Chapter X: Introduction (10)

I shall not put my self to any further Pains for this Day's Entertainment, than barely to publish the Letters and Titles of Petitions from the Play-house, with the Minutes I have made upon the Latter for my Conduct in relation to them.

Drury-Lane, April [1] the 9th.

'Upon reading the Project which is set forth in one of your late
Papers, [2] of making an Alliance between all the Bulls, Bears,
Elephants, and Lions, which are separately exposed to publick View in
the Cities of _London_ and _Westminster_; together with the other
Wonders, Shows, and Monsters, whereof you made respective Mention in
the said Speculation; We, the chief Actors of this Playhouse, met and
sat upon the said Design. It is with great Delight that We expect the
Execution of this Work; and in order to contribute to it, We have
given Warning to all our Ghosts to get their Livelihoods where they
can, and not to appear among us after Day-break of the 16th Instant.
We are resolved to take this Opportunity to part with every thing
which does not contribute to the Representation of humane Life; and
shall make a free Gift of all animated Utensils to your Projector. The
Hangings you formerly mentioned are run away; as are likewise a Set of
Chairs, each of which was met upon two Legs going through the _Rose_
Tavern at Two this Morning. We hope, Sir, you will give proper Notice
to the Town that we are endeavouring at these Regulations; and that we
intend for the future to show no Monsters, but Men who are converted
into such by their own Industry and Affectation. If you will please to
be at the House to-night, you will see me do my Endeavour to show some
unnatural Appearances which are in vogue among the Polite and
Well-bred. I am to represent, in the Character of a fine Lady Dancing,
all the Distortions which are frequently taken for Graces in Mien and
Gesture. This, Sir, is a Specimen of the Method we shall take to
expose the Monsters which come within the Notice of a regular Theatre;
and we desire nothing more gross may be admitted by you Spectators for
the future. We have cashiered three Companies of Theatrical Guards,
and design our Kings shall for the future make Love and sit in Council
without an Army: and wait only your Direction, whether you will have
them reinforce King _Porus_ or join the Troops of _Macedon_. Mr.
_Penkethman_ resolves to consult his _Pantheon_ of Heathen Gods in
Opposition to the Oracle of _Delphos_, and doubts not but he shall
turn the Fortunes of _Porus_ when he personates him. I am desired by
the Company to inform you, that they submit to your Censures; and
shall have you in greater Veneration than _Hercules_ was in of old, if
you can drive Monsters from the Theatre; and think your Merit will be
as much greater than his, as to convince is more than to conquer.

I am, Sir, Your most obedient Servant, T.D.

SIR, When I acquaint you with the great and unexpected Vicissitudes of
my Fortune, I doubt not but I shall obtain your Pity and Favour. I
have for many Years last past been Thunderer to the Play-house; and
have not only made as much Noise out of the Clouds as any Predecessor
of mine in the Theatre that ever bore that Character, but also have
descended and spoke on the Stage as the bold Thunder in _The
Rehearsal_ [1]

When they got me down thus low, they thought fit to degrade me
further, and make me a Ghost. I was contented with this for these two
last Winters; but they carry their Tyranny still further, and not
satisfied that I am banished from above Ground, they have given me to
understand that I am wholly to depart their Dominions, and taken from
me even my subterraneous Employment. Now, Sir, what I desire of you
is, that if your Undertaker thinks fit to use Fire-Arms (as other
Authors have done) in the Time of _Alexander_, I may be a Cannon
against _Porus_, or else provide for me in the Burning of
_Persepolis_, or what other Method you shall think fit.

Salmoneus of Covent-Garden.'

The Petition of all the Devils of the Play-house in behalf of themselves and Families, setting forth their Expulsion from thence, with Certificates of their good Life and Conversation, and praying Relief.

_The Merit of this Petition referred to Mr._ Chr. Rich, _who made them
Devils._

The Petition of the Grave-digger in 'Hamlet', to command the Pioneers in the Expedition of _Alexander_.

_Granted._

The Petition of _William Bullock_, to be _Hephestion_ to _Penkethman the Great_. [4]

_Granted._

* * * * *

The caricature here, and in following lines, is of a passage in Sir
Robert Stapylton's 'Slighted Maid': 'I am the Evening, dark as
Night,' &c.

In the 'Spectator's' time the Rehearsal was an acted play, in which
Penkethman had the part of the gentleman Usher, and Bullock was one
of the two Kings of Brentford; Thunder was Johnson, who played also
the Grave-digger in Hamlet and other reputable parts.

* * * * *

[Footnote 1: 'March' was written by an oversight left in the first reprint uncorrected.]

[Footnote 2: No. 31.]

[Footnote 3: Mr. Bayes, the poet, in the Duke of Buckingham's 'Rehearsal', after showing how he has planned a Thunder and Lightning Prologue for his play, says,

Come out, Thunder and Lightning.

[Enter Thunder and Lightning.]

'Thun'. I am the bold 'Thunder'.

'Bayes'. Mr. Cartwright, prithee speak that a little louder, and
with a hoarse voice. I am the bold Thunder: pshaw! Speak
it me in a voice that thunders it out indeed: I am the
bold 'Thunder'.

'Thun'. I am the bold 'Thunder'.

'Light'. The brisk Lightning, I.']

[Footnote 4: William Bullock was a good and popular comedian, whom some preferred to Penkethman, because he spoke no more than was set down for him, and did not overact his parts. He was now with Penkethman, now with Cibber and others, joint-manager of a theatrical booth at Bartholomew Fair. When this essay was written Bullock and Penkethman were acting together in a play called 'Injured Love', produced at Drury Lane on the 7th of April, Bullock as 'Sir Bookish Outside,' Penkethman as 'Tipple,' a Servant. Penkethman, Bullock and Dogget were in those days Macbeth's three witches. Bullock had a son on the stage capable of courtly parts, who really had played Hephestion in 'the Rival Queens', in a theatre opened by Penkethman at Greenwich in the preceding summer.]

