The Gray's-Inn Journal: In two volumes. ... [pt.2]

THE GRAY'S-INN JOURNAL.

NUMB. 53.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Oct. 20, 1753.

— Uno avulso non deficit alter Aureus & simili frondescit Virga metallo. VIRG.

_IT has for a long Time been an Objection to the Writer of Periodical Essays, that every Subject is pre-occupied, that the Spectator, the Tatler, and the Guardian have culti|vated every Field of Reflection, and that there remains nothing at present to be gleaned by successive Adven|turers. Though I have all the Respect due to the Me|mory of the excellent Writers of the Performances just mentioned, I am far from paying them a blind Adora|tion; on the contrary, amidst all that surprizing Ema|nation of Genius, Wit, and Humour, which distin|guishes many of their Writings, I can sometimes descry a Subject carelesly treated, without any of their usual Turns of Sentiment, or Beauties of Diction. I

have now and then gone through a Series of important Trifles, and I have occasionally found them vague upon Subjects of Criticism, indeterminate in their Ex|pressions, and loose in their Definitions. If this hap|pens to be the Case, would it not be an erroneous Pro|ceeding to suppress every other Attempt, because Sir Richard Steel planned so many Years before? Nay, even if they were free from any of those Blemishes, which arise either from Inadvertence or the Imbecillity of hu|man Nature, would it not be absurd to extinguish the Seeds of laudable Emulation? Had the Rigour of this Sentence been carried into Execution, the World would never have been favoured with the admirable Perfor|mances of the Author of the Rambler. That the Eng|lish Language has received from this Writer many ad|ditional Ornaments, it is, I believe, universally felt by all Men of Taste. Every Topic is by him treated with great Erudition and strong Sense, enlivened with all the glowing Colourings of a warm Imagination, and the whole carried on with a nervous, clear, and har|monious Stile. If the Performance in general has not the Variety of the Spectator, it is because Mr. Johnson wrote singly and alone, whereas the former was supported by several of eminent Abilities, and there|fore, in the present Age there seems nothing want|ing but a Coalition of Men of Parts to equal our Predecessors in all Manner of Periodical Writings.

Certain it is, there are many Topics in every branch of Science and in all the liberal Arts, which may still receive new Lights, and conduce both to the Enter|tainment and Instruction of the Public. Since Mr. Addison's Time, a Du Bos has shone forth in France, and a Spence in England; and the late ingenious Editor of a Translation of Virgil is a convincing Proof that Rules for fine Writing, and Precepts of critical Knowledge may be still enforced with great Elegance and Pro|priety, though the Essays on Milton's Paradise Lost, and

on the Pleasures of Imagination, must be allowed to have all the masterly Strokes, that can result from a delicate and refined Taste. The Regions of Reflection are like a Champain Country, in which different Objects present themselves in various Attitudes to the Eye, and the Imagination is frequently caught by Parts of the Prospect, which have escaped another's Observation, each Person receiving different Sensations, according as the Fancy is disposed for the Sublime, the Wonderful, or the Beautiful in the natural World.

Besides; the continual Fluctuation of Fashions, Cus|toms and Manners must always afford fresh Matter for the Satyrist of Wit and Humour. The Tree of Folly is like the Tree mentioned by the Author of my Motto; though many have plucked a Branch from it, it is always quickly replaced by another, and the new Growth shoots into Day-light with undiminished Fertility.

Are there those who are pleased to indulge a delicate Vein of Raillery on the Foibles and Piccadillos of the Fair? Never was there more ample room to display a Turn of Wit, in this Way, than what the present Times are so happy as to afford. The Hoop has of late swelled to a wider Circumference than ever, and by the Help of a few formidable Rows of Steel, threatens Mischief to the whole Circle of Beaux, who cannot now approach the Ladies in their Entrenchments, with|out manifest Danger of fracturing a Shin-bone, hurting the Pan of the Knee, or some such Disaster While this Fashion prevails, the Ladies may be charged with carrying concealed Arms, and making Use of masked Barteries; for which, by the Way, they have no manner of Occasion as they seem at present to be in Possession of more Courage than any Amazon mentioned in Hi|story. For whereas those Viragos used to encounter with ONLY ONE BREAST EXERTED, the modern La|dies are not afraid of meeting the Men with both quite naked and displayed to View. The Head is also

built up many Stories higher than it used to be, and the Art of Painting is now arrived to such Perfection, that it is absolutely impossible to know a female Ac|quaintance for any length of Time, each lovely Fair having as many Faces and Complexions, as Gloves, Fans or Tippets. Add to this, that you may meet a Lady To-day with an elegant Shape, fine by Degrees and delicately less, and To-morrow she will appear as big round the Waist, as if within a few Days of her Time. Besides this, Cribbidge has suppressed the Reign of Love, and Cupid minds nothing now but cogging the Dice, or procuring a Pair-Royal at Brag; and in|deed the present happy Disposition for Luxury, and every Vice, Folly, Whim, Foible, Humour and Ex|travagance seems to promise a very plentiful Crop every Year, so that after a Survey of this Metropolis, we may say with Mr. Addison in his Prologue to the tender Hus|band,

Here's still Encouragement for those that write.

