Principles of Action have prevailed over their Modeſty, and called them forth into a conſpicuous Point of View. The firſt Impreſſion has always great Influence upon Mens Judgments, and the Mind will often haſtily form Aſſociations of Ideas, which it cannot afterwards eaſily ſeparate. On this Account I have been a not a little anxious about my firſt Appearance, and after much Contemplation and deep Study, I ſhould have been entirely at a Loſs how to ſet off, had not the Example of our parliamentary Candi⯑dates pointed out a Mode of Eloquence, to which I think proper to adhere on the preſent Occaſion, as the moſt perſuaſive Rhetoric I can ſuggeſt to myſelf.

[3] Having thus declared my Ambition for literary Fame, I do not expect that all thoſe rival Wits, who for ſome Time paſt have been making their Court to the Pub⯑lic, ſhould inſtantly decline the Poll; on the contrary, I am apprehenſive, that, as it generally happens at E⯑lections, much Scurrility will be diſcharged upon the preſent Writer; and I am no way doubtful but they will proceed to the Extremity of diſputing my Property in Parnaſſus, and obliging me to make out my Quali⯑fication. Of this, however, I hope to give ſufficient Proof in the Sequel; and whatever Animoſities may ariſe, I am reſolved to purſue my Courſe, without going out of the Way, like the Countryman in the Fable, to cruſh the Graſhoppers that may make a Noiſe around me. I ſhall conſole myſelf in that Caſe with a Reflection that thoſe Nuiſances are ever found in the Sunſhine.

In the Proſecution of this Deſign the Reader is not to expect any Scandal, any Detraction, or Ill-nature, Ranger being determined not to indulge himſelf in the mala mentis gaudia, as Virgil finely calls the Gratifica⯑tions of a malevolent Spirit. As this Paper is com⯑menced to promote uſeful Mirth and Good-humour, it ſhall never deviate from thoſe Principles; to ſecure which in my own Temper, and to ſow their Seeds in others, I ſhall here beg Leave to ſay a few Words to my Friends, the CRITICS.

It is obſerved by Mr. Pope, in the very ſenſible Pre⯑f [...] to his Works, that both Writers and their Readers are generally unreaſonable in the mutual Expectations they have of each other, the former fancying the [4]World muſt approve whatever they produce, and the latter imagining that Authors are obliged at any Rate to pleaſe them. For my Part, I ſhould be glad to com⯑pound Matters with all the Critics of the Age; if they will abate ſomething of their uſual Severity, my De⯑mands upon them for Fame and Reputation ſhall not be very exorbitant; and ſhould they withhold from me that ſmall Tribute, I hope, at leaſt, they will allow me to make as much waſte Paper as the reſt of our periodi⯑cal Writers and daily Hiſtorians.

From the latter of theſe, viz. our common News⯑papers, I do not perceive what Kind of Advan⯑tage can redound to a rational Creature, who can nei⯑ther receive Inſtruction or Entertainment, by reading that Mr. Such a one, an eminent Cheeſemonger, died at his Country Houſe, when perhaps he is in perfect good Health in Thames-Street; and if 'Squire Rent Roll is arrived in Town with a grand Retinue, I apprehend it no way intereſting to any Man breathing, except his Taylor, his Pimp, &c. As there is, however, a Prin⯑ciple of Curioſity inherent in our Conſtitutions, I ſhall make it my Buſineſs to adminiſter to its Gratification by Articles of true Intelligence annexed to every Eſſay. In the Reſearch of theſe I ſhall ſpare no Pains, and I flatter myſelf they will have a ſtronger Tendency to di⯑vert Spleen and Melancholy, than dull Letters from the Hague, and fictitious Advices from the Swede and Tuck. By theſe Means I ſhall be able to variegate this Work, and render it a Paper of Entertainment, if not of Inſtruction, and upon all Occaſions I ſhall think it incumbent on me to have ſome Regard to what is com⯑monly called Stile. For, notwithſtanding the preſent Practice, it appears to me that ſuch Words ſhould al⯑ways be choſen as are moſt ſtrongly and elegantly ex⯑preſſive of the intended Idea; and they ſhould, if I am not miſtaken, be combined in ſuch an Arrangement, [5]as will not be offenſive to Grammar, or unintelligi⯑ble upon Peruſal. To this if ſome little Knowledge of the World can be added, I conceive it will be an additional Embelliſhment, as from thence may be de⯑rived ſome juſt Exhibitions of human Life, and ſome proper Animadverſions on Men and Manners; in which Articles I may venture to affirm the Writers above⯑mentioned are very deficient, they informing us no one Way of the World, unleſs it be that ſo often inculcated by them, Leading to Mr. Keith's Chapel, down Clarges-Street, and turn on the Left Hand.

Henceforth then be it known unto all Men, whom it may concern, that we Charles Ranger, Eſq have under⯑taken, and by theſe Preſents do undertake, the Conduct of a Paper entitled THE GRAY's-INN JOURNAL, which Name it is thought proper to give it, on Account of the Author's Reſidence in Gray's-Inn. We intend that this our Paper ſhall be a general Critique on the Times, and all falſe Appearances in Men and Books; and as we have obſerved, that, what Dr. Young calls laughing Satire has always been moſt conducive to the End we propoſe, we are determined to exert ſome certain Pow⯑ers called Wit, Humour, and Raillery, and we hereby adviſe our dearly beloved Readers to get their riſible Faculties in order, reſerving to ourſelves, more majorum, the Privilege of being dull by Deſign. And it is there⯑fore ordered by theſe Preſents, that on or before Satur⯑day next all Offences ſhall ceaſe, or they who ſhall be ſound delinquent ſhall be proſecuted according to the Laws of honeſt Satire, in ſome ſubſequent Eſſay, or be obliged to take their Trial upon Indictment in our Court of Cenſorial Enquiry, the Proceedings of which ſhall be faithfully recorded in our True Intelligence.

HAVING recommended myſelf, in my laſt Saturday's Paper, to the Patronage of the male Part of my Readers, I ſhall dedicate the preſent Eſſay to the Britiſh Fair; and, as it is principally calculated with a View to their Service, at the ſame Time that it carries with it a collateral Intention of inſinuating myſelf into their Favour, I muſt beg to be admitted this Morning to their Toilets, to call off their Eyes for a little Time from the dearly-beloved Mirrour, to diſcard Betty from her Attendance, and, in ſhort, to exclude, for one half Hour, the whole Train of Dancing-maſters, Manteau-Makers, Stay-Makers, French-Barbers, Venders of Waſhes, &c.

I am aware that the Ladies will be alarmed at the Thought of being alone with Ranger, but the Reaſon of my deſiring this Diſmiſſion of ſo many Favourites is, becauſe I profeſs the very ſame Art, to which that Claſs of People have always aſpired, that of heighten⯑ing the Charms of Female Beauty; and as two of a Trade can never agree, I think it abſolutely neceſſary to meet with no Interruption, in this important Point, from the Pertneſs of a Chambermaid, the Servility of Tradeſmen, and the Shrugs and briſk Interjections of French Proficients, who will, no Doubt, be greatly aſto⯑niſhed to hear, that their artificial Embelliſhments, though they may ſerve, when they do not luxuariantly wanton into ſantaſtic Extravagancies, to adorn the Fe⯑male Form, are yet in no Way eſſential; as Beauty, without ſuch Auxiliaries, may be rendered ſtill more attractive in the Eyes of all Men of Senſe.

[9] Horace, whom it is unneceſſary to introduce to the Acquaintance of the Ladies, as Creech and Francis have taken that agreeable Office upon themſelves, was a Man of the moſt finiſhed Taſte in all Circumſtances of Life; and he tells us, in the Words of my Motto, that he ſhall always love his Lalage ſweetly ſmiling, and ſweetly talking; which two Accompliſhments would not have been touched upon by ſo fine a Poet, if they did not carry with them ſome peculiar Charm; and I am inclined to think that in them conſiſts the whole Train of Love's Artillery.

Expreſſion has been mentioned by every elegant Writer on this Subject, as the firſt Ingredient in the Compoſition of Beauty; and certainly the more pleaſing the Expreſſion is, the more Energy will be derived from thence upon every Charm. For this Reaſon, the plea⯑ſing Smile is the beſt Hand-maid to an elegant Set of Features; it give numberleſs Graces to every Delicacy, and diffuſes over the whole Countenance an Emanation of that Sweetneſs of Temper, which is the native Or⯑nament of the Fair. To this Sentiment the witty Dr. Young has ſubſcribed in his Univerſal Paſſion.

This Doctrine has not been eſtabliſhed without the utmoſt Propriety; for ſurely ſenſeleſs, inanimate Matter, however Symmetry, Colour and other Adjuncts, may recommend it, cannot any Way gain upon our Af⯑fections. I have ſeen many a Picture where the Face was well turned, and the Features juſtly diſpoſed, and yet all Men of Judgment have invariably concurred to pronounce the Piece extremely bad, becauſe there were no perceptible Traces of a thinking Power within. [10]And if this Property is required in the mere Imitation of the human Face, what ſhall be ſaid when it is defi⯑cient in the Original? when the Appearance of a Mind, which alone can diſtinguiſh us from other ſublunary Exiſtences, and which alone can impart real Satisfaction, and excite the ſocial Feelings in an intelligent Being, ſeems to be totally abſent? Miſs Millefont is without the niceſt Proportion of Features, and without a gloſſy Bloom of Complexion, and yet I believe no one ever ſaw her ſitting in a Side-Box at a Play, or dancing at an Aſſembly, without feeling Love and Joy in ſprightly Tumult about his Heart. On the other Hand, For⯑moſa has a Delicacy of Shape, and Regularity of Coun⯑tenance, and ſtill no one of Taſte will heſitate to pro⯑nounce her unamiable; and I will venture to aſſert, that ſhe is never toaſted but by thoſe, whoſe Intel⯑lectuals are ſo poorly ſtocked with Ideas, that they never perceive the Vacuity in others.

The ſecret Quality, from which this Difference ariſes, has been called by the French, a Je-ne-ſcay-quoi, and the Phraſe has been adopted in this Country; but it is ſerving the Purpoſes of good Senſe to explode ſo un⯑meaning a Term. For my own Part (with all due Sub⯑miſſion to better Judgments) I declare myſelf of that Sect of Speculatiſts who really believe that Women have Souls, and I am apt to imagine that the Operation of this inward Agent has no ſmall Influence upon the outward Frame. A Poet of Eminence has ſung, "the Paſſions in the Features are," and therefore I ſhould think, that thoſe Ladies, who are ambitious to appear lovely in the Eyes of Men, ſhould ſome⯑times ſit to an intellectual Mirrour, in order to ſee their Affections reflected to them; by which Means they would be enabled to adjuſt them, to harmonize them, to keep them in regular Order, and, if I may ſo ſay, make them ſit right. In my Opinion, they ſhould be as aſſiduous to faſhion themſelves in this Point, as to [11]apply the Patch, to re-eſtabliſh a diſorder'd Lock, to recal a ſtraggling Hair, to ſettle the Tucker, or com⯑poſe the Mant, ſince taking Care of the Movements of the Mind, is alſo regulating the Features.

From this will naturally reſult the next Eſſential to Beauty, the Manner of Talking agreeably, than which Accompliſhment nothing can ſo much enliven the amia⯑ble Sex. We are pleaſed to ſee a beautiful Pair of Lips in Motion, when every Thing that comes from them adminiſters to the Pleaſures of Converſation; the Spirits of the Fair are awakened by the Exerciſe of their thinking Faculties, and the Eye beams with double Luſtre; the Tongue confirms, what the Countenance had before indicated, that all within is ſprightly, chear⯑ful, gay, ſpirited, and ſenſible. The Scene is frequent⯑ly ſhifted to our Imagination; we are delighted to obſerve the Celerity, which diſtinguiſhes itſelf in the Operations of the Female Underſtanding, and the quick Succeſſion of Ideas, which they call up, amuſes with pleaſing Variety, while the Beauties of the Mind and Face mutually exalt each other, and we ſtand convinced of the Platonic Tenet, that good and beautiful are the ſame.

There are three Things highly pernicious to the En⯑dearments of Beauty, from which I muſt abſolutely interdict thoſe, who are willing to become my Pupils. The Enemies to Lovelineſs, which I mean, are GAMING, SCANDAL, and POLITICS, ſurer Deſtroyers of every Elegance and Bloom, than a Spotted Fever or the Small-Pox; as chronical Diſeaſes are more fatal to the Conſtitution, than a tranſitory Fit of an acute Illneſs.

With Regard to the firſt of theſe Corroſives, I leave it to the fair Votaries of Fortune to conſider how the winning Graces and the attractive Smile can irradiate the Countenance, when the Internal is diſturbed by [12]Anxiety and Solicitude, which ſoon tranſpire into the Face, and prey upon all their Charms. Beſides, when the Temper is diſconcerted, Politeneſs and Good-man⯑ners are in Danger of being neglected; and while every one is intent upon the After-game, which is the faſhion⯑able Term for that Claſh of Tongues, frequently heard in one loud Din, as ſoon as the Deal at Whiſt is out, it is not probable that the Fair can converſe in a Manner ſuitable to the Softneſs and Elegance of their Sex.

Scandal always carries with it a dreadful Efficacy to ruin a delicate Face, becauſe it generally ſprings from Envy or Malice, which are both entirely againſt my Rules for acquiring and preſerving Beauty, as they are inveterate Habits, the Traces of which are apt to wear themſelves into the Complexion, inducing Frowns, Wrinkles, Roughneſs, and a ſettled Appearance of Ill⯑nature, of all Things the moſt unamiable.

Politics is alſo of pernicious Influence, tending to inflame the Ladies with Party-Rage, to cauſe Heats in the Face, and to occaſion thoſe Vibrations of the Fan, Bitings of the Lips, and Fidgets on the Chair, which greatly diſcompoſe the whole Form. On this Account I would have my fair Readers abſtain from Parliamen⯑tary Debates. And, tho' the intended Naturalization-Act has engroſſed the Thoughts of the whole Nation, I think it enough for the Ladies to have ſecretly reſolved not to marry a Jew; and without engaging too deeply in the Controverſy, the ſparkling Croſſes, which they wear upon their lovely Boſoms, will be a ſufficient In⯑dication of their Principles, and will at once reflect a Luſtre upon the Whiteneſs of their Skins, and the Delicacy of their Sentiments.

In what has been premiſed, I would have it remem⯑bered, that I do not mean to recommend a ſtudied Simper, or a reſtleſs Exertion of Chit-Chat, but I [13]would have both to be a natural Effuſion, from the Sources of Good-nature and Good-ſenſe, which, I am convinced, will be found a better beautifying Cream, than any Coſmetic advertiſed in our News-Papers; and therefore inſtead of lying-in for a new Face, or uſing any other Artifice, my Precept to the Ladies, is, BE GOOD-HUMOURED FOR A COMPLEXION; and I now give Notice, that I ſhall carefully obſerve, in all public Places, what Ladies repair a decayed Viſage, or add new Graces to a blooming one, by this Receipt, and that I ſhall inſert an exact Liſt of the ſame in the Articles of News, which I ſhall ſerve up weekly to regale my Cuſtomers. Z.

THE Papers which I have hitherto publiſh⯑ed, were chiefly intended to open a Way for the better Execution of this Under⯑taking, as Pioneers are diſpatched to clear the Country for the main Body of an Army; and in the ſame Light I beg that the preſent Lucubration may [15]be conſidered. I find, ſince the Commencement of the Gray's-Inn Journal, that I have been the Subject of much Converſation in this Metropolis: The Critics, it ſeems, are buſy in their Enquiries after the Author. Does any body know him? — Has he been long upon Town? — Has he any Thing in him? — What Sort of a Man is he? — Theſe and many other Queſtions of the ſame Nature are the Topics at preſent; and tho' at firſt ſetting out I thought to evade an Account of myſelf, having had always a ſtrong Antipathy to any Thing that might border upon the ridiculous Character of an Egotiſt; yet ſuch is the Prevalence of Cuſtom, that it is now become a Tribute due from every Adven⯑turer in this Way, and therefore I ſhall wave the Re⯑ſolutions I have taken, and will at preſent gratify the Reader's Curioſity.

I am of the ſprightly Family of the Rangers, who have made a diſtinguiſhed Figure, in this Country, ever ſince the Reign of Charles II. and am a near Relation to my Nameſake in the Play, whom many of my Readers have often admired when perſonated by Mr. Garrick. Though I do not at preſent aſcend by Lad⯑ders of Ropes into honeſt Men's Houſes, yet, under a few Reſtrictions, I ſtill bear ſome ſimilar Habits of his Humour. My Education was at Eton, where I imbibed my firſt Tincture of Letters; though, to tell the Truth, I was chiefly remarkable, at that Place, for running out of Bounds. I ſcarcely paſſed over a Week without paying a Viſit to Windſor. I was delighted in the Caſtle with the bold Imagery which the Touch of Verrio's Pencil has poured fourth to the Eye, and to ſee the Canvas every where glowing with mimic Life was pleaſing to my young Imagination.

At length, with the Character of a wild Lad that had Latin and Greek enough, I was removed to the Univerſity, where I maintained the ſame Reputation for five Years. Whatever was the Reaſon of it, I never could adopt any Party-Principles, and thoſe whom I per⯑ceived [16]attached to Prejudices of either Side have always appeared to me in very ludicrous Colours. I have known a Jacobite drink himſelf out of his Health and Fortune for the Good of his Country, and I have ſeen a very worthy Gentleman reduced to Neceſſity by ſquandering his Subſtance in Elections, to keep out the Pope, the Devil, and the French King. I believe there cannot be a more ridiculous Character than that of a State Quixote, who having Affairs of Moment to himſelf and his Family, generouſly neglects his own Concerns to take Care of his Country, which would be in every Particular as well without ſuch a Patriot.

For my part, I have no Manner of Taſte for Poli⯑ticks; the Election of the King of the Romans does not concern me, nor do I trouble myſelf about the Window⯑light Tax, provided the Prices at the Play-Houſe are not raiſed upon us; and as to a ſtanding Army, twen⯑ty thouſand Red-coats ſhall give me no kind of Trou⯑ble, while they plant no Bruiſers in the Pit to over-rule our Deciſions. Should any ſuch Attempts be made upon the Birth-right Privileges of an Engliſhman, I ſhall then be as warm a Patriot as the beſt of them. Not even the Freedom of both Houſes ſhall buy me off; and I have now lying by me ſeveral Eſſays on Hiſtory, and the Britiſh Form of Government, which in that Caſe ſhall ſee the Light.

Theſe are the Principles I have contracted with Re⯑gard to Matters of State; as to my Perſon, I beg Leave to be ſilent on that Head, as I do not chuſe to receive any Propoſals for Marriage, which I am told have been publickly ſolicited by a certain daily Writer. Thus much I will hint, I am now in the two and thirtieth Year of my Age, and, after having taken the Tour of Europe, Gray's Inn is become, in Shakeſpear's Language, the Sea-mark of my utmoſt Sail. I have been regiſtered according to the Police in Paris, and, like Sir Harry Wildair in the Play, have play'd at Hot⯑cockles [17]with an whole Convent of Nuns in Italy: In ſhort, I have gone through all the Variety of Manners and Diverſions in each different Country, and now be⯑hold your Beau up to the Ears in Ink. I look upon the Gardens belonging to this Society to be the Seat of the Muſes: Here the great Bacon paſſed his con⯑templative Hours; and here, at an humble Diſtance, the preſent Writer purpoſes to follow his Steps.

The Day I do not take a Turn in the poetic Ground juſt mention'd, I feel the moſt aukward Senſations, and fancy to myſelf that I breathe with Difficulty. This I muſt own is an Oddity in my Temper, but Habit has now confirmed it. However, I ſhall make it ſubſer⯑vient to the Deſign of this Paper, as it will afford me an Opportunity of collecting Materials for theſe Lu⯑cubrations; and, among the Number that frequent this Place, I ſhall be able ſometimes to glean a few Characters for the Amuſement of my Readers. Be⯑ſides this, I belong to a Club of Originals, which meets, once in each Month, at the Devil-Tavern, near Tem⯑ple-Bar. Every Member of it is remarkable for ſome Peculiarity in his Manners and Way of thinking, and this not contracted by an affected Imitation of others, but abſolutely inherent and native to the reſpective Perſons. I ſhall take a proper Opportunity to bring the Town acquainted with this Society, and perhaps may deduce from their Aſſiſtance ſuch Matter, as will not be diſagreeable to my Reader.

I muſt add to what has been ſaid, that I have from Nature a very extraordinary Talent, which, as it will be of Uſe hereafter, I will here explain. I have been remarkable from my Infancy for a moſt ſurprizing Skill in Phyſiognomy, and have had, from my greener Years, the ſharpeſt Diſcernment into the Paſſions of Men from the Survey of their Countenances. This [18]Faculty has grown up with me, and it is now arrived to that Degree of Penetration, that I can, by infallible Rules, read the Thoughts of People. When a Critic talks of Longinus, I can often perceive, by the Caſt of his Eye, that he never looked into him; and in all Deciſions upon Stile, Language, and Authors, &c. I can diſcover, with a Glance, the ſecret Springs of Action and the latent Prejudices lurking in their Minds. Of this more another Time. As to the News, I ſhall receive frequent Contributions from a particular Friend, who is every Way qualified for that Branch. His Name is Harry Wildair, and I am confident he will conduce a good deal to enliven this Paper.

Having thus far explained myſelf, I will conclude with a few Reſolutions which I have taken for the better conducting this our Gray's Inn Journal.

Reſolved, That this Author ſhall not be the Tool of any Party whatever.

Reſolved, That he ſhall not, like the gay Inſpector, trifle with his Readers over his Tea, or waſhing his Hands, but that he ſhall exert his beſt Endeavours for their Entertainment.

Reſolved, That he ſhall always have ſome viſible Subject, and ſome little Regard to the Order and Pro⯑priety of his Words.

Reſolved, That the Mottos to be prefixed to the Eſ⯑ſays ſhall not be taken at random out of the Gradus ad Parnaſſum, but that they be ſelected from ſome good Author, without bad Latin, falſe Quantity, and bearing ſome Reference to the Point in Hand.

Reſolved, That no indecent Liberties be taken with the Character of any Gentleman or Lady.

Reſolved laſtly, That he ſhall not indulge himſelf in any impertinent Vanity about himſelf, his Intrigues, &c. but that he ſhall, to the beſt of his Power, make good Senſe the Rule of his Writings, according to the Maxim in Horace.

Scribendi rectè ſapere eſt & principium, & fons.

Z.

THE Operations of the human Mind are at all Times extremely ſubtile, and while we compound, vary, and aſſoci⯑ate our Ideas into ſo many different Combinations, the Workings of the Soul are not attended to, and the Traces they leave are ſo delicate, that they are afterwards ſcarcely to be percei⯑ved. I do not think this Phaenomenon in the ideal World is at any Time ſo ſurprizing, as in thoſe Mo⯑ments, when the Faculties of bodily Senſation are lulled in Sleep; then the Imagination calls forth her abſtract⯑ed [21]Train, and, being free from the Incumbrance of Fleſh, diſports herſelf in the moſt whimſical Manner, and is at Liberty to form what Appearances, what Scenery, what Imagery, and what Reaſoning ſhe thinks proper. This I experienced in a lively Manner the other Night, and as I cannot help believing that any of my Readers would have been glad to enjoy the ſame viſionary Scene, I ſhall, inſtead of a formal Eſſay, make my Dream the Subject of this Day's Paper.

I retired home to my Chambers a few Evenings ſince, in a very poetical Mood, and, to gratify the pre⯑ſent Courſe of my Ideas, took into my Hand Virgil's Georgies, which has always been conſidered by the Critics, as the moſt perfect Poem, of the moſt ac⯑compliſhed Poet The Delicacy of Expreſſion, and every refined Beauty in the Turn of the Stile, have been finely treated by the elegant Mr. Addiſon; and, for my Part, I never look into it, but I perceive ſome con⯑cealed Stroke, which had before eſcaped me. But the Enthuſiaſm which animates the following Paſſage, ſtruck me the other Night in a Manner which never hap⯑pened to me before.

The Fire and Rapidity in the firſt Line, and the Rap⯑ture and Air of Inſpiration in the ſucceeding one, muſt warm any Imagination, that has but the leaſt Spark of Fire. I could not help dwelling on it with Admiration; it opened to my Mind a Train of Images which gave me the moſt exquiſite Pleaſure, and made ſuch an Impreſſion on my Spirits, that even in Sleep they continued to flow in the ſame Traces, they had before been thrown into, and thus my waking Thoughts were recalled to me with double Delight.

I thought that of a ſudden I was hurried away to the Realms of Parnaſſus, and that I towered with [22]Rapture over the ſeveral Cliffs, which are frequent in thoſe Regions. The Air, methought, ſeemed to be clearer than what I have ever met with; the Skies were brightened into the pureſt Azure; the Sun darted his genial Rays all around, and different Streaks of Light blending themſelves in ſundry Parts of the Hemiſphere ſerved to diverſiſy the Scene; the Country ſmiled in vernal Delight, covered with the moſt chearful Green I had ever beheld. In one Part was diſplayed to View an ample Lawn, ſtretched to ſuch a Length, that the Eye loſt itſelf; on the other Side preſented themſelves Meads and Gardens, and Laurel Groves. Hills there were, whoſe blue Tops grew fine by Degrees, and leſſened to the Sight amid the Clouds. From one of theſe iſſued the Pierian Fountain, which, divided into ſeveral Rills, came tinkling down the Mountain, and at the Bottom all aſſembling into one general Reſervoir, they there expanded themſelves into a pleaſing Surface, and formed a River, which watered all the Country round. Here I fell into that State of Mind, which is ſo excellently deſcribed in the Pleaſures of Imagination.

I felt the moſt ardent Ambition to gain the Summit of the Hill, but it was in ſeveral Places ſo ſleep, that I be⯑lieve I ſhould never have reached it, if Apollo had not been favourable to the humble Prayer which I prefer⯑red. I did not build my Supplication upon any Merit in the literary World, but humbly preſumed upon the [23]Delight which I always took in Works of Genius; and in Apollo's Eye, the next Thing to a good Author is to have a Taſte and Reliſh for the Beauties of fine Wri⯑ting. I was ſtruck with reverential Awe at the Sight of the God of Wit; and ſuch Melody filled my Ears, ſuch divine Harmony enchanted the Place, that I in⯑ſtantly fell on my Knees, and worſhipped the nine har⯑monious Maids, who cauſed the heavenly Strain. They beheld each other with an Air of mutual Affection and Complacence; their Eyes were bright with Meaning, and I thought that, in Delicacy of Shape and Feature, they had a near Reſemblance to two Ladies known to the World by the Name of the HIBERNIAN BEAU⯑TIES.

After paying ſufficient Adoration, I withdrew from the Preſence of the Deities, and went round the Place, in order to view the Country more particularly. The greateſt Part of theſe Regions is portioned out by Apol⯑lo into different Tenures, ſome of them conveyed to the Perſon for ever, others for Life, and many for a ſhorter Duration. There are Manſion-houſes built on many of theſe Eſtates, and the great Genius's, who have made a Figure in the World, have here fixed their Reſidence.

The Ancients ſeemed to have by much the largeſt Poſſeſſions, though a great Part of their Property was transferred to the Moderns. Dryden, beſides his own hereditary Eſtate, had purchaſed a large Scope of Ground from the celebrated Virgil, and Mr. Pope has bought near half of Homer's Rent-Roll. Mr. Dryden ſpent moſt of his Time in writing Prefaces and Dedi⯑cations to the great Men of Parnaſſus, and Mr. Pope was retired to his own Houſe, which was ſituated on the Banks of the River already mentioned, and the Country adjacent was laid out in the moſt exquiſite Taſte. Mr. Pope was formerly very attentive to the Improvement [24]of his Land, and where the Soil did not yield ſponta⯑neouſly, he aſſiſted with Hot-beds. This Turn was now quite over with him, and his chief Care was to embel⯑liſh a Temple of Virtue and Happineſs, which he had raiſed in the Middle of his Garden.

In Company with theſe celebrated Perſonages he main⯑tained his own Eaſe and Dignity; and though his Soul glowed within him, when ſitting with Bolingbroke and Marchmont, he ſeemed to receive a more near Delight from his Gay and Parnell.

The great Shakeſpear fat upon a Cliff, looking abroad through all Creation. His Poſſeſſions were very near as extenſive as Homer's, but, in ſome Places, had not re⯑ceived ſufficient Culture. But even there ſpontane⯑ous Flowers ſhot up, and in the unweeded Garden, which grows to Seed, you might cull Lavender, Myrtle, and Wild Thyme. Craggy Rocks, Hills, and Dales, the Woodland and open Country, ſtruck the Eye with wild Variety, and o'er our Heads roll'd Thunder, deep and awful, and the Lightning's Flaſh darted athwart the ſo⯑lemn Scene, while on the blaſted Heath, Witches, Elves, and Fairies, with their own Queen Mab, play'd in frolic Gambols. Mean time the immortal Bard ſat with his Eyes in a fine Phrenzy rolling, and Writers both in the Tragic and Comic Stile were gathered round him. Ariſctle ſeemed to lament that Shakeſpear had not ſtu⯑died his. Art of Poetry, and Longirus admired him to a Degree of Enthuſiaſm. Otway, Rowe, and Congreve had him conſtantly in their Eye, and even Milton was looking for Flowers to tranſplant into his own Paradiſe.

I was called off from ſurveying the Poſſeſſions of the immertal Shakeſpear, by repeated Peals of Laughter, [25]which reſounded from an adjacent Grove. This, I ſoon perceived, was occaſioned by the irreſiſtible Hu⯑mour of Lucian, Cervantes, and Swift, while, at ſome Diſtance from them, Rabelais threw himſelf into a thouſand antick Attitudes, and brought together the moſt ludicrous Aſſemblage of Ideas, with all the ſpright⯑ly Frolick of his wild Imagination.

Sir Richard Steel fixed his Reſidence under Mr. Addiſon's Roof, where Tickell was encouraged to tran⯑ſlate a Book of Homer, and Phillips was aſſiſted in finiſh⯑ing the Diſtreſſed Mother. Addiſon had before him ſe⯑veral of the periodical Eſſays, which have lately been ſent abroad into the World, among which, methought, I ſaw a Paper entitled the Gray's-Inn Journal, when *********************.

The Effect this had upon me was ſuch, that my Viſion was immediately diſſipated, and I awaked in the moſt pleaſing Serenity of Mind.

I FIND myſelf obliged to poſtpone the Eſſay I intended for this Day, by an Occur⯑rence of ſuch a Nature, that I think it in⯑diſpenſably incumbent on me to take ſome Notice of it. I did not imagine, before this Incident, that a cold, trifling, frothy Writer, could have drawn ſo much from me; but in the Defence of Truth, Juſtice, and good Senſe, I cannot controul myſelf from it; and as he has thought proper to record a Fact, I will in my Turn begin with one of as glaring a Die as I have ever known.

By theſe Preſents then be it known unto Poſterity, that in the Year One Thouſand Seven Hundred and Fifty-two, there really did exiſt a daily Author, who arrogated to himſelf the Title of Inſpector General of Great Britain; that under this pompous Appellation he took upon him to preſcribe Faſhions to the Ladies, and Wire-Wigs to the Gentlemen; Intrigue to Rakes, and Taſte to pretty Fellows; that he peſter'd the Town with Diſſertations on Foſſils, Minerals, and Inſects, that never exiſted but in his own Imagination, and from thence (emboldened by a kind of negative Ap⯑plauſe, that of being endured) he roſe a Degree higher, and at a Time when our theatrical Entertainments were [28]under the juſteſt Regulation, did his Endeavours to ſow the Seeds of Diſcontent in the Minds of the Au⯑dience, to ſoment Diviſions among them, and, contrary to all Law, to raiſe a Riot at the Theatre-Royal in Deary Lane, and in a public Paper abſurdly encouraged them to throw the Sconces and Benches on the Stage.

It is hard to imagine to one's ſelf the Ideas that will occur to Posterity upon Peruſal of this moſt extraor⯑dinary Paſſage: they will, I am afraid, believe their Anceſtors, at this Period relapſing into the antient [...] of the firſt Inhabitants of this Iſland. I have examined the Index to the Spectator, to the [...], and Guardian, for the Words Riot, Benches, Sconces, &c. and I cannot find any Thing of the Kind recommended under any of thoſe Heads, nor do I be⯑lieve ſuch an Outrage to common Senſe was ever offer⯑ed in any civilized Nation of the known World. The Authors of the immortal Performances juſt mentioned endeavoured to cheriſh Good-humour, Good-nature, Social Harmony, and Good-manners. Theatrical Me⯑rit in their Time was promoted to the greateſt Elegance; every Thing that carried with it the leaſt Tincture of a vitiated Taſte was by them attacked with the moſt maſterly Strokes; and now this Eſſayiſt would turn the Tables upon theſe approved Geniuſes, and, by extin⯑guiſhing all Sparks of Emulation, deſtroy the only Means of heightening our public Entertainments, and diſaboliſhing Senſe and Refinement among us

As I generally like to trace Things to their Source, I have been conſidering what could be the Motives that induced his Inſpectorſhip to this Proceeding, and I [...] I may take upon me to ſay I have diſco⯑vered the latent Cauſe. This Prodigy of Genius, this florid, witty, elegant, ſenſible, unexhauſted Inſpector, owed the firſt Dawnings of his immoderate Fame (I [29]bluſh to tell it to a Pantomime Entertainmnt. And ſhall he whoſe Monſter-breeding Brain ſpawn'd Orpheus and Eurydice, in whoſe Head,

Shall he look tamely on, and ſee his favourite Monſters expoſed to Ridicule? May he not have ſome wild Production ſtill in Store? Such a Genius never can have done, and hence all that laboured Impotence of Ani⯑madverſion which he has thrown out in two different Papers.

But to be a little more ſerious. It is certain, that two contending Theatres have always indulged them⯑ſelves in Strokes of Pleaſantry upon each other; the Impromptu of Moliere was a Banter upon a rival Houſe in ſo polite a Place as Paris, and a recent Inſtance will evince, that Mr. Rich has no Averſion to the Practice: It is notorious that a few Winters ſince he engaged a Perſon whoſe Abilities conſiſt ſolely in Mimickry, publicly to burleſque, as far as in him lay, Mr. Garrick, as a Man, an Actor, and a Manager. He has always given oblique Alluſions whenever they came in his Way, and nothing has eſcaped him from the Coronation in Harry the Fourth, down to the Ballad in Harlequin Ranger.

And ſhall not the Manager of the other Houſe have leave to amuſe the Town in his Turn? It is ac⯑knowledged by the Writer who has occaſioned my taking the Pen in Hand, that the Objects are well diſ⯑poſed; there is Humour in the Management of them, and there is Merit in the Song that explains the Deſign of their Introduction; what is more, there is Juſtice, for the Subject [30]is worthy Ridicule. In ſaying this he advances nothing but the Truth, but when he adds, Where is the Modeſty of arraigning the Taſte of an Audience, to an Audience, &c. and again, It is unjuſtifiable, it is cruel, it is not to be ſupperted: In the Name of Common Senſe, what wou'd he be at? Firſt, there is Merit in it, then it is not to be juſtified; there is Humour in it, then it is not to be ſupported; there is Juſtice in it, and the next Moment it is cruel. For Heaven's ſake, Mr. In⯑ſpector, learn to be a little conſiſtent, and don't thus trifle with our Underſtandings.

When a Man will write in this ſhuffling Manner, blowing hot and cold, ſaying and unſaying; when an Author, who pretends to inſtruct, will run off from the Point, in a ſnip-ſnap Stile, with pert Queſtion and Anſwer, down a whole Column of his Paper, it is not eligible to follow him further; therefore let his meandering Briſkneſs run what Riots it will for the future, I ſhall here ſtate this Matter in a proper Light, and then have done with Controverſy.

Nothing, in my Apprehenſion, ſhews the Temper of this Nation, more than the Ferment their Minds are thrown into by little Diviſions of this Nature. A real, or a mock Monarch, a Miniſter of State, or a Ma⯑nager of a Theatre, muſt eternally embarraſs their Thoughts. Every Thing among them muſt be a Party-buſineſs; whereas, in my Opinion, while their Liberties remain inviolate, they ſhould know no Party, but a Party of Pleaſure, and all Differences betwixt Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee ſhould be ſubſervient to their Merriment. The Field of Humour is open to both Play-Houſes, and if, without Animoſity, they will cull from thence, the Reſult muſt be, that the Public will receive more Entertainment from a ſpirited Emulation than from an inactive State. This is the Caſe among the French to this Day, and thoſe who [31]weep one Night at a Tragedy of Genius, are ſure to laugh at the ſame Piece, the Evening following, at the Italian Comedy. And if this Liberty is taken with the nobleſt Productions of the human Mind, why ſo much Tenderneſs for what is really ridiculous and unfit for the Stage? The Dramatis Perſonae expoſed to Deriſion, on this Occaſion, are, if I am not miſtaken, a Lyon, a Bear, a Cat, a Dog, a Monkey, a Serpent, and an Oſtrich; an admirable Company of Comedians truly! but are they ſuch reſpectable Perſonages, as to claim an Exemption from the Laſh of Ridicule?—Ay, but Poor Rich! Poor Rich! — If by that pathetic Exclamation is meant that he is an Object of Compaſſion, I own I have always thought him ſuch, and do from my Heart moſt ſincerely pity him. But if, through a Depravity of Taſte, or Debility of Mind, he has no Reliſh for the ſublimer Compoſitions of a Theatre, let not us therefore, like Egyptians, worſhip Serpents, Dogs, and Monkeys; but, on the contrary, let us by the Aſſiſtance of the politer Arts efface all Traces of Barbariſm, and preſerve in all our public Exhibitions, a manly Af⯑fection for the Cauſe of Dramatic Poeſy, of Genius, and of Shakeſpear.

IN a former Paper, in which I gave ſome Account of myſelf, I was not in jeſt when I told my Readers, that from a natural Sagacity of Sight, improved by Experience and Study. I had made a ſurpriſing Profi⯑ciency in the Art of Phyſiognomy. Among my pri⯑vate Acquaintance I have acquired ſuch a Reputation in this Way, that I have known many Ladies, who would no more dare to come into my Company, than the young Romp, in Swift's Viſion, would venture to ſtroke the Pariſh Lion, after ſhe had play'd at Hide and Hoop with Jackey in the Garret. Notwithſtand⯑ing this, I am ſenſible, the Majority of Mankind at this Day treat this Art as a mere exploded Impoſture, like Aſtrology and Palmiſtry, impoſed upon the Credulous in dark and ignorant Ages. With them a Phyſiogno⯑miſt and a Conjurer meet with the ſame Degree of Reſpect and Credit. But this Objection, I believe, will quickly vaniſh, when we come to conſider the Principles and Foundation on which the Art is eſta⯑bliſhed. I might here aptly bring in the Story of So⯑crates and the Phyſiognomiſt, but it is known to every Body; beſides, Reaſon alone, and not Authority, is what I proceed upon.