* * * * *

ADVERTISEMENT.

_A Widow Gentlewoman, wellborn both by Father and Mother's Side,
being the Daughter of_ Thomas Prater, _once an eminent
Practitioner in the Law, and of_ Letitia Tattle, _a Family well
known in all Parts of this Kingdom, having been reduc'd by
Misfortunes to wait on several great Persons, and for some time to
be Teacher at a Boarding-School of young Ladies; giveth Notice to
the Publick, That she hath lately taken a House near_ Bloomsbury-
Square, _commodiously situated next the Fields in a good Air;
where she teaches all sorts of Birds of the loquacious Kinds, as
Parrots, Starlings, Magpies, and others, to imitate human Voices
in greater Perfection than ever yet was practis'd. They are not
only instructed to pronounce Words distinctly, and in a proper
Tone and Accent, but to speak the Language with great Purity and
Volubility of Tongue, together with all the fashionable Phrases
and Compliments now in use either at Tea-Tables or visiting Days.
Those that have good Voices may be taught to sing the newest
Opera-Airs, and, if requir'd, to speak either_ Italian _or_
French, _paying something extraordinary above the common Rates.
They whose Friends are not able to pay the full Prices may be
taken as Half-boarders. She teaches such as are design'd for the
Diversion of the Publick, and to act in enchanted Woods on the
Theatres, by the Great. As she has often observ'd with much
Concern how indecent an Education is usually given these innocent
Creatures, which in some Measure is owing to their being plac'd in
Rooms next the Street, where, to the great Offence of chaste and
tender Ears, they learn Ribaldry, obscene Songs, and immodest
Expressions from Passengers and idle People, and also to cry Fish
and Card-matches, with other useless Parts of Learning to Birds
who have rich Friends, she has fitted up proper and neat
Apartments for them in the back Part of her said House; where she
suffers none to approach them but her self, and a Servant Maid who
is deaf and dumb, and whom she provided on purpose to prepare
their Food and cleanse their Cages; having found by long
Experience how hard a thing it is for those to keep Silence who
have the Use of Speech, and the Dangers her Scholars are expos'd
to by the strong Impressions that are made by harsh Sounds and
vulgar Dialects. In short, if they are Birds of any Parts or
Capacity, she will undertake to render them so accomplish'd in the
Compass of a Twelve-month, that they shall be fit Conversation for
such Ladies as love to chuse their Friends and Companions out of
this Species_.

R.

* * * * *

No. 37. Thursday, April 12, 1711. Addison.

... Non illa colo calathisve Minervæ
Foemineas assueta manus ...

Virg.

Some Months ago, my Friend Sir Roger, being in the Country, enclosed a Letter to me, directed to a certain Lady whom I shall here call by the Name of _Leonora_, and as it contained Matters of Consequence, desired me to deliver it to her with my own Hand. Accordingly I waited upon her Ladyship pretty early in the Morning, and was desired by her Woman to walk into her Lady's Library, till such time as she was in a Readiness to receive me. The very Sound of a _Lady's Library_ gave me a great Curiosity to see it; and as it was some time before the Lady came to me, I had an Opportunity of turning over a great many of her Books, which were ranged together in a very beautiful Order. At the End of the _Folios_ (which were finely bound and gilt) were great Jars of _China_ placed one above another in a very noble Piece of Architecture. The _Quartos_ were separated from the _Octavos_ by a Pile of smaller Vessels, which rose in a [delightful[1]] Pyramid. The _Octavos_ were bounded by Tea Dishes of all Shapes Colours and Sizes, which were so disposed on a wooden Frame, that they looked like one continued Pillar indented with the finest Strokes of Sculpture, and stained with the greatest Variety of Dyes. That Part of the Library which was designed for the Reception of Plays and Pamphlets, and other loose Papers, was enclosed in a kind of Square, consisting of one of the prettiest Grotesque Works that ever I saw, and made up of Scaramouches, Lions, Monkies, Mandarines, Trees, Shells, and a thousand other odd Figures in _China_ Ware. In the midst of the Room was a little Japan Table, with a Quire of gilt Paper upon it, and on the Paper a Silver Snuff-box made in the Shape of a little Book. I found there were several other Counterfeit Books upon the upper Shelves, which were carved in Wood, and served only to fill up the Number, like Fagots in the muster of a Regiment. I was wonderfully pleased with such a mixt kind of Furniture, as seemed very suitable both to the Lady and the Scholar, and did not know at first whether I should fancy my self in a Grotto, or in a Library.

Upon my looking into the Books, I found there were some few which the Lady had bought for her own use, but that most of them had been got together, either because she had heard them praised, or because she had seen the Authors of them. Among several that I examin'd, I very well remember these that follow. [2]

_Ogleby's Virgil_.
_Dryden's Juvenal_.
_Cassandra_.
_Cleopatra_.
_Astraea_.
_Sir Isaac Newton's_ Works.
The _Grand Cyrus:_ With a Pin stuck in one of the middle Leaves.
_Pembroke's Arcadia_.
_Locke_ of Human Understanding: With a Paper of Patches in it.
A Spelling-Book.
A Dictionary for the Explanation of hard Words.
_Sherlock_ upon Death.
The fifteen Comforts of Matrimony.
Sir _William Temptle's_ Essays.
Father _Malbranche's_ Search after Truth, translated into _English_.
A Book of Novels.
The Academy of Compliments.
_Culpepper's_ Midwifry.
The Ladies Calling.
Tales in Verse by Mr. _Durfey_: Bound in Red Leather, gilt on the
Back, and doubled down in several Places.
All the Classick Authors in Wood.
A set of _Elzevers_ by the same Hand.
_Clelia_: Which opened of it self in the Place that describes two
Lovers in a Bower.
_Baker's_ Chronicle.
Advice to a Daughter.
The New _Atalantis_, with a Key to it.
Mr. _Steel's_ Christian Heroe.
A Prayer Book: With a Bottle of _Hungary_ Water by the side of it.
Dr. _Sacheverell's_ Speech.
_Fielding's_ Tryal.
_Seneca's_ Morals.
_Taylor's_ holy Living and Dying.
_La ferte's_ Instructions for Country Dances.