On this Account, though I have now felt the Anxiety of a Writer for twelve Months past, I have resolved with myself not to lay down my Pen, until I am warned to do it by the Lassitude of an Author, or, what is worse, the Lassitude of the Reader. At present however I do not find any Symptoms of this Sort in my own Breast, nor can I learn that my Paper declines with my Readers. In my Rambles since last Saturday, I did not meet with any Thing that made against me. At Sam's Mr. Wood informed me, that, his Customers hope I am not going to leave off Trade. A Stationer at the Chapter Coffee|house in St. Paul's Church-yard, call'd with some Earnest|ness for the Gray's-Inn Journal, and having Posses|sion of it, he moistened a Corner of it with the Tip of his Tongue, and then holding it up to the Light "really, says he, its a very good Paper." At most Places in Fleet-street, Joe Clare with a Pinch of Snuff between his Fingers and the usual Flourish of his Arm

declared highly in my Favour. At the Bedford I could guess from some Whispers, which I casually overheard, that I am as striking a Character as ever.

Hush—that's he—that's Ranger

—"was you ever in Company with him!"—

No,—I should like to spend an Evening with him

&c.—In the softer Climate of St. James's Air, I was told, that my Bays are likely to flourish, and I was particularly assured, by a Gentleman who frequents the Cocoa tree in Pallmall, that Ranger has gained Ad|mittance there notwithstanding their Attachment to the ADVENTORER.

Things standing thus, I am determined to persevere in my Undertaking, and I therefore take this Opportu|nity to renew my Application to all the Gentlemen, Clergy, and Freeholders of Great Britain. In my first Number I declared myself a Candidate for their Fa|vour, and I beg a Continuance of their Votes and In|terest, until cogent Reaso is shall incline me to with|draw myself from their Service —

N. B. I was against the Jew Bill.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

From my Register-Office, Oct. 16.

IT is with great Pleasure, that I begin to scent the Winter Air, as I am informed by a very sensible Bookseller that an R, in the Month is not only good for Oysters, but also Writers of all Denominations. The Season is now opening, when all the Vices and Follies of this Metropolis will be carried on with fresh Alacrity, which will undoubtedly afford Variety of In|telligence from all Quarters, to collect which I shall not spare either Trouble or Expence, though it must be al|lowed that a One-Horse Chaise during the Summer-Season, and Two-pence to be paid at the Bar of every Coffee-house must in the End amount to a consider|able Sum. But this I shall pay very willingly, and I

shall now begin to visit the several Academies, of which I have formerly given an Account. My Man TOM is somewhat like his Name-sake in the Conscious Lovers, and is perfectly acquainted with every Phillis in London, so that I cannot fail, through this Channel, of receiving the car••iest Account of all Occurrences among the La|dies, such as,

who keeps most Card Tables, who plays deepest at Whist, who cheats with the best Grace, who has the best Wash for the Complexion, who has the handsomest Chair, and many other Points of equal Moment.

A notable Speaker at the Robin-hood Society is to transmit me all the Dis|courses upon Religion; and as to Politicks, the Talka|tiveness of my Barber, while he is dabbing his Fist about my Face, and pulling my Nose into a thousand different Shapes, will abundantly qualify me in that Branch, and by these Means I flatter myself I shall greatly excel all my Brother Annalists and Historiogra|phers, whether they appear in daily Papers or Maga|zines.

Covent-Garden Theatre.

The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet was performed here on the ••••th Instant; Romeo by Mr. Barry, and Juliet by Miss Nossiter, being her first Appearance upon any Stage. At her first Entrance the Delicacy of her Figure, an her graceful Distress obtained for her the warmest Applause, and, as she grew more animated in the Pro|gress, she frequently surprized the House with the most alarming Attitudes. The faultering of her Resolution, whe•• going to drink the composing Draught, was finely marked; the Fixure of her Eyes and Feebleness of her whole Person, when coming forward from the Tomb, and her Manner of holding her Lover's dead Body, and looking at the Fryar, when she cries out

you shall not tear him from me,

were all happily ima|gined, and to crown the whole, her Action at stabbing

herself, was a very fine and affecting Circumstance. After this, it may not be improper to observe, that, a Fondness for Attitudes may carry a Performer to an Ex|treme, as perhaps was the Case in her standing with an uplifted Arm in act to strike, when she says

as with a Club dash out their Brains,

because that Po|sition denotes an Intent to knock down another. Be that as it may, if this young Actress studies the Manage|ment of her Voice, and attains a more simple Elocu|tion, she must prove an Acquisition to the Stage.

NUMB. 54.

GRAY's-INN, Saturday, Oct. 27, 1753.

Scimus inurbanum Lepido seponere dicto. HOR.

_I Have in a former Paper delivered my Sen|timents concerning the notable Art of Humbugging; I shall this Day throw to|gether some cursory Reflections upon the Practice of Raillery, which, in my Opinion, it is the Interest of Society to explode from every Company.