[35]The great and almoſt incredible Wonder of this Ta⯑lent, conſiſts in being able to diſcover the Paſſions, Virtues and Affections, even at the very Time that they are dormant in the Breaſt; ſo as to point out a knaviſh Citizen at his Prayers; to know a Cut-throat, tho' he ſmiles; or a Fellow that has a Deſign upon your Fob, though he turns his Head another Way with an affect⯑ed Vacancy of Face; to mark out a Fellow whoſe Mouth is open only to have it ſtop'd with a Bribe while he is declaiming againſt Corruption; or to detect the Niggard Hand of a Miſer in the very Act of ſeem⯑ing Generoſity and Munificence. Yet all this and more may be done; and how it may be done, I will here in part explain; but I muſt beg to be excuſed, if I do not reveal ſome Secrets of this Arcanum.

Every Paſſion, every Virtue, and their ſeveral Modes, Mixtures and Combinations, which ſubſiſt in the hu⯑man Breaſt, have a correſpondent Set of Muſcles in the Face, or (if the Anatomiſts will not allow this) they at leaſt operate differently upon the ſame Set of Muſcles, which, when any Affection is Maſter of the Temper, are thrown into Motion, and this regularly produces a certain Configuration of Features, which is commonly known to us by the Name of Expreſſion. This the Painters and the Statuaries can alſo atteſt, and to this they owe the very Soul of their Art; for by obſerving the exact Shape that each different Paſ⯑ſion of the Mind gives the ſeveral Muſcles of the Face, and by copying the ſame upon a lifeleſs Sub⯑ject, it produces that agreeable Deception, which makes us imagine that this Diſpoſition of Features is an Ef⯑fect of Motion, communicated from a thinking Mind within, when it is only the Reſult of their Skill in the Art of Imitation. The good Player goes another Way to work; he excites in himſelf the inward Mo⯑tions, [36]which we call feeling, and then the outward Ef⯑fect upon the Countenance naturally follows.

The Anatomiſts will further inform us, that every Muſcle of the human Body collects Strength, and ex⯑pands itſelf into larger Dimenſions, by continual Exer⯑ciſe and Uſe; as the Legs of Chairmen and others who are uſed to carry Burthens, from the ſame Cauſe, ſwell to an uncommon Thickneſs. It follows then, that the correſpondent Muſcles of the Face, which expreſs any ruling Paſſion of the Mind, being more frequently exerted, grow out of Proportion, and be⯑come conſpicuous above the reſt. Hence the Face con⯑tracts an habitual Air, marking the Features with ſome peculiar Caſt of Character, which is legible at one Glance of the Eye. Any Body can diſtinguiſh a Miſer, a Coxcomb, a Leacher, or a Glutton, in every Cir⯑cumſtance of Life.

I know ſome well-meaning People may be ſhocked at the Thoughts of indulging ourſelves in the Practice of forming Opinions of Mankind by their Looks. This proceeds from a charitable Conſideration, that as we make not our own Faces, we ſhould not be ac⯑countable for them; but they who think in this Way take no Care to diſtinguiſh the good Face, the ingenu⯑us Vultus of the Ancients, that which Cicero ſays is the beſt Letter of Recommendation a Man can carry about him, from the Handſome, the mere Formation of inactive Features, and Gloſs of Complexion. The latter is the Gift of Nature alone, and is that which the Philoſophers of all Ages have perſuaded us is of no intrinſic Value; but the former, which we under⯑ſtand when we ſay, ſuch a Face is not handſome, but is extremely agreeable, is in every Man's Power to ac⯑quire; not by ſtudying to put on a formal Simper, or ſmiling Complacency, before the Glaſs, but by recti⯑fying [37]the Mind, and furniſhing it with noble, generous, and virtuous Sentiments, which transfuſe themſelves into our Features, with an irreſiſtible Perſuaſion, com⯑manding by a ſecret Kind of Faſcination, the Eſteem of every judicious Beholder. I never knew a ſtronger Inſtance of this than in the Face of a certain Noble⯑man, who, to a vulgar Eye, might appear to have an unpleaſing Aſſemblage of Diſproportion and Irregu⯑larity.

I have obſerved a certain Attorney in Weſtminſter⯑hall, who, I think, has one of the handſomeſt Faces I ever ſaw; and yet, through the Luſtre of his Eye, the Regularity of his Features, and Bloom of his Com⯑plexion, I could read ſuch a ſettled Habit of the moſt contracted Cunning, ſo many determined Purpoſes of Cozenage and Fraud, that I proteſt I could not be eaſy while the Fellow ſtood within Arms-length of my Pockets. Yet, to my Aſtoniſhment, upon Inquiry, I learned that ſeveral great Families had intruſted this Man with their moſt important Affairs.

Eugenio is neither happy in a Face nor a Perſon; and, at the Time he ſhould have learned to dance, was unfortunately employed in forming his Mind upon the Model of the Ancients. Hence he has contracted an uncouth Air, a College Look, and an aukward De⯑portment; yet, through all theſe Diſadvantages, and a Cloud of uneaſy Circumſtances, the judicious Eye can diſcover a Soul within capable of diſplaying the moſt divine Attributes of his God, with a Sublimity inferior to nothing but the Subject.

On the other Hand, caſt your Eye upon Florio. Florio is a Man of Gaiety and plauſible Addreſs. And there are ſome whom he hath perſuaded to think him one of the prettieſt Writers of the preſent Age. By his Dexterity in the Art of Plagiariſm, he paſſes upon [38]the Crowd for a Man of ſome Learning; and I have heard himſelf ſay, that the Ladies think him a Man of Gallantry, and a Wit. No Man is more perfectly ſatisfied with himſelf than Florio; he writes with the utmoſt Facility, without any Manner of Subject, and this he thinks is Stile, Simplicity, and Eaſe. Upon the whole, one might be ſo far deceived at firſt Sight, as to think Florio a pretty Fellow. Yet look at his Countenance, can any Thing be more viſible than the Furniture within? a confuſed Aſſemblage of Vanity, Arrogance, Cowardice, Dulneſs, Ignorance, and Con⯑ceit. Florio generally wears a Gleam of Chearfulneſs on his Face, and yet it is viſible that this is all forced, and, thro' the falſe Appearance, Florio has an uneaſy diſconcerted Temper.

The Mortification in Sordido's Leg had like to have gone too far, before he could prevail upon himſelf to be at the Expence of cutting it off. I attended him at the Time of the Operation, which, to the Surprize of every one, he bore with wonderful Patience; but while others were admiring his amazing Reſolution, I could plainly perceive by his Looks, that Sordido's Compoſure proceeded from the conſoling Thoughts, that he ſhould hereafter ſave juſt half his Expences, in the Article of Shoes.

I could point out a certain Reverend Gentleman, who wears the moſt plauſible Appearance of Humility, Sanctity, and Grace. Ask him familiarly how he does? and with a ſolemn, thankſgiving Voice, and the Whites of his Eyes turned up with pious Gratitude to Heaven, he bleſſes his God he is very well. Yet view his ſhining, jolly Countenance with the ſmalleſt De⯑gree of Attention, and through this Gauze of Hypo⯑criſy, you plainly diſcover a horrid Groupe behind, compoſed of Pride, Gluttony, Cruelty, and Luſt.— [39]Yet I'll engage, he'll riſe in his Profeſſion, for he can cringe and flatter with the beſt.

Prudiſſa is regular at her Devotions; ſhe goes twice a Day to Church; ſhe conſtantly has her Footman to carry her Prayer-book; yet I could obſerve at a Viſit the other Day, that in ſome of her Walks, there had been more Familiarity between her and this ſame Footman, who then handed the Tea-Equipage, than was altogether conſonant to the Character ſhe chuſes to aſſume.

The unhappy Caliſta, through the Perſidy of the Man ſhe once placed her Affections upon, and ſome Fa⯑mily Misfortunes that followed after, is now obliged to endure the Embraces of one of the moſt deteſtable Leachers upon Earth; yet in Caliſta's Soul, I can read the latent Traces of Chaſtity, Humility, and Love, blended with a Tenderneſs of Diſtreſs, that ſometimes flows into her Eyes, and adds ſuch a melting Softneſs to her native Beauty, as nothing that is human can a⯑void being affected with. Yet to a vulgar Eye, the unfortunate Caliſta appears no better than the common Tribe of Proſtitutes.

Not to produce any further Inſtances at preſent, I can ſee ſo clearly into the Characters and Diſpoſitions of Mankind, that if ſome Folks, whoſe Names I could mention, do not ſhortly mend their Manners, I will take a general Tour through the Cities of London and Weſtminſter, and unmask every ſmooth-faced Villain that I meet. In the mean Time, if a certain Gentle⯑man, who generally wears a laced Frock, a Bag-wig, and a long Sword, does not lay aſide his Project of ſacrificing to a Set of Sharpers, with whom he is to go Shares, the good natured young Nobleman, who took a Liking to him for his Honeſty, I will certainly let his Lordſhip know the whole Affair. And if a cer⯑tain [40]Lady of Diſtinction, who, by a Side Glance laſt Monday in the Mall, diſcovered what intimate Familia⯑rities had paſſed the Evening before, between her and a certain handſome Fellow in a red Coat, does not inſtantly break off all further Commerce with him, I muſt immediately inform her Husband; for I cannot any longer bear to ſee a Man of Conſequence and Senſe hurt in his Honour by ſo conſummate a Coxcomb; but further, I muſt inform the unfortunate Lady, that from a certain Symptom in her Paramour's Face, I can plainly foreſee, he intends to make himſelf much hap⯑pier this Night, than ever he was in her Embraces, among half a Dozen of his Companions, at the Ex⯑pence of her Reputation and Honour.

I WAS ſitting the other Morning in my Study, quite intent upon a Plan for ſome future Eſſay, when a Servant from a Lady, whom I have had the Honour of know⯑ing for a conſiderable Time, broke in upon all my fine concerted Schemes. After making two or three Scrapes, he informed me, that he had Directions to wait upon me with a Card, which I think proper to tranſcribe here, as I look upon it to be a modern Way of writing, of which the Ancients had not the leaſt Idea.

This Way of deſiring a Man's Company, where he is not to ſpeak five Words, has in it ſomething extraor⯑dinary; and though I am not fond of faſhionable Vices, yet I could never prevail on myſelf to renounce [42]a Thing ſo eſſential in the polite World, as Card-play⯑ing is at preſent; and therefore I returned for Anſwer, that I ſhould do myſelf the Pleaſure of waiting upon her Ladyſhip. It is not enough at preſent for a Man to know the World, to ſee into the Humours of different Peo⯑ple, to diſcover a lively Vein of Thinking upon all Topics that may offer in Converſation; unleſs he has learned to loſe his Money gracefully, theſe Accom⯑pliſhments go for nothing, and wherever he viſits, he is reckoned nothing but Lumber. Mr. Mellefont never wants Wit, and has many amiable Qualities, but not being a Card player, whenever he enters a Room, the Lady of the Houſe is ſure to receive him, without ſtir⯑ring out of the indolent Poſture in which ſhe had com⯑poſed herſelf. "Mr. Mellefont," ſays ſhe, with her Eyes ſwimming between Sleep and Wake round the Room, "pray ſit down, Sir.—one is ſo—I don't know how—this Weather."—But let Mr. Hazard with his Midnight Face make his Appearance; her Heart dances at the Sight of him, the Bell rings for the Card-Ta⯑ble, and the Houſe is in an Uproar in an Inſtant.

That I may not paſs for Lumber among the Ladies, I have peruſed with ſome Attention Mr. Hoyle's very judicious and elegant Book on the Game of Whiſt; by which Means I can now return my Partner's Suit, lead through the Honour, Fineſſe, and ſometimes con⯑trive to bring about an agreeable See-ſaw. With this profound Knowledge I was punctual to my Engage⯑ment, and, that I might ſee the whole Ceremony of the Proceeding, took Care to be pretty early in my Viſit.

My Lady Tenace is a Woman of perfect Good-breed⯑ing, and has a very happy Flow of Spirits; her Ca⯑pacity is, perhaps, as extenſive as that of any of her Sex; but from a conſtant Habit of attending to no⯑thing [43]but the odd Trick, ſhe has not laid up ſo large a Store of Ideas, as ſhe might have done by a proper Improvement of her Underſtanding; thoſe Ideas which ſhe is poſſeſſed of, are in a conſtant Rotation, and ſhe never dwells long upon any Subject, but is always ſure to ſay ſomething lively upon every Thing that offers. Her Ladyſhip began to rally me with a deal of Plea⯑ſantry upon my being a public Writer, when, as A⯑pollo would have it, a loud Rap at the Door ſhook the whole Houſe. I have often wondered at this ſtrange Din, with which, even though the Entry ſtands wide open, our Ears are always to be ſtunned upon theſe Occaſions. As the Company comes to a Rout, it is poſſible this may make Part of the Ceremony, and, beſides the Pleaſure of alarming a whole Neighbour⯑hood, I ſuppoſe the Ladies may think, that, what with the Thunder below Stairs, and the Lightning in their Eyes, they ſail into a Room with a greater Eclat.

This was the Caſe with Mrs. Fidget; after ſhe had ſeated herſelf in her Chair, twiſted her Body two or three Times to compoſe herſelf, adjuſted the ſparkling Croſs upon her Neck, and given a Diſcharge to her Fan—‘Lard, my Lady Tenace, ſays ſhe, I was ap⯑prehenſive that I ſhould not be able to wait upon your Ladyſhip—My poor little Dog Pompey—the ſweeteſt little Thing in the World—I went, Me'm, the other Morning to fetch a Walk in the Park— a fine froſty Morning it was—I love froſty Wea⯑ther of all Things—and ſo, little Pompey was with me—and if your Ladyſhip was but to ſee the dear Creature pinched with the Froſt, and mincing its Steps along the Mall—with its pretty little innocent Face—and ſo, Me'm, while I was talking to Cap⯑tain Flimſy—your Ladyſhip knows Captain Flimſy —five odious Frights of Dogs beſet my poor Pompey [44]all at once, Me'm—the dear Creature has the Heart of a Lion—but who can reſiſt ſix at once—and ſo Pompey barked for Aſſiſtance, and the hideous Crea⯑tures made their Eſcape—The Hurt my little Dog met with was on his Cheſt—and, Me'm, there is really Danger that an Empyema is now forming in his Side. And ſo, Me'm—Lard, is not Barry a fine Man?—You have ſeen the Rehearſal to be ſure, Mr. Ranger—Well, to be ſure, Garrick's a ſurpriſing little Fellow, his Eyes have ſo much Life, and ſuch Meaning, and ſuch Fire, and he has ſuch Variety! —They ſay ſhort Aprons are coming into Faſhion again.’

By this Time the Room began to fill, and it was Time to diſpoſe the Company at their ſeveral Stations for the Night. Several Card Tables were accordingly ſituated in different Parts of the Room, and in an in⯑ward Apartment, a Brag-Table was prepared for thoſe who are fond of that Game. The Thoughts of the whole Company began immediately to flow into ano⯑ther Channel; they who were before happy in a mu⯑tual Intercourſe of ſocial Pleaſure, became of a ſudden ſecret Enemies to each other, and every one had a De⯑ſign on his Neighbour's Pocket. I ſhould think this ſtrange Scene would afford many nice Touches to the Pencil of an Hogarth; and it would not fail of being highly entertaining, to ſee the different Effects of the ſame Paſſion operating upon a Number of People, ac⯑cording to their reſpective Tempers, and various Ideas of Winning and Loſing. To mark this with Deli⯑cacy, and to blend the private Habits of each diffe⯑rent Character with it, would, in my Opinion, ſhow a nice Diſcernment, and be worthy of a maſterly Hand to execute it.

[45]After a Rubber or two at Whiſt, I detached myſelf from the Party I was joined to, in order to take a Sur⯑vey of the Room, and I could not help wondering how Men, amid ſuch a Proſuſion of Charms as the Ladies diſplayed, could fit ſo cool and attentive to their Game; and I obſerved that the Queen of Trumps (groteſque and unnatural as the Figure is) was the Venus of every Gentleman preſent. It is the Intereſt of the Ladies not to encourage a Gameſter; for if this ſhould become the ruling Paſſion of the Men, the La⯑bours of the Toilet are all in vain; in vain may the Fair dreſs themſelves in Smiles; in vain heave the tender Breaſt; Cards have baniſhed Love, and ſo adieu to the female Reign.

But this is not all: if this Taſte continues, not only Love, but Beauty is at Stake, and the Odds are greatly againſt it. While the amiable, but delicate Sex, ſit in painful Durance at a Card Table, the liquid Luſtre of the Eye is extinguiſhed, the Roſes fade upon the Cheek, and uneaſy Paſſions deface the Coun⯑tenance. Amanda is, at preſent, in all the Pride of Beauty; her is Stature tall and genteel; ſhe boaſts a regular and elegant Set of Features; her Bloom glow⯑ing as the Poet's Fancy; a mild Radiance beams from her Eyes; there is ſuch an inexpreſſible Delicacy about her Mouth, that it is intirely the Beuche gracieuſe of the French, and over her whole Countenance is diſplayed the moſt winning Sweetneſs; and ſtill Cards render Amanda unamiable. The Moment ſhe ſat down to Brag, I could ſee the young Loves and Graces, that were ambuſhed in every Feature, ſpread their little Wings, and a diſagreeable Expreſſion immediately ſucceeded. I could not bear to hear ſo exquiſite a Beauty with a confirmed Voice tell a forward young Fellow, that "truly ſhe would not be bullied by "him;" and to ſee thoſe Lips, which were framed [46]for the tendereſt Purpoſes, gnawed with Vexation, was Matter of great Uneaſineſs to me. But the Sen⯑ſations, which Mrs. Pregnant gave me, are not to be expreſſed. The Emotions, which ſhe ſhewed upon fix Aces being diſcovered in one Pack, will, I am afraid, bring her Child into the World with a convulſed Set of Nerves, and I would venture to lay an even Bet that it will be marked with a Pair-royal of Aces.

When a Paſſion for Play becomes predominant in the married State, I believe it requires no very lively Imagination to conceive the Scene that muſt enſue; not to mention the Ruin of a Family, their own im⯑mediate Happineſs is deſtroyed; as the Poet finely ſays,

I ſhall conclude, by congratulating with the Public, that we are ſhortly to have a new Tragedy called The Gameſter, exhibited at Drury-Lane, in which, as I am informed, the Effects of this unhappy Turn will be ſet in a proper Light.

X.

A Servant, in a gay Livery, brought me the follow⯑ing Letter a few Days ſince; and as it unfolds ſome of the Follies, which are apt to adhere to the Ladies, I ſhall beg Leave to recommend it to the Peruſal of my Female Readers.

THERE is not in the whole Province of an Author, a Point of greater Difficulty to attain than what is called a good Stile, an Expreſſion which is in every Body's Mouth, but, as I take it, very little underſtood by the preſent Critics. I ſhall endeavour, in this Paper, to reduce into ſome Sort of Order the ſeveral ſcattered Thoughts which recurred to my Mind upon this Subject, in a vague Manner, a few Days ſince.

The Term Stile, if I miſtake not, is derived from the Stylus of the Romans, which was an Inſtrument uſed by them in Writing upon Wax, one End of it faſhioned to cut the Letters, and the other formed to efface the Impreſſion, whenever it ſhould be judged proper. Hence Horace adviſes a Writer who would aſpire to the Fame of being worth Reading, to turn his Stile-very often, that is, to rub out and alter the Arrange⯑ment and Choice of his Words.

From this turning and altering is deducible the Mean⯑ing of this Expreſſion, which is a proper Choice of [58]Words in a regular and harmonious Diſpoſition. This requires a great deal of Art, and without a juſt Senſe of the Force and Beauty of Language, can never be performed in any Degree of Perfection: In ſome we never can perceive the leaſt Tendency towards it, which renders their Works not very palatable to the Reader; and in thoſe who have by Practice cultivated this Ta⯑lent, it is an Embelliſhment to good Senſe, gives a Luſ⯑tre and Elegance to every Thing the Author advances, and renders his Productions pleaſing and inviting. I be⯑lieve there are to be found ſeveral Critics, from whoſe Works a good plodding Head may extract very ſound and ſenſible Obſervations upon all Branches of Literature; but while there are thoſe who treat the ſame Subject with a delicate Touch, he muſt be lamentably dull that would have Recourſe to the former; and while Lon⯑ginus, Addiſon and Spence are not loſt to us, the Dutch Commentators will lie mouldering on Stalls, and in the duſty Libraries of inſipid Pedants.

To attempt to lay down Rules for the Acquirement of this Quality, might perhaps carry with it an Ap⯑pearance of a tacit Declaration that I am Maſter of it myſelf, which I am far from the Vanity of believing; but it appears to me, that what Mr. Locke mentions as the chief Thing to be attended to in the Conduct of the Underſtanding, is alſo a neceſſary Step towards this Accompliſhment. The Thing, I mean, is an Habit of Thinking in Train on whatever Subject the Mind may chuſe to expatiate upon, by which Means our Thoughts will follow in a natural Order, each ariſing and grow⯑ing out of the former, and the whole connected in all its Parts, will by theſe Means be a regular Compoſition, which at one Glance the Reader may take in and carry in his Mind. There is an Aſſociation between almoſt all our Ideas, and whenever one of them preſents itſelf to the Imagination, an whole Train is wakened into [59]Life; ſo that if an Author has enlarged his Under⯑ſtanding, and enriched himſelf with a tolerable Stock of Knowledge, he need not be apprehenſive but his Thoughts will offer faſt enough, and that too, if he has habituated himſelf to the Government of his Facul⯑ties above deſcribed in a regular Series. This would prevent that violent Straining very perceptible in ſome Gentlemen of the Quill, that Manner of flying off from one Subject to another in a wild incoherent. Man⯑ner, which ſerves only to bewilder the Reader, who expects ſomething of Method, and not being able to attend his Author into the Realms of Chaos and old Night, he throws him aſide as a vague wandering Ge⯑nius, whom he can make nothing of.

I am aware that what has been premiſed may ap⯑pear to an haſty Peruſer, digreſſive from the Matter I firſt ſet out with; but Thinking is ſo intimately con⯑nected with what is called Stile, that it is intirely co-in⯑cident with the Deſign of this Eſſay, and is ſo eſſen⯑tial to a Compoſition, that without it Elegance can never be expected, and with it, it is odds that it will never be wanting. To furniſh the Mind with Know⯑ledge, is a Rule of the ableſt of Critics, and Words, ſays he, will never be deficient to cloath our Ideas.

To think clearly therefore is the original Source of good Writing, and he who conſiders things with Per⯑ſpicuity, will alſo aim at the ſame in conveying his Sen⯑timents to others. This is the main Uſe of Language, and on this Account a good Writer will avoid all Affec⯑tation of Glittering, all falſe ambitious Ornaments, all Prettineſſes, all Conceits, quaint Turns, Points and An⯑titheſes, which never can give Strength to an Argument, and only ſerve to enervate and corrupt the Imagination. As no Language can poſſibly have a Competency of Terms appropriated to every different Idea, Recourſe was had to the Metaphor; which conſiſts in transferring the Name of one Object to another, on Account of ſome [60]Reſemblance ſubſiſting between them; but by this, in the Nature of Things, it never could be intended that an whole Piece ſhould be carried on in a String of borrowed Phraſes. Every body knows how cloying this Manner is in ſome of the moſt eminent Writers of the laſt Century; and it would not be hard to point out ſome of the preſent Tribe, who put off every Thing in ſuch a motly Mixture of far-fetched Terms and Al⯑luſions, that the Senſe is hid under a Flouriſh of tuneful Periods, which by the injudicious is called a good Stile and a pretty Flow. Cicero, the Father of Eloquence, and the excellent Quintilian, in ſeveral Paſſages have condemned the two frequent Inſertion of Metaphors; and Vida, who was both a Poet and a Critic, has ele⯑gantly deſcribed thoſe Writers, who diſdain to expreſs their Thoughts in the Terms appropriated to them, and though, the Subject does not require it, muſt need ſet off every Thing in the deluſive Colouring of figu⯑rative Language.

I believe the late Dean Swift underſtood the true genuine Beauties of Writing as well as any Author, antient or modern, and I would adviſe the Reader to open any Part of his Works, and try whether he can find any Thing of this florid Manner, that at preſent ſerves to elevate and ſurprize. I am convinced that no Man of common Apprehenſion need ever read a Sentence twice over in any of this Writer's Productions; his Method is perſpicuous, and at the ſame time elegant, without falſe Embelliſhments, and his Metaphors all bearing a palpable Alluſion to the Thing they are introduced to ſignify. This is a Point which ſhould be always be [61]conſidered, and even then they ſhould not be ſowed too thick, nor purſued with a pitiful Ambition to too great a Length. Whenever I find a Perſon erring on this Head, he appears to me in the Light of a Child, who has blown a Bubble prettily variegated and pleaſing to his Fancy, and then follows it in order to keep up the Illuſion as long as he can. In ſhort, it has happened in Language as in Commerce: What was firſt intended to ſupply our natural Deficiencies, is now by the Depra⯑vity of the human Mind perverted into a Vice; the Tranſgreſſion on the one Hand has been ſufficiently condemned by all Moraliſts, and in the Eye of a juſt Critic nothing can be more blameable than a Luxury of Words.

I know there are many other Corruptions which con⯑tribute to vitiate a true Taſte; but I have dwelt longer on this, as it appears to me to be the reigning Fault of all our pretty Eſſayiſts at preſent. But if Me⯑taphor is conſidered in the Light I have ſtated it, as only an Aid to the Perſpicuity of Language; it will no longer paſs for an Elegance, when it is not ſubſer⯑vient to its original Inſtitution. Add to this, that all tedious Circumlocution ſhould be quite exploded, tho' it is an excellent Subterfuge to him, who wants to ſpin out the Sheet: To be a great while ſaying and ſaying nothing, helps out many a tritical Eſſay Writer. A Multiplicity of Words of the ſame Import, with a Profuſion of Epithets, is alſo very uſeful upon a Pinch, but, I believe, it is unneceſſary to obſerve, that there cannot be a greater Error; it ſhould alſo be remem⯑bered, that every Species of Writing has its peculiar Manner, and its own proper Colouring, and whenever the diſtinguiſhing Qualities of each are not preſerved, whenever the different Boundaries are invaded, then all Propriety in Writing is deſtroyed. A true Stile ſhould be clear of all foreign Infuſions, like the River [62] Marſyas, which Curtius tells us glides pure and un⯑mixed within the Fortifications of a Town in Aſia, free from any adventitious Waters to pollute the lim⯑pid Stream; but when without the Walls, it pours along with a more impetuous Current, and a ſwelling Surge, it no longer retains its original Name, but then commences to be ſtiled the River Lycus: cum extra mu⯑nimenta ſe evolvit, majore vi ac mole agentem undas Lycum appellant.

After the Choice of our Words, the Arrangement of them is to be attended to, and in this conſiſts a great deal of the Writer's Art. The Reference which the ſeveral Terms in a Sentence bear to one another; the Strength they acquire by being joined with proper Epithets, the Luſtre they reflect upon an whole Period when diſpoſed with ſuch an artful Brevity, that nothing is perplexed or entangled, are all Points of Moment in a Compoſition, and at the ſame Time that they render every Thing clearer, they give Grace and Harmony to the Whole.

The Particulars here inſiſted on are, in my Opi⯑nion, the Conſtituents of a good St [...]le, but as I am apprehenſive I may have been all this Time giving a Specimen of a very bad one myſelf, I ſhall here re⯑leaſe my Reader with this Obſervation, that Simplicity is the firſt and greateſt Beauty in every Production of the human Mind.

IN a former Paper I mentioned, that I belong to a Club, which meets once in every Week, at the Devil Tavern, near Temple-Bar; I then promiſed my Readers to make them acquainted with the Nature of this Meeting, the Characters of the ſeveral Members, and the Oddities in my own Temper, which entitle me to a Place in this extraordinary Society, and therefore I ſhall make an Account of it the Subject of this Day's Lucubration.

Our Club is called the Club of Originals. By an Ori⯑ginal we do not mean, a Character entirely new, and [65]ſuch as has never been ſeen in the World before; but we intend by it a Perſon of an independent Under⯑ſtanding, whoſe diſtinguiſhing Marks are not contracted by an affected Imitation of others, but are abſolutely native and conſtitutional in the very Frame and Temper of his Mind. As I had the Honour of filling the Chair the laſt Club Night, I ſhall begin with myſelf, though I am aware that a public Writer ſhould remain as much behind the Curtain as poſſible, on Account of the Prejudices which ariſe againſt a known Author.

I have, perhaps, as many Whims in my Turn of Mind, as any Man whatever, and they adhere to me ſo tenaciouſly, that I cannot diſengage myſelf from them. Notwithſtanding all the Pains I have been at, I cannot induce myſelf to carry a ſupernumerary Ace in my Pocket to a Brag-table; I could never contract an Intimacy in a Gentleman's Family, in order to debauch his Daughter, or carry on a Deſign upon his Wife; I had rather loſe my Joke at any Time, than my Friend; and I am ſo aukward, that I cannot at⯑tempt to bilk a Box-keeper. Add to this, I am far from being a Free-thinker, notwithſtanding the very great Reputation to be acquired by it. I am ſenſible, that theſe are unaccountable Oddities, and it does not eſcape me, that in ſo enlightened and accompliſhed an Age as this, they muſt ſet a Man in a very diſadvantage⯑ous Light; but the Truth of it is, they have taken ſuch Root in my Mind, that I am apprehenſive, I ſhall never be able to attain that Elegance of Life and Taſte, which is remarkable in ſome of my Neighbours.

The next who is to ſit for his Picture, is a Gentleman of the moſt extenſive Knowledge in all Branches of polite Literature. His Name is CANDID, remarkable for his Knowledge in Critical Learning; but what conſtitutes the Oddity of his Character is, that he is a Critic with Good-nature. No Man has quicker Sen⯑ſations [66]than Mr. Candid, and hence it reſults that in pe⯑ruſing the Works of Antiquity, or thoſe Writers among the Moderns of allowed Reputation, their beautiful Paſſages ſtrike ſo forcibly on his Imagination, that he admires them to a Degree of Rapture. It may be ima⯑gined that this Warmth of Temper hurries him ſome⯑times into a falſe Applauſe, but his Judgment is ſo deliberate, that he generally withholds his Admiration till he is perfectly ſatisfied that the Sentiment and Diction are juſt, and he is never known to be impoſed upon by falſe Embelliſhments of Stile, or thoſe ambitious Ornaments in Writing, which are cenſured by Horace. To this Refinement of Taſte, Mr. Candid has joined the moſt finiſhed good Breeding, which renders his Company extremely deſirable, and he is a Source from whence thoſe of his Acquaintance derive many excel⯑lent Obſervations upon every Kind of different Wri⯑ting.

Mr. Abraham Gulliver follows in Order of Succeſſion to the Chair, a Gentleman of very diverting Humours, and deſcended, as he himſelf informs us, from that very Gulliver whoſe Travels have been collected, with ſo much Accuracy, by the late Doctor Swift. The Love of recounting Adventures I believe runs in his Blood, and he frequently ſets the Company a ſtaring at the ſurprizing Incidents he has met with. His Paſſion for voyaging was formerly ſo prevalent in him, that he never omitted an Opportunity of ſailing for it, as he expreſſes it, and merely to gratify this Inclination he embarked in Lord Anſon's Squadron found the World. He has loſt one Eye and Part of his Chin in that Expedition, but he does not repine at the Accident, as he ſays it is made up to him in the Acquirement of Knowledge, which, he inſiſts, no Man can be ſaid to poſſeſs, who has not croſſed the Line, and attempted the North-Eaſt Paſſage. He has converſed with a [67] Bramin in the Eaſt; and there is no Place in the Map, of which he cannot give ſome Account. He certainly has laid up a large Fund of Knowledge, but that tinged with ſo many Oddities, that he is a whimſical Member of Society.

After Mr. Gulliver, my Friend Harry Wildair, whom I have mentioned in a former Paper, as my Coadjutor in the Articles of Intelligence, claims our Attention. Harry Wildair has a quick Inſight into Men and Man⯑ners, and No-body better knows the characteriſtic Marks and latent Foibles of all whom he meets in the ſocial Intercourſe of Life. Joined to this Sharp⯑neſs of Diſcernment he has made great Enquiry into the Connections and Buſineſs of Mankind, and is actuated by ſo ſtrong a Deſire of Novelty, that he has fixed his Reſidence at Charing-Croſs, that he may have an Op⯑portunity of obſerving the mighty Throng, which is conſtantly preſſing that Way. He can tell, by the Coat of Arms, to whom each paſſing Coach belongs, and if by Chance a Vehicle unobſerved before occurs to him, he is ſure to run after it through nine or ten Streets, in order to ſatisfy his Curioſity. In ſhort, my Friend Wildair is all Spirit and Frolick; is foremoſt in every Scene both in high and low Life, and he is equally pleaſant upon the finer Foibles of the polite, and the ſtrong Humours of the inferior Claſs, from whence it reſults that he is never without a Fund of Gallantry and Humour, and his Converſation abounds with a gay and ſprightly Variety.

The next of the Society is Counſellor Plaſtic of the Inner Temple. Counſellor Plaſtic was called to the Bar in the Year 1740, but the Death of his elder Brother ſoon rendering it unneceſſary for him to attend his Profeſſion, he laid aſide the long Robe, and has ſince indulged himſelf in the Gratification of his natural Caſt of Mind. Inſtead of Walking in Weſtminſter-Hall, he takes a Turn every Day in the Lyceum, or [68]ſaunters in the Groves of Academus. In plain Terms, Mr. Plaſtic is a compleat Shafteſburian Philoſopher; like all the Gentlemen of that inclining, he has a po⯑lite Taſte for the imitative Arts; his Imagination is warm and elegant, and he has entirely a Muſe-like Apprehenſion. With all this there is a Peculiarity in every Thing he ſays or does; the Chriſtian Syſtem cannot ſtand his Art in Ridicule, which he calls the Teſt of Truth, and he adores a Deity of his own making. The Doctrine of Rewards and Puniſhments is to him abominable, and his Diſcourſe generally turns on Ideas of Beauty and Virtue. Beſides the five Senſes in com⯑mon with his Neighbours, this Gentleman has a mo⯑ral Senſe, a Senſe of Honour, a public Senſe, an internal Senſe, and many other Powers of Perception, not mentioned in Locke's Eſſay, which is, in my humble Opinion, the moſt accurate Hiſtory of the human Mind. In ſhort, Counſellor Plaſtic's Imagination has attained a great Degree of Refinement, and his diſintereſted Bene⯑volence is frequently laughed at by Mr. Allcaſh, who ſtands laſt upon the Liſt.

It is owing to a Whim of this Gentleman's, that our Meeting is fixed at the Devil Tavern, as he has made a Reſolution never to go beyond the Bar. Mr. Allcaſh is eſteemed to be worth half a Plum, and is now pretty well recovered from the Shock he received by the Reduction of Intereſt. As he has ſpent moſt of his Time in a conſtant Intercourſe with Scriveners and Stock-jobbers, he has diſcovered the Artifices of that Claſs of Men, and he is ſatisfied from that partial View of Mankind, that he knows the World. He is extremely fond of a Maxim in Hudibras;

[69]This with him is the Teſt of Truth, which he oppoſes in his joking Way to the Shafteſburian Rule; he declares, that he had rather have a Senſe of Money, than all the elegant Senſes above mentioned; and he is a conſtant Attendant at Church, as he ſays, from a ſincere Motive of Piety, though it is hinted by Mr. Plaſtic, that he does this becauſe he thinks it is his Intereſt to be ſaved.

Theſe are the Members of the Club of ORIGINALS, which has been inſtituted upon the Commencement of this Paper, and as we are willing, in order to pro⯑mote the Deſign of it, to admit new Members, Pro⯑poſals will be received, and treated with the utmoſt Impartiality.

N. B. None but Principals will be treated with.

THE French are very often happy in an Expreſſion, which cannot be rendered with equal Delicacy in any other mo⯑dern Language. Of this Sort is a Phraſe I have ſomewhere met with, viz. Les petites Morales, which is uſed by them to ſignify thoſe ſubordinate Points of Behaviour, which cannot be look⯑ed upon in the ſame Light with Concerns of an higher Moment, but are, however, ſo eſſential to our Conduct in Life, that they are thence denominated leſſer Morals. A ſmall Share of common Senſe will point theſe out to every Man's Obſervation; but as the Infringement of them is frequent, and very often attended with ſerious Conſequences, it properly comes within the Province of a public Writer to correct theſe leſſer Deviations, and therefore I have ſet apart this Day to animadvert upon a Tranſgreſſion of this Nature.

The Offence I mean is the notable Art of HUM⯑BUGGING, which ſtarted up of late Years, and has made ſuch an extenſive Progreſs, that it is now enlarged into a general Faſhion, and calls aloud for a CENSOR. And here it may not be improper to remind People of the true Definition of Wit, which conſiſts in reconciling I⯑deas, between which there is no palpable Congruity, in a ſudden lively Aſſociation. To this I will add, that Humour is the Talent of diſcerning the Oddities which conſtitute the great Variety of Characters this [72]Kingdom is famous for, and exhibiting them in ridicu⯑lous Colours to the Eye of the World. Things being thus circumſtanced, I would ask the Tribe of HUM⯑BUGGERS, how far a plauſible Lie, with a grave Coun⯑tenance, will give them a Pretenſion to either of the two Faculties above deſcribed? The Truth of it is, they are but pitiful Attendants on the Camp of falſe Wit; and if they would conſider how eaſily it is to fal⯑ſify, and how hard to do it with Pleaſantry, they would, in my Opinion, deſiſt from ſo unpolite an Art, than which I do not remember any thing more groſs, more ſtupid, and more ſenſeleſs. An Author of the firſt Mag⯑nitude (I think the late Dr. Swift) obſerves, that he never knew above one good Lie in his Life; and that one, I will venture to ſay, was told by himſelf, and we may believe was a Stroke of Humour, free from Scan⯑dal or Detraction, the diſtinguiſhing Characteriſticks of our modern Adventurers in this Way.