I was taking a Catalogue in my Pocket-Book of these, and several other Authors, when _Leonora_ entred, and upon my presenting her with the Letter from the Knight, told me, with an unspeakable Grace, that she hoped Sir ROGER was in good Health: I answered _Yes_, for I hate long Speeches, and after a Bow or two retired.

_Leonora_ was formerly a celebrated Beauty, and is still a very lovely Woman. She has been a Widow for two or three Years, and being unfortunate in her first Marriage, has taken a Resolution never to venture upon a second. She has no Children to take care of, and leaves the Management of her Estate to my good Friend Sir ROGER. But as the Mind naturally sinks into a kind of Lethargy, and falls asleep, that is not agitated by some Favourite Pleasures and Pursuits, _Leonora_ has turned all the Passions of her Sex into a Love of Books and Retirement. She converses chiefly with Men (as she has often said herself), but it is only in their Writings; and admits of very few Male-Visitants, except my Friend Sir ROGER, whom she hears with great Pleasure, and without Scandal. As her Reading has lain very much among Romances, it has given her a very particular Turn of Thinking, and discovers it self even in her House, her Gardens, and her Furniture. Sir ROGER has entertained me an Hour together with a Description of her Country-Seat, which is situated in a kind of Wilderness, about an hundred Miles distant from _London_, and looks like a little Enchanted Palace. The Rocks about her are shaped into Artificial Grottoes covered with Wood-Bines and Jessamines. The Woods are cut into shady Walks, twisted into Bowers, and filled with Cages of Turtles. The Springs are made to run among Pebbles, and by that means taught to Murmur very agreeably. They are likewise collected into a Beatiful Lake that is Inhabited by a Couple of Swans, and empties it self by a litte Rivulet which runs through a Green Meadow, and is known in the Family by the Name of _The Purling Stream_. The Knight likewise tells me, that this Lady preserves her Game better than any of the Gentlemen in the Country, not (says Sir ROGER) that she sets so great a Value upon her Partridges and Pheasants, as upon her Larks and Nightingales. For she says that every Bird which is killed in her Ground, will spoil a Consort, and that she shall certainly miss him the next Year.

When I think how odly this Lady is improved by Learning, I look upon her with a Mixture of Admiration and Pity. Amidst these Innocent Entertainments which she has formed to her self, how much more Valuable does she appear than those of her Sex, [who [3]] employ themselves in Diversions that are less Reasonable, tho' more in Fashion? What Improvements would a Woman have made, who is so Susceptible of Impressions from what she reads, had she been guided to such Books as have a Tendency to enlighten the Understanding and rectify the Passions, as well as to those which are of little more use than to divert the Imagination?

But the manner of a Lady's Employing her self usefully in Reading shall be the Subject of another Paper, in which I design to recommend such particular Books as may be proper for the Improvement of the Sex. And as this is a Subject of a very nice Nature, I shall desire my Correspondents to give me their Thoughts upon it.

C.

[Footnote 1: very delightful]

[Footnote 2: John Ogilby, or Ogilvy, who died in 1676, aged 76, was originally a dancing-master, then Deputy Master of the Revels in Dublin; then, after the outbreak of the Irish Rebellion, a student of Latin and Greek in Cambridge. Finally, he settled down as a cosmographer. He produced translations of both Virgil and Homer into English verse. His 'Virgil', published in 1649, was handsomely printed and the first which gave the entire works in English, nearly half a century before Dryden's which appeared in 1697.

The translation of 'Juvenal' and 'Persius' by Dryden, with help of his two sons, and of Congreve, Creech, Tate, and others, was first published in 1693. Dryden translated Satires 1, 3, 6, 10, and 16 of Juvenal, and the whole of Persius. His Essay on Satire was prefixed.

'Cassandra' and 'Cleopatra' were romances from the French of Gautier de Costes, Seigneur de la Calprenède, who died in 1663. He published 'Cassandra' in 10 volumes in 1642, 'Cleopatra' in 12 volumes in 1656, besides other romances. The custom was to publish these romances a volume at a time. A pretty and rich widow smitten with the 'Cleopatra' while it was appearing, married La Calprenède upon condition that he finished it, and his promise to do so was formally inserted in the marriage contract. The English translations of these French Romances were always in folio. 'Cassandra', translated by Sir Charles Cotterell, was published in 1652; 'Cleopatra' in 1668, translated by Robert Loveday. 'Astraea' was a pastoral Romance of the days of Henri IV. by Honoré D'Urfe, which had been translated by John Pyper in 1620, and was again translated by a Person 'of Quality' in 1657. It was of the same school as Sir Philip Sydney's 'Arcadia', first published after his death by his sister Mary, Countess of Pembroke, in 1590, and from her, for whom, indeed, it had been written, called the Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia.

Sir Isaac Newton was living in the 'Spectator's' time. He died in 1727, aged 85. John Locke had died in 1704. His 'Essay on the Human Understanding' was first published in 1690. Sir William Temple had died in 1699, aged 71.

The 'Grand Cyrus', by Magdeleine de Scudéri, was the most famous of the French Romances of its day. The authoress, who died in 1701, aged 94, was called the Sappho of her time. Cardinal Mazarin left her a pension by his will, and she had a pension of two thousand livres from the king. Her 'Grand Cyrus', published in 10 volumes in 1650, was translated (in one volume, folio) in 1653. 'Clelia', presently afterwards included in the list of Leonora's books, was another very popular romance by the same authoress, published in 10 volumes, a few years later, immediately translated into English by John Davies, and printed in the usual folio form.