I am induced into this Way of thinking from an Ob|servation, that few People are properly qualified to exercise this Talent, there being hardly any Thing which requires so fine an Understanding, together with so much Delicacy in the Exertion of it. But as Matters are generally managed, there is nothing so coarse as the Attempts of those, who are ambitious of shining in Conversation, and are therefore determined to banter Mankind into an exalted Opinion of their Accomplish|ments. The utmost that can be allowed to these Gen|tlemen, is to join in the general Laugh; and, if Mirth should be going forward, they may very properly be admitted to partake of the frolic Festivity, without vain|ly pretending to take the Lead, or to engross the Con|versation

into their own Hands; in like Manner as the uninformed Country Squire should not be suffered by the Master of the Ceremonies in a polite Assembly, to come forward in a Minuet, where the Graces of Move|ment are required, though he may be tolerated to romp in a Country Dance, and display all the Gambols of his unfashioned Agility.

— Nec cum sis caetera fossor Tres tantum ad numeros Satyri moveare Bathylli.

Were I to define Raillery, I should call it a delicate Exertion of Pleasantry upon the Foibles or the slight Inadvertences, which disclose themselves in the Actions of Men. From this View of Matters, it will appear, that no Tincture of Ill-nature must be suffered to disfigure the Surface; that only slight Errors must be the Ground on which the Colouring is laid, and that good Manners must give a Polish to the Whole. No Man has any Degree of Right to invade another's inward Peace, and therefore a well turned Mind will always decline any Thing that comes home to the Bosom of any Person, with whom he is willing to enter into Society. What|ever may tend to create Dis-esteem in the Circle of our Acquaintance, or to throw a ridiculous Light upon a Character; whatever may excite uneasy Sensations by touching upon Circumstances, about which it is possible a Person may have a tender Feeling, though in their own Nature, they are not of any material Importance; in short, all Topics, but such, as we are convinced the the Object of our Merriment will give up, are care|fully to be avoided; and it will be always highly ne|cessary so to glide gently over the affected Part, that the Wound may appear to be probed by a skilful Hand. I have somewhere read a Story of Jack Ketch's Wife, which I think throws a Light on this Matter. Any Body, says that elegant Lady, can tuck a Man up, and stop his Breath, but to do it with Dexterity, and make

the Culprit die an easy pleasant Death, is only the gen|teel Qualification of my Husband. Thus it requires no very shining Abilities to inform our Neighbour of his Oddities, and point out to him his slight Indiscre|tions; but to open his Eyes, and let in the Light with|out rendering it painful to him; to give a Sense of the Foible without disturbing the natural Complacence, with which every one is willing to behold himself, is a Task which requires more Elegance and Refinement than hap|pens to fall to the Share of every Individual. And yet there is no going any where without meeting Preten|ders in this Way; every Quarter of the Town abounds with Men of Raillery, and to all these it is necessary to render an Account of our Actions, our Friends, our Attachments, our Cloaths, our Walk, and what not? To all these notable Personages I would beg leave to recommend the following Story. A Gentleman was one Day shaving himself in his Parlour to the great Ad|miration of Otho, his Monkey, who stood by him won|derfully pleased with the Turn of his Wrist, and the Dexterity of every Stroke. The Operation being finish|ed, and the Gentleman gone out without laying up his Utensils, Otho mounts the Table, fixes himself before the Glass and flourishes the Razor with mimic Skill, till unfortunately he cut his Jaw across, and then too late found the Danger of playing with Edge Tools:

I have drawn up an allegorical Account of the Birth and Parentage of Raillery, which, I think, may serve to lay before the Reader its several efficient Qualities.

GOOD-SENSE and RIDICULE were joined in Wed|lock; the Offspring of their Marriage was HUMOUR, who for a long Time roved about Parnassus, placing the Follies and Whims of Mankind in such a Light, as never failed to excite Mirth in the Synod of Apollo and the Muses. At length happening to wander out of Bounds, HUMOUR met, upon the Borders of Par|nassus, just upon the Verge of worldly Commerce, a

certain Lady known by the Name of ILL-NATURE. Drawn in by false Allurements and a glavering Smile, which ILL-NATURE always wore upon her Countenance, HUMOUR offered Proposals of Marriage, which were carried without Delay into Execution, and in nine Months Time RAILING was ushered into the World. With a small Mixture in his Composition of his Father's Qualities strongly blended with the complexional Habits of his Mother, RAILING grew up in the Practice of ex|posing the infirmities of all who came in his Way. With|out Restraint he took unbecoming Liberties with private Families, sowed the Seeds of Discontent in every Breast, and in Time began to disturb the Harmony of the sacred Nine. Whereupon Thalia, conceived an Aversion to him, and in order to mend the Breed preferred a Pe|tition to Apollo to divorce HUMOUR from his Wife ILL|NATURE.