As one of theſe elegant Gentlemen is over his Tea in a Morning, his Hand is applied with great Sagacity to his Forehead — ‘Let me ſee now, for an arch Hum—ſomething curſed high for the Day—Ay, ay, I have it—A Suit is commenced in the ſpiri⯑tual Court againſt a certain Lord—It will be inſo⯑lent though to meddle with ſuch reſpectable Charac⯑ters—Well, but there is Ill-nature in it, and ſo it will do ſwimmingly—as how—Why—he's mar⯑ried the fineſt Woman in the World—Her whole Sex envy her, and Envy vents itſelf in Malice and Detraction—that's the Thing—it will ſpread a⯑mong them—Immenſe by G—d.—’ So away runs he, as quick as Lightning, to my Lady TATTLE-AID's Toilet, with a Face as long as a Dutch Epigram; then the Hum begins—‘I am extremely ſorry for it, cries the Wag—It's a cruel Caſe—Pray, Sir, what's a cruel Caſe?—Why, have not you heard, [73]Ma'am?—My Lord—(hark in your Ear)—abſo⯑lutely fact—two Wives—I'd lay all Lombard-Street to an Egg-ſhell that it's true. Your Ladyſhip knows Tom Wildfire.—Tom went this Morning for a Li⯑cence to be married to Miſs Beverley, the great For⯑tune, and he brings the News piping hot from the Commons.—" "Lard, ſays my Lady Tattleaid, I don't know how it was — I never liked that Match —(and caſting her Eyes on the Glaſs with a conſcious Simper)—What ſignifies all her Beauty now?— Though ſhe was never my Beauty—I don't find that thoſe tall Women are ſo much admired in public Places — Mrs. Needlework, bid John come round with the Coach to the Door,—and bring me my Fan, Gloves, and Capuchin in an Inſtant.’

Thus the Affair is ſettled: away flies my Lady Tat⯑tleaid, on the Wings of Malice, to all Parts of the Town, and thus the agreeable News is wafted about. At White's Bets are extremely high, a Wager being the only Teſt of Truth, which the ingenious Gentlemen of that Academy have been able to diſcover, after infinite Pains in the Search. A loſing Gameſter, who is o⯑bliged to drive into the City to diſpoſe of a little South Sea Stock, gives the Hint there. The Goſſips at Gar⯑raway's have it in a Moment: At One it is buzz'd on Change, and the circulating Whiſper in the Boxes in⯑terrupts the Play at Night. At my Lady Trumpabout's Aſſembly, the Ladies are all in a Titter. ‘Is it come to this? cries Miſs Sparkiſh, I'll brag a Guinea over—" "But is it really true, ſays Miſs Whiteteeth, I ſhall be very ſorry for it—he! he! he!—Can one go to hear it tried?—I'll ſend to beſpeak Places.’

Pleaſed with theſe Ideas, the Ladies retire home from the Rout, ſink into a comfortable Repoſe, dream of Divorces, Separations, and unhappy Beauties, till the next Day the Cheat is diſcovered; the Illuſion vaniſhes; [74]the noble Lord proves to be above the Reach of ſo in⯑famous a Calumny, and his Lady, ſuperior to Envy, moves in her Sphere with Luſtre, Grace, and Dignity; while the Droll, who firſt ſet the Thing on foot, enjoys the Joke in ſecret, and laughs at the Tale his Faceti⯑ouſneſs propagated. And in this is contained all the Wit, and all the Humour, and all the Fun of all the Humbuggers of the Age.

I could wiſh that this Tribe had ſubſiſted in the Days of Horace; becauſe then we ſhould have them, under ſome proper Appellation, delivered down to Poſterity with the

But I do not think that the polite Authors of Greece and Rome ſeem to have the fainteſt Idea of this egregious Turn. In all the Characters of La Bruyere there is no ſuch Mon⯑ſter to be found; the Wits of King Charles's Time were abſolutely ignorant of it. In the Reign of Queen ANNE, which (to uſe the Words of a fine Author) notwithſtand⯑ing the happy Days that have ſucceeded, every BRITON may yet remember, I ſay, in the Reign of Queen ANNE, when Wit, Humour, Imagination, and every elegant Talent, were in their higheſt Perfection, nothing of this Sort aroſe. In ſhort, it ſeems entirely reſerved to grace the Annals of theſe latter Days; and I make no doubt but it will give a ſurpriſing Eclat to the Pages of ſome future Hiſtorian, to have it related in a pompous Stile, that in the Reign of his Majeſty King George the Se⯑cond, by the Grace of God, King of Great-Britain, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, and ſo forth, the never enough to be admired Art of Humbugging came into Vogue, and was the Amuſement of Tea Ta⯑bles, [75]the Delight of the Court, and the Study of Beaux and pretty Gentlemen, from whom it deſcended to all Ranks of People, and became the general Faſhion of the Kingdom.

Inſtead of expatiating any further on this ſprightly Abſurdity, I ſhall cloſe this Paper with a Paſſage from Lord Shaftſbury, whoſe Deciſion upon Wit and Manners, I believe, will not be conteſted.

‘'Tis real Humanity and Kindneſs to hide ſtrong Truths from tender Eyes; and to do this by pleaſant Amuſement, is eaſier and civiller, than by a harſh Denial, or remarkable Reſerve. But to go about induſtriouſly to confound Men in a myſterious Man⯑ner, and to make Advantage, and draw Pleaſure from that Perplexity they are thrown into by ſuch uncer⯑tain Talk, is as unhandſome in a Way of Raillery, as when done with the greateſt Seriouſneſs, or in the moſt ſolemn Way of Deceit. It may be neceſſary, as well now as heretofore, for wiſe Men to ſpeak in Parables, with a double Meaning, that the Enemy may be amuſed, and they only who have Ears to hear, may hear; but it is certainly a mean, impotent, and dull Sort of Wit which amuſes all alike, and leaves the moſt ſenſible Man, and even a Friend, equally in Doubt, and at a Loſs to underſtand what one's real Mind is upon any Subject. This is that groſs Sort of Raillery which is ſo offenſive in good Company; and indeed there is as much Difference between one Sort and another, as between fair Deal⯑ing and Hypocriſy, or between the genteeleſt Wir, and the moſt ſcurrilous Buffoonery. But by Freedom of Converſation this illiberal Kind of Wit will loſe its Credit.’

The following Letter is a Piece of Raillery upon Whim⯑ſies, which have a real Exiſtence; and it is written by a Gentleman of ſo elegant a Taſte, that I per⯑ſuade myſelf a Production of his cannot fail to con⯑tribute [78]to the public Entertainment, and therefore I ſhall not, by a longer Preface, detain my Readers from the Peruſal of it.

WHEN an Author firſt launches forth, a pleaſing Proſpect lies before him; his Spirits are enlivened with the Novelty of his Enterprize; his Imagination pic⯑tures to him Scenes of Succeſs, and he thinks he has nothing to do, but to ſpread all his Sails, and glide away to the Realms of Fame. Were an Inſurance-Office opened for Adven⯑turers of this Nature, where, for a ſmall Premium, the Event might be aſcertained, he would hardly think it worth his while to intrench himſelf within thoſe Safe⯑guards; ſo ſure is he of reaching his wiſhed for Haven. But how ſorn is the flattering Dream diſſipated into Air! Like Virgil's Aeneas, he no ſooner leaves the Shore, and ſees the Land gradually leſſening to his Eye, than he finds himſelf embarked on a Sea of Troubles. Some ſecret Enemy, in whoſe Breaſt an unjuſt Preju⯑dice has long been rankling, immediately begins to counterwork his Progreſs, and a Storm is raiſed againſt him. Calumny, Detraction, Scandal, and Malevolence blow a more violent Tempeſt, than the four Winds combined; the piercing Blaſts of Enmity whiſtle round him, and his little Bark becomes the Sport of a trou⯑bled Element; now elevated as high as the very Hea⯑vens, and then at once let down to the profoundeſt Bottom of the Deep. Should he be hardy enough to [85]think of weathering it out, he is beſet by a Shoal of Monſters, known in thoſe Seas by the Name of CRI⯑TICKS. Theſe dangerous Animals of Prey are con⯑ſtantly prowling about the Main, upon the Look-out, if I may be allowed the Expreſſion, for ſome Object of their Rage. Him they inſtantly ſurround, and all En⯑deavours to amuſe them from their fell Purpoſe are in vain; Tubs have been thrown to Whales with Suc⯑ceſs, and we have read of Arion, who found Means, by the lenient Airs of his Harp, to ſoften into Atten⯑tion a Group of Monſters, hungry, and ready to devour him; but no Perſuaſive is ſufficient to appeaſe the Rage of the CRITICKS, mentioned above; almoſt in⯑evitable Ruin attends the Man, who unhappily falls in their Way; and if, by the Light of ſome propitious Star, he ſhould ſteer his Courſe clear of them, they have been ſeen to goad and bite themſelves with Spite and De⯑ſperation.

To deſcend from this long continued Allegory: A public Writer, who undertakes to inſtruct or entertain his Readers, has ſo many Difficulties to cope with, that inſtead of wondering at the Dearth of good Papers of late, I am ſurprized that any Advances are made to⯑wards it. The Pangs of deſpiſed Wit are, perhaps, equal to thoſe of deſpiſed Love, and one would imagine them ſufficient to extinguiſh an Author's honeſt Emulation, and to determine him to think a Poſt of inglorious Eaſe more eligible than that State of Warfare, he muſt be involved in as a Writer. It is to no purpoſe to plead in Bar to the Invectives of the rigid Cenſors of the Age, a well-meant Endeavour to promote Chearful⯑neſs and Good-humour: An Acquaintance of mine, who delights in parodying Paſſages from Poets, ſays, with ſome Pleaſantry, Criticks have flinty Hearts; na Wit can move them; Authors muſt be unhappy.

[86]As theſe notable Refiners upon the Beauties of Wri⯑ting ſtand in a conſpicuous Light among the ſeveral Characters which do Honour to the preſent Age, it may not be improper upon this Occaſion, to lay before the Reader a true Idea of the preſent State of MODERN CRITICISM, with ſome Account of its Parentage and Education.

ILL-NATURE is the Founder of the Family; in a Fit of petulant Delight this Perſonage was joined in Wed⯑lock to the celebrated Dame, IGNORANCE, The Iſſue of this happy Marriage was ENVY, who, being of a conſumptive Habit of Body, and no very amorous Diſ⯑poſition, was deterred for a long Time from any Thoughts of Matrimony; but at length meeting with MALICE, he took an immediate Fancy to her, and by a Sympa⯑thy of Soul this lovely Pair were led to a mutual Li⯑king for each other. MALICE was an old Maid, of a lean ſhrivelled Habit of Body, and delighted greatly in Tea-table Chat. At firſt the Relations of ENVY were diſguſted at the Match, as they imagined from the La⯑dy's Looks, that there was not any probable Likelihood of their having Iſſue, by which it was apprehended the Family would be totally extinct. But Things are not always to be taken by Appearances; though the new⯑married Couple lived together like Cats, conſtantly ſcratching and quarrelling, they ſtill found ſofter Mo⯑ments of Dalliance, and in about nine Months, CRITI⯑CISM was uſhered into the World. The Tidings of this happy Occurrence were ſoon wafted towards Grub⯑ſtreet College; Mother DULNESS raiſed her drowſy Head, pleaſed with the Account of the ſprightly Dunce, and all her Votaries hailed the new-born Babe. In Par⯑naſſus the Effect was far different; Apollo ſtarted, and each amiable MUSE let fall a tender Tear: The tune⯑ful Lyre was laid aſide, and ASTRAEA dropped her Scales.

[87]That the Lineage of this egregious Youth may be carried in the Mind with more Facility, I ſhall here throw the whole Pedigree in one View before the Eye of the Reader.

ILL-NATURE—IGNORANCE

ENVY—MALICE

CRITICISM.

Like Richard the Third, the Infant was born with Teeth, and the Moment it perceived the firſt Ray of Light, it began to hiſs. Several of the uſual Play-things given to Children were immediately bought, but no⯑thing could allay our young Hero's Cries, until a Cat⯑call was given into his Hands, of which, by a Kind of Inſtinct, he inſtantly found the Uſe, and he ſeemed to take a malicious Pleaſure at the Shrilneſs of the Sound. In proceſs of Time an Horn-book was procured for the young Gentleman, and at the firſt Sight of it he grew extremely peeviſh, and ſhortly after began to pull it to pieces. In this he was encouraged by his Grand⯑mother, who alledged it would ſpoil the Child's Eyes, but it is confidently ſaid that he at laſt took to it of himſelf, but that he applied at random, in a very irre⯑gular Manner; and I am credibly informed, that he could not be induced to purſue the Alphabet in its na⯑tural Order, but that the firſt Letters he became ac⯑quainted with, were D, A, M, N. It is a Queſtion with many, whether he ever went further; but after ſome Pains in the Reſearch, I have found from ſome ſecret Memoirs, that he really did learn to read the Title-Pages of Books and Pamphlets, in order the more effec⯑tually to abuſe them.

Our Youth in his Countenance had a blended Re⯑ſemblance to his Parents, with a very great Air of his Grandmother. From his Grandſire he derived a Diſ⯑poſition to all Kinds of Vice, and therefore the evil [88]Qualities of his Father thrived in a Soil admirably fit⯑ted for their Reception. Pleaſure he was an utter Stranger to, unleſs the Misfortunes of his Neighbours excited the mixed Senſations of that malignant Joy mentioned by Ovid.

Nothing could ever rouze him to an Emulation of others, whom he perceived to excel, but he ſat pining and ſelf-tormented at the Idea of their Merit, and hav⯑ing a Volubility of Speech from his Mother, he vent⯑ed his Spleen in Obloquy and ſcandalous Invective. In theſe Qualities he made great Improvement, and each Day added ſome new Accompliſhment, ſuch as Impudence, Pertneſs, Ill-manners, &c.

Being now arrived at Maturity, he grew wondrous fond of Coffee-houſes, and turned out a complete Blood. He was conſtantly ſeen poring over the Magazines, and if he ever met with a Production of Genius, he ſhewed great Perturbation of Mind, and was often heard to pronounce with ſome Vehemence;—Piſh!—Exe⯑crable!—Damnea Stuff!—O G—d!—He went to the Playhouſe on the firſt Night of every new Piece; the Players dreaded the Sight of him in the Pit; there he talked of Actors whom he never ſaw; retailed Authors whom he never read; tore up Benches; grinned and chattered; hiſſed and clapped; yawned and ſlept. Having heard that Ariſtotle's Art of Poetry was eſteemed among his beſt Performances, he bought at a Stall a certain curious Production entitled Ariſtotle's Maſter-piece, which gave him a mean Opinion of the Ancients; and thence he took Occaſion to ridicule all Kind of Learning, and became a Delegate, of his own Choice, to direct the Taſte of the Age; and if a young Author ſhewed any Traces of Elegance in a Compo⯑ſition, or diſcovered a Vein of Thinking, capable of [89]further Improvements, he endeavoured to nip him in the Bud.

To conclude; CRITICISM has been upon Town for ſeveral Years, and ſtill continues in the Practice of every bad Quality, deducible from a weak Head and a corrupt Heart; but as I intend to perſevere in the Work I have undertaken, I will cut Matters ſhort, and inform this Gentleman, and all his Followers, that af⯑ter this I ſhall not ſuffer myſelf to be diverted from the Drift of this Deſign. I think I ſhall be able to of⯑fer ſome Compoſitions, not quite unworthy of the public Peruſal; and if I do not point out any unknown Truths, I ſhall endeavour to place every Thing in a Point of View, that, I hope, will ſometimes give it the Graces of Novelty.

I ſhall continue to prefix a Motto to each Lucubra⯑tion from ſome celebrated Author of Antiquity, and this not out of any Affectation, but becauſe from an early Taſte for thoſe excellent Writers, many of their Beauties have inſinuated themſelves into my Imagina⯑tion, in ſo lively a Manner, that they recur on almoſt every Topic. This ſerves very often with the Claſſic Scholar, to place an entire Eſſay before his Eye at once; and to ſee a fine Paſſage ſtart into a new Light, and carry a witty Alluſion to a Subject, in Appearance foreign to it, muſt, in my Opinion, excite agreeable Ideas in the Fancy.

The mere Engliſh Reader will loſe this Pleaſure, but the reſt of this Paper cannot ſuffer by it.

WILD AIR the other Day put a Letter into my Hand, which, he informed me, he had juſt received from an Acquain⯑tance, who lately took a Trip to Paris. As it exhibits a pretty lively Picture of an Engliſh⯑man, who has ſet up the Cuſtoms and Manners of his own Country, as the indiſputable Standard of what is right, and therefore treats every thing he finds different from them with Contempt, perhaps the Pub⯑lic will not be diſpleaſed to peruſe it. I ſhall preſent it then as the Entertainment of this Day, not doubting but that it will be reliſhed at leaſt by thoſe Readers who have had an Opportunity of obſerving the ri⯑diculous Manner, in which our Countrymen ſpend their Time, in that elegant Metropolis of the polite World.

THE Club, of which I am a Member, and of which I have already given ſome Account in this Paper, is not a Conſe⯑deracy in Riot and Debauchery, but was inſtituted with a View of enjoying a pleaſing Converſe, rather than of contending with each other for the Renown of the moſt potent Conſtitution, or the moſt capacious Swallow. Accordingly our Diſ⯑courſe generally turns upon ſome Topic, that may ſerve to diſcloſe the Humours of Mankind, or carry our Taſte to a greater Degree of Refinement in the polite Arts.

An Evening of this ſort I was ſure to enjoy at our laſt Meeting, as the Chair was to be filled by Mr. Candid, whom I have formerly deſcribed as a very odd Critic, good Nature and Knowledge being Peculiarities re⯑markable in his Character. As ſoon as the mutual Ci⯑vilities were exchanged between the Company, this Gentleman acquainted us with an Occurrence, which is really of a very extraordinary Nature. As he was walk⯑ing in the Piazzas at Covent-Garden, he perceived a Man extremely buſy in paſting up againſt the Walls, Advertiſements of ſo ſingular a Furport, that he was [99]induced to beg one of them, which was read out to the Club, and was in Subſtance as follows:

This Piece of Intelligence gave no ſmall Aſtoniſh⯑ment to the reſt of the Company; but our Chairman de⯑clared, he had ſeen ſo many ſtrange Turns in Life, that he did not doubt but it would be abſolutely carried into Execution; and added, that it would certainly draw prodigious Houſes, to have it mentioned in the Play-Bills, that the principal Parts, in a new Entertainment, will be performed by a wonderful Armadillo from Braſil, a Serpent from the River Oronoque, the famous Lanthorn-Fly from Peru, a Mermaid from the Ladrones Iſlands, a ſurpriſing Camel, a Rhinoceros, and many horrible Ani⯑mals, being their firſt Appearance on the Engliſh Stage.

Mr. Candid proceeded to obſerve, that poor Shakeſpear, who uſed to flouriſh, like the Thorn at Glaſtonbury, in [100]the Depth of Winter, muſt now entirely be deſtroyed but however, to prevent, as far as in him lay, this threat⯑ning Miſchief, he informed us, that he has drawn up, with no ſmall Pains, a Pamphlet entitled, A modeſt Pro⯑poſal againſt aboliſhing Nature, and Shakeſpear, at this Juncture, addreſſed to David Garrick, Eſq with whom he hoped it would have due Weight, as all his Perfor⯑mances have diſplayed a true Reliſh for our great Poet's maſterly Touches, and as the Courſe of his Manage⯑ment has proved him to be a cordial Friend to Genius and Letters.

"And now, ſince I have mentioned Mr. Garrick," continued he,

This Interpretation may, perhaps, not appear Ortho⯑dox to thoſe who are bigotted to Play-houſe Tradition; but by our whole Club it was thought extremely juſt, and Mr. Plaſtick, the Shaftſburian Philoſopher, received it with an Air of Enthuſiaſm; declaring, that it ſug⯑geſted an Idea, which expanded the Imagination, the more it dwelt upon it. After this, he offered ſome Doubts, which aroſe in his Mind, concerning a Paſſage in the ſame Play, of which he conceived the Meaning, though he did not ſee the Propriety and Conſiſtence of the Figures. The Lines hinted at are in Macbeth's Soliloquy concerning the Deed he was to perpetrate.

Mr. Candid immediately reaſſumed the Diſcourſe. ‘The firſt Thing to be obſerved, ſaid he, is the Rapidity of Shakeſpear's Imagination, and the quick Succeſ⯑ſion of Ideas, which it ſupplied him with. The me⯑taphorical Expreſſion in the Verſe,—I have no Spur to prick the Sides of my Intent,—gave Occaſion to the Figure following, in the ſucceeding Line—But [102]VAULTING AMBITION, which o'er-leaps itſelf, and falls on th' other.—The Alluſion is to a managed Horſe, and AMBITION is repreſented as a Perſon, who en⯑deavouring to vault into the Seat, by the Violence of his Effort, overleaps himſelf, and falls quite on the other Side.’

The Shaftſburian returned Thanks for the Light thrown upon this Place, and obſerved, that the Inter⯑pretation is perfectly applicable to the Circumſtances and Conduct of Macbeth; when Mr. Allcaſh, the Ci⯑tizen, interpoſed, and told us, that, for his Part, he did not mind your Plays much,—that he went to ſee Garrick at Goodman's-Fields, and could not help laughing to ſee the People cry at King Lear, when he knew it was all a Play, and paid his Money for it. This con⯑tributed to ruffle the Temper of Mr. Plaſtick, who in⯑ſtantly harangued upon the Public Senſe, the Moral Senſe, and the Internal Senſe; but Mr. Allcaſh was not to be beat out of his Way, and, inſtead of paying any Deference to this Doctrine, he deſired an Explanation of a Line in Othello, where Iago ſays, Who ſteals my Purſe ſteals 'Traſh, 'tis ſomething, nothing. ‘Is there not, ſaid he, ſome Miſtake, in calling Money Traſh, and ſomething nothing?’

The Chairman ſmiled at this Obſervation, which he promiſed to conſider at his Leiſure, and for the preſent, proceeded to give a Correction of a Miſtake in Othello, in the fifth Act of which Iago ſays to Roderigo,

The common Editions give us the Lines in this Man⯑ner, and Mr. Warburton has done the ſame. Theobald is the only Editor who ſaw the Abſurdity. To rub a [103] Gnat, as he obſerves, though ever ſo gently, would rub it out of all Senſe, and would effectually kill it. Yet, though he perceived the Error, it ſeems, he knew not how to mend it. The Quarto Editions, Mr. Candid, told us, inſtead of Gnat, read Quat, or Quot; ‘but Theobald, continued he, not knowing the Meaning of the Word, alters it to Knot, the Name of a Bird, and has a long Note to juſtify the Correction. But the old Books are perfectly right, a Quat, or Quot, being a ſmall Heat or Pimple, which, by itching, provokes us to ſcratch it, and when rubbed to the Quick or Senſe, it becomes hot and angry. The Word has not perhaps the Authority of any contem⯑porary Writer, but muſt certainly be Shakeſpear's, as it is ſtill uſed in Warwickſhire, the native Country of the old Bard; and in Northamptonſhire, where I paſſed a good many Months, a few Years ſince, it ſtill carries with it the Meaning already aſſigned to it.’

Our Chairman ceaſed here, and I apprehend, that the communicating this Remark will be agreeable to all the Admirers of Shakeſpear; and I am apt to think, that many Paſſages of the Poet, ſeemingly corrupted, are to be illuſtrated, not from Books, but from the Cuſ⯑toms and Dialect of the People; many of the Terms, which appear quite antiquated and obſolete, being, as I am informed, ſtill uſed in the Northern Parts of the Kingdom.

Our Reſearches into Literature ended here, and the Company immediately withdrew, like ſatisfied Gueſts. If my Readers ſhould riſe from the Peruſal of this Lu⯑cubration with the ſame Reliſh, I ſhall have gained the End propoſed by this Account of our Tranſactions.

MY Lucubration of laſt Saturday contained an Account of the Tranſactions of our Club; and as an Incident offered, after it broke up, which gave Riſe to the Speculation of this Day, I beg that this Paper may be received as a Sequel to it.

The Majority of our worthy Members returned home, rather ſooner than is uſual with them; at length, Mr. Candid and myſelf were the only Two remaining. As we drew nearer to the Fire, and to each other, our Hearts began to throw off all Reſerve; and the Conver⯑ſation, which before was vague and upon general To⯑picks of Literature, became gradually more confined, and at length it centered wholly on ourſelves. Mr. Candid, amongſt other Particulars, began to congratu⯑late with me on my Addreſs and Reputation as a Writer, and the Credit he was pleaſed to ſay I had acquired, in conducting the Paper which bears my Name. Your Reputation, Mr. Ranger, ſays he, is at preſent in its early Bloom; the Aſpect of the Public ſhines on you, with a cheering Influence and Warmth. But you are not to imagine, it will be always thus. The Sky may be overcaſt, and the enlivening Radiance intercepted; a chilling Froſt may unexpectedly ſucceed, and nip all your Bloſſoms in the Bud. To drop the Metaphor, [106]continued he, the Countenance and Encouragement of the Public may be withdrawn, and at a Time when you are exerting all your Talents to deſerve and ſecure it. Popular Favour, and popular Prejudice, are the moſt capricious Things imaginable. Diſguſt will often ariſe, where no Satiety has been given; and mutual Confi⯑dence and good Liking will unaccountably degenerate to Coldneſs, Suſpicion, and Indifference. Yet, it may be difficult to ſay, from whence this Alteration is occa⯑ſioned; or, whether it is owing to the Pretenſions of the Writer, or the Reader; but in this Caſe perhaps, as in moſt others, there may be Faults on both Sides. Exorbitant Claims are not ſo eaſily adjuſted; eſpecially where the Parties are equally unwilling to recede from their preſumptive Rights. The Author is often un⯑reaſonable in his Demands for Fame; and the Public as hard to be gratified in their Expectation of Pleaſure. You are, at preſent, conſidered as a new Writer; the Delicacies you regale the Town with, are a Diſh un⯑thought of by your Fellow-Caterers for the general En⯑tertainment. But theſe in Time will become familiar to our Taſte; your Wit will then be cenſured to have loſt its Poignancy, and your Humour its Reliſh. I was going to make a ſuitable Reply to ſo obliging an En⯑comium, when my Friend prevented me, by obſerving that the Evening was now far advanced; and that it became us, as Originals, not to prolong our Compota⯑tions to the modern Midnight Hours of Converſation.

In retiring to my Chambers, I could not forbear ru⯑minating on the Sentiments of my penetrating Ac⯑quaintance; and reſolved to throw together a few Re⯑flections upon what may be term'd Novelty in Writing.

I think then that judicious Imitation either of antient or modern Standards ought not to be ſtigmatiſed as Larceny in an Author. He is certainly at Liberty to [107]draw from any excellent Model, whom he chuſes to copy; and that without incurring the ignominious Ap⯑pellations of a Plagiary or Tranſcriber. Univerſal Cuſ⯑tom will juſtify the Practice. All the imitative Arts may be more particularly termed ſo, as the ſeveral Maſters have frequently work'd after a Plan, that was firſt ſketched out by ſome eminent Example. The ſame Deſign, diverſified indeed with newer Decorations, as Genius or Invention prompted, may be traced in the different Performances of ſubſequent Artiſts; ſometimes extended by the Addition of Circumſtances, which na⯑turally grew out of the Work; or contracted, by pruning the luxuriant Branches, and retrenching what appeared ſuperfluous and unneceſſary.

This general and diſtant Imitation, it will be readily owned, is allowable and juſt; is what cannot perhaps be eaſily avoided, where the Subject is treated with Propriety, and according to the Rules of Art. Thus Virgil followed Homer; thus Addiſon will always be re⯑garded as the Pattern either of grave, or of humourous Speculation; and Fielding will ever be a faithful Guide to the Adventurer in comic Romance.

But there is another Kind of Imitation, which is more direct and literal; and which conſiſts in adopting the Sentiments and Phraſe of others. Of this the Le⯑gality is yet a Queſtion, and the Practice is generally judged to denote Poverty of Thought, and Defect of Imagination in the Writer. The Cenſure is perhaps too rigid, or at leaſt may be moderated by ſome qua⯑lifying Conſiderations that ſuggeſt themſelves to our im⯑partial Attention.

The Tranſfuſion of Wit, from one Language to another, when done with Elegance and Eaſe, has been ſeldom turned to the Diſparagement of the Author who has Abilities to do it, when the Spirit is not ſuffered [108]to evaporate, but retains all the Sprightlineſs and Vigour which it poſſeſs'd in the Original. The Sentence which I have placed at the Head of this Paper is an Indul⯑gence to an Author, either for reviving obſolete and antiquated Expreſſions, or for the Importation of new ones, if the Liberty be uſed with Modeſty and Diſcre⯑tion. What Horace has thus obſerved with regard to Words only, may be Parity of Reaſon be applied to Sentiment and Thought.

If the Language is enriched by the Addition of a ſingle Term or Phraſe, our Stock of Knowledge is made ſtill more exuberant, by introducing a Succeſſion of new Ideas; in Proportion as the Value of an Ingot is ſuperior to a ſingle Coin. To diſcover a new uncom⯑mon Vein of Thinking upon ordinary and beaten To⯑pics, requires that creative Power of Imagination, which Nature has imparted only to her Favourites, and with a frugal ſparing Hand. Authors of inferior Genius have eaſier Methods aſſigned them in their Purſuit of Fame. It muſt be their Merit to ſelect the moſt agreeable and pleaſing Imagery, to give delicate and graceful Turns to obvious and common Thoughts; and by this Means to recommend what is grown familiar to our Ima⯑gination, by the Novelty and Advantage of its Dreſs. A Statue which we have ceaſed to look on with the Eyes of Admiration, when removed to another Point of View, ſhall ſtrike us with freſh Pleaſure and Delight; a Pleaſure which reſults entirely from the Novelty and Change of its Poſition.

There is a Couplet in Pope, which I beg Leave to produce, as applicable to the Sentiments advanced.

[109]And this very Sentiment, which I mention only as re⯑lative to the Subject, and which, on any other Occa⯑ſion, I ſhould have induſtriouſly concealed, our inge⯑nious Poet has taken from a Remark of Boileau. Wri⯑ters who argue with Preciſion will often unavoidably fall into a Coincidence of Thought: Nature and Truth are invariable; and when ſeveral Pictures are taken of the ſame Object, if they are juſt Copies of the Original, they will neceſſarily have a Likeneſs to each other. I might add likewiſe, how difficult it is to offer what has not yet been ſaid by any one, on Subjects that appear exhauſted.

An humourous Acquaintance, who often talks to me on this head, lays it down as an indiſputable Principle, that Compoſition is only the Art of Stealing wiſely: And indeed, as Matters are uſually managed by our worthy Fraternity of Authors, if we ſtrike out the laſt Word, his Definition is perfectly unexceptionable. I make then no Scruple to declare, that I look on all the Wit, and all the Humour in antient or modern Languages, as good and lawful Prize; and that I ſhall freely convert them to my own Uſe, and the Public Emolument: But then I will take care to do it in ſuch a Manner as ſhall reflect no Diſgrace to the Author from whom I borrow it; and that, if he comes at any Time either in Perſon, or by his Attorney, to demand his Property, he ſhall find it employed in the very Way which he himſelf would chuſe.

Having ſaid this, I give public Notice of this my In⯑tention to Mr. Town and all his Adherents, and I ad⯑viſe them withal to keep a good Look-out, in order to detect and expoſe me.

SINCE my firſt entering upon the Province of a periodical Writer, I have been very inquiſitive concerning myſelf, and, while I have been endeavouring to glean Cha⯑racters and other Materials for the Embelliſhment of my Paper, I have made it my Buſineſs to collect all the Intelligence I could in relation to Mr. Ranger. With this View, I have ſpent Two-pence in every Coffee houſe within the Bills of Mortality, and I have ſome Time paſt ſtood liſtening to the Buzz of Fame around me; as the Lion is ſaid, when he has fill'd the Foreſt with Terror, to ſtop ſhort in his Career, in order to obſerve the Effects of that Alarm, which his Roaring has occaſioned among the Tenants of the Wood. Some, I find, are pleaſed that a Satyriſt is ſtalking abroad; others afraid of coming under his Laſh; and different Reports prevail in different Quarters. In one Part of the Town I am a black Man, in another a fair one; now tall, now ſhort; now fat, now lean; Engliſh, Scotch, and Iriſh by Turns. At Sam's Coffee⯑houſe, in the City, I have a Place in the Cuſtom-houſe; at Batſon's I am a Phyſician without Practice. From thence my Conſequence grows leſs by Degrees, and dwindles all along Cheapſide and Fleetſtreet; inſomuch that my Spirits would ſubſide to a very low Ebb, did not my Fame again ſtart up at the Coffee-houſes about [112]the Temple, where I am repreſented in various Lights; and no later than Yeſterday, I over-heard a ſober⯑looking Man ſaying to his Friend, ‘I am not fond of giving any Body an ill Word, but I believe he is an Attorney.’ From Temple-Bar Weſtward my Reputation gathers Strength and Luſtre, and by the Time it reaches the Bedford, ‘I am a damned fine Fellow, that have ſeen a great deal of the World, KILLED my Man, debauched my Girl, intrigued with a Counteſs, cuckolded an Alderman, and an ex⯑cellent Bottle-Companion; a Wit, a Blood, a Mimic, and what not?’ Were I a Dupe to Popularity, I ſhould certainly derive a very exquiſite Pleaſure from theſe various Deſcriptions, as I flatter myſelf that a Perſon muſt have ſome Degree of Importance, before he can thus become the Topic of public Converſation. There is another Circumſtance which does not a little adminiſter to my Pleaſure; and that is the Variety of unknown Correſpondents, from whom I am frequently honoured with Epiſtles in this my public Capacity. Some of theſe Gentlemen are ſo obliging as to pay their Compliments to my excellent Talents; but all ſuch Tokens of Civility, I beg Leave to ſuppreſs; nor ſhall I take this Opportunity to write in Terms of Adulation, under an imagined Character to myſelf; though I know it is the Practice of many Brother Authors, and though I am not inſenſible of the delectable Sounds, ‘Dear Ranger, your Predeceſſor the Tatler, &c.’ or ‘your Brother Eſſayiſt Mr. Addiſon, &c.’ or, ‘the Subli⯑mity of your Genius, the Delicacy of your Wit, the irreſiſtible Poignancy of your Humour, &c.— Eternal Admirer and conſtant Reader.’ Something in this Stile would, I muſt own, play agreeably about the Heartſtrings, and give a Luſtre to my Reputation; but I ſhall at preſent have the Self-denial to reſiſt this [113]flattering Temptation, and I ſhall fill up the Remainder of my Paper, with a few ſhort, but real Epiſtles, which came to hand ſince my laſt.

I ſhall give my Correſpondent a fuller Deſcription of Mr. Town in the Words of Dryden, ‘Legion's his Name, a People in a Man;’ and with regard to Quinbus Fleſtrin, Charles at the Bedford will ſhew him to the Curious any Evening between the Hours of Six and Ten.

If this Gentleman will ſee Mr. Garrick this Evening in the Character of Macbeth, he will think him poſſeſſed of another Soul, and indeed he will imagine the ſame almoſt all the Nights on which this Gentleman performs. —Having thus acquitted myſelf to my Correſpondents, I think proper, in order to ſhow how glad I ſhall be of any future Contributions, to put out the following De⯑claration.

If any Gentlemen Writers, or others, have a Mind to ſerve the Cauſe of Wit, and pull down the Empire of Dullneſs; if any Templers prefer Shakeſpear to Lord Coke; if any Attorney's Clerks pen a Stanza inſtead of engroſſing; if any Wife have too little Huſband, or any Huſband too much Wife; if any old Maid is angry with the Men, or any Man juſtly incenſed againſt Coquettes; if any Nobleman is troubled with an Itch of Scribbling, or any Perſon of Genius has a mind to try his Hand in ſecret; in ſhort, if any People what⯑ever have a Smattering of Wit, Humour, or Raillery, let them repair to Mr. William Faden, Printer, in Wine-Office-Court, Fleetſtreet, and they ſhall have preſent Re⯑lief and Entertainment; and immediately upon their Appearance in the Gray's Inn-Journal they will com⯑mence Authors of the firſt Magnitude.

Vivat Rex.

MY Readers are by this Time ſufficiently ac⯑quainted with many little Societies in this Town: I ſhall this Day preſent them an Account of a very extraordinary College, called the Robin Hood Society, which I ſhall give in the Room of any other Eſſay or News.

MY laſt Saturday's Lucubration gave an Ac⯑count of one of the moſt remarkable Aca⯑demies in Europe; I ſhall devote the entire Paper of this Day, to another very celebrated Seminary, ſituated in Change-Alley, of which, I appre⯑hend, the Reader will be able to form ſome Idea, from a Peruſal of the following Scene, which was taken from the Life, and is the Opening of a Farce intended to be worked up, for the Winter Seaſon, into two Acts.

POETRY and Painting have been ac⯑counted Siſter-Arts by Men of Taſte in all Ages, and accordingly we find them both, in the Writings of all good Criticks, from Ariſtotle and Horace, down to Dryden and the Abbé du Bos, mutually borrowing Side-lights, and reflecting Luſtre upon each other. They juſtly have the Pre⯑cedence among the Arts of Imitation and Deſign, as they convey their Ideas by Signs more fixed and de⯑terminate than any of the others, and boaſt a more un⯑bounded Scope to cull and ſelect from all Nature, in order to adorn and embelliſh the favourite Piece.

I am aware that it may be ſaid, Statuary has very near the ſame Advantage; and, that the Artiſt in this Way may obſerve the Knitting of a Joint in one, the Turn of a Neck in another, the Form of the Head in a Third, the Shape and Rounding of a Limb in a Fourth; and that, in ſhort, from a Survey of ſundry Objects, a complete and perfect Whole may be executed. But it muſt be remembered, at the ſame Time, that Statuary has not ſo ample a Field to range in, as the two firſt-mentioned, and is therefore greatly inferior to both.

Painting, in one particular Inſtance, ſeems to gain the Aſcendant over Poetry, being univerſally under⯑ſtood [131]in every Clime and every Age, whereas the latter is confined to much narrower Limits, both in Time and Place. A Raphael painted, and a Vida wrote at the ſame Period; and how confined is the Reputation of the latter, when compared to the extenſive Renown which has attended the Name of the firſt, through every Age and Country? The Aera may arrive, when, through the Inſtability of the Engliſh Language, the Stile of Joſeph Andrews and Tom Jones ſhall be obli⯑terated, when the Characters ſhall be unintelligible, and the Humour loſe its Reliſh; but the many Perſon⯑ages, which the Manners-painting Hand of Hogarth has called forth into mimic Life, will not fade ſo ſoon, from the Canvaſs; and that admirable Pictureſque Comedy, the March to Finchley, will perhaps divert Poſterity as long as the Foundling-Hoſpital ſhall do honour to the Bri⯑tiſh Nation. A Picture ſpeaks the Language of every Nation, and is univerſally felt and underſtood in many different Countries at the ſame Time, in this Inſtance partaking the Advantages of MUSICK, which is how⯑ever ſubject to many Reſtrictions, to which the Art of Painting is entirely a Stranger. The Caprice and Whim of different Nations prevent the Power of Harmony from becoming ſo univerſal in its Influence; for the pri⯑mary Beauty of it, conſiſting in an Imitation of the Sounds appropriated to our ſeveral Paſſions, and thoſe Sounds varying according to the Habits and Dialect of every different People, it follows of Courſe, that the Muſick of any one Country muſt undergo many Changes and Variations, before it can be adapted to the Ear of a Man, who has reſided for any Time in another Kingdom.