Dr. William Sherlock, who after some scruple about taking the oaths to King William, did so, and was made Dean of St. Paul's, published his very popular 'Practical Discourse concerning Death', in 1689. He died in 1707.

Father Nicolas Malebranche, in the 'Spectator's' time, was living in enjoyment of his reputation as one of the best French writers and philosophers. The foundations of his fame had been laid by his 'Recherche de la Vérité', of which the first volume appeared in 1673. An English translation of it, by Thomas Taylor, was published (in folio) in 1694. He died in 1715, Aged 77.

Thomas D'Urfey was a licentious writer of plays and songs, whose tunes Charles II. would hum as he leant on their writer's shoulder. His 'New Poems, with Songs' appeared in 1690. He died in 1723, aged 95.

The 'New Atalantis' was a scandalous book by Mary de la Riviere Manley, a daughter of Sir Roger Manley, governor of Guernsey. She began her career as the victim of a false marriage, deserted and left to support herself; became a busy writer and a woman of intrigue, who was living in the 'Spectator's' time, and died in 1724, in the house of Alderman Barber, with whom she was then living. Her 'New Atalantis', published in 1709, was entitled 'Secret Memoirs and Manners of several Persons of Quality of both sexes, from the New Atalantis, an Island in the Mediterranean.' Under feigned names it especially attacked members of Whig families, and led to proceedings for libel.

La Ferte was a dancing master of the days of the 'Spectator', who in Nos. 52 and 54 advertised his School

'in Compton Street, Soho, over against St. Ann's Church Back-door,'
adding that, 'at the desire of several gentlemen in the City,' he
taught dancing on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the neighhourhood of the
Royal Exchange.]

[Footnote 3: that]

* * * * *

No. 38. Friday, April 13, 1711. Steele.

'Cupias non placuisse nimis.'

Mart.

A Late Conversation which I fell into, gave me an Opportunity of observing a great deal of Beauty in a very handsome Woman, and as much Wit in an ingenious Man, turned into Deformity in the one, and Absurdity in the other, by the meer Force of Affectation. The Fair One had something in her Person upon which her Thoughts were fixed, that she attempted to shew to Advantage in every Look, Word, and Gesture. The Gentleman was as diligent to do Justice to his fine Parts, as the Lady to her beauteous Form: You might see his Imagination on the Stretch to find out something uncommon, and what they call bright, to entertain her; while she writhed her self into as many different Postures to engage him. When she laughed, her Lips were to sever at a greater Distance than ordinary to shew her Teeth: Her Fan was to point to somewhat at a Distance, that in the Reach she may discover the Roundness of her Arm; then she is utterly mistaken in what she saw, falls back, smiles at her own Folly, and is so wholly discomposed, that her Tucker is to be adjusted, her Bosom exposed, and the whole Woman put into new Airs and Graces. While she was doing all this, the Gallant had Time to think of something very pleasant to say next to her, or make some unkind Observation on some other Lady to feed her Vanity. These unhappy Effects of Affectation, naturally led me to look into that strange State of Mind which so generally discolours the Behaviour of most People we meet with.

The learned Dr. _Burnet_, [1] in his Theory of the Earth, takes Occasion to observe, That every Thought is attended with Consciousness and Representativeness; the Mind has nothing presented to it but what is immediately followed by a Reflection or Conscience, which tells you whether that which was so presented is graceful or unbecoming. This Act of the Mind discovers it self in the Gesture, by a proper Behaviour in those whose Consciousness goes no further than to direct them in the just Progress of their present Thought or Action; but betrays an Interruption in every second Thought, when the Consciousness is employed in too fondly approving a Man's own Conceptions; which sort of Consciousness is what we call Affectation.

As the Love of Praise is implanted in our Bosoms as a strong Incentive to worthy Actions, it is a very difficult Task to get above a Desire of it for things that should be wholly indifferent. Women, whose Hearts are fixed upon the Pleasure they have in the Consciousness that they are the Objects of Love and Admiration, are ever changing the Air of their Countenances, and altering the Attitude of their Bodies, to strike the Hearts of their Beholders with new Sense of their Beauty. The dressing Part of our Sex, whose Minds are the same with the sillyer Part of the other, are exactly in the like uneasy Condition to be regarded for a well-tied Cravat, an Hat cocked with an unusual Briskness, a very well-chosen Coat, or other Instances of Merit, which they are impatient to see unobserved.

But this apparent Affectation, arising from an ill-governed Consciousness, is not so much to be wonder'd at in such loose and trivial Minds as these: But when you see it reign in Characters of Worth and Distinction, it is what you cannot but lament, not without some Indignation. It creeps into the Heart of the wise Man, as well as that of the Coxcomb. When you see a Man of Sense look about for Applause, and discover an itching Inclination to be commended; lay Traps for a little Incense, even from those whose Opinion he values in nothing but his own Favour; Who is safe against this Weakness? or who knows whether he is guilty of it or not? The best Way to get clear of such a light Fondness for Applause, is to take all possible Care to throw off the Love of it upon Occasions that are not in themselves laudable; but, as it appears, we hope for no Praise from them. Of this Nature are all Graces in Mens Persons, Dress and bodily Deportment; which will naturally be winning and attractive if we think not of them, but lose their Force in proportion to our Endeavour to make them such.