After a full hearing of the Cause. Apollo issued out his Edict of Separation. HUMOUR could not live single, and in a short Time made another Match, which, as good Luck would have it, turned out better than the former. His second Wife's Name was WIT, a Lady of great Vivacity, and abounding in surprizing Turns in all her Conversation. She hardly could see any Thing, but her Way was instantly to compare it to some other Object in Nature, and she frequently would make her Auditors laugh by pointing out a latent Resemblance in Things, which seemed in their own Natures abso|lutely repugnant to each other. Her principal Atten|tion was to set off her Husband, and though she was fond of great Variety in her Dress, she would upon many Occasions lend her best Apparel to HUMOUR, who never failed to look most engaging, when WIT contributed her Ornaments. HUMOUR, in his Turn, gave supernumerary Embellishments to his Wife, and they both reflected a reciprocal Lustre upon each other. They continued in a State of mutual Fondness, and

their faithful Love was in Time rewarded with a tender Daughter, who was immediately called, with the ge|neral Consent, by the Name of RAILERY. The MUSES cherished her in their Bosoms, and as she grew up she discovered a Propensity to her Father's Way of thinking, but with a considerable Abatement of his Se|verity. The Mother's Delicacy she possessed entire, and whenever she touched upon any Thing, like her, she endeavoured to give it an agreeable Colouring. In this Habit she was further confirmed by POLITENE••S, a collateral Relation by the Mother's Side, who took upon her the Care of her Manners, and instructed her perfectly in all the secondary Qualities or lesser Morals, which are commonly known by the Name of Good-breeding. Being confirmed in these Principles RAIL|LERY was, at a mature Age, trusted abroad into the World, where she had not been long before she was ca|ressed by the courtly Horace, who took her Home to his own House, introduced her to Mecaenas, and found her of singular Service in all his Writings. At the Demise of that Bard, RAILLERY wandered a Vagrant up and down, till at length she took it into her Head to visit Boileau in Paris; from whence she came over to England and resided for many Years at Twickenham with the late Mr. Pope, from whose Retreat she would now and then make an Excursion to pass some Hours with Doctor Young and Mr. Addison. At present, it is said, that she is taken into Keeping by a certain noble Earl, of whom she is so enamoured, that it is confidently reported, she will not quit his Company, though he is now in Danger of becoming deaf; and it is further said, that she will stick by him to his last Breath; but, at that unhappy Juncture what will become of her, no Body can pretend to de|termine.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Bedford Coffee-house, Oct. 27.

ON Saturday last the Parliament of Criticism met here, pursuant to their Adjournment, when Mr. Town made the following most gracious Speech.

My Friends and Critics,

It is with a very sensible Pleasure, that I now call you together, as I am convinced of your Endeavours to propogate the Cause of Z••••lizm, during your late Recess from Business, and it is to be hoped that the Effects of your Allegiance will appear before the Expiration of the Winter.

The Act for a General Naturalization of all foreign Monsters, at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden, has, I find, been the Occasion of much Murmuring; I therefore re|commend that Matter to your further Consideration; but hope you will take care to manifest a proper Ten|derness for the Brute Creation.

Gentlemen of the City,

I have ordered the proper Estimates to be laid before you, by which you will perceive that the Boxes are 5 s. Pit 3 s. Middle Gallery 2 s. Upper Gallery 1 s. and I make no Doubt of your Compliance therewith for the Service of the current Year.

My Friends and Critics,

I am only now to exhort you to a quick Dispatch of all such Business as may come before you this Season, and I am persuaded you will display your usual Ala|crity of Wrangling, Peevishness, Spleen and Ill-nature, in which you will always find from me a chearful Con|currence.

NUMB. 55.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Nov. 3, 1753.

Impressit memorem dente labris Notam. HOR.

— Oscula, quae Venus Quintâ parte sui Nectaris imbuit. HOR.

_THE following Letter came to Hand just as my Printer's Devil was at my Door, to call to me for some Copy. Upon Perusal, it appeared to carry with it a Vein of Plea|santry, not improper for my fair Readers. If there|fore it will serve for one half Hour to banish, from their Company, a certain Concomitant of the Tea-Equipage, called SCANDAL, I shall think this Day's Paper subser|vient to a moral Use.

To CHARLES RANGER, Esq

SIR,

THE Exercise of the Fan was proposed in the Days of the Spectator, as a Study highly ne|cessary to the Ladies of Great Britain, and the Scheme, offered to their Consideration, included all the requi|site Perfections in the Management of that pretty ver|satile Machine. Though I must allow that Directions of this Nature were greatly conducive to a proper Display of many female Charms, there is still a more useful System of Rules for the playing off Love's Ar|tillery, which I beg Leave, through the Channel of your Paper, to convey to the Notice of my beautiful Countrywomen. The System of Rules which I here intend, is the Exercise of the Lips, and, after mature Consideration, I think the whole Secret may be com|prized under the following Heads.

• ...Moisten your Lips,
• ...Bite your Lips,
• ...Open your Lips,
• ...Close your Lips,
• ...Pout your Lips,
• ...Rest your Lips.

The Mouth being a leading Feature in the Counte|nance, and the Seat of the Graces, where all the winning Loves and each amiable Smile have planted their Al|lurements, there cannot be too much Care employed by the Ladies to acquire a Pair of well disciplined Lips, readily obedient to each of the Rules above established, and capable with Quickness and Ease to perform every Branch of this delectable Exercise.

With Regard to the first Word of Command; a due Degree of Moisture gives a sparkling Lustre to the na|tural Vermillion of the Skin, like Roses fresh be|sprinkled with the Morning-Dew; it contributes like|wise to hinder them from appearing dry and rough, as is generally the Case with old Maids; the least Sus|picion of which the Ladies seem willing to avoid, by the present Taste of extending the Shape beyond its just Proportion, by a fashionable Enormity of the Stays.