This Inconvenience the Art of Painting is not ſub⯑ject to, and in this Reſpect has the Advantage over Poetry, though in almoſt every other Point, it is obliged [132]to yield the Pre-eminence. It has been long ſince ob⯑ſerved, that Truth is agreeable to the Underſtanding, and fine Imagery to the Fancy; but neither of them, we find, affords ſo intenſe a Pleaſure, as when the Paſſions are agitated and worked into a Ferment. We then attach ourſelves ſtrongly to the Object, which ex⯑cites theſe Emotions; we are pleaſed to be wakened from a State of ſtill Life; and it is a Gratification to our moral Senſe, to find our Hearts ſenſible and alive to thoſe Senſations, which are the Ornament of our Nature. This being the Caſe, I believe, it may be aſ⯑ſerted without incurring the Danger of a Controverſy, that Poetry boaſts this Power over the Paſſions beyond any other Art, at the ſame Time that it is a Vehicle for Inſtruction, and derives much of its Beauty from the Scenes of pictureſque Imagination. Painting indeed partakes ſufficiently of theſe Qualities, to entitle her to the Name of Siſter, has many Features like, and in the Execution of her Deſigns is moſtly directed by the ſame Rules. Both muſt have Unity of Action and Unity of Character, and both have a Latitude to in⯑troduce ſubordinate Perſonages, concerned in the main Buſineſs, and to exhibit them in proper Attitudes. A Metaphor may be as bold in Painting as in Poetry; an Allegory may be as inſtructive and pleaſing to the Fancy upon Canvaſs, as in the written Page; what the Critics call Machinery, may be diſplayed in as elegant Strockes with the Pencil as with the Pen; the Fairy-way of Writing, mentioned by Dryden, may be made Uſe of in Colours, and the Fancy of the Artiſt, like a new Creation, may ſtart to the Eye an whole Race of ima⯑ginary Beings. Some of the fineſt Paſſages in Epic and Dramatic Poeſy, are thoſe, where a Conflict is marked between ſeveral warring Paſſions; Painting throws theſe immediately before the Eye, and in Tints [133]artfully blended, the nice Aſſemblage is delineated in the moſt ſtriking Manner. A further Inſtance of the Congruity between theſe two Arts, is, that when a Poet has been laviſh in a Deſcription, the beſt Method of examining the Juſtneſs of it is, to conſider what Kind of Figure it would make upon Canvaſs; and on the other Hand, the Deſcriptions, which we find in the Poets, may ſerve to ſupply Hints and Inſtruction to the Painter of Taſte and Poetick Imagination. Add to this, that, as the chief Beauty of Poetick Diction does not conſiſt in a Profuſion of Ornaments, high Meta⯑phors, and a Flouriſh of Words, ſo in the other, Co⯑lours too rich and glowing are diſapproved, and the Excellence of both Arts, is ſeen in regular Deſigns, and a juſt Imitation of Nature.

The Ancients were enthuſiaſtick Admirers of all the imitative Arts, particularly Painting, and upon all Oc⯑caſions, we find them expreſſing a Taſte for the Pro⯑ductions of the famous Artiſts. Accordingly their Poets ſeize every Opportunity of deſcribing a Picture, a Piece of Sculpture, or any of the Works of the Loom. Ovid never omits it, where it naturally grows out of his Subject, and Virgil never ſeems more delighted than when he is laying before our Eyes the Shield of Aeneas, or, like a ſkilful Virtuoſo, pointing out to our Obſervation, the Beauties of a fine Painting:

The Pleaſure in this Caſe is redoubled upon the Mind, ſpringing from a twofold Source; for the Delight we take in all poetick Deſcription, is chiefly owing to the natural Love we have for Imitation, which affords an [134]Opportunity of comparing the Tranſcript with the ori⯑ginal Object; and, when we peruſe the Deſcription of a Picture, we admire not only the Poet's Repreſentation of it, but the Talent of the Artiſt, who has thus con⯑trived to delineate by his Pencil ſo exact a Reſemblance of Things, which have their Exiſtence in Nature; and thus the Mind has two Arts to examine at once, and dwells between them both in a Suſpenſe of Pleaſure.

I have always admired the Deſcription in the firſt Aeneid of that exquiſite Piece of Painting of the Wars at Troy; and I think, the Poet's Account of it may ſug⯑geſt to us ſome Notion of the ſublime Ideas he enter⯑tained of the Siſter-Art of Poetry. All the Figures, which he mentions, are bold and animated; every Thing is in Motion, and, if I may be allowed to apply a Line of Mr. Pope's, ‘All Matter quick and burſting into Life.’ What an Image have we of the Trojans repelling the Enemy, and of Achilles, with his nodding Plume, thun⯑dering at their Heels in his Turn? You think you hear the Sounding of his Carr, and you imagine you ſee him with his Arm aloft in Act to ſtrike.

The Situation of Troilus has been often admired, and the Proceſſion of the Trojan Nymphs will always ex⯑cite the tendereſt Sentiments, and, I dare affirm, a finer Groupe was never imagined. Their de⯑jected Looks, their diſhevelled Hair, and the beating of their Breaſts, are all ſtriking Circumſtances.

Priam raiſing his unnerved Arms, and imploring the Body of his Son Hector from Achilles, who dragged the Corps thrice round the Walls of Troy, muſt alſo afford great Room for the Expreſſion of ſeveral Paſſions all at once ſtruggling in the Soul; and upon the whole, I perſuade myſelf, that if ſuch a Painting as this Great Poet has here deſcribed were handed down to us, it would be the moſt valuable Piece of all Antiquity.

The preceding Story is told by my Correſpondent, in ſo intereſting a Manner, that I could not with⯑hold it from the Publick this Day, and I not only agree with him in his Remark, that his Misfortunes would all have been prevented by a proper Education, but I will add, that a Mind, which ſupported itſelf ſo well [141]under Affliction, and that can look back to former Scenes of Life with ſo much Senſibility, would have imbibed ſuch Impreſſions from an early Improvement, as might have rendered him an Ornament to any Family. If many of thoſe, who find any ſtriking Incidents in the Series of their Lives, would thus communicate them to the Public, it would be a very great Service to Society, as it would ſerve to detect the Ways of the World, and might put the Unwary upon their Guard againſt ill-deſigning Men. There is ſomething extremely affecting in the Ruin of my Correſpondent's four Siſters, but I am, however, highly pleaſed that he now enjoys a Tranquillity of Mind, and that, to alleviate Calamity, his Reſources are in Virtue and honeſt Induſtry. I muſt obſerve, that the Inattention of the old Gentleman, who died at Briſtol, to the Manners and Morals of his Relations, ſhewed ſomething in him highly illiberal, not to give it a worſe Epithet; and it is owing to this Indifference to the Improvement of the riſing Genera⯑tion, that we frequently ſee Eſtates in the Hands of thoſe who are a Diſgrace to Riches; and while this con⯑tinues to be the Caſe, it is not to be wondered, that we meet with ſo many Boobies of Faſhion, inelegant in their Behaviour, looſe in their Morals, and fit to ride behind the Equipage, in which their Pride now lolls at Eaſe.

THE Laurel, which has been ſo much ſought by the Writers of every Age, is not unlike the Golden Branch mentioned in the ſixth Aeneid; if a Man is born to ſhare the Prize, it is eaſily obtained; but if there be not derived from Heaven a Superiority of Genius, fruitleſs is the Endeavour of the unborn Poet, who thinks to arrive at the Heights of Fame by painful Vigils and the Dint of Labour and Application. A Medio⯑crity in Poetry will never be allowed: Horace tells us that the Suffrages of both Gods and Men are againſt it, and that a Writer of this Caſt muſt never expect to ſee his Name on the Bookſeller's Rubrick-Poſt. Poetry requires warm and glowing Colours; the Language of it muſt be elevated above the Diction of Proſe; the Expreſſions ſhould be more animated, and the Imagi⯑nation of the Reader more immediately ſtruck at, than in any other kind of Writing; and whoever has not [144]Energy of Genius to cultivate theſe Qualities, will be always ſure to be neglected as a cold and ſpiritleſs Author.

Of all the different Species of Poetry, the Dramatic is the moſt difficult to ſucceed in, and, as it is expreſſed in the Words of my Motto, thoſe few only, whom Heaven has peculiarly favoured with an Elevation of Mind, have been able to acquit themſelves with Ho⯑nour. Our much admired Shakeſpear ſtands yet un⯑rivalled; he ſeized the Laurel with a Maſter-Hand at one Graſp; Johnſon, by ſlower Degrees, though eager in Purſuit; aviduſque refringit cunctantem; and Otway ſeems to have gained it with Facility.

I am pleaſed to find, that an Author juſtly celebrated among the foremoſt Succeſſors of theſe immortal Ge⯑nius's, has added another Wreath to that Garland, which the Muſes long ſince wove for him; and, in my Opi⯑nion, the Public is greatly indebted to him for his new Tragedy of the Brothers, which was lately acted for the firſt Time at Drury-Lane. At the ſame Time that I advance this, I muſt obſerve, that the Subject of it is not perhaps as intereſting to a Britiſh Audience, as a more domeſtick Story; and the Generality of People not being acquainted with the Hiſtory of that Monarchy, it thence reſults that the Diſtreſs of the King of Macedon does not engage our Paſſions ſo forcibly as might be ex⯑pected. It may be added, that the Macedonians are ſup⯑poſed, at that Point of Time, to be at Variance with the Roman Empire, for which we have contracted a kind of reverential Eſteem; and on this Account thoſe ſublime Sentiments, which Philip utters in the Scene with the Ambaſſadors, againſt that Republick, are not received with a ſufficient Degree of Warmth. But if it be conſi⯑dered, that the Macedonian Monarchy, though it dwindled by inſenſible Degrees, and was at laſt ſwallowed up [145]by the Roman Empire, was at one Time the moſt flouriſhing in Europe, I apprehend no Man can be entirely unconcerned in the Fall of ſo brave a People. I do not doubt but the Mention of Creſſi and Poitiers would have a more powerful Influence on the Paſſions of Engliſhmen, than Thraſymene and Cannae; but for my Part, my Breaſt glowed to hear of thoſe memorable Bat⯑tles, which had like to have been ſo fatal to the Roman Republick; nor do I remember a grander Sentiment than that of Philip, when the Flight of Hannibal at Capua is urged by the Embaſſy of Rome. His Anſwer is, Ay, there indeed I was not with him. The Scene which ſuc⯑ceeds this, is full of as tender Emotions as I have ever felt in any Theatre; the Anguiſh of the Father, to find a Diſcord ſubſiſting between his Children, and the Re⯑monſtrance with which he endeavours to ſooth them, muſt ſoften the Mind of every Hearer.

Perhaps no Characters can be better marked than thoſe of Philip, Perſeus, and Demetrius; for the two laſt of which we are finely prepared by the following Lines.*

The Art of moſt Writers for the Stage is to exhibit one Character, and that perhaps without any diſtin⯑guiſhing Qualities to ſeparate it from other Heroes; but in this Play we are entertained with three of a different [146]Caſt, and each ſtrongly marked. Philip is diſtinguiſhed by a Warmth of Temper, an Haughtineſs of Soul, and a Tenderneſs for his Children, that runs over in the moſt affecting Manner. Perſeus is a different Villain from any we have ſeen on the Stage; Policy and Bra⯑very are ſo blended in him, that we ſee their mixed Ef⯑fects in every Scene; and Demetrius is of ſo amiable a Diſpoſition, that an Audience muſt be naturally in⯑clined to love him, and for his Sake to dread the reſtleſs turbulent Spirit of Perſeus, whoſe Contempt of De⯑metrius vents itſelf in a ſneering artful Strain.

The Invocation, which is uttered by the ſame Per⯑ſonage, is carried on in a maſterly Manner, filling the Mind with a Train of awful Ideas, and riſing in a Climax of Horror to the laſt Line.

[147] It will be unneceſſary to remind my Readers of the Trial-Scene, which muſt inevitably fire the intelligent Mind with a claſſic Warmth. I cannot help thinking that the Author, in this Paſſage, has given a juſt Idea of the two different Kinds of Eloquence, which pre⯑vailed in Greece and Rome.

Perſeus enters immediately into the Matter; his Sentences are ſtrong and nervous; and, ſure of con⯑vincing the Underſtanding by the Clearneſs of his Diction, he does not condeſcend to addreſs the Imagi⯑nation. It is true, he at one Time ſheds Tears, but that is only to obviate the Power of Eloquence, which he is aware might be uſed by his Brother, who ha⯑ving imbibed the Art of Roman Oratory, ſets out in the moſt inſinuating Manner; tries the Avenues to the Paſſions, and endeavours to win his Hearers by Perſuaſion. I am ſenſible that this Beauty may eſcape the Multitude, but, even without this ſecondary Plea⯑ſure, the Scene cannot ſail of ſtriking every Imagi⯑nation.

The Diſtreſs of Demetrius in the fourth and fifth Act bears hard upon our Affections, and it muſt be a Torture to every compaſſionate Heart, to ſee him undone by the Artifices of Villainy. His Speech, when diſcovered in Gaol, has many affecting Strokes.

And when he lies dead on the Ground. Philip delivers himſelf in noble Language, and very pathetic Sentiments [148]

I cannot conclude this Paper without taking Notice of the Propenſity, which the ſmall Critics diſcovered at the Repreſentation of this Piece, to attach themſelves to every trivial Circumſtance, which could have the leaſt Tendency to excite their Mirth; and I muſt inform them that to be unſuſceptible of manly Emotions, and at the ſame Time to yield to the idle Senſations of Levity and giddy Merriment, is the Sign of a little and frivolous Mind.

The following ſhort, but melancholy Letter, came to Hand a few Days ſince, and it has made ſuch an Impreſſion upon my Spirits; that I cannot controul my⯑ſelf from laying it before my Readers, with a few of thoſe Reflexions, which aroſe in my Mind in Conſe⯑quence of it.

The gloomy Month of November being paſſed, I ima⯑gined that the horrid Crime of Suicide would ceaſe, at leaſt till the Return of that heavy Time of the Year. It is certainly a poor Deſertion from the Dignity of our Nature, to ſuffer the Preſſure of the Atmoſphere, or any other ſublunary Incident, to make ſuch an Impreſ⯑ſion upon our Spirits, as to render us avowed Enemies to ourſelves. I have heard a popular Inſurrection called, an unnatural Rebellion; but by what Name ſhall we ſtigmatize an Action, which flies in the Face of our Maker, which dares to thwart the Diſpenſations of the ſupreme Being, and ſay to eternal Providence, who from the firſt ordained all Things for the beſt, ‘"NOT THINE, BUT MY WILL BE DONE?"’

It requires no Profuſion of Imagery, no bold daring Metaphor, no ſtudied Hyperbole to repreſent this Piece of Impiety in its proper Colours; it ſtrikes the Eye at once in its moſt flagrant atrocious Dye, and were it ſufficiently attended to, it would teach a due Reſigna⯑tion to the Determinations of Heaven, and would pre⯑vent all that Train of Evils, from which any thinking Mind muſt now ſtart back appalled.

[152]If Self-Preſervation is the neareſt Principle to the Heart of Man, what a Perverſion of our Faculties, of our Reaſon, and our Judgment, muſt uſurp the Mind of him, who thus runs counter to the very End of his Creation! The Dignity of the human Soul is extin⯑guiſhed; not only his Power of Reflexion is ſuppreſſed, but his very Paſſions are thrown off their Byaſs; they are ſeduced from their original Inſtitution; their Nature, Uſe, and End is perverted; and what before ſought real or apparent Pleaſure, and avoided actual or ima⯑ginary Pain, now by a ſtrange Fatality ſeeks its own Deſtruction. Anarchy and Civil War diſturb the Ima⯑gination, and the Man bears his own ſecret Enemy in his Breaſt; he forms a Deſign upon his own Life; he has the Air drawn Dagger conſtantly before his Eyes, and he at length becomes his own Macheth. Not even the bloody Purpoſer of determined Vengeance on ano⯑ther's Head (horrid as the Crime appears) is half ſo aſtoniſhing; becauſe he does not carry with him half the Abſurdity. The latter has Time left him to atone by Penitence for his Barbarity, whereas the Suicide urges precipitantly to the Tribunal of his offended God.

The real Source of this fatal Evil is perhaps hard to be aſcertained; but if it is not originally an Emana⯑tion from Pride, it is tinged with it ſo ſtrongly, that there is Reaſon to conclude, it is frequently derived from thence. Self Love will always induce us to over⯑rate our Rank in the Scale of Beings, and when once the Imagination is ſtruck with the Idea of fancied Im⯑portance, each little Trial of Adverſity is conſidered as a Grievance intolerable; it is too much for the Man to bear; he concludes himſelf a deſtined Mark for Af⯑fliction, and, rather than drag a feveriſh Life under an [153]huge Load of Miſery, he proudly reſolves to put an End to his Sufferings, and meaſure out the Thread of his own Exiſtence.

For my own Part, I cannot look upon any Con⯑tingence in this World of Conſequence ſufficient to urge a Man to this Extreme of Madneſs. Is he reduced to Want by his inordinate Expences, or do the Narrow⯑neſs of Circumſtances prevent him from emerging into that Station of Life, which his Ambition would aſpire to?—Let him but examine the Happineſs of the Affluent; how many want with a full Purſe, how many are tortured with Diſeaſes, or eaten up with uneaſy Paſ⯑ſions? Have a Man's Relations unworthily withdrawn their Protection from him? there are Occupations enough, in which he may endeavour to ſupport him⯑ſelf, without their Aſſiſtance; and then he will have the Satisfaction of living independent of thoſe who have deſerted him; and ſhould he fail, his honeſt Indi⯑gence will at all Times be a Diſgrace to them; ſo that either Way he will be a living Affront to his falſe Friends.

In ſo polite an Age it may not be proper to corro⯑borate what has been advanced, by Arguments drawn from Religion; but if an Heathen may have any Weight in the Affair, I would inform the Man of De⯑ſpair, that Plato and Cicero were both of Opinion, that we are placed in this World, as Soldiers upon Duty, and that no one has a Right to move without the Sum⯑mons of his commanding Officer; and Virgil in the Words of my Motto tells us, that there is a Place of Retribution for thoſe unhappy Wretches, who dare to lay violent Hands upon themſelves, and, prodigal of Life, to precipitate their Souls into Eternity. They would be glad, continues the Poet, to bear Poverty and the ſharpeſt Miſeries, could they again return to [154]Life; but the Fates forbid them, and their Paſſage is irremeable.

To theſe Authorities, I would beg Leave to add the Sentiment of our great Shakeſpear, who, though he may be juſtly ſuſpected of Chriſtianity, was ſtill a Poet, and therefore may be cited on this Occaſion. He has introduced a young Prince, deliberating, whether he ſhould not extricate himſelf from the Troubles of this World, by boldly putting an End to his Reſidence on this Side of the Grave. The Point is argued with great Strength of Reaſoning; the Calamities of this Life are thrown into the Scale, and after ſtating every Thing in the moſt ſtriking Colours, a Proſpect of Futurity opens to the Imagination, and the Mind ſtarts back from the deſperate Act, convinced that it is our Duty to en⯑dure Life, and bear our Portion with Fortitude, until Heaven ſhall be pleaſed to put in Execution that Sen⯑tence of Death, which it has paſſed on all Mankind.

I WENT, one Morning laſt Week to pay a Viſit to a Lady, for whom I have always had a very great Reſpect. An Excurſion which ſhe made, into the Country, was the Occaſion of my not having ſeen her for ſome Time, but upon the firſt Notice of her being in Town, I imme⯑diately did myſelf the Favour of waiting on her. It was with great Satisfaction, that I perceived her Com⯑plexion florid to the higheſt Degree of Health. As I knew ſhe had two Sons at Eton School, I enquired after the young Gentlemen, and received for Anſwer, that the Brats were minding their Books. ‘Boys, Mr. Ranger, (ſaid ſhe) are beſt when out of one's Way — they make ſuch a Noiſe in an Houſe, that there is really no ſuch Thing as bearing with them — I hope they are going on well — But, Sir, you don't know all my Family.’ Upon this ſhe rung the Bell, and ordered the Servant to bring down Miſs Lucy and Miſs Charlotte, and then continued Mrs. Bizarre, ‘they are both quite jealous of one another; Miſs Lucy has taken a Notion into her Head that Charlotte is my Favourite, and Charlotte equally ſuſpects my Pro⯑penſity to Lucy, — but upon my Word, it is without Foundation; I give them no Manner of Reaſon, — well, now I think it would be quite wrong in me to make any Difference, when they are both deſerving;— I vow and proteſt, I love them both alike — I can't think how ſome Folks can be ſo—to be ſure it's [157]very commonly the Cauſe of great Uneaſineſs in a Family, and the little Things are unhappy in their Minds — Lard, I wonder what keeps them above ſo long’ — When on a ſudden the Parlour Door was thrown open, and as I did not recollect that Mrs. Bizarre had any Daughters, I advanced with ſome Degree of Impatience to ſalute the young Ladies; but to my great Surprize, the Maid introduced to me two very ugly Monkeys, dreſſed out in the niceſt Manner with Paris Caps, and well choſen Petonlair and Petti⯑coat.

The Diſappointment I met with flung me into ſome Confuſion, and I retired back in a very aukward Man⯑ner to my Chair. ‘There, Mr. Ranger, (reaſſumed the Lady) this is Miſs Lucy and this is Miſs Charlotte — Pray, Sir, don't you think they have very pretty turned Faces — there's a Family Likeneſs between them, I think — they are the only Comfort I have — Pray, Molly, did Miſs Lucy, take the Manna as the Doctor ordered, — Lord, I was frighted out of my Wits Yeſterday, the poor thing was ſo terribly pained with the Cholic — and Miſs Charlotte has been coughing all the Morning; I hope it won't fall upon her Lungs; — they are the ſweeteſt Creatures in the World — Where's your Curtſey, Miſs, when a Gentleman ſpeaks to you? — She is abſolutely, Mr. Ranger, the greateſt Prude in London — She quarrels with the Maid, if ſhe but leaves her Breaſt the leaſt uncovered; and you know, the Faſhion is now to ſhew as low as one poſſibly can— and her Siſter there, Miſs Charlotte, ſhe is the violenteſt Coquet in Nature — Molly, give that Fan — See how ſhe handles it — Soft Affectation plays about her twiſted Neck, as it's in the Play — don't you think ſhe has fine Eyes? — Well, did you ever ſee ſuch a pretty little Mouth; [158]and the fineſt Teeth — I am afraid ſhe is a little in⯑clined to be ſat — She'll never be taller — Lard, Mr. Ranger, I wiſh I could get her a Huſband; I ſhould be glad to ſee her well ſettled — he, he, he.— Now, I have a queer Notion in my Head — Do you know that I have a Huſband in my Eye for her? — Gueſs who it is’ — To this I took Occaſion to anſwer, that there are really ſo many pretty Gentlemen about Town, that it would be abſolutely impoſſible for me to form a right Conjecture, and I therefore begged ſhe would be ſo kind as to inform me. ‘Why, Sir, (re⯑plied ſhe) there is Tom Titmouſe, that is always biting his Lips, and never has a Bit of his Shoe ſeen above his Buckle; and Billy Wirewig, who always ſtinks of Perfume; or Jemmy Doll, with the delicate Com⯑plexion, and the little mincing Step; but it is not any of them — O fie, the Frights! — do you think I would accept of any of 'em — I aſſure you, Sir, I refuſed a much better Offer — I could have had Captain Jeſſamy of the Guards, but I have a finer Thought in my Head now — Was you ever at Mo⯑ther Midnight's? — To be ſure you was, he, he, he, — Well, for certain, I am a comical Woman — You remember the pretty dear Creature, that ſits at Supper on the right Hand — he, he, he, it came into my Mind the Moment I ſaw the dear Fellow, that it would be a good Match; and ſo now, as I don't know where to ſend, I have drawn up an Advertiſement which I intend to put into the Papers — here, you may read it, Sir.’

This I complied with; it was in Subſtance as follows:

‘If the Monkey, that ſat on the right Hand at Mother Midnight's, and drank a Glaſs of Wine, after bowing to the Company, has no Averſion to Matri⯑mony; [159]he is deſired to call at May-Fair Chapel, and he will hear of ſomething to his Advantage.’

Upon Peruſal of this extraordinary Advertiſement, I endeavoured to expoſtulate with the good Lady, on the Oddity of her Proceeding, and I remonſtrated, that it would appear to the World the moſt whimſical Thing that was ever practiſed. Irritated at this, Mrs. Bizarre could not bear to be touched in ſo tender a Point, and ſhe told me with ſome Vehemence, that Monkeys have often more Senſe than many of the human Species; and I believe the Diſpute would have roſe high between us, had not an Accident put an End to it.

While we were engaged in Converſation, a Quarrel happened between the two young Ladies, and in a Mo⯑ment Miſs Lucy tore off Miſs Charlotte's Cap; which Compliment was returned in Kind, and then the Bat⯑tle was carried on with great Eargerneſs on both Sides, attended with violent Screamings, with bouncing about the Room, leaping on Chairs and Tables, and flying violently in our Faces. All the Ornaments on the Mantle-piece were broke to Shatters; the China Figures, which before ſeem'd to breathe and think, came trem⯑bling down. Woodward and Mrs. Clive, who repreſented in exquiſite Chelſea-Ware, their different Characters in Lethe, ſhared the general Wreck; Mrs. Bizarre's Face was ſcratched in ſeveral Places, and ſhe alſo loſt in the Fray a very elegant Pair of Dreſden Ruſtles.

Prudence directed me to eſcape from this ſtrange Scene with the utmoſt Expedition, and as ſoon as I found myſelf in my Chambers, I could not help reflect⯑ing on the whimſical Turn of Mind, which diſpoſed this Lady to fix her Heart on ſuch a diſagreeable Race of Animals. When a Woman becomes an Apoſtate from the Laws of Nature, and diveſts herſelf of the pro⯑per [160]Ornaments of her Sex, ſhe is as great an Exotick as any in her Collection of wild Beaſts. I believe, the Pangs of Jealouſy would be much keener in an Huſband's Breaſt, were he to find himſelf rivalled by a Monkey; and for ſuch a Set of odious Creatures to ſee a Perſon neglect her own Children, is ſo fantaſtical a Circumſtance, that ſome of my Readers may perhaps think the Exiſtence of ſuch a Character improbable; but I can aſſure them, that there are frequent Inſtances of it in this Town.

To regulate and govern the Imagination, is recom⯑mended by a Greek Philoſopher, as a Point of Moment in the Conduct of Life; and moſt aſſuredly the Rule is excellent. The Imagination is the livelieſt Faculty of the Soul, and gives to all Objects the Hue and Colour, which they ſeemingly wear; and we love and hate, hope and fear, according to the Scenes which are pictured to our Fancy. It is this which makes Quixotilla call aloud for a Cork; and under a due Government is the Source of that ſprightly Taſte and juſt Senſe of Things, which is remarkable in An⯑gelica; it is this which gives new Graces to her Beauty, irradiates her whole Countenance, and in all Scenes and Circumſtances of Life renders her the moſt amia⯑ble of her Sex.

To cultivate, therefore, and cheriſh the natural Af⯑fections, to direct them to worthy Objects, to keep them all in Harmony, ſo that not one of them ſhall grow out of due Proportion, or contract any whimſical Habit, is the beſt Preſerver and Beautifier of the female Form, it gives that pleaſing Turn of Mind which we call Sweet⯑neſs of Temper, prevents Wrinkles, Diſtortion of the Features, and gives an agreeable Air to the whole Perſon, as a few of the Sex have experienced; and as ſuch it is this Day recommended to all the female Readers of this Paper.

CONSIDERING the State of Warfare, an Au⯑thor enters into, when firſt he takes a Pen in Hand, and the Number of Goths and Vandals that infeſt every Age, ready to inſult defenceleſs Wit, to pull it by the Noſe, or oblige it to endure the Diſcipline of the Toe; I have been punctually three Times a Week at a celebrated Fencing School, in order to perfect myſelf in the noble Science of Defence. The Maſter of this Place un⯑derſtands the Method of killing as well as any Gentle⯑man of the Faculty, but his Temper of Mind renders him leſs inclinable to put it in Practice; he allows me to be a very good Figure on the Ground; ſays, I ſtand an excellent Attitude, and adds, that, when I bring myſelf to do Things not ſo much in an Hurry, I ſhall ſence as well as any angry Boy in England. I muſt own, that I am apt to advance and retreat in too precipitate a Manner, and this Exerciſe throws my Spirits into ſuch a Flurry, that I ſometimes cannot avoid doing Miſchief. I have already put out a Gentleman's Eye, diſlocated three of another's Teeth, and broke my Foil upon the ſmall Ribs of a Third; and, if I proceed in this Manner, I begin to be apprehenſive about the Conſequences which may ariſe from unforeſeen Acci⯑dents, and therefore I am now determined to entrench myſelf from Inſults within one of the Reſolutions, which [164]I entered into upon the Commencement of this Paper, viz. not to deſerve Ill of any Man.

It would be well if all the Individuals of Society would enter into a reciprocal Agreement of obſerving the ſame Principle in their Deportment we might then ſee that Harmony ſubſiſt, which as ſociable Beings it is our Bu⯑ſineſs to promote; this would baniſh all ſurly Moroſe⯑neſs; and in ſhort, this ſingle Rule, of deſerving I'l from no Man, would prevent all Indecorums and Ani⯑moſities, and ſubſtitute in their Room mutual Conſi⯑dence and Good-breeding.

But the contrary occurs every Day, and ſeems to be derived from no other Source than a vicious Gratifi⯑cation of our private Humours. A ſelfiſh Spirit is condemned in Ethics as the Cauſe of many Vices, and it is of no leſs evil Influence in the Petites Morales, or leſſer Morals. When a narrow Regard to a Man's own Senſations gains the Aſcendant, and none will recede from their equal Right of having their own Way, it is not to be wondered, that ill Humours ſhould ſour the Temper, and that frequent Quarrels ſhould ariſe.

Philipſus has taken it into his Head, that to be briſk and ſhining in Converſation is the moſt elegant Accom⯑pliſhment he can aſpire to, and therefore has ſpent moſt of his Time in the Acquirement of ſomething, that he calls Wit; but in the Eyes of Men of Senſe, is only a petulant Pertneſs very annoying to his Com⯑pany. Philipſus has laid it down as a Maxim, that he muſt upon all Occaſions diſplay his favourite Talent, and would rather at any Time loſe his Friend than his Joke. Antiphaus is an abſolute Enemy to all Preten⯑ſions to be ſhining; Converſation with him, muſt be in a plain ſenſible Manner; he will neither give nor take a Joke; hence theſe two are conſtantly at Vari⯑ance, [165]and it is imagined by their Friends, that the Affair muſt be at laſt decided behind Montague-Houſe

For my Part, I have often wondered how Men can be ſuch Enemies to their Pleaſures, as to be thus obſti⯑nately bent on the Indulgence of their own private Whim⯑ſies, without abating any Thing from their Pretenſions, in order to contribute to the Felicity of their Neighbours. The ſocial Paſſions afford more real Delight, than any ſelfiſh Gratifications; the latter are ſure to Occaſion a Nar⯑rowneſs of Spirit, while the former expand the Faculties of the Mind, and receive Addition from being com⯑municated, like the Sun painting the Hemiſphere with Streaks of Light, which ſerve to adorn his Way, and augment the Glory of his Career. In a State of mu⯑tual Dependance, which Nature has allotted to us all, it is not to be imagined that any one will pay the leaſt Deference to our Eaſe and Happineſs, unleſs in our Turn we recede a little from our own Humours and purchaſe by our Deportment that Complacence, which every one deſires to meet with in his Intercourſe with Society.

But as this Reſtraint upon our Conduct ſeems to be too much thrown off, it is not to be wondered that fre⯑quent Recourſe is had to Duelling, to decide Diffe⯑rences between thoſe, who have renounced the Gui⯑dance of Reaſon; which would ſurely forbid us to ſquander away the Life — beſtowed upon us by the ſupreme Being, upon ſuch trivial Incidents, as for the moſt Part occaſion theſe Extremities. The Romans knew nothing of this modern Practice, which is entirely of French Growth, and, like many of the Faſhions of that Country, ſhould be exploded from all civilized Nations. It may not be improper to cite the Definition of Courage from ſo fine a Gentleman [166]as Mr. Addiſon. In his elegant Poem, entitled the Campaign, he tells us,

I never yet heard of an Affair between two Gentle⯑men, according to the polite Phraſe, but one or both of them was egregiouſly in the Wrong; and, I perſuade myſelf, that if, indead of determining wilfully to ſup⯑port Matters of no Moment, People could be brought to canvaſs their Differences with ſome Degree of Tem⯑per and Chearfulneſs, we ſhould not often have Advices from Morybone Fields, or any of the uſual Scenes of Action upon theſe Occaſions. To evince this, I ſhall conclude with the following Story. I was once in Company at a Tavern with a Set of Gentlemen, when after much Mirth and Feſtivity, one of the Party, who had been ſilent almoſt the whole Night, accoſted a Gentleman who had contributed greatly to our Enter⯑tainment by a lively Vein of Fancy peculiar to him, in the following Words. ‘Sir, (ſays he) taking him by the Button. I have ſomething to communicate to you — I have obſerved, Sir, — that you have been very facetious all Night, — you have run your Rig upon me, Sir, and ſo — I deſire you will meet me To-morrow Morning in Pancras Burying-Ground.’ — A Blood of the Town would perhaps have been fired at this Propoſal; but my Friend received it with great Compoſure, and while the reſt of the Company were ſtruck dumb at the Solemnity of the Challenge, he turns to him with a Mixture of Jeſt and Earneſt in his Countenance, and whiſpers ‘in Pancras Burying Ground, Sir?’ ‘Yes, Sir, in Pancras Bury⯑ing [167]Ground without fail’—Very well, Sir,— ‘muſt I bring my Shroud with me?’

The Pleaſantry of this Queſtion excited a general Laugh in the Room, and the ſolemn Gentleman could not reſiſt the Impulſe of Mirth; he joined in the Cho⯑rus, and, as ſoon as he recovered from his Fit of Merri⯑ment, exclaimed, "You're a brave Boy — give us your Hand.—I'll never meet you, but on a Party of Plea⯑ſure, and to that you may command me whenever you pleaſe."

A Lively Imagination is, if I may uſe Shake⯑ſpear's Expreſſion, great Nature's ſecond Courſe; for not content to have enjoyed the intellectual Pleaſures immediately ari⯑ſing from the Beauty of external Objects, or the tran⯑ſient Scenes of Life, it frequently, when they have vaniſhed and diſappeared, makes fond Excurſions after them again; and even in our Sleep, it will occaſionally recall the Objects of our waking Reflection, and from thence receive livelier Senſations, than were perhaps occaſioned by the firſt Impreſſion. Though there are many fantaſtic Circumſtances in theſe Night Thoughts, if I may be ſo allowed to call our Dreams, yet, on theſe Occaſions, we ſometimes find ourſelves preſented with agreeable Viſions, and, amidſt the wildeſt Vagaries of Fancy, we can often trace ſomething like juſt Reaſoning, and a real Picture of Life. As I take this to have been the Caſe with me a few Nights ſince, I ſhall make no Apology, for throwing my Dream upon Paper this Day.

I found myſelf on a ſudden, near a large intricate Wood, which I had the Curioſity to enter. A whim⯑ſical band of Hope and Fear, Joy and Grief, Pain and Pleaſure hovered over our Heads. Tender An⯑guiſh, ſoft Deſire, pleaſing Agony were all inter⯑mixed, and in their motley Livery formed a many⯑coloured [170]Groupe. Cupid made violent Work with his Darts and Flames, and nothing was to be heard but tinkling Rills, falling Fountains, and love-ſick Sighs, by which the Aſpen Leaves were perpetually kept in a ruſtling Tremor. The God of Love had by him a prodigious Quantity of Arrows, differently feathered, according to the various Effects, of which they were to be productive. This Circumſtance called to my Mind a beautiful Paſſage in a Poem by Doctor Parnell.

It was not unpleaſant to obſerve the Variety of Im⯑preſſions that were occaſioned in both Sexes by this ſtrange Flight of Arrows. Men I perceived in cloſe purſuit of blooming Virgins, merely from the impulſe of Vanity; and I ſaw ſeveral Nymphs running, with the utmoſt Precipitation, from their Lovers; though by their Manner of looking back, and the ruſtling they made in the Trees, there was room for Conjecture that they did not deſire entirely to eſcape.

[171]Pleaſing as the Senſations of Love are, I could ob⯑ſerve that very unhappy Effects were often the Conſe⯑quences. Many there were, whoſe Mien ſpoke a De⯑jection of Spirits, and they were frequently driven to ſuch Extremes, that they laid violent Hands on their own Lives. As I travelled on, I ſaw ſeveral hanging on Bows of Trees; and on the Waters, which were ſwelled with Tears, and ruffled with Sighs, floated many a pallid Corpſe; in their Countenances I could plainly ſee the Traces of that ſickly Luxury of Thought, which is ſo apt to ſettle into a fixed Deſpair.

From this Scene of Diſtreſs, I turned away as ſoon as poſſible; and was relieved from my Uneaſineſs, by the Sight of a few, who ſeemed to be happy in their Paſſion; whoſe Hearts felt a mutual Warmth, and whoſe Eyes were brightened into Gladneſs. They walked Arm in Arm down the flow'ry Meads, inter⯑changing mutual Glances of Affection; though ever and anon ſucceeded Anger, Suſpicion, open War, and Peace again. In the Center of the Wood, ſtood a Temple ſacred to VIRTUE, where all, who were de⯑ſirous of leading a Life of Happineſs, were directed to bend their Courſe, in Order there to be united to⯑gether in Bands of chaſte Affection. I was ſorry to find that ſome of the Ladies had not Reſolution to per⯑ſevere in this Path: Whether it was owing to looſe De⯑ſires or ſeducing Temptation, I cannot decide; certain it is, they tired in their Journey, and ſtepped aſide with their Paramours to ſequeſtred Bowers; from whence they were afterwards diſcarded into the thorny Parts of the Wood, for the Remainder of their Days; but even of theſe, a few there were, who after their Digreſſion, ſtill found Means to be introduced into the Temple; whither they were however purſued by an old Hag, called SCANDAL, who never yet has been known to let them entirely efface the Remembrance of their Error.