When our Consciousness turns upon the main Design of Life, and our Thoughts are employed upon the chief Purpose either in Business or Pleasure, we shall never betray an Affectation, for we cannot be guilty of it: But when we give the Passion for Praise an unbridled Liberty, our Pleasure in little Perfections, robs us of what is due to us for great Virtues and worthy Qualities. How many excellent Speeches and honest Actions are lost, for want of being indifferent where we ought? Men are oppressed with regard to their Way of speaking and acting; instead of having their Thought bent upon what they should do or say, and by that Means bury a Capacity for great things, by their fear of failing in indifferent things. This, perhaps, cannot be called Affectation; but it has some Tincture of it, at least so far, as that their Fear of erring in a thing of no Consequence, argues they would be too much pleased in performing it.

It is only from a thorough Disregard to himself in such Particulars, that a Man can act with a laudable Sufficiency: His Heart is fixed upon one Point in view; and he commits no Errors, because he thinks nothing an Error but what deviates from that Intention.

The wild Havock Affectation makes in that Part of the World which should be most polite, is visible where ever we turn our Eyes: It pushes Men not only into Impertinencies in Conversation, but also in their premeditated Speeches. At the Bar it torments the Bench, whose Business it is to cut off all Superfluities in what is spoken before it by the Practitioner; as well as several little Pieces of Injustice which arise from the Law it self. I have seen it make a Man run from the Purpose before a Judge, who was, when at the Bar himself, so close and logical a Pleader, that with all the Pomp of Eloquence in his Power, he never spoke a Word too much. [2]

It might be born even here, but it often ascends the Pulpit it self; and the Declaimer, in that sacred Place, is frequently so impertinently witty, speaks of the last Day it self with so many quaint Phrases, that there is no Man who understands Raillery, but must resolve to sin no more: Nay, you may behold him sometimes in Prayer for a proper Delivery of the great Truths he is to utter, humble himself with so very well turned Phrase, and mention his own Unworthiness in a Way so very becoming, that the Air of the pretty Gentleman is preserved, under the Lowliness of the Preacher.

I shall end this with a short Letter I writ the other Day to a very witty Man, over-run with the Fault I am speaking of.

Dear SIR,

'I Spent some Time with you the other Day, and must take the Liberty
of a Friend to tell you of the unsufferable Affectation you are guilty
of in all you say and do. When I gave you an Hint of it, you asked me
whether a Man is to be cold to what his Friends think of him? No; but
Praise is not to be the Entertainment of every Moment: He that hopes
for it must be able to suspend the Possession of it till proper
Periods of Life, or Death it self. If you would not rather be
commended than be Praiseworthy, contemn little Merits; and allow no
Man to be so free with you, as to praise you to your Face. Your Vanity
by this Means will want its Food. At the same time your Passion for
Esteem will be more fully gratified; Men will praise you in their
Actions: Where you now receive one Compliment, you will then receive
twenty Civilities. Till then you will never have of either, further
than

SIR,

Your humble Servant.'

R.

[Footnote 1: Dr. Thomas Burnet, who produced in 1681 the 'Telluris Theoria Sacra,' translated in 1690 as 'the Sacred Theory of the Earth,' was living in the 'Spectator's' time. He died in 1715, aged 80. He was for 30 years Master of the Charter-house, and set himself against James II. in refusing to admit a Roman Catholic as a Poor Brother. Burnet's Theory, a romance that passed for science in its day, was opposed in 1696 by Whiston in his 'New Theory of the Earth' (one all for Fire, the other all for Water), and the new Romance was Science even in the eyes of Locke. Addison, from Oxford in 1699, addressed a Latin ode to Burnet.]

[Footnote 2: Lord Cowper.]

* * * * *

No. 39. Saturday, April 14, 1711. Addison.

'Multa fero, ut placem genus irritabile vatum,
Cum scribo.'

Hor.

As a perfect Tragedy is the Noblest Production of Human Nature, so it is capable of giving the Mind one of the most delightful and most improving Entertainments. A virtuous Man (says _Seneca_) struggling with Misfortunes, is such a Spectacle as Gods might look upon with Pleasure: [1] And such a Pleasure it is which one meets with in the Representation of a well-written Tragedy. Diversions of this kind wear out of our Thoughts every thing that is mean and little. They cherish and cultivate that Humanity which is the Ornament of our Nature. They soften Insolence, sooth Affliction, and subdue the Mind to the Dispensations of Providence.

It is no Wonder therefore that in all the polite Nations of the World, this part of the _Drama_ has met with publick Encouragement.

The modern Tragedy excels that of _Greece_ and _Rome_, in the Intricacy and Disposition of the Fable; but, what a Christian Writer would be ashamed to own, falls infinitely short of it in the Moral Part of the Performance.

This I [may [2]] shew more at large hereafter; and in the mean time, that I may contribute something towards the Improvement of the _English_ Tragedy, I shall take notice, in this and in other following Papers, of some particular Parts in it that seem liable to Exception.

_Aristotle_ [3] observes, that the _Iambick_ Verse in the _Greek_ Tongue was the most proper for Tragedy: Because at the same time that it lifted up the Discourse from Prose, it was that which approached nearer to it than any other kind of Verse. For, says he, we may observe that Men in Ordinary Discourse very often speak _Iambicks_, without taking notice of it. We may make the same Observation of our _English_ Blank Verse, which often enters into our Common Discourse, though we do not attend to it, and is such a due Medium between Rhyme and Prose, that it seems wonderfully adapted to Tragedy. I am therefore very much offended when I see a Play in Rhyme, which is as absurd in _English_, as a Tragedy of _Hexameters_ would have been in _Greek_ or _Latin_. The Solaecism is, I think, still greater, in those Plays that have some Scenes in Rhyme and some in Blank Verse, which are to be looked upon as two several Languages; or where we see some particular Similies dignifyed with Rhyme, at the same time that everything about them lyes in Blank Verse. I would not however debar the Poet from concluding his Tragedy, or, if he pleases, every Act of it, with two or three Couplets, which may have the same Effect as an Air in the _Italian_ Opera after a long _Recitativo_, and give the Actor a graceful _Exit_. Besides that we see a Diversity of Numbers in some Parts of the Old Tragedy, in order to hinder the Ear from being tired with the same continued Modulation of Voice. For the same Reason I do not dislike the Speeches in our _English_ Tragedy that close with an _Hemistick_, or half Verse, notwithstanding the Person who speaks after it begins a new Verse, without filling up the preceding one; Nor with abrupt Pauses and Breakings-off in the middle of a Verse, when they humour any Passion that is expressed by it.