Biting the Lips is attended with more Difficulty than the premised Rule, because it is more complicated in its Nature and includes the Operation of the Passions. There are always many Topics in Conversation, upon which this Practice, if well managed, has a very expres|sive Significance. When, for Instance, disagreeable Thoughts obtrude, it serves to excite new Ideas in the Fancy; it likewise prevents the unseasonable Eruption of a conscious Laugh, when the Libertine Wit of Con|greve or Vanbrugh, provokes a betraying Simper; not to mention that it helps to heighten the natural Redness of the Lip, and raises a Degree of Anxiety in the Men, for Fear the Delicacy of the Skin should suffer too much from too violent a Pressure.

I do not doubt, but it may seem perfectly easy to open the Lips, but this also I take to be a Matter of no small Difficulty. Very few, it is observable, open their Lips to any Purpose; besides it should never be done with too great a Precipitance, but always gradually and by due Degrees. Should there happen to be drawn up, within, an elegant Row of beautiful white Teeth, it will be sure to add greatly to the natural Bloom, by exhibiting an agreeable Contrast; like Ivory stained with a just Arrangement of crimson Colours. On this Head it may not be improper to caution my pretty Rea|ders against an indolent Custom of relaxing into a Yawn, which distends the Mouth beyond its proper Size, and generally occasions the witty Saying,

Thank you for not swallowing me.

Before the Lips are closed, it is eligible to confer up|pon them a new Refreshment of Moisture, and, to en|liven the Colour: If they were to undergo the Opera|tion of Biting, I should not think it amiss. Shutting the Lips I have often remarked, is extremely becom|ing in most Ladies, and, I think, cannot be too much practised by old Maids, Wives, and indeed the Gene|rality of Women. In closing them, however, there are different Degrees of Pressure to be observed, because in this also the Passions are concerned. When they gently touch each other, it gives a Variety to the Air of the Face, by giving it an unusual Degree of Length; but in this, those, who have naturally a long Visage, are to be particularly cautious. When somewhat com|pressed, the Dimples in the Cheeks are displayed to Advantage, and the whole Face is enlivened with a pleasing Serenity. If squeezed close together, it throws a beautiful Pensiveness into the Looks, which is seldom acquired to any Degree of Perfection by the Generality of the Sex; but when properly attained, it carries with it an elegant Kind of dumb Eloquence, which the

Critics have observed, is often a great Beauty in Poe|try, and certainly has its Portion of Grace among the fair Sex. I know a Gentleman who can read the Thoughts of any Lady whatever by observing the Ad|justment of the Lips. He tells me, he has observed a Pair of Lips speak, without any Motion for an Hour together, and he has a List of Lips, which he says, are absolute Prudes; others that are Rakes; some that are amorous, and some that are swelled with Pride, and from a long Course of Enquiry he finds that they have more Electricity than any other Substance in Nature.

But these Remarks belong more immediately to the following Head of Pouting the Lips, which is more diffi|cult than any Rule advanced as yet. In doing this, it will be always found expedient to moisten and bite them first, that, when prominent, the Under-lip may look as if pregnant with Delight. The Passions of Scorn, Indignation, Contempt, and the whole Family of Pride, are finely marked by this Position. I have known a pouted Lip to look down upon a Rival Beauty during an entire Tragedy, and I have seen a Lady, without uttering a single Word, tell a Man, that she thought him an unmannered Coxcomb, by a forcible Exertion of this expressive Feature. I must observe, that this Practice becomes handsome Faces only; to such it gives an Air of Elevation, or a pretty Sullenness, which throws a kind of amiable Severity over the whole Coun|tenance. Ugly Women seldom have this Art in any Perfection.

The last Rule is to Rest your Lips, and is the most neglected of any, though highly essential in this beau|tiful Language. Young Girls can never be brought to pay the least Attention to this Precept; but were they sensible, that when the Features are lest to display their own native Graces without Art, their Charms are irre|sistible, I am convinced this Word of Direction would be better observed. This Rule is more extensive than

the foregoing, because it is proper for all Ladies in ge|neral, whereas the former should never be practised but by such of the Fair, as are blessed with a blooming Com|plexion and a Delicacy of Features.

The Bounds of Mr. Ranger's Paper will not permit me to expatiate further; I shall therefore, at Maturity, publish by Subscription an entire Book, called the Oeconomy of the Lips; in which I shall explain at large the Doctrine here delivered, and I shall adapt each Article to the Make of the Countenance. The whole shall be concluded with an Essay on the Passions of the Fe|male Lips, and to the Honour of this Part of the Face, I shall prove, that in these Days of Atheism, all Reli|gion is centered with them, as what few Prayers are said at present, come from the Lips only, without the Understanding or Heart being at all concerned in the Matter. I have the Honour to be,

Sir,

Your most obsequious humble Servant, JOHN LIPSALVE.

P. S. The Song in the Beggars Opera,

Lip to Lip while we are young, then our Lip to the Glass,

will be considered, with some Hints to prevent the angry Mab of Shakespear from causing Blisters. I also teach the Ladies how to cheat at Cards, and discover the whole Game by the Language of the Lips.