[172]The Ladies, who kept on a due Courſe, never failed to lead the Men in Captivity after them to the Temple, from whence, after a ſhort Ceremony, they were diſ⯑miſſed in Pairs, to commence the Road for Life. Three different Paths were open to their Choice, and a Guide ſtood at each Entrance to receive them. The firſt was of a cold diſpaſſionate Temper, who took every Thing alike, and his Name was INDIFFERENCE. The ſecond had Eyes of a greeniſh Caſt, and he ſeemed to loath the Food, which he notwithſtanding eagerly ſwallowed. This Perſonage was called JEALOUSY, and the third by an Openneſs of Countenance, a ſtrong Ex⯑preſſion of quick Senſibility and cordial Affection, was known to be FRIENDSHIP. Too many gave themſelves up to INDIFFERENCE, and inſtantly an Inattention to each other's Wants ſucceeded in their Breaſts; the Men betook themſelves to Midnight Shouts and Re⯑velry, and the Fair to Parties of Tea, and Routs, and Drums, by which Means every ſpark of Love was ſoon extinguiſhed, and the Gratification of their own ſeparate Inclinations was their only Study.

The Walks of JEALOUSY were craggy, dangerous, and ſteep, full of Thorns, Briars and Brambles. In the Heart, where before Gladneſs and Joy revelled ſecure, aroſe Anxiety, Diſtruſt, and Perturbation of Spirit. The diſtempered Fancy ſtarted at Scenes of its own Creation, and, in a Fit of Madneſs, hurried many a tortured Wretch down the Precipice of Fate, or let fall its Vengeance on its Neighbour. What was ob⯑ſervable in this Part was, that though ſometimes there were the Appearances, the real Footſteps of Guilt could no where be diſcovered.

The very ſmall Number under the Guidance of FRIENDSHIP enjoyed a pure heart-felt Tranquillity; and the fierce Deſire and impatient Wiſh, which had formerly actuated their Minds, having now ſubſided, a ſteady and uniform Flame ſucceeded, not unlike the [173]mild refreſhing Air of a placid Evening, after the Fer⯑vor of an hot Summer's Day. Glad Suns roſe over their Heads, and kindly Nights lulled them in each other's Arms. A ſmiling Race grew up around them, and the Culture of their young and tender Minds af⯑forded a pleaſing Employment; they journey'd on thro' Life, bleſſed with the Sunſhine of the Soul, till, at length, the eaſy Diſſolution of Nature put a Period to all human Felicity.

Here I could not help exclaiming with the Poet;

The whole Scene appeared ſo completely happy, that I began to feel ſome Approaches towards Envy; which ſo diſcompoſed my Spirits, that I was inſtantly awaked, and the ideal Proſpect vaniſhed into Air.

THERE are few Terms which are applied with greater Impropriety, than thoſe cha⯑racteriſtical Appellations, which Men uſual⯑ly beſtow on their Acquaintance, or on others, in whoſe Company and Converſation they may at any Time have been caſually engaged. Every Cha⯑racter, indeed, is formed by the Prevalence of ſome particular Paſſion, which influences the Temper, and gives a caſting Weight to the Genius of the Perſon in whom it ſubſiſts. But no Rules that I know of, have been yet laid down, nor is there any certain Standard which ſhould fix the Degree of Elevation, to which the ruling Paſſion muſt neceſſarily riſe, before it can have Strength ſufficient to determine the Character.

The Reader muſt, however, be informed, that I am not ſpeaking of thoſe moral Qualifications, or Endow⯑ments [175]of the Heart, which ſpeculative Writers have taken ſo much idle Pains to adorn and recommend; and which Men of Senſe, or Men of the World, have una⯑nimouſly agreed in rejecting, as unworthy of their ſe⯑rious Notice. The Qualities I mean are pure Vir⯑tues of the Head or Face; Properties, which enable the Poſſeſſor to aſſume a ſolemn Aſpect at Incidents, which ſet the reſt of the Table on a Roar; or to inter⯑rupt what is truly ſerious and grave, by impertinent Queſtions of Levity and Mirth; or laſtly, to condemn and cavil, when all the World ſees the higheſt Reaſons for Applauſe and Admiration. The Effects which theſe Cauſes produce in Life, however various and compli⯑cated in their Appearance, may be reduced to the three general Sources of Wit, Humour, and Criticiſm, and as the Pretenders to theſe ſeveral Qualities are infinite in Number, I have determined on a certain Standard, in order to regulate and adjuſt their Claims. The Me⯑thod I propoſe is, to decide their different Pretenſions by the Height and Stature of the Body.

And leſt this ſhould be conſidered as a wild chime⯑rical Deſign, I muſt beg Leave to aſſure my Reader, that the Theory I am forming is built upon the lateſt Diſcoveries, and moſt uncontroverted Principles of true Philoſophy. It is poſſible however, that Perſons of an over-refining Curioſity, may be able to raiſe ſome Ob⯑jections to what I am going to advance, but as every Thing is liable to be called in Queſtion by thoſe who are diſpoſed to cavil, they will give me but little Pain upon that Head. The plaineſt Truths have been diſ⯑puted, and the moſt extravagant Opinions have been fortunate enough to meet with their Advocates and Ad⯑mirers. Now, I would have ſuch People recollect what are the general Apprehenſions ariſing in the Mind, on the Sight of an uncommon Stature; and how favour⯑able, withal, even the Notions of the Vulgar are to an unuſual Height of Perſon. Is it not commonly ſup⯑poſed, [176]that Men of this ſuperior Eminence poſſeſs as ſuperior Parts, and extraordinary Degrees of Merit. From this Principle, my little Friend of Drury-Lane is univerſally cenſured, as falling ſhort of a true Hero, by near half a Foot; whilſt his more aſpiring Antagoniſt is allowed to have all the neceſſary Dimenſions, re⯑quired both by ancient and modern Precedents, to con⯑ſtitute the heroic Character.

It is an Axiom in Philoſophy, which few, I hope, will be ſo hardy as to deny, that the Soul is all and all in every Part. From hence it is obvious, that the Body which is a Covering only for the Aetherial Particle that is lodged within it, muſt neceſſarily receive its Di⯑menſions from the Vigour of the Spirit, which actuates the exterior Frame. The greater Portion of Fire this Spirit is endued with, its elaſtic Qualities will be pro⯑portionably ſtronger; and the Dimenſions of the Body will be protruded to a Size, exactly of the ſame Dimen⯑ſions with the Soul which informs it. On this ſimple Hypotheſis, which I imagine cannot be eaſily diſproved, I proceed to ſettle the reſpective Qualifications of the different Pretenders, who have been mentioned above.

In the firſt Place, thoſe who, with gentle William in the Play, boaſt themſelves not on Account of their Wiſ⯑dom, but as they have a pretty Wit, do not exceed the loweſt Degree of our appointed Standard. It is not in Nature, that ſuch Perſons can riſe in their Stature, above the Height of five Feet and ſix Inches. For Wit, which is merely an Exerciſe of the Tongue, doth not require the ſame Bulk and Dimenſions, which are eſſen⯑tial to Qualifications of a ſuperior Order. It is evi⯑dently a much leſs Exertion of the interior Faculties, than what are productive of that Talent which we call Humour. Hence we muſt advance a little in our Standard; and can admit no one to be a Man of real Humour, who does not come up to the full Height of five Feet and eight Inches; and this ſmall Progreſſion is the [177]more allowable, as a conſiderable Part of Humour is frequently expreſſed by ſuch Feats of Body, as require ſome little Degree of Size and Strength. Giving a Friend a violent and unexpected Slap upon the Back, or the dexterous Leaping over Chairs and Tables, have been often regarded as ſo many undoubted Signs of ge⯑nuine Humour; and are generally agreed to denote a moſt facetious Vein of Pleaſantry, in the Authors of ſuch exquiſite Jokes. It will ſometimes further happen, that theſe two Qualities may be blended in the ſame Perſon; as I doubt not but many of my Readers can recollect ſeveral of their Acquaintance, who are your only Men of Wit and Humour. Now, this Conjunction manifeſtly implies a much ſuperior Energy of Soul; and conſequently, a ſtill higher Advancement in our Scale of characteriſtic Excellencies. Theſe Candidates for Fame will accordingly riſe two Inches above thoſe who are mentioned laſt; and none are to paſs under this Denomination for the future, but whoſe Height is five Feet ten. For theſe Qualities, when thus united, will frequently exert themſelves in Strokes of Gallantry and Mirth, which are ſo much the more honourable as they are dangerous to the Perſon or the Purſe of the ingenious Artiſt, who has the Courage or Curioſity to attempt the Experiment. The demoliſhing of Win⯑dows, knocking down of Watchmen, bilking of Wai⯑ters at Places of Entertainment, with other Inſtances of the like Kind, are very laudable and convincing Proofs of theſe compound Qualities, reſiding together in the ſame Habitation. The laſt Quality, which greatly overtops the reſt, and is indeed the Crown and Perfec⯑tion of all, is the wonderful and moſt ingenious Faculty of modern Criticiſm. And as this is, in the moſt exalted Manner, the Gift of Nature, whoever has the Happi⯑neſs to be born a true Critic, is at leaſt ſix Feet com⯑plete. A Critic is the Maſter-piece and nobleſt Work of Nature; and may juſtly be expected to bear about [178]him ſome diſtinguiſhing Tokens, which will enable a Spectator, at the firſt View, to acknowledge and revere his Merits. Hence ſhe has beſtowed on him a more than ordinary Portion of the Daring and Tremendous; and theſe would appear to very little Effect in a Perſon of leſs Dimenſions, than thoſe which we have here aſſigned him. The Wit may be pert and ſanguine; the Man of Humour confident or overbearing; but it is the Critic alone, who glares horribly terrific. His every Look freezes the young Author's Blood; and at the Sound of his Voice, the rooted Seats have been known to be torn from the Ground, and hurled vio⯑lently through the Air, in furious and wild Commotion. Phaenomena, like theſe, can only be produced by that iron Strength of Lungs, and brazen Audacity of Fi⯑gure, which Nature has ſo liberally imparted to the modern Critic.

It will be neceſſary to obviate an Objection ariſing from popular Prejudice, that the Science of Criti⯑ciſm being to examine into the Merit of all Productions of Genius and Learning, it does not ſeem to demand the Size and Dimenſions which I have made eſſential to the Character; but the Objectors, I apprehend, are miſtaken in the End of modern Criticiſm; and have not perhaps duly reflected on the neceſſary Qualities to diſcharge the Province they are deſirous of allotting it. To execute that Taſk, would require a moderate Por⯑tion of Senſe, Taſte and Judgment, under the Direc⯑tion of Modeſty and Candour; Talents ſo little prac⯑tiſed by thoſe who have taken up the Occupation of a a Critic, that they appear on all Occaſions not to have the leaſt Conception of them. Whoever will give him⯑ſelf Leave to conſider, that the Character of a Critic, a Wit, and Man of Humour, in the preſent Eſtimation of the World, is ſupported wholly by Mechanical Ope⯑rations, in which the Underſtanding has no Manner of Share, he will eaſily agree with me, that the ſureſt [179]Method to diſcover thoſe Characters, muſt be taken from that Part which is principally concerned; and as we can truly judge from outward Appearances alone, I have ſhewn to a Demonſtration that the Stature of a Perſon is the only infallible Criterion, by which we can decide, on the Juſtneſs of his Pretenſions; and that no one for the future can have any Right to ei⯑ther of thoſe Characters, but whoſe Dimenſions will exactly tally with the Meaſures of this Standard.

AFTER ſauntering about for ſome Time the other Morning in Gray's-Inn-Gardens, I withdrew to the Edifice raiſed by the great Sir Francis Bacon, where I ſcarce had ſeated myſelf, when I perceived an elderly Gentleman haſtening towards me. He was of a ruddy, hale Complexion, but had the Air of one ſomewhat diſconcerted in his Mind. Scraping the Ground with one Leg drawn backwards, and holding out his Hat at Arm's Length, he heſitated a Deſire to know if I was Mr. Ranger, the entertaining Writer. Upon anſwering him in the Affirmative, with Regard to the Name, and at the ſame Time, expreſſing ſome Doubt about the Compliment made to me as an Author, the Gentleman immediately looked grave, and ſhaking his Head, ‘Aye, Sir, ſays he, you are the very Man I want,—I muſt be a little troubleſome to you for your Advice in an Affair that weighs heavily on my Spi⯑rits, and a Friend has adviſed me to apply to Mr. Ranger for his Opinion.’—Upon this, I aſſured him of my Inclination to ſerve him, and as I perceived he had not yet diveſted himſelf of his Diffidence, I begg'd of him to proceed without any farther Ceremony; which he accordingly complied with.

‘My Name, Sir, reaſſumed the Stranger, is Oldcaſtle, of Oldcaſtle-Hall in the North of England,—nothing [182]but an Affair of Conſequence ſhould have brought me upwards of two hundred Miles to Town;—I have fetched my eldeſt Son up with me, as I think of putting him to ſomething—a wounded ſharp Boy he is;— he's a Tartar for your Greek and your Latin, and the beſt Mimick in the World;—Odds my Life, he'd mi⯑mick all the Waggoners as he come along the Road, —but that's neither here nor there—I now think it Time, as I told you, to put him to Buſineſs—I have a large Family, and but a finall Eſtate was handed to me by my Anceſtors;—the Land was ſurveyed in the Time of Queen Elizabeth, and there is juſt the ſame Number of Acres to this Day — I would have my Son be the Firſt of his Family that improved it, and then he may help me to provide for his Brother and Siſters—but look ye, Sir, in this large Town, I am mainly puzzled what to put him to;—I am afraid, I have made ſuch another Journey to London, as Sir Francis Wronghead in the Play, and unleſs ſome ſuch good Gentleman as you aſſiſts me, I muſt go back in the old ſqueaking Stage-Coach, with⯑out doing my Buſineſs—if you pleaſe, I'll ſtep and fetch Dicky, he's at the Bull and Gate Inn, and will be here in a Crack.’ Here he pauſed for a Reply. As the Matter he conſulted me upon was of no ſmall Importance, I begged Leave to be ſilent for the pre⯑ſent, and promiſed I would give him an Anſwer in this Day's Lucubration. Mr. Oldcaſtle was perfectly ſatis⯑fied, and withdrew in the Fullneſs of his Joy, after aſ⯑ſuring me, that he would always read my Paper, and that he would leave Orders with the Publiſher to ſend it to his Houſe in the Country every Saturday for the future.

The Direction of a young Gentleman's Genius to any particular Profeſſion, is a Point of more Conſe⯑quence, than perhaps appears to the Inattentive; as to this Step is often to be imputed the Happineſs or [183]Miſery of the Perſon in the enſuing Part of his Days. This Circumſtance in Life, is not unlike what we ſee at a Bowling-Green, where, before a Man plays off, he ſhould conſider the Byaſs of his Bowl, and if it is delivered with Judgment, it makes its Way to the de⯑ſtined Point; but, if there ſhould be too much Rapi⯑dity in the Outſet, or if a proper Degree of Force ſhould be wanting to forward it, it either runs beyond the Mark, or lags in the Middle of its Progreſs. On this Account it is no eaſy Matter to adviſe upon ſo de⯑licate a Point, as I have now to handle.

I have conſidered all the Profeſſions, and I really think them very precarious. Many great Eſtates and eminent Titles have been derived from the Law; but it is now reduced to ſuch a State, that without very great Friends, a Perſon poſſeſſed of the Talents of a Murray, ſhall never riſe to any Degree of Eminence. With Regard to Phyſick, a Genius may ſpend his Time in ſaving the Lives of Patients in Garrets, and doing real Services to Mankind, without any Emolument to himſelf, while Doctor Slaughter puts his Licence to kill in Execution upon Thouſands of his Majeſty's well⯑diſpoſed Subjects, and lolls at Eaſe in his Chariot.

In the Army, it is to be feared, that Preferment goes more by Intereſt, than Merit: And there is not a Wind that can blow from any Quarter of the Heavens, but fills the Merchant's Imagination with pictured Scenes of Shipwrecks; and while he breaks the Seal of a Letter, he trembles for fear of receiving the News of ſome Correſpondent's Failure. The Stage, indeed, ſeems to be a Place, where Merit meets its Reward, but even there, there are great Diſadvantages; and though a Genius ſhould ſtart up with the Talents of a Garrick, and Perſon of a Barry, it is odds, but his Eye is one Time or other knock'd out by a well directed Apple.

There is, however, a Way of Life, which I cannot help thinking the moſt eligible, and, not to keep the [184]Reader any longer in Suſpenſe, the Occupation, I mean, is that of a Gameſter. After mature Delibera⯑tion, the Gentlemen of this Calling ſeem to me to be in Poſſeſſion of greater Advantages than any of the o⯑thers, and the Inconveniences attending them, are not upon a Ballance with the Conveniences.

A Gameſter, from a conſtant Habit of venturing large Sums upon the Turning up of a Card, or a Die, acquires that thorough Diſregard for Money, which is ſo much recommended by the Philoſophers. Like Catiline in Salluſt, he is alieni appetens, ſui profuſis; at the ſame Time, that he is deſirous of his Friends Subſtance, he has the Pleaſure of being profuſe in his own private Gratifications. Inſtead of creeping through Life with that Mediocrity of Spirit, which depreſſes the Man of Buſineſs, the Gameſter lives with an Eclat; Ryan, Venable, or Tomkyns, ſupply him with his Wines, and he is every Hour gaining an Inſight into Men and Manners. As rude Health has too much of the Country in it, and of courſe is not very pleaſing to the Ladies, he acquires by his midnight Vigil, a pal⯑lid meagre Countenance, which generally denotes an intimate Knowledge of the Town; and while others deceive one another in the Face of Day, a Gameſter has the Modeſty to fly to the Covert of the Night, and, if I may uſe the Poet's Words, The pale Moon and Stars alone are conſcious of the Theft. While the Man of Genius is left undiſturbed in his Study, the gay-dreſſed Footman knocks at the Gameſter's Doos, and leaves the agreeable Card to invite him to my Lady Bragwell's. There he has an Opportunity of carrying on a Deſign upon a Lady's Money and Vir⯑tue at the ſame Time, and if he can once contrive to get her in his Books, he ſinds it no difficult Matter to make her give perſonal Security, and when once a Woman's Body is mortgaged, there is no Equity of Redemption.

[185]There are many other Conveniences annexed to a Life of Play, and therefore I would have my Friend Mr. Oldcaſtle train up his Son to this Profeſſion; and to encourage all Beginners in this Way, I ſhall diſmiſs this Paper with only one Article of True Intelligence, which I take to be of the utmoſt Conſequence to all ſuch Adventurers.

DERISION and Contempt have been for many Ages the Portion of moſt Authors, whom Rank in Life, or Superiority of Abilities, have not eminently raiſed above the common Herd of their Fraternity; and the Name of Poet, in every Company where the Word is men⯑tioned, [187]is ſure to excite ludicrous Ideas of Garrets, unwaſhed Shirts, and unpaid Taylors. By theſe Means it has obtained, that younger Brothers had rather take a Piſtol or a Pack of Cards in their Hands to raiſe a Livelihood, than endeavour to help out the Year's In⯑come by the Exertion of their Talents; dreading the Infamy of Wit, more than any other Imputation, that can be fixed upon their Characters.

This Effect is not produced without a Concurrence of many efficient Cauſes, among which the principal one is, the known Poverty of the Generality of the Tribe that write; and among all the Inconveniences of Indigence, it has been well ſaid, that there is not a greater Hardſhip, than that Ridicule, which it brings upon thoſe who labour under its Laſh.

The Belly has been often called the Teacher of Art, and the Inſpirer of Wit; but, I apprehend, this Maxim can only be underſtood of a full Belly.

Horace was warmed with good Cheer, when he calls out to Bacchus to ſpare him, ſays Juvenal; and the ſame Author adds, with an elegant Vein of Pleaſantry, that fine Writing is the Production of an exalted Mind, free from the Sollicitude of procuring a Blanket; and that if Virgil wanted a Lodging and a Boy to attend him, the Snakes would fall from the Fury, which he ſo admirably deſcribes, and the Trumpet would not ſound to War with ſo ſhrill a Clangor.

[188]It is not therefore to be wondered, that Poverty ſhould diminiſh the Poet's Luſtre, ſince it not only renders him an Object of Contempt, but extinguiſhes the Fire of his Genius; and ſuch is the Fate or Perverſeneſs of Au⯑thors, that, to Circumſtances, which they cannot re⯑move, they are induſtrious to add many of their own creating; ſo true is the Saying of Mr. Congreve, that wherever Wit is, it is always contriving its own Ruin. The Race of Writers are extremely iraſcible, prone to Malice and Envy towards the Man, whom they per⯑ceive in Poſſeſſion of Fame, and, inſtead of endeavour⯑ing to equal him with an honeſt Emulation, their Aim is, to ſnatch the Laurel from his Brow, or if they can⯑not reach it, to wither it on his Head by the bitter Blaſts of Calumny and Detraction. Voltaire delivers himſelf on this Topic with ſo much Delicacy and good Senſe, that I ſhall here tranſlate the Paſſage. ‘It is a Diſgrace, ſays he, to the human Mind, that the Re⯑public of Letters ſhould be infeſted with perſonal Reſentments, private Cabals, and mean Intrigues, which ſhould only ſubſiſt among the Slaves of For⯑tune. What Advantage can accrue to Authors from this Civil War? Their Animoſities have no other Tendency, than to depreciate a Profeſſion, which it is in their Power to render reſpectable. Why ſhould the Art of thinking finely, the greateſt Bleſ⯑ſing Man can ſhare from Heaven, become an Object of Ridicule? It is really hard, that Men of Genius ſhould render themſelves, by their mutual Invectives, the Sport of Pools, and inſtead of being revered as the Maſters and Inſtructors of the Public, turn out the Buffoons and Zanies of the Town.’

There is another Reaſon, which contributes ſtrongly to bring a Diſreputation upon Poets, and that is, their mean and proſtitute Servility to a Set of Men, whom they call their Patrons. Theſe Gentlemen are for the moſt Part eager after Praiſe, and careleſs of the Means, [189]by which they might obtain an honeſt Fame; hence the Parnaſſian Incenſe is extremely grateful, and is there⯑fore profuſely offered up by every ſcribbling Fool, who vainly thinks to wriggle himſelf into Preferment. But the Misfortune is, that what happens in this Caſe is not anſwerable to the Writer's Intention; his Patron plumes himſelf upon the imputed Accompliſhments, and glows with Rapture and Self Admiration, while for the Bard he feels no Paſſion but Contempt, and the reſt of the World with Pleaſure behold Infamy and Diſappoint⯑ment, the Rewards of Venality and Proſtitution.

As I have always entertained great good Wiſhes for the Gentlemen of the Quill, I have deviſed a Method, by the Obſervance of which, they will be able to re⯑trieve, in ſome Meaſure, the Honour of their Calling, and obviate that Torrent of Contumely, which at pre⯑ſent bears hard upon them.

In the firſt Place, I would have them frequently in⯑culcate, that Fortune is only the Deity of Fools; and, if ſhe has not been favourable to them, they had better enjoy a virtuous Independence in private, than by an ambitious Poverty, bring themſelves under the Contempt and Ridicule of the Affluent.

Secondly, Inſtead of waſting Paper in mutual Calumny and Detraction, I would recommend to them to vent their Anger upon the Critics or the Male-voli; a Species of People highly prejudicial to the Cauſe of Literature, on whom no Severities can be too hard, as it is no⯑torious, that not one of the Race about Town at pre⯑ſent is any way fit for the Province he has uſurped; a total Ignorance of the learned Languages, and a la⯑mentable want of Taſte, together with a plentiful Share of Spleen and Ill-nature, being the diſtinguiſh⯑ing Characteriſtics of the whole Tribe.

Thirdly and laſtly, I would adviſe my Brother. Wri⯑ters to diſpenſe their Panegyric with a little more Re⯑ſerve, and always with an Eye to Truth; from whence[190]it will follow, that they will find themſelves more court⯑ed by their Patrons, and their Butlers will the more readily condeſcend to hear them from the Side-Board. To maintain a Poet's Dignity and Eaſe, is a beautiful Sentiment of Mr. Pope, and his Life and Manners ſhew that he carried it from Theory into Fractice. Who is not delighted to hear him declare with a noble Pride?

Whenever I reflect upon the Conduct of that great Genius, I find it hard to determine within myſelf, which holds moſt of Admiration, the Fineneſs of his Per⯑ceptions, and the Elegance of his Poetry, or that Grace of Character, and that unproſtituted, dignified In⯑dependence, which will always do Honour to the Man. Doctor Swift likewiſe, with leſs Delicacy of Manners, jealouſly preſerved his own Reſpect; and ſure I am, that the Writings of theſe two great Authors, though they have both exquiſite Finiſhings in their Kind, have always received an additional Luſtre from the ſelf-created Importance of their Characters.

THERE is not a Pleaſure, which thrills through the tender Nerve of Imagination, but what receives additional Delight from numberleſs adventitious Circumſtances. To the Aſſociation of Ideas, explained by Mr. Locke, may alſo be added the Aſſociation of Paſſions, which recipro⯑cally [192]awaken each other, and agitate the Mind with their mixed Operation. Thus the primary Effect, which any Object or Landſkip may have on a Perſon's Taſte, is heightened and enlarged beyond its Bounds; a Recollection of collateral Images ſtarts upon the Fancy, the Paſſions pour in their auxiliar Influence, and our Joy is encreaſed by ſeveral Senſations at once; like a River, which admits at different Inlets the tri⯑butary Illapſe of ſeveral leſſer Streams, and thence ſwelled above its Banks, diſpenſes Verdure and Fertility to all the Country round. That this is the Caſe in many Situations of the Mind, will be obvious to any Body, that will but turn his Eyes inwards, and I be⯑lieve it is not more ſo in any one Inſtance, than the Joy we ſeel from the Opening of the Spring.

In my Opinion, we are not acquainted with a more complicated Pleaſure: our Love of Novelty, which is a leading Principle in the Heart of Man, implanted in us for the moſt benevolent Purpoſes by the Author of our Frame, is particularly gratified at this Seaſon of the Year; the Appearance, which Things aſſume, is not only pleaſing to us on Account of its natural Beau⯑ty, but alſo from its Newneſs to the Eye. During the Winter, all Nature ſeems to ſuffer a melancholy Diſtreſs; the animal Creation droops, their Spirits ſeem ſunk into dumb Deſpair, and we read their languid Situation in the mute imploring Eye; the vegetable World ſeems alſo tending to Decay, and a general Scene of Calamity overſpreads the Face of Nature. From this State to ſee gradually a new Creation emerging, and every Thing reviving with renovated Vigour, cannot fail of pleaſing our Imagination; the whole Race of animal Life feels the genial Influence of the ſoft Seaſon; from a Turbulence of Clouds, and all the Inclemencies of the Elements, the Scene is ſhifted to enlivening Suns, blue Skies, Hills cloathed with Verdure, imbowering [193]Shades, refreſhing Streams, and the Harmony of the Grove.

The learned Reader will perceive with what Elegance Virgil has deſcribed this vernal Delight in the Words of my Motto. The Paſſage, from whence I have ſe⯑lected theſe Lines, is carried on with an Air of En⯑thuſiaſm; he ſeems particularly fond of this Seaſon, and the whole is cloſed with a moral Reflection on the Providence of the ſupreme Being, who placed this Part of the Year, as a Medium, to render the Tranſi⯑tion from intenſe Cold to the Heat of the Summer leſs perceptible to our Conſtitutions. There are many ſhort Sketches of this Nature in the ſame Author; we frequently find him caſting a ſide Glance this Way; and, I will venture to ſay, every Reader of Taſte muſt have been greatly delighted with theſe Bye-views; as on a Road the tranſient Opening of an agreeable Proſpect is always acceptable to the Traveller. Horace is alſo happy when giving a Deſcription of the Spring; and Milton, the great Father of the Sublime in Engliſh Poeſy, has in many Places touched it with great Delicacy. Per⯑haps ſome of the moſt beautiful Imagery in his Poem is to be found in the ſofter Paintings of this Nature, which he has ſo often taken Occaſion to introduce.

Beſides the obvious Pleaſures of this Seaſon, already mentioned, there is another Circumſtance, which ſtill renders it more delightful; the Spring, more particularly than any other Time of the Year, is the Seaſon of Love. At this Juncture we feel the Sun warm at our Hearts; young Health ſmiles in the Virgin's Eye; the Morn or Evening Walks affords Senſations unfelt before; a pleaſ⯑ing Stillneſs runs o'er the Faculties of the Mind, and every Thing conſpires to fill the Heart, with what the Poet calls, the Spirit of Love and amorous Delight. By Love, I would not be ſuppoſed to mean a mere groſs Impulſe of Paſſion, but that Elegance of Deſire, that Refinement of Taſte, which diſtinguiſhes the Gen⯑tleman, [194]and never fails of being acceptable to the amiable Sex.

Whatever may be rattled over a Bottle at a Tavern, we are obliged to the Ladies for the moſt valuable Gratifica⯑tions of our Lives; and after all our high-boaſted Rea⯑ſon and our ſuperior Abilities, to them it is owing that our Manners become more gentle, and our Sentiments acquire a finer Poliſh. Our Looks and Geſtures aſſume from them a molder Air, our Paſſions ſoften into Har⯑mony and Joy; and the Man, who has uſed himſelf to this agreeable Converſe, is acquainted with a thou⯑ſand Delicacies in his Amuſements, and ſeveral Elegan⯑cies in his Way of thinking, to which vulgar Souls are abſolutely Strangers.

Inſtead of expatiating further on this Subject, I ſhall here inſert a Copy of Verſes, which were communi⯑cated to me by an ingenious Gentleman, whom I am proud to call my Friend. The candid Reader, I per⯑ſuade myſelf, will be pleaſed with the Peruſal; and the ſmall Critics, who buzz about the Gray's-Inn Journal, may amuſe themſelves with conſidering, whether the Lines ſhould be called, Ode, Song, Paſtoral, or Elegy, and whether they ſufficiently expreſs the Tenderneſs of Love, and the Proceſs of the Paſſion, with its ſeveral ſweet Viciſſitudes.

IT is with unſpeakable Pleaſure I have obſerved for a conſiderable Time paſt, that thoſe unhappy Diviſions, which have been the Bane of Society, ever ſince the late Commotions in the North, are in a great Meaſure re⯑conciled; at leaſt, ſo far, as to make an Intercourſe be⯑tween People of different political Sentiments, not al⯑together impracticable. The Diſtinction of Whig, or Jacobite, ſeems to be at preſent thought not eſſentially neceſſary towards conſtituting a good Companion; and the Word HONEST appears to have acquired a more en⯑larged [198]Signification; inſomuch that, whenever we ho⯑nour a Man with that Appellation, it is generally under⯑ſtood, that we mean ſomething more, than a Perſon who is ready to drink a certain Set of Toaſts. In ſhort, the Enthuſiaſm of Party, in this Reſpect, is ſo far abated, that one may ſpend a chearful Evening with ſome of the moſt ſanguine Friends to the Government, without dedicating a ſingle Glaſs to the Memory of King William; and I have more than once, within theſe laſt ſix Months, ſat with ſome reputed Well-wiſhers to the exiled Family, without being under a Neceſſity of ungartering my Stockings, and pulling off my Wig, at every Return of the Bottle. But, alas! what avails this Coalition? The Spirit of Party is ſo intimately in⯑terwoven in the Conſtitution of an Engliſhman, that all Attempts to extinguiſh it muſt inevitably fail of Suc⯑ceſs: It may indeed be diverted, but will not admit of being eradicated.

The Truth of this Obſervation is ſufficiently mani⯑feſted, by the two powerful Factions, which now diſ⯑unite this great Metropolis.

I could wiſh for the Pen of Bolingbroke, in order to trace the Riſe and Progreſs of thoſe fatal Diſſenſions, which ſow Diſcord in Families, make Breaches among Friends, embitter Society, and, if not timely reſtrained, threaten Danger to the State.

The Reader, I believe, has anticipated me, and plainly ſees, that I can mean no other, than the Sects, diſtinguiſhed by the Denomination of Garrickeans and Barryiſts.

The ſeveral Pretenſions of the Theatrical Leaders, from whom the Names of Diſtinction juſt mentioned are derived, are ſo extremely difficult to be adjuſted, that two Perſons can hardly be found, within the Cities of London and Weſtminſter, who perſectly agree in their Way of thinking upon this Head: And as the amiable Sex generally ſupport, with great Impetuoſity, their [199]favourite Principles, it is inconceivable to thoſe, who have not had Opportunity of obſerving it, what Feuds and Animoſities prevail among the female Partizans of theſe Heroes.

I was lately preſent at a Controverſy between two Ladies, who had adopted oppoſite Sentiments, the one being a Garrickean, and the other a Barryiſt. The Diſpute be⯑gan in Form—the Garrickean inſiſting upon it, that ſhe did not like Barry; and the Barryiſt proteſting with equal Emphaſis, that ſhe could not ſo highly admire Gar⯑rick—Thus mutual Contradiction being given, the Debate ſoon grew warm, and the Garrickean Lady enforced her Opinion with great Vehemence: ‘There is ſomething ſo clever, ſomething ſo lively, ſomething ſo I don't know how in Garrick—And his Eyes ſparkle ſo, that, to be ſure, he is the ſweeteſt Creature in the World.’—Her Antagoniſt withſtood this Torrent of Eloquence, and with no leſs Energy replied,— ‘Nay, Madam, if you talk of Eyes, nobody can ſay, but Barry has as lovely Eyes as ever were ſeen—Then he is ſo tall, and ſo fine a Man, that, Lord bleſs me! there is no Compariſon—I am ſure, Garrick can't make Love ſo well—come, now, you muſt give that up.—Not I, upon my Honour, Ma'em, reſumes the Garrickean, why ſhould I give it up? All the Gentlemen, and you muſt allow they know beſt, ſay, Garrick is the fineſt Romeo.’—The Weight of this Reaſoning piqued the Barryiſt, and ſhe exclaimed, with no ſmall Appearance of Indignation—‘Pſhaw! what ſignifies what the Men ſay? I don't mind it a Farthing;—they envy the dear Man, becauſe he is ſo handſome.’—The Earneſtneſs and Reſent⯑ment, with which this was delivered, excited a general Laugh, and the Ladies had Prudence enough to ſuſpend the Conteſt for that Evening; but I have been ſince informed, that they renewed it the next Day with re⯑doubled Vigour, and proceeded ſo far, as to uſe ſome[200]certain Figures of Speech, which are thought not quite conſiſtent with female Delicacy.

A wide Breach enſued between the Diſputants, in Conſequence of this Diſagreement, which was in a few Days happily healed, by the Mediation of ſome Friends; and the Ladies now viſit as uſual, but have obliged themſelves in the moſt ſolemn Manner, for their mutual Quiet, never to mention, for the future, the Names of Garrick and Barry in the Company of each other.

I have only related this Affair, as a ſlight Inſtance of the unhappy Effects attending our Party-Diviſions. That they are productive of the greateſt Uneaſineſs in the Conjugal State, is ſo very notorious, that People of different Ways of thinking ſeldom chuſe to engage with each other; being aware, that Feuds and Diſcon⯑tents muſt be unavoidable, when Man and Wife do not go the ſame Way. An intimate Acquaintance of mine, who is ſtrongly in the Garrickean Intereſt, paid his Ad⯑dreſſes to a very agreeable, and every-way-accompliſh'd young Lady; but a violent Barryiſt. The young Couple liked one another perfectly well, and there appeared no reaſonable Objection to the Match, but the Difference of Principles.

This, however, was an Obſtacle not eaſily to be got over. The Relations on both Sides had ſeveral Meet⯑ings, and many Difficulties aroſe in ſettling this Point, which was at laſt adjuſted by a Compromiſe. The Lawyer, who was employed to draw the Articles, re⯑ceived Directions to inſert a Clauſe, importing, that all the Boys born of that Marriage ſhould be bred up Garrickeans, and the Girls Barryiſts.

The Reader, I believe, is ſurprized, that I have not, in this Diſſertation upon Parties, taken any Notice of the Quiniſts, a Faction, which, in its Time, has been by no Means contemptible, whether we conſider the Bulk or Quality of the Leaders. The Reaſon is—I have obſerved, that this Party is conſiderably declined, [201]ſince the Abdication of their Monarch; moſt of them having ſubſcribed to the Revolution, which took Place in Goodman's-Fields in the Year Forty-two; and thoſe few, who ſtill continue attached to this Cauſe, being old Men, from whom no Diſturbance can be expected in the female World.

That theſe Heart-burnings threaten Danger to the State, I think is very obvious. The Buſineſs of the Theatres is almoſt finiſhed, and, it is expected, that both Houſes will be prorogued in a few Days, when many of the Members will go into the Country, and moſt unqueſtionably excite a Party-Spirit, where-ever they fix. We ſhall hear from one Town, that the In⯑habitants are divided into Marriſts and Scraſiſts; from another, that the Uſheriſts have got the upper Hand, and the Favourers of Raftor do not dare to ſhew their Faces. What Influence theſe Diviſions may have upon the approaching Election, I leave to the Gentle⯑men in Power to conſider, not doubting but they will thank me for this friendly Intimation, and make a pro⯑per Uſe of it.

From this fair and candid Repreſentation of the pre⯑ſent State of Parties among us, many uſeful Reflections may be drawn, which, as they are extremely obvious, the Reader's good Senſe will undoubtedly ſuggeſt to him. I might here diſmiſs my Subject in the Words of Horace, ‘Verbum non amplius addam.’

But I am unwilling to conclude, without declaring my own Principles. I have the Satisfaction to ſay, that I am conſcious of being entirely free of Party-Prejudice —I am neither a Garrickean nor a Barryiſt, but be⯑tween both, in an honeſt Mean—I defy my greateſt Enemies to prove, that I ever gave a Clap or Hiſs, but according to the Dictates of my Conſcience— And, O my dear Countrymen and Countrywomen! [202]there is nothing I ſo ardently deſire, as an Union of all true Friends to our Theatrical Entertainments, in order to rouze the Directors of the Drury-Lane and Covent-Garden Companies from their Lethargy, and make them ſenſible, that though the Public have a violent Appe⯑tite for Plays, and can feed on a Romeo and Juliet thirty or forty Times in a Seaſon, yet they would be glad of a little Variety—This ſurely they may modeſtly ex⯑pect, as the heavy Subſidies for the Maintenance of theſe States are raiſed entirely upon them. If we ſhould be happy enough to obtain this, next Winter, I flatter myſelf, all Diſcord will ſubſide: We ſhall admire the Powers of a Garrick, and do Juſtice to his inimitable Performances in a Lear, a Richard, a Macbeth, an Hamlet, a Ranger, or a Bendick, without being any Way diſinclined to yield to the tender Emotions of a Caſtalio, or backward to acknowledge the Dignity and home-felt Anguiſh of an Othello. In ſhort, we ſhall then enter the Theatre, without any other Biaſs on our Minds, than a Diſpoſition to be pleaſed.