Since I am upon this Subject, I must observe that our _English_ Poets have succeeded much better in the Style, than in the Sentiments of their Tragedies. Their Language is very often Noble and Sonorous, but the Sense either very trifling or very common. On the contrary, in the Ancient Tragedies, and indeed in those of _Corneille_ and _Racine_ [4] tho' the Expressions are very great, it is the Thought that bears them up and swells them. For my own part, I prefer a noble Sentiment that is depressed with homely Language, infinitely before a vulgar one that is blown up with all the Sound and Energy of Expression. Whether this Defect in our Tragedies may arise from Want of Genius, Knowledge, or Experience in the Writers, or from their Compliance with the vicious Taste of their Readers, who are better Judges of the Language than of the Sentiments, and consequently relish the one more than the other, I cannot determine. But I believe it might rectify the Conduct both of the one and of the other, if the Writer laid down the whole Contexture of his Dialogue in plain _English_, before he turned it into Blank Verse; and if the Reader, after the Perusal of a Scene, would consider the naked Thought of every Speech in it, when divested of all its Tragick Ornaments. By this means, without being imposed upon by Words, we may judge impartially of the Thought, and consider whether it be natural or great enough for the Person that utters it, whether it deserves to shine in such a Blaze of Eloquence, or shew itself in such a Variety of Lights as are generally made use of by the Writers of our _English_ Tragedy.

I must in the next place observe, that when our Thoughts are great and just, they are often obscured by the sounding Phrases, hard Metaphors, and forced Expressions in which they are cloathed. _Shakespear_ is often very Faulty in this Particular. There is a fine Observation in _Aristotle_ to this purpose, which I have never seen quoted. The Expression, says he, ought to be very much laboured in the unactive Parts of the Fable, as in Descriptions, Similitudes, Narrations, and the like; in which the Opinions, Manners and Passions of Men are not represented; for these (namely the Opinions, Manners and Passions) are apt to be obscured by Pompous Phrases, and Elaborate Expressions. [5] _Horace_, who copied most of his Criticisms after _Aristotle_, seems to have had his Eye on the foregoing Rule in the following Verses:

Et Tragicus plerumque dolet Sermone pedestri,
Telephus et Peleus, cum pauper et exul uterque,
Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba,
Si curat cor Spectantis tetigisse querelâ.

Tragedians too lay by their State, to grieve_.
Peleus _and_ Telephus, _Exit'd and Poor,
Forget their Swelling and Gigantick Words.

(Ld. ROSCOMMON.)

Among our Modern _English_ Poets, there is none who was better turned for Tragedy than _Lee_; [6] if instead of favouring the Impetuosity of his Genius, he had restrained it, and kept it within its proper Bounds. His Thoughts are wonderfully suited to Tragedy, but frequently lost in such a Cloud of Words, that it is hard to see the Beauty of them: There is an infinite Fire in his Works, but so involved in Smoak, that it does not appear in half its Lustre. He frequently succeeds in the Passionate Parts of the Tragedy, but more particularly where he slackens his Efforts, and eases the Style of those Epithets and Metaphors, in which he so much abounds. What can be more Natural, more Soft, or more Passionate, than that Line in _Statira's_ Speech, where she describes the Charms of _Alexander's_ Conversation?

_Then he would talk: Good Gods! how he would talk!_

That unexpected Break in the Line, and turning the Description of his Manner of Talking into an Admiration of it, is inexpressibly Beautiful, and wonderfully suited, to the fond Character of the Person that speaks it. There is a Simplicity in the Words, that outshines the utmost Pride of Expression.

_Otway_ [7] has followed Nature in the Language of his Tragedy, and therefore shines in the Passionate Parts, more than any of our _English_ Poets. As there is something Familiar and Domestick in the Fable of his Tragedy, more than in those of any other Poet, he has little Pomp, but great Force in his Expressions. For which Reason, though he has admirably succeeded in the tender and melting Part of his Tragedies, he sometimes falls into too great a Familiarity of Phrase in those Parts, which, by _Aristotle's_ Rule, ought to have been raised and supported by the Dignity of Expression.

It has been observed by others, that this Poet has founded his Tragedy of _Venice Preserved_ on so wrong a Plot, that the greatest Characters in it are those of Rebels and Traitors. Had the Hero of his Play discovered the same good Qualities in the Defence of his Country, that he showed for its Ruin and Subversion, the Audience could not enough pity and admire him: But as he is now represented, we can only say of him what the _Roman_ Historian says of _Catiline_, that his Fall would have been Glorious (_si pro Patriâ sic concidisset_) had he so fallen in the Service of his Country.

C.

[Footnote 1: From Seneca on Providence:

"'De Providentiâ', sive Quare Bonis Viris Mala Accidant cum sit
Providentia' § 2,
'Ecce spectaculum dignum, ad quod respiciat intentus operi suo Deus:
ecce par Deo dignum, vir fortis cum malâ fortunâ compositus, utique si
et provocavit."

So also Minutius Felix, 'Adversus Gentes:'

"Quam pulchrum spectaculum Deo, cum Christianus cum dolore
congueditur? cum adversus minas, et supplicia, et tormenta componitur?
cum libertatem suam adversus reges ac Principes erigit."

Epictetus also bids the endangered man remember that he has been sent by God as an athlete into the arena.]