N. B. I may possibly take another Opportunity to consider the Eyes.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Drury-Lane Playhouse, Nov. 3, 1753.

ON the first Night of Mr. Foote's Appearance upon this Stage, for this Season, he spoke the follow|ing Prologue, written by Mr. Garrick, which afforded very high Entertainment to a splendid Audience on that

Night and several Times since. This Performer has since appeared in the Character of Fondlewife, in which Part he discovered by several nice Strokes an humourous Insight into Nature. The Reader in the Perusal of the Prologue will admire the ingenious Turn of the Author, and the Pleasantry of a Person, who could thus entertain the Public with a Piece of Raillery on himself.

PROLOGUE.

THE many various Objects that amuse These busy, curious Times, by Way of News, Are, Plays, Elections, Murders, Lott'ries, Jews; All these compounded fly throughout the Nation, And set the Whole in one great Fermentation! True British Hearts the same high Spirit show, Be they to damn a Farce, or fight a Foe. One Day for Liberty the Briton fires, The next he f••ames—for Canning, or for Squires. In like Extremes your laughing Humour flows; Have ye not roar'd from Pit to upper Rows, And all the Jest was,—what?—a Fidler's Nose * 4.1 Pursue your Mirth; each Night the Joke grows stronger, For as you fret the Man, his Nose looks longer, Among the Trifles which occasion Prate, Even I Sometimes, am Matter for Debate. Whene'er my Faults, or Follies are the Question, Each draws his Wit out, and begins Dissection. Sir Peter Primrose, smirking o'er his Tea Sinks from himself, and Politics, to me.

Papers Boy.—Here Sir! Tam what News To-day? Foote, Sir, is advertis'd—What?—run away? No, Sir, he acts this Week at Drury-Lane, How's that (cries Feeble Grub) Foote come again? I thought that Fool had done his Devil's-Dance; Was not he hang'd some Months ago in France? Upstarts Machone, and thus the Room harangu'd, 'Tis true his Friends, gave out that he was hang'd, But to be sure, 'twas all a Hum, becase I have seen him since, and after such Disgrace, No Gentleman would dare to show his Face. To him reply'd a sneering bonny Scot; You rasin reet my Frynd haunged he was not But neither you nor I can tell how soon he'll gang to Pot. Thus each as Fancy drives, his Wit displays, Such is the Tax each Son of Folly pays. On this my Scheme, they many Names bestow, 'Tis Fame, 'tis Pride, nay worse—the Pocket's low. I own I've Pride, Ambition, Vanity, And what's more strange, perhaps you'll see (Tho' not so great a Portion of it)—Modesty. For you I'll curb each self-sufficient Thought, And kiss the Rod, whene'er you point the Fault. Many my Passions are, though one my View, They all concenter, in the pleasing you.

NUMB. 56.

Spring Gardens, Saturday, Nov. 10, 1753.

Mane salutanium totis vomit aedibus undam. VIRG.

To CHARLES RANGER, Esq

SIR,

_AMIDST all the frolic Excursions of Fancy to which you have occasionally given vent in your Saturday's Compositions, I have ob|served that there is not one of them but has some Degree of Tendency to the Instruction, as well as Entertainment of your Readers. On this Account, I hope you will not refuse a Place in your Paper to a Correspondent, who means to shew the Futility of a Maxim, which has gained Credit with most People, though extremely ill-grounded, as, I think, I can fairly evince, from an experimental Knowledge of Mankind.

You undoubtedly recollect that Ovid has in one of his Elegies the following Lines.

Donec eris felix multos numerabis Amicos; Tempora si fuerint nubila, solus eris.

Now, Sir, it is so far from being true, that a Man is surrounded with Friends in Prosperity, and is left desti|tute under his Misfortunes, that I will undertake to prove the very Reverse; in doing this I flatter myself I shall serve the Purposes of Virtue, and vindicate the Dignity of human Nature.

You must know then, that I came to this Town, a few Years since, with Intent to read the Law, having just Fortune enough to support me in my Studies, until I might fix myself in a tolerable Road of Business. For this Purpose I lodged in one of the Inns of Court, and

the Oeconomy, which I was obliged to observe, ren|dering it impossible for me to go much into Company, I soon found out that I led a very muzzy Sort of a Life. I therefore shifted the Scene, and though, in a short Time, I found means to run out my little Fortune, I cannot say, that I was relinquished by the World on this Account. It is true that some of my Acquaintance totally deserted me, but it was the Occasion, at the same Time, that others were more earnestly attached than they would otherwise have been. I remember the last Word my Aunt in the Country said to me, was

Bob, wherever you go, be sure to make Friends for your|self,

this Advice, I will venture to say, I have had the Address to conform to with great Success, as will appear from the Sequel.