THE Sentiment, which is very beautifully expreſſed in the Words of my Motto, grew naturally out of the Converſation, at the laſt Meeting of our Club; and to enforce it ſtill further, Mr. Gulliver, who then occupied the Chair, produced a Stricture of oriental Hiſtory, which, he believed, would impreſs the Reflection deeper on the Mind, as it carried with it the Admonitions of Expe⯑rience; and therefore, as ſuch, I ſhall recommend it to the Peruſal of my Readers.

In the Chronicles of the Sultans of the Eaſt, it is recorded, that when Othman held the Rank of Viſier under a Prince of the Saſſanian Race, and by his faith⯑ful Councils added Security, Luſtre, and Dignity to the Throne, his Son Muſtapha diſplay'd in his early Bloom all the Virtues which could endear him to the beſt of Fathers, and render him amiable in the Eyes of all Be⯑holders. Achmet the Hermit, who had been called forth from his Retreat, in order to attend the Cultiva⯑tion of his tender Mind, had taken care to ſeaſon him with Religion, and to inflame his young Imagination with the Deſire of a fair and honeſt Fame. The Sage well knew that this Propenſity would be a ſtrong ſe⯑condary [205]Aid to the native Beauty of Virtue, would warm and cheriſh his native Goodneſs, and invigorate the Exertion of it. Accordingly Muſtapha ſoon drew the Eyes of all Men upon him; his Conduct was a con⯑ſtant Emanation of Benevolence, and in his Boſom glowed that intenſe heroic Ardour, which ſoon after diſtin⯑guiſhed him in the Field of glorious Danger. In a ſhort Time he arrived to the higheſt Degree of Popula⯑rity; the Sultan heaped Favours on him in what might be called a Profuſion of Liberality, had not his Merit daily deſerved it from him. He was delegated with un⯑limited Authority to command the Armies of the Sul⯑tan, and from the Confines of Perſia to the Indian Ocean, he ſoon reduced every Thing under Subjection. Though he was yet green in Years, each Tongue was mute in his Preſence, and before him every Eye looked down with a Kind of reverential Awe; he loved the Prince, who raiſed him to this State of Elevation, and by the Gentleneſs of his Manners he ſoftened that Envy, which might otherwiſe ariſe againſt the Luſtre of his Glory.

While Muſtapha was conſtantly reaping freſh Laurels, and gratifying his inſatiable Love of Fame by daily Ac⯑quiſitions of Glory, his Father at home met with a Reverſe of Fortune. Othman poſſeſſed all thoſe Quali⯑ties, which ſhone forth in his Son with a more ſtriking Luſtre; and he vainly imagined, that in a corrupt de⯑generate Court, he could be great and good with Im⯑punity. But the Storm now gathered heavily in Clouds around him, and the turbulent Tempeſts of Jealouſy, Ambition, Hatred, and Revenge environed him with a Whirlwind more dreadful than that which tears up whole Continents of Sand in the Deſarts of Arabia. The grand Apartments in his Houſe, which were for⯑merly filled with a Band of Courtiers, were now empty and forlorn; he was diveſted of all his Honours; his Truſt was taken away from him, and, after a Series [206]of Years ſpent in the Service of his Prince, he was ſtripped of every Thing but his paternal Eſtate; whi⯑ther he withdrew to ſhelter himſelf from an ungrateful World.

In this Retirement, Othman, what were your Thoughts, what were your Senſations? The Sun uſhered in a Day void of Occupation, and the Night a Train of reſtleſs Dreams. At length his Conſtitution received ſuch ſe⯑vere Strokes from a conſtant Succeſſion of corroſive Cares, that he languiſhed under the Preſſure, and his Soul ſickened to Deſperation. A gloomy viſionary Light obſcured his Eyes with dim Suffuſion, and he beheld with Joy the approaching Sunſet of his Days. As he lay languiſhing on the Bed of Sickneſs, he gave Orders, that his Son might be informed of his Situation. Muſtapha immediately quitted his high Command, flew to his dying Father's languid Arms, and in a Guſh of Tears embraced his agonizing Body. Othman, with what little Strength he had left, raiſed his Head, and fixing his faded Eye-balls on him, "My Son, ſaid he," hear my Words: ‘You have beheld your Father in the Sunſhine of Proſperity; you now behold him in the laſt Extreme of Miſery. I am fallen a Prey to the Intrigues of ill-deſigning Men;—the Angel of Death now hovers over his Victim; then liſten to my laſt Directions;—Avoid pub⯑lic Honours;—fly from Courts, as from the Monſters of the Deſart; be not miſled by a vain Love of Fame and an unavailing Popularity;—Virtue is its own Reward;—then let your Happineſs be fixed in your own Mind, independent of external Objects;—de⯑ſpiſe the Opinions of Mankind, which are always fluctuating and uncertain as the Caſpian, when de⯑formed with Tempeſts.—For the Remainder of your Days have a Contempt for Fame;—it will only lead you into a Series of Toils for an ungrate⯑ful World.—Steal through Life imperceptible, like [207]the Path of the Arrow, which leaves no Trace be⯑hind it;—let your Moderation ſhade you from Envy, and look down upon the Giddy.’—

He could no more; his Lot for Eternity was caſt, and he expired. Muſtapha wept in Bitterneſs of Anguiſh over the beſt of Fathers; he treaſured up his Precepts in the inmoſt Receſſes of his Soul, and inſtantly began to conform his Conduct to the Practice of them. His Dignities and Honours he reſigned forthwith, and in the Sullenneſs of his Soul he locked himſelf from the World. His Houſe no longer reſounded with Singers and with Minſtrels; no longer did Amber and Aloes adminiſter their rich Perfumes; the Vaſes of Agate, which in his Father's Time overflowed with all the de⯑licious Liquors of the Eaſt, lay tumbled into an unre⯑garded Heap; and even the Hand of Charity, which was before ſtretched out at his Gate, was now con⯑gealed and frozen up. Echo no longer repeated his Praiſes, and Scandal began to accumulate Diſgrace upon him. This he heard, and he deſpiſed the Rumour; the many Leſſons given him by his Tutor were now totally forgot; the Seeds of Virtue lay dormant in his Breaſt, and his Love of Fame was now entirely extin⯑guiſhed, nay, the very Thoughts of it were loathſome to him, inſomuch that, to leave no room for a Suſpi⯑cion that he had any the leaſt Regard for Popularity re⯑maining, he would often ſay to himſelf, ‘That the World may ſee how much I am above any Notices it may take of me, I muſt not be guilty of a ſingle good Action.’—By imperceptible Degrees this Turn of Mind ſettled into a fixed Inſenſibility to all Dignity of Character, and on the Contempt of Fame was grafted a Contempt of Virtue.—Muſtapha! Mu⯑ſtapha! you thundered at the Head of Armies; whole Nations obeyed your Voice; and now, how altered! relaxed and enfeebled you groan in Anguiſh, reluct⯑ant [208]to every finer Impulſe of the Soul, and callous to all the ſtimulating Incentives to Virtue!—

WHILE Muſtapha thus dozed away his Hours ingloriouſly inactive, the Tidings of his Si⯑tuation were wafted abroad by every Breeze, and at length reached the Ears of Achmet in his Hermitage. The venerable old Man heard the Story with the ſevereſt Compunction; his Heart was appalled within him; as if the Hand of Death had ſmote him, he ſat down in his Haram, but there no Angel whiſpered to his Meditation; no Inſpiration bore his Thoughts aloft to the prime Source of Being; Muſtapha's Shame depreſſed the Swellings of Enthu⯑ſiaſm, and quite extinguiſhed the pious Fervor of his Soul. He was tormented with the Reflection, that ſo noble a Youth ſhould ſtop ſhort in the Middle of his Career, and check ſuch excellent Propenſities, as he knew were lodged in his Breaſt. At length he aroſe, and taking his Staff in his Hand, he extinguiſhed the Light [211]which burned before him, and ſet out on a Journey over the Deſarts of Arabia, and in a ſhort Time arrived at his Pupil's Habitation.

It was with Difficulty he gained Admiſſion; but the Gates were no ſooner opened for him, than he went ſtreight to his young Pupil's Apartment. Muſtapha was reclined upon a Sofa, his Looks ſullenly fixed on the Ground, and his Mind hardening into Inſenſibility. Achmet eagerly preſented himſelf before him. His Eyes were vivid and piercing, though the Quickneſs of their Luſtre was ſomewhat diminiſhed by the galling Effuſion of Tears, which this unexpected Shock had coſt him. The Winter of Age had ſhed its Snows upon his Head and Beard and the lively Expreſſion of Paſſions, which throbbed in mingled Tumult about his Heart, rendered him an alarming Object to his Pupil. A conſcious Bluſh diffuſed itſelf over his Face, at Sight of the hoary Sage; and both their Senſations being too big for Ut⯑terance, their Tongues were ſuſpended, and their Eyes overflowing diſcourſed for a while in the moſt eloquent pathetic Silence. At length Achmet faintly uttered "Muſtapha!" and a Guſh of Tears choaked up the reſt. Muſtapha at this was covered with Confuſion, and at⯑tempted to break from him; but the palſied Nerves of the venerable Hermit felt a Renovation of Strength from the glowing Purpoſe of his Soul, and laying faſt hold of his Pupil, he exclaimed, ‘You ſhall not put me from you; in me your Genius now alarms you; by me it means to rouze you from your Lethargy, and awaken the dying Embers of that amiable Fire, which formerly kindled all your Spirits, in thoſe happier Days, when my Inſtructions were refreſhing to your Ears, as the Morning Dews to the Verdure, which cloaths the Fields of Damaſcus. But now, how art thou fallen! each finer Principle of Virtue is ſup⯑preſſed, and you are even deaf to the Voice of Fame, that ſweeteſt Muſic to a virtuous Ear. But to re⯑deem [212]thee at once from the Dreams of Folly and over-weening Pride, in which thy Soul is now ſlug⯑giſhly immerſed, read there that myſtic Truth, which a Genie put into my Hand, in an Hour of Inſpira⯑tion, when my Thoughts were ſwelled with ſublime Ideas of the Diſpenſations of him, who is in the Heaven of Heavens, and whoſe wonder-working Hand launched forth the Planets into the illimitable Void, and ſtill continueth to produce the Harmony of the phyſical and moral World by various Secrets and indirect Cauſes.’

The Heart of Muſtapha was alarmed, and he read as follows. ‘When VIRTUE was ſent down from the third Heaven to reſtrain the irregular Paſſions of Mankind, the Dignity of her Mien and Beauty of her Aſpect were ſufficiently attractive to make her admired of all Beholders. But ſuch is the Depravity of human Nature, that theſe Allurements ſoon began to loſe of their Influence, and VIRTUE ſhortly finding herſelf neglected and forlorn, returned to her celeſtial Manſion, in order to prefer her Complaint againſt the Sons of Men. There ſhe remonſtrated, that blind Mankind was not only inſenſible to her perſonal Charms, but alſo deaf to the Promiſe of Rewards, which were to be diſpenſed to her Votaries in a future State of Exiſtence. Though this was a ſufficient Pro⯑vocation of Wrath, yet ſuch was the ſupreme Benevo⯑lence, that VIRTUE was again ſent down upon her Miſſion; and the better to ſtrengthen her Intereſts, FAME was ordered to attend her, with an high Com⯑miſſion to diſpenſe temporary Retributions even on this Side of the Grave. As ſoon as they reached the Verge of human Nature, FAME blew aloft her ſilver Trumpet, and an inſtantaneous Glow was kindled in all Hearts. Wherever VIRTUE was cheriſhed, FAME purſued her Footſteps; and if Court was any where made to her alone, ſhe was ſure to withold her Fa⯑vours, [213]until the Candidates found Means, by the Re⯑commendation of VIRTUE, to inſinuate themſelves in⯑to her good Graces. By this amiable Union Mankind were reſtrained within juſt Reſtrictions, and were ex⯑cited to a Series of meritorious Actions, either by an Attachment to the Allurements of VIRTUE, or from a Deſire of obtaining the Applauſe of FAME. But ſhort is the Duration of all ſublunary Things. FAME, in her Turn, began to ſhare the ſame Fate, that VIR⯑TUE had met before her; the Appetites of Men were now well-nigh ſated, and the Muſick of Applauſe no longer ſounded grateful to the Ear. It was obſerva⯑ble that wherever ſhe met with a Repulſe, VIRTUE was ſoon known to follow her, and it very rarely happened that ſhe remained with above one or two in an Age without her Attendant FAME. In Pro⯑ceſs of Time Matters were carried to that Extremity, that this celeſtial Pair were tired of their Pilgrimage, and wearied out at length they reſolved to offer up a joint Petition to be recalled. They therefore flew to the Throne of him who is in the Heaven of Heavens, and humbly urged, that it was in vain for them to ſojourn any longer upon Earth, as deluded Mankind was now entirely ſeduced by the ſpurious Ornaments of the Monſter VICE, which had iſſued out of the Regions of Darkneſs, and ſet up in Op⯑poſition to all that VIRTUE and FAIR FAME could inſpire. In this Inſtance again the tender Care of Heaven was eminently diſplayed, and theſe two radiant Beings were a ſecond Time commanded to return to Earth, with Directions, that, however de⯑praved the Appetites of Men might be, they ſhould perſiſt in an unremitted Courſe of Endeavours for their Service. But the more effectually to ſtrengthen their Cauſe, a Fiend called INFAMY was ordered to iſſue forth from the unhallowed Cell of VICE, and to adhere cloſe to her, whatſoever Way ſhe ſhould bend her Courſe. [214]It was likewiſe ordained that whoever ſhould betray a Diſregard for VIRTUE and HONEST FAME, ſhould be branded by INFAMY, and that theſe two ſhould thus continue to wander among Mankind, until the Angel of Death ſhould walk forth by the Command of the ALMIGHTY, and ſweep the whole Race from the Face of the Earth, to receive that Retribution of Rewards and Puniſhments, which may be due to their VIRTUE or VICE.’

Muſtapha now perceived the Miſts of Error clearing away from before his Underſtanding; he embraced Achmet, and poured out the Effuſions of his Gratitude for thus recalling him to the Taſk of Virtue, whoſe Strength conſiſts in Activity. He acknowledged that the Tranſition is eaſy from a Contempt of Fame to an equal Diſregard for the Virtues that deſerve it; and the Name of Muſtapha during the Remainder of the Chro⯑nicles of this Reign makes a diſtinguiſhed Figure, and it is ſaid that he cloſed a Life of VIRTUE with Honour and Renown.

IT occurred to me the other Day, as I was ſitting in my Study, that I had contracted a very heavy Debt, on the Score of Viſit⯑ing; and being willing to diſcharge the Demands upon me as expeditiouſly as poſſible. I deter⯑mined to dedicate an entire Evening to the Settlement of this Account. I accordingly writ my Name upon about fifteen Pieces of Card, and fallied out upon this important Buſineſs. At moſt of the Places, where I [216]called, I had no Occaſion to alight, but diſcharged my Obligation, by delivering to the Footman at the Door one of the Tokens of modern Friendſhip above men⯑tion'd; I had, however, the good Fortune of finding ſome of my Friends at home, who received me with prodigious Affability; and after deſiring mine, and giving me their Opinion of the important Diſputes concerning Elizabeth Canning and Mary Squires, diſ⯑miſſed me with great Politeneſs.

I was not a little fatigued with the ſucceſſive Repeti⯑tion of the ſame flimzy Chit-chat in every Company where I was admitted, and quite diſguſted with ſo trifling a Manner of ſpending my Time, I was juſt going to direct the Coachman to drive home, when I recol⯑lected, that I had not ſeen my Friend Mr. Diſcount of Cateaton-ſtreet, ſince the Lord Mayor's Day.

This determined me to ſteer my Courſe towards the City, and my good Genius prevailed ſo far, that I found Mr. Diſcount, his Lady and two Daughters, at home; it being the Day, upon which Mrs. Diſcount ſaw Company.

As ſoon as I entered the Room, my old Acquaint⯑ance ſaluted me in a friendly Manner, and aſſured me, that he was glad to ſee me; his Lady, in an ironical Compliment, delivered with a forced Smile, gave me to underſtand, that ſhe was highly ſenſible of the Ho⯑nour I did her Family, in condeſcending to come into the City; and the young Ladiès curteſied, and told me, with ſome Appearance of Reſentment, that they were extremely glad to find, that Mr. Ranger had not entirely forgot his old Friends.

This Reception ſomewhat diſconcerted me; however, I endeavoured to acquit myſelf with the uſual Compli⯑ments, ſuch as—That I had the greateſt Eſteem for Mr. Diſcount's Family—That Nobody reſpected them more—But that Affairs of Buſineſs had engroſſed my Time—That I ſeldom could command an Hour to my⯑ſelf [217]—But that I certainly ſhould not be ſo had a Viſiter for the futurs.—As ſoon as this preliminary Point was ſettled, Mr. Diſcount ſeated me next himſelf, and turn⯑ing about, aſked me, ‘How Things went at our End of the Town?’—‘What, ſays he, ſhall we have a Lottery, do you think?’ I was going to anſwer, that I really was not in the Secret of thoſe Schemes, when the eldeſt Miſs Diſcount interpoſed, and ſaid, ‘Lord! Papa, do you imagine, that Mr. Ranger trou⯑bles himſelf about the Things you talk of in your City Coffee-houſes? What are your Money-Affairs to him?—Have you been at a great many Plays laſt Winter, Mr. Ranger?—What do you think of Foote's Farce? I ſaw it the firſt Night—I would not miſs it the firſt Night for any Thing.’—

As I was meditating an Anſwer, my worthy Friend takes me by the Hand, and exclaims—‘Heavens! Mr. Ranger, what will this World come to! The young People of this Age, Sir, think of nothing but Diverſions — From Morning to Night, my Ears, Mr. Ranger, are dinned with Garrick and Barry, and Dogs and Monkeys, and Mother Midnight, and Spoona⯑tiſſimo, and ſuch a Jargon, that one would imagine the Order of Things was inverted’ — Here the youngeſt Miſs Diſcount ſeized the Converſation — ‘Nay, now, Papa, ſays ſhe, becauſe you do not go to thoſe Places yourſelf, you would not have any Body elſe go’—‘That's true Betty, replied Mamma: He is a ſtrange Man, to be ſure — Mr. Diſcount has no Notion of any Thing genteel — Well, he muſt have his own Way.’ —

Mr. Diſcount, without taking Notice of theſe Inter⯑raptions, reſumed his Diſcourſe—‘Why, Sir, ſays he, this muſt portend ſomething—Certainly a Judgment hangs over the Nation—We ſhall un⯑doubtedly have another Earthquake at leaſt—You know, the laſt Earthquake was occaſioned by the [218]immenſe Number of Places of public Entertainment —the Biſhop ſaid ſo in his Letter—do you not remember it, Mr. Ranger?’—Here a loud Laugh made it unneceſſary for me to reply, and my well⯑meaning Friend, intent upon his Subject, continued to animadvert on the Extravagance of the Times— ‘Your Uncle Caleb, added he, Mr. Ranger, and I uſed frequently to talk over theſe Things together, and we have often lamented the Degeneracy of the Times —We foreſaw, that it muſt end in the Ruin of the Nation — Ay, we foreſaw it a long Time ago— All this Luxury, which has been the Bane of Old Eng⯑land, has crept in among us ſince the Year Twenty. —Ah! that Year Twenty, Mr. Ranger, was a fatal Year—a fatal Year indeed.’—Here Miſs Diſcount could contain no longer, but broke out, with ſome Warmth—‘Lord, Papa! You are always bringing up that Year Twenty—How many Hundred Years ago is it, ſince that Year Twenty?—It does not ſignify talking—While People are in the World, they muſt do as other People do, or they had better be out of the World; and one muſt go to public Places, or they will have nothing to talk of—Is it not ſo, Mr. Ranger? Come, now, I am ſure you are of my Opinion, an't you?’—As I was unwilling to diſoblige either Party in this Diſpute, I replied to the Lady in two Lines of Prior;

This Topic had, I thought, been purſued rather too far, therefore, I waved the Converſation, and aſked the Ladies, whether they had ſeen Mrs. Brillant, ſince her Marriage? To this they all anſwered at once, O yes—Whereupon I took the Liberty to addreſs my⯑ſelf particularly to Mrs. Diſcount, and deſired to know, [219]whether ſhe did not think her a very fine Woman?— ‘A fine Woman, Mr. Ranger, replied ſhe, how can you aſk me ſuch a Queſtion? To be ſure, ſhe is a ſhowy Woman, and ſuch a one as takes with the Men; but you can't call her a fine Woman ſurely. —Then, ſhe wears her Cap ſo horridly; and al⯑ways overdreſſes herſelf—The Gentlemen, I know, admire her, but I proteſt I cannot ſee for what."— Madam, replied I, I muſt beg Leave to be of a dif⯑ferent Opinion; in my Eyes, Mrs. Brillant appears a very amiable Woman, and it gives me a great deal of Pleaſure, that ſhe is ſo happily married."— O indeed, ſays Miſs Diſcount, I believe ſhe is very happy, for ſhe has a very handſome Equipage, and a ſweet Pair of Ear-rings; and then ſhe ſees a vaſt deal of Company—There were ninety Perſons at her laſt Rout—She plays Crown-Whiſt’—

I could not forbear obſerving, that I was a little ſur⯑prized, ſo diſcerning a young Lady ſhould eſtimate Mrs. Brillant's Happineſs from the Stake ſhe played for at Whiſt, when to me it appeared, that ſhe poſſeſſed a a more certain Source of Felicity, in the amiable Qua⯑lities and polite Accompliſhments of her Huſband— ‘O law! that's true, replied the Ladies, they ſay her Huſband too is a pretty Man.’

We were proceeding farther on this Head, when a thundering Rap was given at the Door, and the Ser⯑vant ſignified, that Lady Portſoken was coming into the Room. As I thought I had paid a Viſit of a ſufficient Length, I took Advantage of the Alarm given by this City Knight's Lady, and withdrew unnoticed.

In my return Home, I could not avoid reflecting on the capricious Notions the female World entertain of Happineſs.

To be dreſſed as well as others of the ſame Rank; to be preſent at all public Places, without conſidering the Entertainment in any other Light, than as the Means [220]of bringing Company together; to viſit, and be viſited by every one, whom they think it of Conſequence to ſalute at the Playhouſe; to live (if it may be called liv⯑ing) in a perpetual Courſe of Card-playing; and, to ſum up the whole, to be married to a Man of any Age, Figure or Qualities whatſoever, capable and willing to ſupport all this, in the Opinion of Ninety-nine Females in a Hundred, conſtitutes a happy Woman. I ſhould be perhaps cenſured as a Pedant, if I offended the De⯑licacy of my female Readers, with obſerving, that they degrade the Faculties of the human Soul, by confining the Exerciſe of them within ſuch a Circle of Trifles; but I hope I may be allowed Leave to refer them to the Spectator, where they will learn from the elegant Mr. Addiſon, that the ſtrongeſt Argument, which can be advanced for the Immortality of the Soul, is, the con⯑tinual Progreſs of the Mind in the Acquiſition of Know⯑ledge.

Now, I would ſubmit it to the Candor of my fair Countrywomen, whether their Conduct does not ſubvert the Principles, upon which this polite Philoſopher Reaſons; and tend to eſtabliſh the Mahometan Doc⯑trine, that the Souls of Women are mortal.

Should this Turkiſh Tenet ever prevail among us, dreadful will be the Conſequences. How will it be poſ⯑ſible for an Engliſh Lady to content herſelf with the fourth Part of a Huſband? And what a melancholy Tranſition will it be, from the Liberties at preſent in⯑dalged to Britiſh Wives, to the Confinement and Hor⯑rors of a Seraglio?—

I could add much more on this Subject, but I am aware, that my pretty Readers are prepared with a con⯑cluſive Anſwer to whatever can be advanced—Well; you may ſay what you will, but People will do as they like, for all that—The Force of which I readily acknow⯑ledge, and, as becomes me, lay by the Pen.

I HAVE of late received ſeveral very ur⯑gent Letters from my Correſpondents, in which they ſtrenuouſly preſs me into the Service of my Country; and though I have always diſclaimed Politics, as a Subject averſe from my Inclinations, theſe Gentlemen are for making a Stateſ⯑man of me in my own Deſpite. I muſt own, I am not willing to be thrown off my Byaſs, but when the Act of Parliament in favour of the Jews engroſſes ſo much of our Converſation, and has worked all our Spi⯑rits into a Ferment, it then becomes the Duty of a Pub⯑lick Writer, to make his Bow to the Muſes, and devote one Lucubration to the Happineſs and Welfare of his Countrymen.

The Engliſh have naturally interwoven in their Con⯑ſtitution a peculiar Kind of national Self-Love, and the leaſt Attempt to diſpenſe a Favour to Foreigners a⯑larms their Fears, and awakens that Jealouſy which is natural to their very Frame. It is to this we owe the general Diſcontent, which has broke out among all Ranks of People upon the late Occaſion; but that it is owing to a miſtaken Prejudice, I believe, will be manifeſt to any Man that does not ſee Things with the Jaundiced Fye of Party.

It has been ſaid, that by this Act we give the Lie to the Scripture, and fly in the Face of a peremptory Pro⯑phecy, [223]which declares, that the Jews ſhould be with⯑out a fixed Scttlement in any Country, a vagabond Race upon the Face of the Earth. There was a Time when this Objection might be allowed to carry with it ſome Degree of Weight; while Chriſtianity ſubſiſted in this Kingdom, it would have been the groſſeſt Abſurdity to introduce a Bill of this Nature.

But the Chriſtian Diſpenſation has entirely diſap⯑peared from among us, and I believe, in the Memory of the oldeſt Perſon now living no Trace of it can be found; which is, in my Opinion, a concluſive Argu⯑ment in Favour of this Naturalization Act. Were it any Way inconſiſtent with the Religion now in Faſhion, I perſuade myſelf, it would have met with Oppoſition from a certain Bench in the H — of L —; but as nothing of this Kind was offered, it is to be preſumed, that Judaiſm properly coincides with our preſent Diſ⯑poſition both in Church and State; and I would there⯑fore recommend this Doctrine to be preached from the Pulpit, for the better quieting the Minds of Men; and if the Right Reverends would iſſue out Paſtoral Let⯑ters to this Purpoſe, the Remedy would be quicker in its Operation, and the miſtaken Notions, which the common People have imbibed, would the ſooner be effaced.

About three Weeks ſince I had Occaſion to take a Boat at Whitehall Stairs, in order to go a little Way down the River. We no ſooner put off from Shore, than I perceived the Waterman to be a very ſenſible Fellow, and particularly knowing in Politics. I there⯑fore gave him an Opportunity of diſcovering his Senti⯑ments on the Bill in Queſtion, and he diſcuſſed it with great Strength of Lungs, and Vehemence of Obſerva⯑tion, ‘D—mn the circumciſed Dogs, ſays he, now they are naturalized, I'll engage we ſhall have them all turn Watermen, and they will have all the Buſineſs of the River to themſelves.’—This Story (which [224]is really a Matter of Fact) will ſhew what Prejudices are entertained by the common People, who have raiſed the violent Clamour againſt the Iſraelites on this Occa⯑ſion; and hence may be inferred that Wiſdom doth not always cry out in the Streets. For my Part, I am perſuaded, when Things are conſidered diſpaſſionately, the Act will bear a different Aſpect in the Eyes of all Men of Senſe. For who have been ſerved by it? Not the poor Jews, who are ſtill leſt under the Severity de⯑nounced againſt them, but the rich, who are by this Stroke reſcued from Heaven's Vengeance; and this Regard to the Affluent, and Contempt for the Money⯑leſs, I take to be perfectly conſiſtent with the Genius of a trading Nation; and I am of Opinion that from this Incident, a very uſeful Moral may be enforced, viz. that Money cannot only influence ſublunary Things, but alſo ſuperſede the Decrees of Providence; and as I think this Act has given the Nation in general a very great Acceſſion of Credit, Reputation, Honour, and Riches, I ſhould be glad to ſee a further Step taken, in order to render the Work complete. I have not had Time to digeſt my Thoughts into a regular Scheme, and ſhall therefore content myſelf to ſuggeſt a few Hints, which may be improved at Maturity.

Firſt, As it is apparent from what has been ob⯑ſerved already, that the Chriſtian Religion has no longer a Footing in this Country, it may not be improper to repeal the ſacramental Teſt, and to ſubſtitute in its Room the Act of Circumciſion; for which Purpoſe pro⯑per Circumciſers may be found in Duke's-Place, who ſhall perform the Operation upon all our Placemen; and a proper Number may be choſen out of a certain venerable Body, in the Nature of a Jury of Matrons, to examine whether the Perſon be qualified according to Law.

Secondly, As the Jews are known to be poſſeſſed of over-grown Riches, and as no Lottery can be vigorouſly carried on without their Concurrence, whenever Sir [225] John Barnard, or any Patriot inclinable to Chriſtianity, ſhall deviſe a Scheme to prevent Impoſitions from Stock-Jobbers, it will be adviſeable to let nobody into the Subſcription but the above-mentioned Jews, who certainly cannot grow too rich, as our Regard for them will increaſe in Proportion to their Pelf.

Thirdly, I am of Opinion, that it is prejudicial to this Kingdom to exclude the ſaid Jews from Employments Civil and Military, becauſe, as they have no other Coun⯑try of their own, it is highly probable, that they will love England, (or Judaea Nova) with an Exceſs of Zeal; and if they were appointed to ſupply our Army and Navy with Proviſions upon all Emergencies, it will cer⯑tainly be perfectly agreeable to the Taſte of our Sol⯑diery and our Mariners to be fed with Beef cured by a Jew Butcher. Aboard the Fleet particularly, it will in⯑fallibly be pleaſing to have a Meſs of Beef with a Label of ſtamped Lead upon it, to convince the Men that it has been duly cured. And further, inſtead of making Men of Merit Knights of the Bath, or promoting them to ſuch like Honours, ſuppoſe they were to be diſtinguiſhed (Secundum ordinem Melchizedec,) by the Or⯑der of Melchizedec, it would not be an improper Inſtitu⯑tion. But this I ſubmit to better Judgments.

Fourthly and Laſtly,— I humbly propoſe, that an Army may be ſpeedily raiſed for the Retaking Jeruſa⯑lem, which happy Event would enable our good Friends and now Countrymen the Iſraelites, to rebuild their Temple; by which Means they would entirely over⯑turn the only Obſtacle which now remains, towards diſſipating thoſe Errors, which have miſguided People theſe ſeventeen Hundred fifty three Years paſt. And I hope, the bad Succeſs of that great Man Julian the Apo⯑ſtate, who was defeated, by the Interpoſition of Heaven, in an Attempt of this Kind, will be no Diſcourage⯑ment.

THERE is nothing more common than to hear it deciſively pronounced in Converſa⯑tion, that Mr. Such-a-one is a Man of very good Senſe; or, on the Reverſe, that he has not common Senſe; and yet, notwithſtanding the frequent Uſage of this Phraſe, I will [...]e upon me to ſay, there is not a Term in the Engliſh Language ſo little underſtood, or made uſe of in ſo many vague-Sig⯑nifications. The Cauſe of this Variety of Conception is to be imputed to the various Lot of human Life, in which moſt People derive their Stock of Ideas from the Occupation they have been accidentally thrown into; from whence they acquire ſuch confined Habits of thinking, that they have no Power of Reflection out of the beaten Path, and moſt Things are by them deter⯑mined, [228]according to their partial Survey of Men and Manners.

I have ſomewhere read of a People reſiding in a ſmall Town, ſituate in the Midſt of the Alps, with whom the principal Conſtituent of Beauty is a ſwelling Prominence of Fleſh in the Throat, by them called a Gother; and it is recorded, that, when when an Engliſh Gentleman, remarkable for all the Graces of manly Beauty, was paſſing by on his Travels to Italy, theſe Virtuoſos obſerved, that he was of an elegant Form, and would really be very handſome, if had but a Gother. In like Manner, we daily meet with as notable Opinions relating to the Intellects of our Neighbours. I remem⯑ber myſelf to have heard a Perſon of excellent Parts condemned for a Blockhead, becauſe he never won an odd Trick at Whiſt; and I have known another ac⯑counted a Man of the beſt Senſe in England, becauſe he was a great Dab at the Multipllcation Table, and had got over Euclid's Pons Aſinorum. A Knack of Rhyming hath given an Air of Importance to a Verſe maker, and the Acquirement of a Fortune is a Rule from which there can be no Appeal. Some Degree of Luck in this Way is ſufficent to dub any one, SENSIBLE, WITTY, POLITE, GOOD-NATURED, and what not? Riches be⯑ing in this Inſtance like Tar-water, not only ſerving as an excellent Alterative againſt all noxious Particles in the Conſtitution, but alſo conferring every good Qua⯑lity under the Sun. It is to this Principle that we owe the EMINENT Cheeſemonger, the EMINENT Tallow-Chandler, the EMINENT Haberdaſher of Small-ware, the EMINENT Needlemaker, the EMINENT Pawnbroker, and a thouſand other Degrees of EMINENCE, which it would be too tedious to enumerate at preſent.

There is a Paſſage in the Characters of the famous La Bruyere, which it may not be improper to cite on the preſent Occaſion. ‘FAUSTE eſt un diſſolu, un prodigue, un libertin, un ingrat, un emporté, qu'AURELE ſon oncle [229]n'a pu hair ni deſheriter. FRONTIN, neveu d'AURELE, après vingt aitnées d'une probité connue, & d'une complai⯑ſance aveugle pour ce vieillard, ne l'a pu flechir en ſa faveur; & ne tire de ſa depouille qu'une legere Penſion, que FAUSTE unique legataire lui doit payer." "Fauſtus, ſays the great Writer juſt mentioned, is diſſolute in his Man⯑ners, profuſe in his Expences, a Libertine, an Ingrate, a Slave to his Paſſions, and yet his Uncle Aurelius could never conceive a Diſlike to him, nor diſinherit him in his Will. Frontinus, Nephew to Aurelius, has given Proofs of his Probity and reſpectful Attention to the old Gentleman, during a Series of twenty Years, and yet never could impreſs upon his Mind one Sen⯑timent in his Favour; and now he lives upon a ſcanty Annuity, which is paid to him by Fauſius, ſole Le⯑gatee to Aurelius.’

This Extract, I apprehend, may ſerve to convince the Reader, that Fortune is but an erroneous Rule, by which to judge of a Character. As I conceive it, the Term Senſe is derived from the Organs of bodily Senſation, which, when in due Order, give to the Mind an immediate Information of the Qualities in⯑herent in natural Bodies; from thence the Phraſe is transſferred to the human Mind, and denotes a quick Power of Perception in the Underſtanding upon all Oc⯑currences in Life. Were I to define a Man of Senſe, I ſhould call him a Perſon of clear Apprehenſion and ſound Judgment; Talents, which a ſmall Degree of Obſervation will convince us, many are poſſeſſed of, though they do not upon all Occaſions avail themſelves of them; but, on the contrary, let them lie dormant in their Minds, without calling them forth into Action. The late Sir Richard Steel, I believe, may be allowed to have enjoyed as ſtrong Intellectuals as any Cit what⯑ever, and yet in pecuniary Matters his Conduct was highly negligent. It is ſaid of this Gentleman, that going one Day into his Chariot, with an intimate [230]Friend, whom he had invited to his Country-Houſe, as he paſſed through a Lane of his Servants, who had drawn themſelves up in the Hall, the humorous Knight, looking over his Shoulder at his Acquaintance, plea⯑ſantly repeated from Horace, ‘Mancipiis locuples eget aeris Cappadocum Rex.’ ‘The King of Cappadocia is well provided with Ser⯑vants, but wants Money.’ From this it will appear, what Degree of Regard that Genius had for yellow Dirt, which, though a Neceſſary of Life, is certainly incapable of conferring one ſingle Accompliſhment either to the Head or Heart, and is generally the Acquiſition of the Dulleſt of human Race.

Certain it is, that to create a Fortune in the ordinary Paths of Buſineſs, is ſo far from requiring Wit, Genius, Learning, Imagination, Invention, or any liberal Fa⯑culty, that every one of thoſe Attributes have rather a Tendency to keep the Poſſeſſor of them ſtill the poorer, "as Heaven's bleſt Beams turns Vinegar more ſour." An eager Love of Pelf, a narrow Attention to what is called the main Chance, a Spice of that Clergyman's Way of thinking who delivered in his Sermon that "a Shilling is a ſerious Thing," and a cold, languid, unimpaſſioned Temper, are the principal Ingredients in the Compoſition of the Man of Buſineſs; while Per⯑ſons of quick Underſtanding will always have lively Senſations, which muſt, at Times, hurry them in⯑to Scenes of Action aſtoniſhing to the ſober Shop⯑keeper, or the ſedate Book-keeper; but it ſhould be remembered, that Paſſions are the Gales of Life, and that to be diveſted of them, is ſo far from denoting a ſenſible Mind, that it is a Proof of lamentable Dullneſs [231]and Stupidity. I ſhall conclude this Paper with two ſhort Characters drawn from real Life.

Avarus was bound to a Trade at fourteen. Years of Age; he cleaned his Maſter's Shoes, laid under the Counter, ſwept the Shop, ſcraped the Threſhold, mount⯑ed on the Leads to clean the Gutter, went regularly to the Poſt-Office with Letters, was perfectly well verſed in the Rule of Three, and had the Merchant's Direc⯑tory by Heart. On Sundays he would take a ſober Walk to Iſlington, Newington, Paddington, &c. and, when a Frolic ſeized him, he would, in the Fulneſs of his Soul, ſpend his Threepence at Jenny's Whim. As he grew up, he became a downright Stoic in the Government of his Paſſions, to ſuch a Degree, that he was thought at length totally to have extinguiſhed them all, except his darling Love of Money, which has never ceaſed to influence his Thoughts. In ſhort, Avarus has been ſo attentive to the main Chance, that he is now flouriſhing and ſtarving with a large Fortune; is determined to ſell his Vote at the next Election, and is likely in Time to be made Sheriff of London.

Liberalis was bred at Weſtminſter School, where he was always famous for a keen Turn at an Epigram, and, when removed to the Univerſity, he was thought to have car⯑ried with him a great Knowledge of Greek and Latin. While at Oxford he enlarged his Mind with uſeful Stu⯑dies, and cultivated a juſt and elegant Taſte for all po⯑lite Literature. Being turned of One and twenty, he entered himſelf in the Temple, where he read the Law with ſufficient Application; but, in order to unbend his Mind, he was frequently found dipping into Shake⯑ſpear; and it has been ſaid by his Enemies, that he never would entirely diveſt himſelf of an Attachment to the Belles Lettres. I have ſomewhere ſeen it remarked, that a Taſte in Reading is apt to infuſe the ſame in Morals; which Obſervation proved fatally true to Liberalis, and in Conſequence of this Turn of Mind, he could never [232]prevail on himſelf to fall into any mean Practices, by which Conduct he ſoon found himſelf deſerted by his Clients, and neglected by the Attorneys; and he now remains unſought in his Chambers, in the high Road to Poverty; in which, agreeably to the Way of the World, we will leave him to himſelf, and lay down the Pen.