[Footnote 2: shall]

[Footnote 3: 'Poetics', Part I. § 7. Also in the 'Rhetoric', bk III. ch. i.]

[Footnote 4: These chiefs of the French tragic drama died, Corneille in 1684, and his brother Thomas in 1708; Racine in 1699.]

[Footnote 5: It is the last sentence in Part III. of the 'Poetics'.]

[Footnote 6: Nathaniel Lee died in 1692 of injury received during a drunken frolic. Disappointed of a fellowship at Cambridge, he turned actor; failed upon the stage, but prospered as a writer for it. His career as a dramatist began with 'Nero', in 1675, and he wrote in all eleven plays. His most successful play was the 'Rival Queens', or the Death of Alexander the Great, produced in 1677. Next to it in success, and superior in merit, was his 'Theodosius', or the Force of Love, produced in 1680. He took part with Dryden in writing the very successful adaptation of 'OEdipus', produced in 1679, as an English Tragedy based upon Sophocles and Seneca. During two years of his life Lee was a lunatic in Bedlam.]

[Footnote 7: Thomas Otway died of want in 1685, at the age of 34. Like Lee, he left college for the stage, attempted as an actor, then turned dramatist, and produced his first tragedy, 'Alcibiades', in 1675, the year in which Lee produced also his first tragedy, 'Nero'. Otway's second play, 'Don Carlos', was very successful, but his best were, the 'Orphan', produced in 1680, remarkable for its departure from the kings and queens of tragedy for pathos founded upon incidents in middle life, and 'Venice Preserved', produced in 1682.]

* * * * *

No. 40. Monday, April 16, 1711. Addison.

'Ac ne forte putes, me, que facere ipse recusem,
Cum recte tractant alii, laudare maligne;
Ille per extentum funem mihi fosse videtur
Ire Poeta, meum qui pectus inaniter angit,
Irritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet,
Ut magus; et modo me Thebis, modo ponit Athenis.'

Hor.

The _English_ Writers of Tragedy are possessed with a Notion, that when they represent a virtuous or innocent Person in Distress, they ought not to leave him till they have delivered him out of his Troubles, or made him triumph over his Enemies. This Error they have been led into by a ridiculous Doctrine in modern Criticism, that they are obliged to an equal Distribution of Rewards and Punishments, and an impartial Execution of poetical Justice. Who were the first that established this Rule I know not; but I am sure it has no Foundation in Nature, in Reason, or in the Practice of the Ancients. We find that Good and Evil happen alike to all Men on this side the Grave; and as the principal Design of Tragedy is to raise Commiseration and Terror in the Minds of the Audience, we shall defeat this great End, if we always make Virtue and Innocence happy and successful. Whatever Crosses and Disappointments a good Man suffers in the Body of the Tragedy, they will make but small Impression on our Minds, when we know that in the last Act he is to arrive at the End of his Wishes and Desires. When we see him engaged in the Depth of his Afflictions, we are apt to comfort our selves, because we are sure he will find his Way out of them: and that his Grief, how great soever it may be at present, will soon terminate in Gladness. For this Reason the ancient Writers of Tragedy treated Men in their Plays, as they are dealt with in the World, by making Virtue sometimes happy and sometimes miserable, as they found it in the Fable which they made choice of, or as it might affect their Audience in the most agreeable Manner. _Aristotle_ considers the Tragedies that were written in either of these Kinds, and observes, That those which ended unhappily had always pleased the People, and carried away the Prize in the publick Disputes of the Stage, from those that ended happily. [1] Terror and Commiseration leave a pleasing Anguish in the Mind; and fix the Audience in such a serious Composure of Thought as is much more lasting and delightful than any little transient Starts of Joy and Satisfaction. Accordingly, we find, that more of our English Tragedies have succeeded, in which the Favourites of the Audience sink under their Calamities, than those in which they recover themselves out of them. The best Plays of this Kind are 'The Orphan', 'Venice Preserved', 'Alexander the Great', 'Theodosius', 'All for Love', 'OEdipus', 'Oroonoko', 'Othello', [2] &c. 'King Lear' is an admirable Tragedy of the same Kind, as 'Shakespear' wrote it; but as it is reformed according to the chymerical Notion of Poetical Justice, in my humble Opinion it has lost half its Beauty. At the same time I must allow, that there are very noble Tragedies which have been framed upon the other Plan, and have ended happily; as indeed most of the good Tragedies, which have been written since the starting of the above-mentioned Criticism, have taken this Turn: As 'The Mourning Bride', 'Tamerlane', 'Ulysses', 'Phædra' and 'Hippolitus', with most of Mr. _Dryden's_. [3] I must also allow, that many of _Shakespear's_, and several of the celebrated Tragedies of Antiquity, are cast in the same Form. I do not therefore dispute against this Way of writing Tragedies, but against the Criticism that would establish this as the only Method; and by that Means would very much cramp the _English_ Tragedy, and perhaps give a wrong Bent to the Genius of our Writers.

The Tragi-Comedy, which is the Product of the _English_ Theatre, is one of the most monstrous Inventions that ever entered into a Poet's Thoughts. An Author might as well think of weaving the Adventures of _Æneas_ and _Hudibras_ into one Poem, as of writing such a motly Piece of Mirth and Sorrow. But the Absurdity of these Performances is so very visible, that I shall not insist upon it.

The same Objections which are made to Tragi-Comedy, may in some Measure be applied to all Tragedies that have a double Plot in them; which are likewise more frequent upon the _English_ Stage, than upon any other: For though the Grief of the Audience, in such Performances, be not changed into another Passion, as in Tragi-Comedies; it is diverted upon another Object, which weakens their Concern for the principal Action, and breaks the Tide of Sorrow, by throwing it into different Channels. This Inconvenience, however, may in a great Measure be cured, if not wholly removed, by the skilful Choice of an Under-Plot, which may bear such a near Relation to the principal Design, as to contribute towards the Completion of it, and be concluded by the same Catastrophe.