Most of the Friendships of the World are Leagues in Debauchery and Intemperance, made in the drawing of a Cork, and often ended in the same Manner. Out of Sight out of Mind is certainly true, with Regard to the Generality of Connections, but the Impressions I have made upon the Minds of my Friends are not so easily effaced. On the contrary, when it happens that I am seldom seen by them, they are known to be in very great Solicitude about me, are constantly very earnest in, their Enquiries after me, and the Discourse they usually have with each other is,

Have you seen our old Friend lately—I can't think what's become of him—I hope he is not gone out of Town—I have not seen him for a long Time,—faith, I'm very uneasy about him—I wish to God he would see and settle his Affairs—He's a very careless young Fellow—a great deal too wild — throws away his Money like Dirt—I have call|ed upon him Morning after Morning, but all to no Purpose—I'd give a Bottle of Wine I could meet with him—I'd rather that than my Dinner—I never long'd so much to see any body.

These are the general Expressions of Anxiety which my Friends express on my Account, and there are

some of them who are not content to rest here; Words cost nothing; they carry the Thing to such a Length as to employ a Couple of Fellows, who are daily in all Quarters of the Town hunting and prying about for me. As there are few Instances of such earnest Friendship in the World, I am sensible what I have said, may have a romantic Appearance, and Mr. Ranger may suggest to himself, that I am entertaining him all this Time with a Novel; but, Sir, I must take Leave to assure you that every Word is literally true, and what may perhaps raise your Idea still higher, is, not one of all these People has ever got a Shilling by me; and I verily believe few of them ever will. Having said thus much in the Praise of these my Well-wishers, it will naturally be desired of me, to inform the World who and what they are, who are in such Concern about a Stranger. Not to keep you any longer in Suspence I will now tell you, that I have experienced all this Generosity from my CREDITORS.

By this it will appear that the Pleasure of being in Debt, though very common in Life, is very little un|derstood by the Generality of those, who addict them|selves to this Gratification. The Art in all these Cases is to refine upon the Occurrences and Disappointments, to which our State is liable; and, for my Part, the Pleasure just mentioned is one of the most valuable Enjoyments of my Life. My Morning Levee is as great as any Nobleman's, whereas in the Days that that I could say I was in Possession of a Competence, I never had any Visitor whatever, except a Laundress to make my Bed in the Temple. But now the Case is perfectly altered; there is a constant Crowd of Attend|ants about my ••oors, and to those, that are admitted, I have the Pleasure of making as many Promises, as a Minister of State, besides a lofty Pride in keeping them much after the same Fashion. Upon these Occasions it will now and then happen, that they who best know

how to make their Court, and have the Art of taking a pliant Hour, sometimes prevail upon me to appoint a Day for the Completion of their Wishes. As Things of Consequence cannot be done in a violent Hurry, the Day, agreed upon is generally very distant, may be from six to nine or twelve Months, during which Space of Time, it is observable that their Good-nature never suffers the least Abatement, but they remain as solicitous as ever, frequently expressing the most ten|der Regard for my Welfare.

My dear Sir, do, take a little Care of yourself—It goes to my very Heart to hear you cough so hard—Why you'll not live three Months at this Rate—Be advised by me, and put a Stocking about your Neck To-night, and take something to sweat you a little and ease your Chest—You should not drink so much—Consider, it impairs both Constitution and Purse—You know it's for your Good I speak—You'd be a great Loss to your Friends—Take up a little, Flesh and Blood can't hold it always.

Thus, Mr. Ranger, am I beloved, and that for no other Reason, but my Address in making Friends for myself, and I am so closely watched by these generous Creatures, that it is totally out of my Power to take any wrong Step, that might be detrimental to my Affairs. Of this I had a convincing Proof about a Year ago, when the Interposition of my Taylor hindered me from committing a very inconsiderate Action. I was going with a Friend to take a Trip to Paris, by which Ex|pedition I must certainly have been drained of all my ready Money; but the Vigilance of my Friend contrived to have me stopped as I was just stepping into the Post-Chaise, and I was thence conducted to a generous Bai|liff's House in Gray's-Inn Lane, for the Sum of Three Hundred Pounds. Here I remained confined till my Pas|sion for Travel was perfectly cooled, and when I was at length restored to my Liberty, my abovementioned

Friends, took particular Care not to leave me a single Shilling, for Fear I should have the same unhappy Turn a second Time.

While I thus enjoy the Assiduity and Benevolence of such a Number, who are kind enough to interest them|selves in my Affairs, I must own there is a Species of Creditors, who are an Exception to the general Rule; for though all those of whom I have hitherto been speaking, are upon every Occasion highly pleased to meet me, this last Class detest the very Sight of me. As I am not conscious that I have ever done any Thing to incur their Displeasure to so great a Degree, their Aversion shocks me the more; and notwithstanding all the Pains I have taken to soften them by Politeness they still remain inexorable. Whenever I do not pay them what is due to them, I endeavour to put them off with the handsomest Apology in my Power; but all to no Purpose; I have run too far in Arrears, and they are not by any Means to be satisfied. As I should be glad if you would give them a Word of Advice I will just hint to you that the Personages, whom I mean, are no other than GENTLEMEN'S SERVANTS. The Cry among them all is, What can a poor Serving-Man do, if he is robb'd of his just Vails by such Scoundrels? They are all very unwilling to let me run further in their Debt, and therefore it is I can hardly get any Thing out of their Hands. If I call for Beer at Table, they are sure not to hear me, till their Master orders them to serve the Gentleman; then I receive the Leavings of the Tankard just out of the Hands of the most ca|pacious Swallow in the Company. In short, the Pee|vishness of these my Creditors is a great Discount upon my Happiness, and I must confess there is no kind of Pleasure in being in Debt to them. However I must endeavour to bear this Inconvenience, and if you will be pleased to insert this Letter in the Gray's Inn Journal I shall be proud to get into your Books, and shall have

the further Pleasure of being indebted to Mr. Ranger for this Act of Civility which will always oblige me to be,

Sir,

Your most obedient Servant, And sincere Well-wisher, ROBERT DUNS-SCOPE.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Bedford Coffee-house, Nov. 10.