UPON going into the Bedford Coffee-houſe a few Days ſince, I found my Friend Wild⯑air in a Circle of his Acquaintance; he was talking over the ſeveral Occurrences he had met with in his Rambles after Intelligence that Day; and, as he has a peculiar Dexterity in dreſſing up a Story in all its moſt ſtriking Colours, without falling into a tedious minute Detail of trivial Circum⯑ſtances, he touched upon many Incidents in a Manner ſo diverting, that he excited a general Mirth in the little Audience that was gathered round him. Wildair, to ſpeak the Truth, has ſomething extremely captivating in his Converſation, and is, of all the Men I know, the beſt turned for Society. Though a Fellow of Parts, he has never ſuffered his Spirits to ſubſide into a ſe⯑rious Habit of thinking, but, in a ſuperficial Way, glides over every Thing that offers in Company; no Subject comes amiſs to him, and be it what it will, he has al⯑ways ſomething to ſay for himſelf; which Circumſtance, joined to a ſprightly Delivery, contributes greatly to enliven his Company. He frequently rallies a Gentle⯑man of our intimate Acquaintance on this Head, and will tell him frankly, ‘I know, Jack, you are a ſen⯑ſible Fellow in the main, but as you manage Mat⯑ters, your Friends muſt ſtudy hard to find it out;— [234]take my Word for it, the World is very ſuperficial, and a Facility of diſmiſſing every Subject in a briſk Manner, will make a Perſon paſs for a Knowing one, at the ſame Time that it renders him ſociable, and of courſe agreeable.’

This is my worthy Friend Wildair's Way of thinking, and upon this Plan he acquits himſelf ſo well, that he is extremely ſought by his Acquaintance, and when⯑ever they lay hold of him, it is difficult for him to elude their Solicitations for a Party of Pleaſure. This was the Caſe with him the other Night, and as I was pay⯑ing my Debt at the Bar, he made up to me, and with a Whiſper told me, That if I would make one of the Company, it would furniſh me with Hints for ſome future Eſſay. In vain I reminded him that it was Club Night, and his Turn to poſſeſs the Chair; this Party, he aſſured me, would afford higher Entertain⯑ment. I yielded to his Sollicitations, and I muſt ſay, that my Manner of ſpending the Evening has ſupplied me with Materials, the like of which never came in my Way before.

Before I proceed farther into the Buſineſs, it may not be improper, in Imitation of the Writers for the Stage, to give a Degree of Inſight into the Characters of the Dramatis Perſonae. The Reader is already ac⯑quainted with my Diſpoſition and Way of thinking, and he alſo knows Mr. Wildair. The reſt of the Com⯑pany conſiſted of a MAN OF WIT, a MAN OF HUMOUR, a DAMN'D HONEST FELLOW, and a Perſon of a very elegant Appearance, a cool ſedate Temper, and ex⯑tremely decent and polite in his Deportment. With this Set, I ſhifted the Scene from the Bedford to the Shakeſpear's-Head, and upon entering the Tavern, the HONEST FELLOW alarmed the Houſe, by calling for a Room with great Vociferation; which being ſhewed to us with the utmoſt Attention, he ordered a Brace of Bottles of the right Sort, immediately filled a Round [235]of Bumpers, and roared out, "Come let's be jolly, Ranger,"—"d—mn your muſty Books"—‘let's ſit down.’—This I had no Objection to; but as I was attempting to do it, the MAN OF HUMOUR, with infinite Pleaſantry, removed the Chair that was placed for me; the Conſequence of which was, that, to the great Surprize of the whole Company, I was brought to the Ground. As I received a Contuſion in the Fall, I could not entirely reliſh the Joke, but it gave infinite Satisfaction to almoſt all the reſt, and they agreed, that it really was a very good Thing, as good a Thing as ever they had known: "Immenſe, by G—d," ſays the HONEST FELLOW, "a glorious Hum," ſays the WIT; while my humorous Friend, with a dry Compoſure of Countenance, denoting ſomething between Jeſt and Earneſt, begged my Pardon, and then officiouſly offered to ſettle my Wig; and this he did in ſuch a facetious Po⯑ſition, and ſuch a whimſical Stare of the Curls, that thence was deducible a new Flow of Mirth, which, amidſt the Burſts of Joy that ſtunned my Ears, he enjoyed in a ſober Manner, Humour being ever grave and ſedate. Wildair perceiving by this Time, that I did not approve my Com⯑pany, came over to me, and begged I would ſee it out, and ſqueezing my Hand, he added from Virgil, ‘Forſan & haec olim meminiſſe juvabit.’

This had ſo much Prevalence with me, that I agreed, and the HONEST FELLOW ſhewed away egregiouſly. The Bottle went round at ſo briſk a Rate, that my Eyes began to dance in my Head like Wild-fire. By all that's Burgundy, ſays he, ‘Harris is the beſt Pimp in England,—Here Waiter, call Harris (Enter Harris) —Harris, d—mn your old Soul, get us a fine Girl"—"There's a fine Girl pleaſe your Honour at a Place I know,—no body has ſeen her but Lord Shallow, and myſelf—and there's Betty Connor, [236]juſt arrived from Dublin—'Squire M'Hazard brought her with him; ſhe has fine Fleſh and Blood, pleaſe your Honour,—moſt of the Iriſh Wenches have, pleaſe your Honour,—and if your Honour chuſes it, I fancy I have a Bait will bring her out.’— This Propoſal was univerſally received, and in a ſhort Time the Lady was uſhered into the Room, not with⯑out ſome Glances mutually interchanged between her and Harris.

The MAN OF HUMOUR and the WIT immediately began to play her off, as they called it—But, as it is a Rule among good Writers, never to enlarge too much upon any Subject, and to leave ſomething for the Imagination of the Reader to ſupply, I ſhall upon this Occaſion conform to the Precept; and will only add, that the Lady, in the Space of about half an Hour, drank and ſung, and laughed and cried, and danced and ſat, and talked and ſaid nothing, with the moſt ſur⯑prizing Quickneſs in the Viciſſitude, till at length, the HONEST FELLOW ſwore that ſhe ſpoiled good Fellow⯑ſhip, and-abruptly deſired her to take half a Guinea at the Bar and withdraw, which Madam performed after ſeveral Te hes and Titters.

This Matter being ſettled, we were ſuddenly ſurprized with the moſt enlivening Melody, accompanied by a ſprightly Voice, that plainly and muſically articulated, Non, toujours dire non, &c. It ſeems, one of thoſe fair Natives of Savoy, who are good-natured enough to un⯑dergo the Fatigue of a long Journey, in order to make our Public Streets harmonious, was placed in the Yard, with private Inſtructions to entertain us with the vocal and inſtrumental Strain. By this our Spirits received a freſh Reinforcement, and the MAN OF WIT immediately threw his Wig out of the Window, bounced over the Table, broke ſeveral Bottles and Glaſſes, and alarmed me with a moſt intolerable Rap on the Shoulders. The [237]MAN OF HUMOUR expreſſed his Approbation with a dry Joke; the HONEST FELLOW puſhed the Burgundy about, and the decent Gentleman, whom the Reader will recollect I mentioned in the Beginning of this Paper, ſmiled with the moſt winning Complacence. This Perſonage has hitherto made no Figure in this Sympoſium; the Fact is, he did not drink above ſix Glaſſes of Wine during the whole Night; but now his Heart ſeemed to dilate, his Eyes ſparkled with the moſt vivid Luſtre, and in the Chearfulneſs of his Soul, he held out his Fiſt to the Company, and, ‘Come, ſays he, Odd or Even for this little Silver.’ The Spirits of almoſt every one preſent were ready to flow into any Channel, and Gaming became the general Amuſement. Cards were immediately rung for to play at Brag, and after a few Rounds, the ELEGANT POLITE MAN pro⯑duced a Box and Dice out of his Pocket, and I believe he will hardly forgive me for deſiring a Bill at Five in the Morning, as he was in a tolerable Run, and had picked up about ſeventy Pounds. However, with ſome Reluctance, he condeſcended to collect the Reckon⯑ing, which, as ſoon as every Body paid his Proportion, he carefully put into his Pocket, and deſired his Friend Tomkyns to place the whole to his Account.

This being adjuſted, in order to compleat this Even⯑ing the MAN OF HUMOUR propoſed a Scheme, which, he ſaid, would afford more Pleaſantry than he had ever known. ‘It-is, ſays he, the luckieſt Thought in the World—a better—ne—never—enter —ed—into a—Man's—He—ad—let us tofs up, who ſhall—be—th—thrown—out of—the Window, for the frol—frolick ſake.’—I was very much averſe from this Piece of Merriment, but being over-ruled by the Company, it was immediately done, and the Lot fell to my Friend Wildair, who was inſtantly ſurrounded, and the HONEST FELLOW opened the Window, not without violent Roaring, while the [238]DECENT MAN ſtill continued at the Table, throwing the Dice, and ſaying to himſelf, "Seven's the Main." I really believe, the Coroner's Inqueſt would have ſat on Wildair's Body at Ten o'Clock in the Morning, had not the timely Interpoſition of ſober Entreaty begged him off.

Upon this I made my Eſcape, and I do not know when I ſpent an Evening in a Manner that has given me ſuch Reflections. The MAN OF WIT, I ſuppoſe, has acquired his Notions of Things from Sir Richard Blackmore, who tells us, that Wit conſiſts in regular and exalted Ferments; or from Mr. Dennis, who defines it, a Motion of furious Joy and Pride of Soul upon Con⯑ception of an Hint; for indeed, this Gentleman has certainly very exalted Ferments, and moſt ſurprizing Motions upon the Conception of his Hints. I ſhall take Occaſion in ſome enſuing Eſſay, to undeceive him, by giving the Ideas I have formed to myſelf of the Talent he profeſſes; and in my next Lucubration I ſhall endeavour to convince the MAN OF HUMOUR, that he is wide of the Character he would be thought to poſſeſs. As HUMOUR is a Subject of ſome Diffi⯑culty, I ſhall endeavour to treat it with Perſpicuity, and I beforehand beg ſome Mercy of the Critics.

IT has been long ſince recommended to the Tribe of Criticks, to adjuſt and ſettle their Ideas, in a clear and regular Order, by fixing the diſtinct Meaning annexed to each Term they make uſe of in conveying their Re⯑marks. If this Advice was properly adhered to, it would cut Matters very ſhort in all Debates, which ariſe upon Points of Literature; and would enable thoſe, who aſpire to the Province of Criticiſm, to paſs their Judgment with Preciſion. But the Reverſe of this is fre⯑quently the Caſe, and I ſhall at preſent ſingle out two Expreſſions, from a Multitude of others, which appear to me to be uſed in a vague, random Manner, the determinate Meaning of either not being ſufficiently aſcertained.

The Terms, I mean, are an HUMOURIST and a MAN OF HUMOUR. They are thought, by what I find, ſynonymous by many People, which muſt be the Source of numberleſs Miſtakes. To define each, may be, perhaps, Matter of ſome Difficulty; but if I un⯑derſtand them right, the Reader is welcome to what Light I can give him into the Matter.

An HUMOURIST, I take to be, one under the In⯑fluence of ſome remarkable Oddity, or unaccountable Whim, which has taken ſuch ſtrong Poſſeſſion of the [241]Mind, and has ſo inſinuated itſelf into all its Ope⯑rations, that it mixes with the common Train of his Ideas, and thereby gives ſuch a Caſt to his Way of thinking, that every Thing ſtrikes him in a different Light from the reſt of his Fellow-Creatures, and of Conſequence, every Thing he does, is alſo in an ex⯑travagant Manner.

I have not been able to inveſtigate, in any Hiſtorian, the firſt Appearance of this Species of Men in this King⯑dom. Whether it was in the Nature of the Aborigines, or firſt Inhabitants of this Iſland; or whether it made its Inroad among us, with that general Conflux of dif⯑ferent Nations, which landed here, is a Point not very eaſy to determine. One Thing is clear, that they are of a long Standing among us, and indeed they thrive with ſuch large Increaſe in this our Soil, that there is room to apprehend, the whole Nation will ſhortly be⯑come a Nation of odd Fellows.

Beſides the many Extravagancies, which this Set of Men are addicted to, they have all a ſtrange Notion, that they muſt have their own Way. Mr. Congreve has obſerved, that there is a Proverb by which they are, in a great Meaſure, governed. He that will have a May-pole, ſhall have a May-pole. They are entirely attached to the Gratification of their own particular Bent; their Imaginations have contracted ſuch whimſi⯑cal Habits, that they ſee Things through a Medium, to which Men of a more reaſonable Turn, are Stran⯑gers; and thence it reſults, that wild and fantaſtick Opinions are delivered upon all Topics, and their Con⯑duct is nothing but a Series of Inconſiſtencies.

The Perſon, who falls into this Way of thinking, is properly ſpeaking an HUMOURIST, and Quidquid vult, valde vult, ſhould be the Motto of every one of them; they being all inflexible in Purſuit of their Inclinations. It is a trite Remark, that the Spirit of Liberty and In⯑dependency, which is diffuſed throughout this Kingdom, [242]contrioutes very much to feed this odd Turn, and to promote its Growth. I have mixed frequently in the Meetings of Humouriſts, in order to animadvert upon their Ways; and have always obſerved, that none of them will ſuffer themſelves to be controuled, for this exceilent Reaſon; becauſe, ‘D—mn my Blood, I can club my Reckoning as well as any Man, and I have been an Houſe-keeper, Man and Boy theſe thirty or forty Years; and I pay my Rent, and ſo a Fig for King G—.’—Thus, while the HUMOURIST has his Property ſecured to him, by the ſalutary Laws of our noble Conſtitution, he will enjoy his Independency; to give a Proof of which, he thinks it eſſential to have a Value for no Man; and to pleaſe himſelf, though at the Expence of his Company, is his darling Delight.

It is to the Obſervation of theſe Oddities, that we owe the MAN OF HUMOUR; and hence is deducible a Definition, or rather Deſcription of his Character. He is one who Eyes Natures Walks, as Mr. Pope ſinely phraſes it, and catches the Manners living, as they riſe. He ſees the Pololes, which have taken Root in the Man, and the many motly Circumſtances, which adhere to him. He looks, as it were, into his very mind, per⯑ceives there the Jaundice, through which every Thing pa [...]es; and from whence all Objects derive their Hue; he ſees the Imagination tinged with this ſtrange Dye, and all the Affections of the Soul diſcoloured by it. He views ſuch Traces formed in his Brain, that it is ren⯑dered quite different, from that of any other human Creature; and thus the MAN OF HUMOUR perceives the ſecret and internal Springs of Action, which lead on the HUMOURIST; he cannot help ſmiling to ſee the Operations of his Soul ſo extravagant, and be⯑ing acquainted with the latent Cauſe of thoſe odd Ap⯑pearances which diſcloſe themſelves upon all Occaſions, he afterwards repreſents them to the World in true and lively Colours.

[243]Thus may the two Characters in Queſtion, be de⯑ſcribed, though they have been ſo much miſtaken by many People. The Confuſion, I apprehend, is owing to the vague Uſe of the Word HUMOUR, which is pro⯑miſcuouſly applied to both. It is common to ſay of the HUMOURIST, he has his Humour, or it is his Humour, and of the humourous Man, we aſſert, that he has a great Fund of Humour. In both Caſes, the Phraſe car⯑ries with ta different Senſe, denoting in the former In⯑ſtance, the Foible or Whim, which operates upon the Man's Conduct, and in the latter ſignifying that Plea⯑ſantry, which repreſents the odd Fellow in a diverting Light. The Poverty of our Language has introduced this ambiguous Uſe of the Word, but if People would be carefur to acquire Perſpicuity in their Ideas, and the Terms they expreſs them by, it would prevent much Perplexity and Confuſion.

For Inſtance, it would be abſurd in any Critic, to call the inimitable Mr. Fielding an HUMOURIST, but he who would pronounce him to be a Man of exquiſite Humour, would, I believe, expreſs ſomething more pertinent to the Point. In like Manner, Mr Hogarth has exhibited in his Pieces, with the moſt maſterly Strokes of his Pencil, an whole Set of Humouriſts, and the ingenious Artiſt, who thus enchant our Eye, is un⯑doubtedly a MAN OF HUMOUR.

There is another Cauſe, to which, in my Opinion, this Miſtake has been greatly owing; it frequently hap⯑pens, that a MAN OF HUMOUR, is at the ſame Time in ſome Meaſure, an HUMOURIST himſelf. Theſe two Characters, thus blended together, have often a very happy Effect, and ſerve to heighten each other. This we Experience in Shaieſpear's Falſtaff, in whom we find united in a pleaſing Aſſemblage, the mixed Qua⯑lities of theſe two different Characters. Sir John's Love of Plunder, his Pretenſions to Deeds of Hardineſs; his Averſion to Cowards, and his moralizing on the Man⯑ners [244]of the Age, cannot but appear whimſical, when we conſider, that he is ſitter to drink Sack and un⯑button him after Dinner, than to attempt Feats of Proweſs, that he is an accompliſhed Coward in his Heart, and that his Way of Life is quite abandoned and diſſolute. Theſe are the Circumſtances, which de⯑note him an odd Fellow, but his quick Perception of the Foibles of his Neighbours, and his Vivacity in ex⯑hibiting them in a ridiculous Point of View, are the Qualities which conſtitute him a MAN OF HUMOUR. This laſt Circumſtance, I apprehend, makes Sir John, a Favourite with every Body, and endears him to all the Sons of Merriment; and in this, if I miſtake not, lies the chief Difference between Shakeſpear and Ben Johaſon. The Characters produced by the latter, are always diſagreeably odd; their Whims are ſo ex⯑travagant, that they ſometimes deſerve rather the Name of Madmen, and there is hardly any Thing in any of them, that would induce a Gentleman to ſpend an Even⯑ing with them.

It requires a cloſe Knowledge of the World, to ex⯑hibit Perſonages of this Caſt on the Stage. Every Idea that riſes in the Mind of an odd Fellow, his va⯑rious Ways of Thinking and Inconſiſtencies, muſt be the conſtant Object of the Poets Attention, and he muſt be careful to give to each his ſpecific Language. The Player muſt not only be acquainted with the human Heart, and human Underſtanding; but he has alſo a farther Step to take. He muſt Watch the HUMOURIST in every Circumſtance; his Manner of Delivery, his Tone of Voice, the Caſt of his Eye, his every Geſture and Attitude muſt fall immediately under his Inſpec⯑tion; and to all this, he muſt add, the rare Talent of concealing his Art.

In this Point, I am apt to think, Mr. Woodward, ex⯑cellent as he is, from an Over-warmth of Spirit, ſometimes deficient. I would ſubmit it to himſelf, whether his Feel⯑ing [245]of the Whimſies of ſome Characters is not now and then too lively, and whether his Senſations do not carry him ſo far in ſome Paſſages, as to make it viſible, that he is conſcious of the Oddity of the Appearance, even while he is perſonating the Man?—His Bobadil is one of the Exceptions to this Remark, and his not permit⯑ting his Fancy to run into Riots in that Part, has ſo ſine an Effect, that I am perſuaded, were healways equally upon his Guard, his greateſt Enemy would have nothing to do but to admire him.

Whoever has ſeen Mrs. Pritchard in Beatrice, in Maria, in Clarinda, &c. will recollect ſuch lively and acknow⯑ledged Touches of Nature as can hardly be equalled, unleſs the Pleaſantry of Mrs. Clive in her very humourous Walk of Comedy, may be deemed to rival them.

I cannot conclude without Mention of Mr. Garrick, who is certainly admirable in every Species of acting. In Tragedy, his Power over the Paſſions is too well known, to be here inſiſted on, and in Comedy, every Thing is impreſſed by him on his Audience with the niceſt Skill, and in ſuch Parts as Benedict and Sir John Brute, he is at once an Humouriſt and a Man of Humour with the moſt diverting Pleaſantry. I ſhall diſmiſs this Paper, after applying the Words of Mr. Pope on this Occaſion. "He is not more a Maſter of ‘the great, than of the ridiculous in human Nature; of our nobleſt Tenderneſſes, than of our vaineſt Foibles; of our ſtrongeſt Emotions, than of our idleſt Senſations.’

AS I was looking over my Regiſter Book, the other Morning, in order to ſelect pro⯑per Articles of Intelligence for the En⯑tertainment of my Readers, a tall thin viſaged Man flung open my Room-Door, and with ſome Earneſtneſs begged he might have half an Hour's Converſation with me. As I could perceive a lively Expreſſion of ſome important meaning in his Coun⯑tenance, I deſired him to ſit down, which he accordingly did, and then, without further Ceremony, entered into the Matter. He informed me that he was born in the Highlands of Scotland; that he had lived there almoſt all his Life, and that he is bleſſed with the Faculty of a [247]ſecond Sight. By this Power, he told me, he could ſee further into the Series of human Contingencies, than is permitted to the reſt of Mankind, and, added he, ſhaking his Head, and his Eyes rolling, as if his Mind were then pregnant with Fore-Knowledge, ‘Friend Ranger, it gives me muckle Trouble to ſee the Engliſh forehuing their Neeſt, and giving it up to the Cheeld of Iſrael. I can ſee the Ruin of this Eeland, whoſe Kings formerly went to the Cruiſade. Here is a Paper of the News that will happen here in about a hundred Years hence, which I beg you'll publiſh. for my Part, I'm going to ſpend the Remainder of my Days in my own Conntry, where no Jews thirſt for Gold.’—Here he fetched a deep Groan, and aſſured me that the eſtabliſhed Religion of this Country will be ſhortly aboliſhed, and the Direction of Affairs veſted in the Hands of a Jewiſh Sanbedrim. Upon this he pauſed for ſome Time, with his Eyes fixed on the Ground, then, ſighing, roſe up and haſtily withdrew. I ſhall now lay before my Readers the whole Subſtance of his Fore-Knowledge, as I perſuade myſelf, however whimſical it may oppear, that it contains ſome very ſeaſonable Admonitions at this Juncture.

I HAVE lately done myſelf the Pleaſure of peruſing the ſeveral Performances in Criticiſm, with which Voltaire has in⯑troduced into the World his various poeti⯑cal Compoſitions. That excellent Author has the Modeſty to call moſt of theſe ſhort Eſſays, by the Name of, Fugitive Pieces of Literature. But the ſmalleſt Pro⯑ductions of ſo pleaſing a Writer, are indelible, and will be read with Pleaſure, while there remains any Taſte for a fine Turn of Senſe and an elegant Felicity of Ex⯑preſſion. When I obſerve thus much, I would not have it imagined that I perceive any Traces of Infallibility about him. In the general, his Remarks are deduced from Nature and Ariſtotle, and, on moſt Occaſions, he delivers himſelf with a ſound Judgment; but in my late curſory Review of his Writings, I think I have met with ſome Paſſages, which demand the Animadver⯑ſion of a Writer, who pretends to inſtruct or entertain his Readers. In the Diſcharge of this Task, I think I cannot acquit myſelf in a better Form, than that of a Letter to the Author; this I ſhall endeavour to do with that Politeneſs, which is due to ſuch an extenſive Ge⯑nius, [259]and I make no Doubt but the Engliſh Reader will concur with me, in the few Obſervations, which I ſhall ſubmit to his Peruſal.

THE Desire of acquiring Money has in all Ages actuated Mankind, and influenced their Conduct in various Shapes, ever since civil Polity framed different States and Re⯑publics, and since Convenience stamped an imaginary Value upon yellow Dirt, which soon rendered it by ge⯑neral [266]Consent a proper Exchange for the rest of the Commodities of the Earth. By the same Means that it became useful in the ordinary Neceſsaries of Life, it also in Proportion administered to the Luxuries and magnificent Enjoyments of Society. The Gamester soon learned to carry a thousand Head of Cattle by Proxy to the Dice Room; so many Pieces of Ore be⯑came the Representatives of an adequate Number of Trees, and Things went on in this Progreſsion, till at length a modern Beau could carry as many sparkling Acres upon his little Finger, as would have strained a thousand Alaxes and Hectors of the Days of Homer. This last Remark I am proud to Fave an Opportunity of making, as the elegant Species, just mentioned, have for some Time unjustly been exposed to the Rail-Jery of the Epilogue to the Distreſsed Mother; whereas by this Account the pretty Fellows of these Times have very visibly a Superiority over the Proweſs and Vigour of the much boasted antient Heroes.

But to return: An Ambition to amaſs Riches is cer⯑tainly very laudable, when it does not transgreſs the Bounds which are prescribed by Reason to all our Pas⯑sions in the general. While it is conducted with a View to a Competency, and the Enjoyment of the Requisites for Subsistence and Comfort; while it ope⯑rates with a Propensity to a Man's Friends, Relations, and, as Milton has it, all the Charities of Father, Son and Brother; and while it is the Source of Genero⯑sity, and an extensive Power of distributing Benefits to Mankind, it is, without any Manner of Doubt, a just Principle of Action; and though Self-love is the Pebble which stirs the Lake, the Circles, which it oc⯑casions, will always be pleasing and beautiful to the moral Sense.

But the Misfortune is, this Affection generally de⯑generates into Meanneſs, and has a fatal Tendency to [267]ruin the Understanding, and to corrupt the Heart. The intellectual Soil must not lie fallow for any long Time together; and it is by Freedom of Converse, and an habitual Intercouse with the enlightened Part of the World, that a mental Vigour is to be acquired; and when the Imagination is constantly attached to a parti⯑cular Set of Ideas, it becomes narrow by insensible De⯑grees, and for Want of that general Survey of the dif⯑ferent Objects, which are continually paſsing on the Scene of Life, it is confined to a small Compaſs, and never ventures to make the least Excursion further. From this close Habit of Thinking, the Heart, too frequently, contracts a lazy Apathy, and grows entire⯑ly callous to all manner of Sensation. Our Paſsions are involuntary, and are nothing else than the Impres⯑sions which external Objects usually make upon the hu⯑man Imagination, from the Operations of which we feel those sundry Emotions which are Incitements to spur us on from Theory to Practice, and which disclose themselves in our Actions, and are thence known to be⯑long to the amiable Train of Benevolence, or to be of the hateful Family of Selfishneſs and Ill-nature. In Pro⯑portion therefore as the Ideas which paſs in the Mind are scanty, the Affections, which agitate the Heart, will be fewer; and both must at last rust to a Point, and fix in a State of unfeeling Indolence.

A Love of Money is at once the Source of those Deeds which carry with them a splendid Appearance, and those also which are at first Sight mean and contemptible. This Paſsion has made many a Writer of Eminence, and many Scriblers in a Garret; it has animated the General at the Head of an Army, and the Clipper of Coin in his twi⯑light Room; it has for many Ages thundered in the Senate, wrangled at the Bar, and lulled from the Pulpit. To this it is owing that the Merchant boldly traverses the Globe, trusting to all the Dangers of the turbulent Ele⯑ment, [268]and that Buckhorse will receive as many severe Strokes of a Cane as you please, for Six-pence apiece.

The Art generally practised by People, who are de⯑sirous either to amaſs an over-grown Fortune, or to glean up a Livelihood, without the Talents to recom⯑mend themselves by striking out some new Discovery, or cultivating some advantageous Branch of Trade and Commerce, is to impose upon the Credulity of Man⯑kind; and by obtruding false delusive Circumstances to excite their Curiosity, raise their Admiration, and thus guil them to comply with their Artifices of Fraud and Imposition. This Metropolis has never wanted a suf⯑ficient Number of these Projectors, and, at present, I believe I may affirm, that it abounds with Cheats and Impostors, in every Station, in every Art and Science, and in every Circumstance of Life. The solemn Phy⯑sician, the specious Lawyer, the wordy Critic, and the bombast Poet, are found in all Quarters of the Town; and though they must be allowed to be very notable Masters of Deceit, I have lately made a Disco⯑very of a Personage, who greatly excels them all in their own Trade of Delusion and Hypocrisy. The Scheme of distributing Hand bills, importing that in Ivy-Lane, Magpye-Alley, or any other Quarter of the Town, LIVETH a regular Physician, who has spent many Years abroad, travelled all over Mesopotamia, and is returned home North about to practise his Profeſsion for the Bene⯑fit of his Countrymen, is now entirely out of Vogue, and the Cheat is laughed at by all Degrees and Ranks of People. It is true, there are many other Plans on foot at present, which are somewhat more plausible than that which I have now touched upon; but among them all, I do not remember any Plan so well calculated to elevate and surprize, to keep up a Stare, as a new one which came into my Hands the other Day, as I was walking down Ludgate Hill. A tall meagre Man, with great Solemnity of Aspect, and strong Expreſsions of [269]Amazement in his Countenance, presented to me the following Billet, which many of my Readers can bear me Witneſs is transcribed faithfully and exactly.

N. B. Cures the Ague at the Second Cup gratis.

I have heard that the present celebrated Dr. Wood⯑ward cures the Rupture, for any Person whatever, by wearing his own Bandages, which indeed hath fre⯑quently been Matter of Astonishment to me in my Hours of Reflection; but I must declare, in favour of Mrs. Sermon, that I think she performs greater Won⯑ders than any of them, and that her Undertaking is more likely to do Honour to our Country, than that of any other Schemist now in being. The Circum⯑stance of her living in Naked-Boy Court is well in⯑serted to raise Curiosity, and the Convenience of turn⯑ing in by the Salmon with a Drop in his Mouth will prove inviting, especially as every one will be desirous of seeing that curious Animal. How she contrives to answer Questions in Astrology is beyond my Comprehen⯑sion, but, if well peformed, must be highly useful to his Majesty's Subjects. She does-it also by Sea as well as Land, which is greatly advantageous to a trading Na⯑tion; and then her Spirit of Benevolence must tend greatly to endear her to every generous and humane Mind.

The Draught for the Stomach, the Powder for the Tooth-ach, and the Eye-Water, given gratis, are strong Indications of a public Spirit. Add to this that she cures the Ague at the second Cup for nothing; what [270]kind of Cup it is, I can't take upon me to ſay. But upon the whole I muſt declare that Mrs. Sermon is in my Eye a very extraordinary Perſonage; and were I to decide the Precedence between her and all the Em⯑pyrics, Projectors, Fuſtian-Poets, Diſcoverers of the Longitude, &c. of the preſent Age, I ſhould not he⯑ſitate to pronounce Mrs. Sermon the moſt notable amongſt them all.

A Great deal of Wit and Raillery has been exerted by ſeveral polite Writers againſt the predominant Faſhion among the La⯑dies, of ſetting off their Charms with the Addition of Paint. Our great Shakeſpear has put a very ſevere Remark into the Mouth of his Hamlet in the Scene with Ophelia; Heaven hath given ye one Face, and ye make yourſelves another. This Thought has been twiſted and tortured into a thouſand different Shapes by every little Endeavourer at an Epigram for a long Time paſt, and the Cuſtom has been frequently cenſured as a [...]olly imported from our Neighbours the French. As the Art of giving an artificial Tincture to the Skin, ap⯑pears to me to admit of many favourable Circumſtances, I ſhall employ this Day's Paper in Vindication of my pretty Countrywomen.

It may ſeem at firſt an extreme bold Poſition, if I aſſert that Painting is not an Importation of foreign Refine⯑ment, but originally of Engliſh Growth; and yet, that this is the real State of the Caſe, is ſufficiently known to the moſt ſuper [...]cial Dabbler in Hiſtory. Julius Caeſar, in his Account of the Inroad which he made upon our Anceſtors, gives a Deſcription of the Aborigines of this Iſland, which I ſhall here tranſlate. The Britons in general paint their Bodies with Woad, which gives a blue [...]incture to the Skin, and lends them a formidable Affect in Battle. This, I think, may ſerve to obviate the Imputation of imi⯑tating [278]the French in this Particular, which I take to be a Point of ſome Conſequence, as by this we cannot be charged with the Levity of having ſervilely copied from others. We find that the Ladies among the Britiſh Picts went entirely naked, and painted their Bodies all over with the Woad already mentioned. This muſt un⯑doubtedly have afforded great Scope for Fancy, and in thoſe Days there muſt certainly have been many eager Rivalſhips among the Fair for Pre-eminence in point of Taſte for Painting. For as the whole lovely Body was ornamented with different Figures and ſundry various Repreſentations, according as Imagination ſuggeſted, the Variety of new Faſhions muſt have been extremely entertaining, each Fair-one being ſtudious to adapt to each different Part of the Body that Degree of Co⯑louring and that Form, which muſt have proved moſt becoming; juſt as our modern Ladies adjuſt a Patch ſo as to make the Contraſt ſtriking, and give ſtronger Ex⯑preſſions to the adjacent Features. I have now by me the whole Hiſtory of a Britiſh Pict Coquette, found by a Friend of mine among ſome antient Manuſcripts, and ſent to me as a Curioſity.

Caſſibelana was the Lady's Name. She lived in the Capital of the Trinobantes, and was remarkable for a fine Stature, and an Head of Hair of a ſurprizing Length, flowing in wanting Luxuriance down her Back. She always had at her Toilet ſome of the moſt exqui⯑ſite Woad that could be any where procured, and ſhe was celebrated for her curious Art in preparing it for the Purpoſes of adorning her Perſon. The Woad being of itſelf of a bluciſh Caſt, ſhe would ſometimes paint no Part of her Body, but where the Veins appeared, and to them ſhe gave ſuch a delicate Colouring, that the pure and elequent Blood as the Poet calls it, ſeemed to ſhew itſelf through her tranſlucent Skin. As ſoon as ſhe had eſtabliſhed this Faſhion, and made the reſt of her sex her Imitators, ſhe would then ſuddenly change [279]the Mode, and embelliſh her whole Body with various Devices.

On the left Side of her Breaſt ſhe would draw a young Cupid aiming an Arrow at her Heart, and on the Right a Lover languiſhing in amorous Indolence. Each Leg repreſented an Admirer kneeling at her Feet, and imploring her Compaſſion, while ſhe, with all the Complacence of ſelf-approving Beauty, let fall her Eyes with Indifference and cold Diſdain. On her Back were repreſented the emblematical Figures of a Train of Pages following her in her way with all the Officiouſ⯑neſs of careful Attendance. On other Parts of her Perſon was preſented to View, Venus in lovely Atti⯑tude emerging from the Sea; the Graces were alſo to be ſeen walking Hand in Hand, their Faces brightened with Chearfulneſs and mutual Love. In this Manner ſhe would attend at public Sacrifices, where all Eyes were often fixed on her alone; and frequently the ve⯑nerable Druid could not avoid, even in the Fervour of his Devotion, to caſt a Glance upon ſuch an attractive Profuſion of Charms.

In this Manner Caſſibelana captivated the Hearts of all her male Beholders, who carved her Name upon every Oak in the Country, and the banks of Thames re-ecchoed to the Muſick of her Name. It was univer⯑ſally agreed that ſhe was the beſt Painter of her Age; her Colours were warm and glowing; her Figures bold and ſtriking, and the natural Motion of the different Parts of her Body made them appear ſtill more animated and actuated, as it were, with the animal Functions of real Life; an Advantage which the moſt admired Portraits of the moſt eminent Painters ſince her Days could never boaſt. In all public Places ſhe entirely out⯑ſhined the reſt of her Sex, which made her the general Envy of the Ladies, who frequently combined in Parties of Scandal to her Diſadvantage, even though Tea was not then known in theſe Parts of the World. Caſſibelana [280]was every Day pulled to pieces, according to the mo⯑dern Phraſe, and though the Ladies allowed that ſhe really had a very lively Fancy in all her Drawings, and an excellent Deſign in all her Drapery, yet they could not ſee that ſhe was ſo fine a Woman, though to be ſure ſhe had a pretty Manner in putting on her Things, for ſo they expreſſed the Covering of Woad which ſerved to conceal in ſome Meaſure the natural Superficies of her Skin. I am apt to believe that the tranſparent Ca⯑puchin was imagined from a Practice of this famous ſe⯑male Pict, becauſe at Times ſhe would lay on the Woad in ſuch a Manner, that Mr. Pope's Line in his Tranſlation of Homer may juſtly be applied to it; ‘Her Beauty ſeems and only ſeems to ſhade.’ Upon the Whole, Caſſibelana was Leader of all the Faſhions even in Kent, the Inhabitants of which were the moſt poliſhed of all our Iſlanders, and, as Caeſar tells us, differed but little from the Manners of the Gauls, in like manner as our modern fine Ladies boaſt at preſent an exact Conformity to French Manners.

From the foregoing Account, which I have rendered as cloſe as poſſible from the Manuſcript now in my Poſſeſſion, it appears, that even in the Days of the pureſt Simplicity, Painting was the univerſal Practice; and therefore ſtrongly am I inclined to think it laudable in the amiable Sex at preſent. I am further pleaſed to ſee the Faſhions of the Ladies tending more rapidly every Day to a greater Similitude to the Cuſtoms of our Anceſtors; for it is very manifeſt that they are every Day becoming more and more naked, and it is ob⯑ſervable that they who diſplay moſt of their lovely Bo⯑dies make the greateſt Uſe of Paint, which in my Opinion, is not uſed from a Motive of female Vanity, but as a modeſt and decent Covering to the Skin. I muſt, by the Way take notice that there is one Cir⯑cumſtance in which the modern Practice of Painting differs from antient Simplicity. I do not find in the [281]Account of any Hiſtorian, that the female Britiſh Picts applied the leaſt Tincture of the Woad to the natural Complexion of their Faces. For a Bloom and a Viva⯑city of Colour they truſted to Exerciſe, freſh Air, and wholeſome Diet. But as the faſhionable Vigils of Gam⯑ing were unknown in thoſe Days, it muſt be allowed that this is an Improvement upon the Faſhions of our Progenitors; and indeed it could not be expected that in thoſe rude Times ſo elegant a Diverſion could be known. For this we are indebted to modern Refine⯑ment, which has introduced Improvements in Manners, as well as in Arts and Sciences.

For my Part, I expect to ſee the Time when the Ladies will be to all Intents and Purpoſes as naked as our Anceſtors; and, in my Apprehenſion, if Things proceed with equal Celerity, the Period is not very diſtant, as their Cloaths are amazingly reduced at both Ends within theſe few Years. We ſhall not then com⯑plain, that the Importation of French Hoops, and French Faſhions of all Sorts, are a Detriment to the Na⯑tion; Mercers and Milliners will be uſeleſs Things, and the Ladies will ſpend the Hours of the Toilet in Draw⯑ing and Painting, by which Means I flatter myſelf that the Britiſh Fair will be able to boaſt their Guidos, their Titians, and their Raphaels. To this End an ingenious Gentleman of my Acquaintance is now drawing up a Syſtem of Directions to a female Painter, which will ſerve to aid their Invention, and give them a proper Notion of Deſign and Colouring in all their Faces, by which Means it is to be hoped they will greatly excel all the boaſted Maſters in every School of Painting.