There is also another Particular, which may be reckoned among the Blemishes, or rather the false Beauties, of our _English_ Tragedy: I mean those particular Speeches, which are commonly known by the Name of _Rants_. The warm and passionate Parts of a Tragedy, are always the most taking with the Audience; for which Reason we often see the Players pronouncing, in all the Violence of Action, several Parts of the Tragedy which the Author writ with great Temper, and designed that they should have been so acted. I have seen _Powell_ very often raise himself a loud Clap by this Artifice. The Poets that were acquainted with this Secret, have given frequent Occasion for such Emotions in the Actor, by adding Vehemence to Words where there was no Passion, or inflaming a real Passion into Fustian. This hath filled the Mouths of our Heroes with Bombast; and given them such Sentiments, as proceed rather from a Swelling than a Greatness of Mind. Unnatural Exclamations, Curses, Vows, Blasphemies, a Defiance of Mankind, and an Outraging of the Gods, frequently pass upon the Audience for tow'ring Thoughts, and have accordingly met with infinite Applause.

I shall here add a Remark, which I am afraid our Tragick Writers may make an ill use of. As our Heroes are generally Lovers, their Swelling and Blustring upon the Stage very much recommends them to the fair Part of their Audience. The Ladies are wonderfully pleased to see a Man insulting Kings, or affronting the Gods, in one Scene, and throwing himself at the Feet of his Mistress in another. Let him behave himself insolently towards the Men, and abjectly towards the Fair One, and it is ten to one but he proves a Favourite of the Boxes. _Dryden_ and _Lee_, in several of their Tragedies, have practised this Secret with good Success.

But to shew how a Rant pleases beyond the most just and natural Thought that is not pronounced with Vehemence, I would desire the Reader when he sees the Tragedy of _OEdipus_, to observe how quietly the Hero is dismissed at the End of the third Act, after having pronounced the following Lines, in which the Thought is very natural, and apt to move Compassion;

'To you, good Gods, I make my last Appeal;
Or clear my Virtues, or my Crimes reveal.
If in the Maze of Fate I blindly run,
And backward trod those Paths I sought to shun;
Impute my Errors to your own Decree:
My Hands are guilty, but my Heart is free.'

Let us then observe with what Thunder-claps of Applause he leaves the Stage, after the Impieties and Execrations at the End of the fourth Act; [4] and you will wonder to see an Audience so cursed and so pleased at the same time;

'O that as oft have at Athens seen,--

[Where, by the Way, there was no Stage till many Years after OEdipus.]

... The Stage arise, and the big Clouds descend;
So now, in very Deed, I might behold
This pond'rous Globe, and all yen marble Roof,
Meet like the Hands of Jove, and crush Mankind.
For all the Elements, &c.'

[Footnote 1: Here Aristotle is not quite accurately quoted. What he says of the tragedies which end unhappily is, that Euripides was right in preferring them,

'and as the strongest proof of it we find that upon the stage, and in
the dramatic contests, such tragedies, if they succeed, have always
the most tragic effect.'

Poetics, Part II. § 12.]

[Footnote 2: Of the two plays in this list, besides 'Othello', which have not been mentioned in the preceding notes, 'All for Love', produced in 1678, was Dryden's 'Antony and Cleopatra', 'Oroonoko', first acted in, 1678, was a tragedy by Thomas Southerne, which included comic scenes. Southerne, who held a commission in the army, was living in the 'Spectator's' time, and died in 1746, aged 86. It was in his best play, 'Isabella', or the Fatal Marriage, that Mrs. Siddons, in 1782, made her first appearance on the London stage.]

[Footnote 3: Congreve's 'Mourning Bride' was first acted in 1697; Rowe's 'Tamerlane' (with a hero planned in complement to William III.) in 1702; Rowe's 'Ulysses' in 1706; Edmund Smith's 'Phaedra' and 'Hippolitus' in 1707.]

[Footnote 4: The third Act of 'OEdipus' was by Dryden, the fourth by Lee. Dryden wrote also the first Act, the rest was Lee's.]

* * * * *

ADVERTISEMENT

_Having spoken of Mr._ Powell,
as sometimes raising himself Applause from the ill Taste of an Audience;
I must do him the Justice to own,
that he is excellently formed for a Tragoedian,
and, when he pleases, deserves the Admiration of the best Judges;
as I doubt not but he will in the Conquest of Mexico,
_which is acted for his own Benefit To-morrow Night_.

C.

* * * * *

No. 41. Tuesday, April 17, 1711. Steele.

'Tu non inventa reperta es.'

Ovid

Compassion for the Gentleman who writes the following Letter, should not prevail upon me to fall upon the Fair Sex, if it were not that I find they are frequently Fairer than they ought to be. Such Impostures are not to be tolerated in Civil Society; and I think his Misfortune ought to be made publick, as a Warning for other Men always to Examine into what they Admire.

SIR,

Supposing you to be a Person of general Knowledge, I make my
Application to you on a very particular Occasion. I have a great Mind
to be rid of my Wife, and hope, when you consider my Case, you will be
of Opinion I have very just Pretensions to a Divorce. I am a mere Man
of the Town, and have very little Improvement, but what I have got
from Plays. I remember in _The Silent Woman_ the Learned Dr.
_Cutberd_, or Dr. _Otter_ (I forget which) makes one of the Causes of
Separation to be _Error Personæ_, when a Man marries a Woman, and
finds her not to be the same Woman whom he intended to marry, but
another. [1] If that be Law, it is, I presume, exactly my Case. For
you are to know, Mr. SPECTATOR, that there are Women who do not let
their Husbands see their Faces till they are married.