At the laſt Meeting of our Club, Mr. Plaſtic, the Shafts⯑burian Philoſopher and Chairman for the Time being, deſired he might furniſh the Eſſay of this Day.

A Taſte for the imitative Arts is the higheſt Embelliſhment and ultimate Finiſhing of an accompliſhed Mind; it gives an Elegance to a Man's Way of thinking, throws a Poliſh on his Manners, and by inſenſible Degrees re⯑fines the Paſſions and Affections of the Soul. It may be added, that a fine Taſte is the Inlet of ſome of the [284]moſt delicate Pleaſures human Life is ſuſceptible of, and may therefore properly be called, in the Language of Shaftſourian Philoſopy, the internal Senſe, as, by Means of this Faculty, we are acquainted with many elegant Senſations, to which the Generality of Men ſeem to be entirely Strangers. This Talent is not un⯑like the Power of ſeeing, juſt conferred on one whoſe Eye never could diſtinguiſh Colours; it opens new Traces of thinking, awakens pleaſing Ideas, and dif⯑fuſes a Complacence through the whole intellectual Frame.

There is nothing more common than to ſee Men, who, perceiving the Advantages which this elegant Turn gives to a choſen Few, and obſerving that Quickneſs of Senſibility for which they are remarkable, affect upon all Occaſions to be endowed with the ſame nice Faculty of Perception; but the Misfortune is, they are abſolutely callous to each fine Impreſſion, and the Method they chuſe, to convince us of their Delicacy, is by pretending, that nothing is refined enough for them. Thus, while others diſtinguiſh themſelves by yielding to the Impulſe of a Paſſion artfully excited by a Strain of Muſic, a Poem, or a Picture, theſe Gentlemen would recommend themſelves upon the Strength of their having never been pleaſed at any Rate. This Proce⯑dure is for the moſt part to be obſerved in modern Cri⯑tics or the Malevoli. A Piece where every Beauty of Language and Sentiment is united, where in the ſtrik⯑ing Paſſages every Line is impaſſioned, and ſwells with the Emotion of the Soul, like Glaſs in a Furnace, in⯑formed by the Breath infuſed into it, laid before one of this Claſs, ſhall be received with cold Diſdain; and a Compoſition of Arne's, full of all the Sweetneſs of mu⯑ſical Expreſſion, ſhall to their finer Organs ſound like the moſt jarring Diſſonance. If a Man in a Club of Gentlemen ſhould be perpetually diſpleaſed with every Thing, while the reſt of the Members perceive no [285]Cauſe of Complaint, I apprehend there would be a ſtrong Preſumption, that his Mouth was at thoſe Sea⯑ſons greatly out of Taſte; and with equal Propriety, whoever boaſts an Over-refinement of Underſtanding, ſhould be ſet down, without Heſitation, as one whoſe mental Organs are diſtempered. As Matters are fre⯑quently managed, a fine Taſte, inſtead of being a Power of receiving elegant Senſations, would prove an Avenue for Uneaſineſs, Diſcontent, and a conſtant Diſlike of every Thing around us; and it would fare with this exquiſite Degree of intellectual Feeling, as with him, whoſe external Senſes are framed to re⯑ceive acuter Impreſſions than our Employments in Life will admit.

But Nature has not caſt us in ſo delicate a Mould: Both our bodily and mental Powers are fitted to ad⯑miniſter to our Enjoyments, and are by no means contrived to be the Cauſe of Fretfulneſs, and a pe⯑tulant Peeviſhneſs, which ſerve only to ſour the Tem⯑per, and become troubleſome and diſagreeable in Society.

To define a true Taſte may be unneceſſary at preſent, as it has been often done by abler Pens; but, I believe, it will be judged pertinent to the Subject in Hand, to give the Reader ſome Deſcription of it. Mr. Locke ob⯑ſerves, that many abſtract Ideas are expreſſed by Terms taken from the Perceptions of our external Senſes, ſuch as to imagine, comprehend, conceive, adhere, &c. which are [286]all applied to Modes of thinking. In like Manner, the Term now in Queſtion is derived from the Senſation of our Palate, which we call Taſte, and, on account of ſome Similitude in the Operation, i applied to the in⯑tellectual Faculty by Men of Imagination in all Lan⯑guages; the Information given to the Mind being in both Caſes rapid and inſtantaneous, without waiting for the more cool and deliberate Sentence of Reflection.

Hence naturally ariſes a Diſtinction between Taſte and Judgment; which are often uſed as ſynonymous Expreſſions, but are notwithſtanding very different in themſelves. I believe, many of my Readers know Peo⯑ple among their Acquaintance, who, if you lay a Pic⯑ture before them, upon mature Deliberation, and after comparing leiſurely the Copy with their own Ideas of Nature, can pronounce the Piece to be like, without manifeſting any particular Reliſh or Pleaſure, which is always a concomitant Circumſtance with the Man of Taſte. It is he that enters into the Spirit and Stile of an Author, ſees in an Inſtant how he ſelects the Circum⯑ſtances in a Deſcription, enjoys the Turn of his Ex⯑preſſion, and his Art in ſeizing the Paſſions; and it is upon a Review of what thus ſtrikes the Mind, that the Critics of all Ages have been able to lay down Rules for Taſte; as Theories of Viſion are framed from an Exa⯑mination of the Organs of Sight, and the Manner in which external Objects operate upon them; and hence the French Wits have told us, that nothing can be ele⯑gant, which is not true, upon an Obſervation that the Mind turns with Diſtaſte from any Thing, which con⯑tradicts its own Ideas.

It is recorded of Marcus Antoninus, that he acknow⯑ledged it to the Gods as a peculiar Felicity, that he had not cultivated his Taſte for Works of Imagination, for fear they might have detained him from Objects of higher Importance; but, for my Part, I cannot help wondering that he did not rather thank Heaven for the [287]elegant Turn beſtowed upon him, as it is certain that, under due Regulation, a juſt Taſte is a conſtant Source of the moſt refined Gratifications.

With this Talent, a Man may retire into his Cloſet, and there enjoy a more delicious Repaſt, and better Company, than can be met with in any modern Aſ⯑ſembly. Homer never denies himſelf to any Acquaintance, and Virgil is always eaſy of Acceſs, whether you de⯑light in ſublime Deſcription, or the ſofter Beauties of rural Imagery. A Man may take as much Liberty with Horace as his intruding Friend did in the Via Sacra, free from the ſame Imputation of Impertinence; and, without the Expence of a Remiſe, you may viſit Boileau, La Fontaine, Vollaire, and the politeſt of the French Nation. Dr. Swift is always ready to ſhake your Sides with Humour; you may converſe with Pope without hearing him complain of Head-Aches; and if you aſpire to the Company of a Miniſter of State, you may retire with Bolingbroke into the Cabinet, there find him diſ⯑cloſing the ſecret Springs of Policy, or receive a Clue from him to guide you through the Maze of Hiſtory. In ſhort, to a Mind well harmonized, all Nature wears a pleaſing Aſpect, and the Tranſition is eaſy from a Re⯑liſh for external Beauty, and the Pleaſures ariſing from Poetry, Eloquence, and the Arts of Imitation, to a Love for moral Perfection and the Dignity of Character.

This is the Sentiment of Cicero in the Words of my Motto, and it is enforced by the Author of The Pleaſures of Imagination, in ſuch an exquiſite Strain of Poetry, that I muſt beg Leave to conclude with tranſcribing the Paſſage. Speaking of a Man of Taſte, he has the fol⯑lowing Lines.

WHenever any particular Object becomes the principal and favourite Idea of a Man's Imagination, it derives from thence an ad⯑ventitious Air of Importance, and attracts his Attention as irreſiſtibly, as Matters of the higheſt Moment. Of this Truth I met an egregious Proof in an Acquaintance of mine, who happened to fall into my Company a few Days ſince at the Coffee⯑houſe. While great Numbers of our Countrymen are buſied in Enquiries after Mr. Keene's Negoti⯑ations at the Court of Madrid, to prevent the Depre⯑dations of the Spaniards upon Engliſh Merchantmen; while ſome are intereſted in the Election a of King of the Romans, and others employed in a Diſcuſſion of the Naturalization Act; this Gentleman is entirely ab⯑ſtracted in his Speculations, and concerns himſelf in [290]the Regulation of an imaginary World with more Soli⯑citude, than any Politician in what is immediately con⯑nected with the Intereſt of his Country.

Upon my aſking him the ordinary Queſtion, ‘What News?’ He replied, ‘There is ſomething in Agi⯑tation, Sir, in both Kingdoms, but it has not as yet tranſpired; though I have a ſecret Channel for Intel⯑ligence, and, I believe, I am pretty well in the Se⯑cret; both Cabinets endeavour to ſuppreſs their In⯑tentions, but my Information comes from the Board of Green Cloth.’ — At this Expreſſion my Friend perceived me ſomewhat ſurprized, and he therefore thought proper to explain himſelf, ‘The Board of Green-Cloth, Sir,’ ſays he, ‘is a metaphorical Term I generally make uſe of to ſignify what is vul⯑garly call the Green Room; perhaps you never ſaw the Green-Room; it is the Place where the Performers rendezvous during the Play, and for ſome Time after it; that of Covent-Garden is in the Form of an Ob⯑long, and I'll give you a particular Deſcription of it.’

Here I was reduced to a Neceſſity of mentioning, that it would be ſuperſluous to give himſelf ſo much Trouble, as that Place was as well known to me as the Coffee-Room we were in; which Hint I judged not improper, as I knew that a violent Propenſity to De⯑ſcription was one of my Friend's Singularities, and that he is never ſo compleatly happy as when an Opportu⯑nity offers for him to diſplay his florid Talents for this Embelliſhment of Converſation. Upon theſe Occaſions I have frequently obſerved his Eye ſparkle with a pe⯑culiar Brillancy, which never fails to be extinguiſhed whenever he is checked in his Career, as was the Caſe with him at preſent. After looking ſerious for ſome Time, he reaſſumed his Diſcourſe—‘The Theatrical World, Sir, is nothing now to what it was formerly; the People are infatuated with Garrick; [291]— He has introduced a new Taſte entirely; I could wiſh I had lived in the Days, when Lun was in his meridian Splendor; Sir, I have been delighted at a Recital of the many Feats he uſed to perform. Don't you think it muſt have given the quickeſt Senſations of Surprize to an Audience, to ſee him in the Cha⯑racter of Harlequin, making his Eſcape into the Tub —(the Tub, Sir, is the Box over the Stage Door) —and when he was cloſely purſued by his Enemies, it muſt have been delightful to perceive him dart, as quick as an Arrow to its deſtined Mark, or with the Celerity of a Bird in the Air, from the Place, where the whole Houſe imagined him deſtitute of the Means of an Eſcape, into the oppoſite Box, and there ſtand laughing at his Purſuers. There was al⯑ways ſuch an Exertion in his nervous Syſtem, that— I don't know whether you ever ſaw an Anatomy— but I can lend you an Author upon the Animal Oeco⯑nomy, from whom it will appear manifeſtly, upon the cleareſt Principles, how this was performed. It would aſtoniſh you to hear the ſeveral Accidents he met with; when he was locked in Arm over Arm, with another at the Top of a Scene, they both fell down, claſped in each other's Embrace; and how do you think he eſcaped?—with an amazing Agility he turned his Fellow-performer under him, ſo that he came down quite eaſy, while the other broke his Collar-bone.—Perhaps you never would be able to gueſs how many Steps he made in running in a cir⯑cular Manner round the Stage; three Thouſand Steps, Sir—the Movement of each Leg was ſo ſmall and quick, that in going the Length of one Foot, he minced it ſo as to make three hundred Steps—look ye Sir (wetting his Finger) here's a Circle on the Table; and now ſuppoſe my two Fingers to be his Legs, then conceive them to move in this Manner —you ſee there's nothing ſo eaſy—they may ſay [292]what they will of the Hero of Drury Lane; he only imitates Men, whereas the Covent-Garden Chief con⯑verts himſelf into a wild Beaſt, a Bird, or a Serpent with a long Tail and what not. I believe there will be ſome⯑thing done next Winter; there is a Scheme on Foot to work the little Fellow. The Thing is, we are to have an old Pantomime Entertainment, new vamped, with an additional Scene of a Scythian Winter-Piece, which I am convinced will draw the whole Town after it. There are already ſeveral Agents ſent to Ruſſia to purchaſe a ſufficient Number of Bears, and a large Quantity of Ice is now actually making. The Ice, Sir, will be diſpoſed on the Stage in large Rocks, and the Beaſts will be ſent on ſhivering amidſt the hoary Froſts; in one Part of the Scene the Sun will be diſ⯑covered, but ſhorn of his Beams, as Milton has it; the rigid Froſt will be impervious to his Rays, and you will ſee the Lightning play upon the impaſſive Ice. There will alſo be exhibited at a Diſtance a lofty Mountain, from whoſe Summit will come roaring down a tumultuous Cataract, loud, and impetuous in its Courſe, and at the Bottom will be placed a Re⯑ſervoir to collect the ruſhing Torrent, where it will form itſelf into a ſmooth expanſive River, which is to glide off in the Sight of the Spectators. There will alſo be ſituated on the Banks of the River a Man with a Fiſhing-Rod, intent upon catching the Tenants of the watery Plain, when on a ſudden the Au⯑dience will perceive the Stream arreſted in its Courſe by the Intenſeneſs of the Froſt, and the Fiſherman's Line made a Priſoner for the Remainder of the Sea⯑ſon. The Water-fall alſo will inſtantly be ſtopp'd by the gelid Seaſon, and the Spectators will have the Pleaſure of perceiving the pendant Iſicle. This, Sir, will be performed with Eaſe, though the Man⯑ner of its Operation will be imperceptible to the vulgar Eye. But there is no Difficulty in the Thing; [293]for, as the Torrent is to come down in Sheets of Water, which will be repreſented with a gliſtening Kind of Tin, it will be extremely practicable to ſtop the Tin all at once, and in that Caſe the curious will admire the Wonders of the liquid Stone; liquidi Mi⯑racula ſaxi, you know Claudian talks of, and to all this will be added ſeveral other Ornaments that will tend greatly to heighten the Entertainment.’

The Theatrical Projector had gone on thus far with⯑out Interruption, and upon my offering to make ſome Animadverſions upon his Scheme, he altered the Po⯑ſition of his Features, looked grave, and in a ſhort Time walked off without ſaying a Word. The Reaſon of this I take to be, that my Friend is never happy, but when the Company is attentive to his own Narratives. Be that as it will, I muſt own for my Part, that I ſhould be glad to ſee Harlequin baniſhed from all polite Au⯑diences to his native Sadler's-Wells, to ſee Shakeſpear triumph over every Heart, and to view both Play⯑houſes ſucceeding by the Force of juſt acting, rational Performances, and a ſimple Conformity to Nature, which would introduce ſuch a Reformation in our Di⯑verſions, as to render them of public Utility to the Morals of the Britiſh People.

IT was a very particular Pleaſure to me to learn the other Morning from my Friend Wildair, that the Seaſon for Theatrical Diverſion is to commence this Evening From this Information I was inſenſibly led into ſome Re⯑flexions upon the Profeſſion of Playing, which has been in moſt Ages held in a lower Degree of Eſtimation than any other Occupation in Life. How this ſhould have obtained in a Point which Reaſon does not ſug⯑geſt, is ſomewhat ſurprizing, though it may not be Matter of extreme Difficulty to trace the Error to its Source.

The Players, if I miſtake not, made their firſt Ap⯑pearance in the World after the ſame Manner, in which the moſt abandoned and wretched of our Days make their Exit, that is to ſay, in a Cart. In this Vehicle they ſtrolled about from Place to Place, under the Di⯑rection of Theſpis, who was their Manager; they had their Faces all bedaubed with Lees of Wine, which, no doubt, contributed not a little with other contingent Circumſtances to render them ridiculous. And indeed, in this Situation of the Drama, it is no Wonder that they were looked upon as a Set of Low Fellows. By inſenſible Degrees Matters were improved to greater Elegance, though the old Opprobrium ſtill continued to adhere to the Performers, and perhaps their own Way of Life, their own Morals, their own Behaviour, and the Appearance they every where made, deſerved, that the firſt Impreſſion ſhould not be effaced. By the [296]ſame Means, the Prejudice has been derived down from Age to Age, and till within theſe few Years paſſed, the Laws, which public Opinion had eſtabliſhed, con⯑tinued in full Force, till at Length they were repealed in Favour of the Few, whoſe Life and Converſation ſhould deſerve it. Mr. Pope, talking of Shakeſpear's Time, obſerves, ‘that as the beſt Playhouſes were then Inns and Taverns (the Globe, the Hope, the Red Bull, the Fortune, &c.) ſo the Top of the Profeſſion were then meer Players, not Gentlemen of the Stage: They were led into the Buttery by the Steward, not placed at the Lord's Table, or Lady's Toilet; and conſequently were entirely deprived of thoſe Advan⯑tages they now enjoy, in the familiar Converſation of our Nobility, and an Intimacy (not to ſay Dearneſs) with People of the firſt Condition.’

Certain it is, the Sentiments of Mankind have been very much changed in this Reſpect of late Years, and indeed, in all Ages and among all Men of Senſe, the Prejudice never had much Weight, whenever there ap⯑peared one abſtracted from the common Herd, who, be⯑ſides the other Qualities requiſite in his Buſineſs, was poſ⯑ſeſſed of a good Underſtanding, adorned and embelliſhed with Modeſty, Decency, and good Manners. Thus we find among the Romans, Roſcius, the Player, was held in general Eſteem by all Men of Taſte and Re⯑finement. Cicero loved him living, and at his Deceaſe paid an immortal Tribute to his Memory. He omitted no Opportunity of celebrating his Name, and in one of his moſt famous Orations, ‘Who is there, ſays he, among us of ſo rude and unfeeling a Diſpoſition, as not to have been very ſenſibly affected at the Death of Roſcius, who though he died in an extreme old Age, on Account of his excellent Art, and his every Elegance deſerved to be exempt from that Debt of human Nature." "Quis noſtrum tam animo agreſti ac [297]duro fuit, ut Roſcii morte nuper non commoveretur? Qui cum eſſet ſenex mortuus, tamen propter excellentem artem, ac venuſtatem, videbatur omninò mori non debuiſſe.’ Mr. Betterton was alſo the Friend, the Companion, the Fa⯑vourite of a Set of Men, who were the chief Honour to our Country; Dryden, Pope, Rowe, Addiſon, Congreve, Steel, and the famous Doctor Radcliffe were the Perſon⯑ages that received him with open Arms; and if Mr. Garrick ſhould never be able to boaſt ſuch an exalted Acquaintance, it is for this only Reaſon, becauſe it is hardly to be expected, that ſuch a Set of Men will again appear together.

A compleat Actor appears ſo ſeldom in the World, that I do not wonder, whenever a real Prometheus with true Fire ſtarts up among us, at the Tribute of Admi⯑ration and Applauſe, which is paid to him by the ge⯑neral Conſent; and ſo many Requiſites are neceſſary to form one, who can thus extort the public Approbation, that, I own, I ſhould not be ſurprized if this Art roſe much higher in the Eyes of the Judicious. There are many external Accompliſhments, which in other Pro⯑feſſions may be diſpenſed with, but the fine Performer muſt have a well formed Perſon, a graceful Deport⯑ment, a well turned Face, a juſt Diſpoſition of Fea⯑tures, and an Eye expreſſive of the various ſubtile Move⯑ments of the Mind; he muſt have improved the Air of his whole Perſon by an Habitude and Intercourſe with Gentlemen; and he muſt add to all this a Voice, not only to articulate each Syllable diſtinctly and with Pre⯑ciſion, but alſo to deliver each Sentence with Grace and Harmony.

Beſides theſe external Qualifications, what a Train of mental Endowments is abſolutely neceſſary? A good Underſtanding cultivated by a liberal Education, a true Taſte and Reliſh for all the Beauties in an Author, a juſt Senſe of every Paſſage, and the Idea appropriated to each Word, a thorough Knowledge of Character; [298]an Imagination warm and alive to each fine Stroke of the [...]oet; a Senſibility of Temper, properly ſuſceptible of each Paſſion the Writer addreſſes himſelf to, and a Power of exciting that Paſſion in others. What and how great that Power is, the following Paſſage in Ham⯑let will better convey to the Reader, than any Thing I have to offer on the Subject. ‘Is it not mon⯑ſtrous that this Player here, but in a Fiction, in a Dream of Paſſion, ſhould ſo force his Soul to his own Conceit, that from her working all his Viſage wanned Tears in his Eyes, Diſtraction in his Aſpect, a broken Voice, and a Function ſuiting with Forms to his Conceit?’

From this Account, I apprehend, it muſt ap⯑pear, that this Profeſſion ſhould be reckoned among the liberal and imitative Arts, and at the ſame Time I muſt obſerve, that it cannot be thought too ſlightly of in thoſe, who repeat the mere Words in a vacant un⯑feeling Manner, or whoſe Art conſiſts in a wry Mouth, or a Burn on the Jaw. But when every Look, Geſture, and Action is governed by the Soul, when the Imagi⯑nation is wrapped, and the Audience catch it by Con⯑tagion; when the Artiſt imparts new Motions to our Spirits, wrings the Soul with fancied Grief, and fills us with imaginary Terrors, then we perceive a Genius which cannot be too much admired. I have often la⯑mented that the Poverty of our Language does not afford a Term ſufficiently expreſſive to diſtinguiſh ſuch a Performer from the reſt of his Fraternity; as I al⯑ways ſtudy to avoid Confuſion in my Ideas, I en⯑deavour to ſeperate them in my own Mind by Words which appear to me to be beſt appropriated to them, and, till a better Diſtinction is pointed out, I would chuſe to call a Perſon, ſuch as I have deſcribed, an Imi⯑tator or an Actor, and he, who pretends to the Art without any Knowledge of Nature, ſhould be ſet down a mere Player.

[299]In this Senſe Mr. Barry will always be accounted a fine Actor, and Mrs. Cibber an Actreſs of irreſiſtible ſkill. It would not be, perhaps, unentertaining to examine the Liſt of Dramatis Perſonae belonging to each Playhouſe, and when we ſhould not find the Actor alone, it might be diverting to ſee how both are blended, and to enquire which is prevalent; but the Reader, if he approve the Hint, may purſue it in his own Imagination.

I HAVE been ever highly delighted with the Paſſage, which I have this Day ſelected from Virgil for a Motto to my Paper. They are the Words of Evander, when he is re⯑ceiving the pious Trojan Prince under his humble, but hoſpitable Roof. If I remember right, Mr. Dryden was an Admirer of the beautiful Simplicity of this Addreſs, As I have his Volumes at Hand, I ſhall here tranſcribe the Paſſage.

This Sentiment, however, ſhort the Tranſlation may be is highly admirable in the Original, and ſhould be im⯑preſſed in very lively and deep Characters on every Man's Heart who is deſirous of ſharing the ſocial Pleaſures of Life.

Content is moſt certainly the ſureſt Source of an in⯑ternal Happineſs; it not only reconciles a Perſon to [301]himſelf, but alſo to thoſe with whom he converſes. To uſe Shakeſpear's Phraſe, it is the chief Nouriſher in Life's Feaſt, and when giddy Mirth and Noiſe have ſubſided, this keeps on an equal Tenor, and if it never riſes very high, it has at leaſt this Advantage, that it does not ebb ſo low as to leave Shoals and Rocks diſ⯑covered. Mirth may properly be called an Aurora Borealis; whereas Good Humour, like a fixed Star, ſheds a conſtant Stream of Light, which, if it does not dazzle, has at leaſt at all Times a chearing Influence.

If good Humour has this Advantage annexed to it, Diſcontent muſt certainly be attended with many poig⯑nant Inconveniences; In the ſame Proportion that Eaſe endears and enlivens our Days, its Reverſe muſt bring on each Morn in a Turbulence of Clouds; the Spirits are perpetually ſinking, and all the Uſes of this World, as the Poet has it, ſeem to him weary, ſtale, flat, and unprofitable. The Infection is always rankling in his Breaſt, and he lives in an unceaſing State of Hoſtility with himſelf and his Neighbours. This by Degrees grows into a fixed Habit, and then a lowering invariable Gloom hangs over his Mind, and as he does not feel any Peace in his own inward Frame, he is not tender about the Un⯑eaſineſs he may create in another's Breaſt. He there⯑fere gives an unlimited Vent to his Sullenneſs, and is ever finding fault with every Thing around him.

There is one Circumſtance which has a Kind of Ten⯑dency to alleviate this Perverſity of Diſpoſition, and that is, that the Propenſity to Satyr, which this Sul⯑lenneſs gives the Mind, is often the Occaſion of ſtarting new and uncommon Remarks. We ſometimes hear from theſe Kind of Humouriſts Strokes of a pee⯑viſh Pleaſantry, which are not unentertaining; and as theſe People are ever fond of exhibiting a Caricature of their Acquaintances, we now and then receive ſome Sketches or Pictures in Miniature, in which the Colouring and the Drapery are ſo whimſi⯑ſically [302]imagined, that we really derive no ſmall De⯑gree of Diverſion from their extravagant Turn. But notwithſtanding this Degree of Mirth which they invo⯑luntarily excite, it does not ſufficiently compenſate for the Trouble they give for the moſt part. A Man, who can find no Reliſh in any Thing, ſhould be baniſhed from Society; he ſhould be ſent to an Infirmary of Valetudinarians, and there be confined until he purges away his ill Humours, or until Reaſon diſpels the Miſt which has obſcured his Intellects.

The ſure [...] way of pleaſing in Company, is for a Man to be pleaſed inwardly; and he that is not ſo, ſhould retire and brood over his Uneaſineſs, and not become troubleſome, or invade the Harmony of Society. I cannot help conſidering this fixed and permanent ill Humour as a Kind of Black-Jaundice, through the dark Medium of which every Thing that paſſes takes a Tinc⯑ture. I know a Perſon at preſent who has been in a Black-Jaundice for many Years, and he is ſtill ſuffered by his Friends to go about finding Fault, perpetually diſ⯑ſatisfied, diſcontented, and grumbling. Sullen is his Name, and he is known by his Acquaintance to be one of the greateſt Mal-Contents in the Creation.

As ſoon as Mr. Sullen wakes in a Morning, if he has had a good Night's Repoſe, ‘Damn it, he cries, what made me overſleep myſelf.’—He then rings his Bell; the Servant has not Wings, and of courſe does not fly to him; Mr. Sullen is then tempted to throw ſomething at the Scoundrel's Head. The next Thing the Servant is ordered to do, he performs with the utmoſt Alacrity, ‘Sirrah! Raſcal! cries Sullen, are you mad?—May be you're drunk this Morning already?—Can't you do your Buſineſs with a little Diſcretion?—You Blockhead!’—He then ſeats him⯑ſelf to Breakfaſt; his Tea is intolerable, the India Com⯑pany ſhould be all ſhot dead, like ſo many Thieves; they have monopolized the Trade, and never import [303]a Grain of real Tea—And thoſe Creols too, and be damned to them! they ſend us nothing but Moloſſes for Sugar.

One of thoſe Gentlemen invited him the other Day to a Turtle-Feaſt. The Turtle was of a very great Size and accounted extremely fine, by the Connoiſſeurs in this Sort of Eating; it was dreſſed at the Owner's Country-Houſe by the moſt ſkilful Cook in London. ‘Pſhaw! Damn it, exclaims Sullen, this is no Turtle;—there never was a Bit of Turtle in England and the Scoundrel of a Cook, I'd ſhoot ſuch a Fellow—Pſhaw! the People in this Country never eat—they don't know what it is to eat—ſo it's called Mutton, or Bee, that's enough for them—damn this Callipaſh and this Calli⯑pee, and the Fat—I'd as ſoon eat ſo much green Horn —Here, you Scoundrel, hand me a Glaſs of Punch. —Punch do you call this! Yes, Sir, made with Ja⯑maica Rum!—Pſhaw! There is not a Drop in it —Gin, or may be ſome of that Traſh, that the tall Iriſh Fellow there talks of.—Whiſkee—Po! —Give me a Glaſs of that Rheniſh—Rheniſh! —rot-gut—Sour Cyder—Who is that Woman there at the upper end of the Table?—She counted handſome!—a Fright!—I'd ſmother ſuch a Woman—And that tall Fellow there too. He's in the Houſe of Commons, I think—a Senator— Pſhaw!—fit for a Parliament of Hottentots—This is counted a pretty Country Seat too!—pretty in⯑deed!—I'd as ſoon take a Country-Lodging in Thames-ſtreet.’

In this Manner does Sullen torment himſelf, and with the Affectation of finer Feelings than his Neigh⯑bours, he perverſely makes himſelf unhappy. Mr. Sullen once paſſed a Week in the Country, where I happened to be; he grumbled like a Maſtiff in the great Yard all the Time he continued there; and, after his Departure, the Servant found in his Room the following [304]Memorandum with ſome Snuff in it, with which I ſhall cloſe this Paper.

Came down in a Poſt-Chaiſe with the Squire—a damned uneaſy one—Horſes only fit for a Dray, and the Squire ſhould be a Drayman—Weather infernal! —Vile Situation!—Inconvenient Houſe, &c.

Slept very ill—owing to the Badneſs of the Bed —Never like to be out of my own Bed—My Friend's Wife damned ugly in a Morning—A froſty Face Devil.—

Mutton warm with Life ſerved up to Dinner— Mutton ſhould be always kept a Week—nothing but Brown Bread at Table—not a Drop of real Wine in the Houſe.—

Took a Walk out upon the Lawns—Graſs all wet —Got a damned cold—Weather curſed bleak —Don't like Miſs Favonia's Breath—Believe I was cheated at Cards.

Curate of the Pariſh dined with us—A ſtrange Thing of a Wife with him.

N. B. Believe the tall Fellow will lie with with her.

Sick in my Stomach all the Morning—Owing to their hard Food—Memorandum to go away with⯑out taking Leave of the Family, or giving any Thing to thoſe Scoundrels the Servants.

WHEN Virgil's Aeneas and his Friend Achates were entering the Town, which Dido was raiſing, Venus diffuſed a Cloud around her favourite Son, in order to ſecure him from every human Eye, and protect him from the Inconveniences to which he might be liable, if ſeen by the Inhabitants. This parental Care proved very uſeful to the Hero, and we find ſome⯑thing like it is practiſed by Mother Dulneſs, who never fails to manifeſt a tender concern for her choſen Sons, and accordingly they are often enveloped in a Cloud of Ob⯑ſcurity, which no Ray of Light can pierce, and thereby they are enabled to proceed in their Works of Dark⯑neſs, without Lett or Moleſtation. But though there is this Similitude in the Fate of the Favourites of the Cloud-compelling Queen of Dullneſs, and the Offspring of Venus, it is obſervable, that there is a very wide Difference in the Conduct of both. The latter, we are told, admired as he journeyed on, the Induſtry and La⯑bour of the People, the Plan of their Town, and the Nobleneſs of their Streets. He was highly pleaſed with the Magnificence of the Structures, and the Time he ſpent in ſurveying the Pieces of Painting in their Temple, ſhewed he had a Taſte for the fine Arts. But the Grub-ſtreet Race, behold with Envy the learned In⯑duſtry of Genius, and from their hidden Place of Ob⯑ſcurity their Malice is daily levelled at thoſe, who they know cannot detect their covered Malice, and ſuperior Merit is the Mark at which they take their envenomed Aim. [307]There is however this Comfort remaining, that their Arrows are too blunt to penetrate, and the Miſt, from whence they iſſue ſerves greatly to retard their Force; by which Means they often fall to the Ground with ſhameful Debility, innocent of the Wound they were intended to inflict.

To drop the long-ſpun Allegory; the anonymous Li⯑beller is the Peſt of Society, and it is with Pleaſure I have obſerved, that Lampoons of late have fallen Dead-born from the Preſs, without procuring their Au⯑thors a ſingle Dinner. I was the other Day in a Pamphlet-Shop, when a Writer of Defamation came in to enquire after the Succeſs of his Production; ‘Sells middling, Sir, ſays the Shop-boy,"—"We diſ⯑poſed of three laſt Week’—I muſt own I felt no little Pleaſure at the Author's Diſappointment, as I look upon an Itch of Scandal to be the ſureſt Sign of a de⯑praved and malevolent Temper, and I am ſorry to find that it is not always the Conſequence of Hunger and Thirſt. It aſcends higher and flouriſhes in high Life, attends the Ladies at their Toilets, give a Reliſh to their Tea, a Flavour to their Liqueurs, and every Sum⯑mer takes a Jant to Bath and Tunbridge, as conſtantly as a Gameſter or a Citizen's Wife.

At the laſt mentioned Place I happened to ſpend a Week this Seaſon, and was a Witneſs to the Miſchief, which was occaſioned by the polite Sonnetteers and Epigrammatiſts, who chuſe to indulge their Wit, or rather, their Malice upon the amiable Sex. Both thoſe who cannot write, and thoſe who can, imme⯑diately upon their Arrival in theſe Regions begin to meaſure out Syllables; the vain Poetaſter, while in the Long-Room the Company ſip Tea and Scandal, en⯑vies not the Fame of Dryden, Pope, or Young; his Brow is adorned with a fancied Laurel, and he enjoys the Pangs he has excited in ſome lovely Boſom. As duly as the Morn returns, Malice flies abroad in the Form [308]of a Rebus, a Madrigal, a Song, an Epigram, or ſome ſuch ingenious Shape. The general Curioſity is inſtantly excited, and every one is impatient to peruſe the lying Evidence of Shame. ‘Do, Colonel, ſhew it me —Captain Flimſy, can't you get me a Sight of it? Do, that's a Dear—Lord, Ma'am, an't it mighty —the Creature deſerved it—What Airs ſhe gave herſelf?—And ſuch a deal of Talk, and ſo affected —Do you think her handſome?—Well, to be ſure ſhe wore a ſweet Pair of Ruffles Yeſterday.’—

In this manner is dull Scandal helped about, and the more lovely and innocent the Perſon is, whoſe Hap⯑pineſs is thus invaded, the more agreeable is the Invec⯑tive; the Satyr ſharpens, and the Wit refines. Muſi⯑dora has every Grace of Perſon, and every elegant Em⯑belliſhment of the Mind; in her Eye, to uſe the Expreſſion of a fine Poet, Love ever wakes and keeps a veſtal Fire, and her Behaviour carries with it an equal Degree of good Humour and Politeneſs, flowing from good Senſe and a native Sweetneſs of Temper. Appius is aukward in his Perſon, and diſagreeable in his Aſpect; his Mind is ever on the fret, and, if engaged in a Country-Dance, he is diſſatisfied with every Thing around him, and is eternally quarrelling with the Muſic. With theſe diſagreeable Features of Body and Mind Appius applied to Muſidora to be his Partner for the Evening, which ſhe declined with great Affability and good Manners, having before experienced the Incon⯑venience of the Foibles, which have taken Root in this Gentleman's Temper. Appius immediately took fire at the imagined Affront, and full of Indignation re⯑tired home to his Lodging; there he, who never be⯑fore attempted to tag a Rhyme, inſtantly commenced Poet, and the next Day came out the anonymous Stanza, which was however found out to be the Production of Appius. The Compoſition was declared very pretty by all the Prudes and Coquettes of the Place, both Spe⯑cies [309]of Women being Enemies to Muſidora, as ſhe pre⯑ſerved a diſcreet Medium between a giddy Freedom on the one Hand, and the reſerve of Hypocriſy on the other. The Verſes were in a little Time in every body's Hand, and Appius was declared to have a very fine Turn for Poetry. The Effect, which this Treatment had on Muſidora's Mind, is not to be deſcribed; faded were the Roſes which before were blended with the Lilly, and that Breaſt, which was deſigned for the Seat of Love, throbbed wild with uneaſy Paſſions; to pre⯑vent any further Vexation, her Relations were obliged in a Week's Time to fly from a Place, where Inno⯑cence and Honour are ſacrificed to a Jeſt; where the Men take a wanton Pleaſure in Scandal, and where the Fair join in Combination againſt Truth and Virtue.

How People can thus become avowed Enemies to their own Happineſs, and ſo univerſally adopt a Cuſtom, which certainly would be more honoured in the Breach than the Obſervance, is to me highly unaccountable. It reminds me of the Licentiouſneſs uſed by the Chorus in the Infancy of the Drama, when Malice was ſub⯑ſtituted in the room of Wit, and run a muck at ho⯑nourable Families, until a ſalutary Law ſtopped the Proceeding, and the Chorus, deprived of all further Power of Offence, was condemned to ignominious Si⯑lence.

If theſe ingenious Poetaſters would reflect on the evil Conſequences reſulting from this Itch of Rhyming, I perſuade myſelf this Gothic Piece of Pleaſantry would be baniſhed from all polite Places. I ſhall diſmiſs this Paper, after recommending to the Peruſal of all Tun⯑bridge Sonnetteers the following Lines of Mr. Pope,

A Series of pointed Thoughts on various Sub⯑jects has been put abroad into the World by ſeveral eminent Writers, and in France to this Day, it continues to be a favou⯑rite Manner of conveying an Author's Sentiments to the Public. The famous Rochfoucault ſucceeded ſo well upon this Plan, that he is univerſally admired wherever Wit and Poignancy of Matter are reliſhed. This Scheme of Writing indulges a free roving Exerciſe of the Mind, as Lord Shaftſbury expreſſes it; it ſets us free from the Fatigue of purſuing a long and regular Tract of well⯑concerted Reaſoning, and may from its appearing in looſe detached Sentences, ſeem to the Reader to carry with it no great Difficulty in the Execution, but it is nevertheleſs as hard as any other Vehicle of Inſtruction, as it raiſes a Demand for cloſe Senſe and a lively Turn [312]of Expreſſion in almoſt every Line. Hence it is, that the Writer already mentioned has been ſo much cele⯑brated by People of Taſte, and hence it is, that Pope and Swift have thought proper to follow him in this Path of Satyr. A very ingenious French Writer has alſo publiſhed, within this ſhort Time an entire Vo⯑lume in this Way, abounding in excellent Reflections upon all Occurrences in Life, full of ſtrong Senſe, and highly ſpirited in the Diction. After having peruſed this Author, my Mind acquired ſuch a Habit of think⯑ing in this unconnected Faſhion, that I could not ſettle my Thoughts on any one Topic for the Entertainment of my Readers. Wherever I went, whether through the Streets upon ordinary Buſineſs, or into the Play⯑houſe, where at preſent, as Thompſon has it in his admi⯑rable Poem called Winter,

I found myſelf conſtantly talking Sentences, and I there⯑fore reſolved to commit them to Paper this Day.