YEsterday Evening the Parliament of Criticism being assembled, Mr. Town went in his usual Manner, and gave his Assent to the following Bills.

An Act to encourage the Importation of a Litter of Puppies, Cats, Dogs and Monkeys, and Exotics of all Sorts for the Use of Covent Garden Theatre, in order to degrade as much as possible the human Species, and to shew the Town that an Audience may he brought to|gether by the lowest Animals of the Creation, as well as by any Actor of distinguished Merit.

An Act against any Actor laying his Emphasis upon the Adjective * 5.1

An Act to prohibit any Person to imagine that Acting is now in as flourishing a Condition, as it was when the Imitators of well-mouthed Booth delivered them|selves with a lofty Disregard of Nature, and pompous un-impassioned Declamation held the Place of what Men of Taste, at present, call Feeling and the native Accents of the Passions.

An Act to determine, that all comic Pleasantry con|sists in Buffoonery, Squinting, Grimace, &c. according to the Manner of some Admirers of the old School.

With several other public and private Bills.

Debates arising, like to sit late.

NUMB. 57.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Nov. 17, 1753.

Ecce iterum Crispinus. JUV.

_SOME Time ago I entertained the Public, with a Scene from a Dramatic Piece en|titled the TEMPLE OF LAVERNA, which was so favourably received, that, I am inclined to think, the Readers of the Gray's-Inn Journal will not be displeased to see a Sequel to that Perform|ance.

SCENE II.

A Number of JEWS circumcised and uncircumcised form a Cluster in the Middle of the Temple, from whence the fol|lowing confused Sounds issue, viz.

Tickets — Tickets — Lottery-Tickets — come, who buys 300 for all this Month?—I sell 100 for next Mon|day at 15s. 6d.—What do you say Adam?

Adam.

Come I'll give you 15s. for 100 next Mon|day.

—

No Master Adam, I have my Eye-Teeth as well as you, or any Man in the House; do you think I don't know what is a doing? Although Mr. Slyboots lies by, I can smoke his Agents.

Moses Noisy.

I tell you what, I want 500 for Wed|nesday Morning to complete my Commission, and, in a Word, I'll give 14s. 6d.

All

Hoot him, hoot him, mind Noisy, mind Moses.

Enter a Country Gentleman, in Boots, with his Friend,

Country Gent.

Is it here?

Friend.

Yes Sir.

Country Gent.

Woons, what a Place it is!

Friend.

Come, Sir, you had better sit down, and make your Observations upon this Scene, which you were so very desirous to be a Spectator of.

As soon as they are both seated the Waiter comes up and demands Six-pence each.

Country Gent.

Six-pence Mon! for what? To see these Monsters I suppose.

Waiter.

Sir, it is usual; every Gentleman pays Six|pence, who sits down.

Country Gent.

Nay, Friend, I shan't dispute it with you—it is not the first Tax you have raised upon me.

Friend.

••ar••'e, Mr. Trueblue, you had better not speak in that Manner; see how they stare.

Country Gent.

S'blood! let'n stare, what care I? I ex|pect no Place; and woons! I think a Mon, who pays half his Estate in Taxes, should at least be allowed to speak his Mind

Friend.

Not quite so loud, I beg, Mr. Trueblue—You don't mind; but they all know me, and I would not wil|lingly draw upon me their Ill-will

Country Gent.

Well, well, well,—to oblige you—But, which is the Mon, who does what he pleases with the great Mon at the other End of the Toon—Woons I cannot remember his Name—Lord, we drink Con|fusion to him very often in the Country—He is richer than a German Prince they say.—

Friend.

Caiphas, you mean?

Country Gent.

Ay, ay, Caiphas is the Mon—Which is he, pray?

Friend.

He is not come yet, but it is probable you will see him presently.

Here the Jobbers grow very clamourous crying in harsh dissonant Tones—Tickets—India Bonds —Rescounters—Consolidate.

Country Gent.

As I am an Englishman this is a perfect Babel,—Rescounters! Consolidate! Woons, these Fel|lows

have certainly made a Compact with the Devil, and those are the Words by which they call him to their Assistance.

Friend.

No, Sir, no—those are the Names of the several different Stocks.

Country Gent.

Bless me, Friend Worthy, it is a me|lancholy Thing that our poor Country should be drain'd of her Wealth and Power, by such infernal Leeches, Ah! many a Time and oft, have my Lord Turncoat and I talked over these Things in the Country.—We have sat together, and drank The true Interest of Great Britain, and Old England without Taxes, until we have been both ready to cry—But no Mon is to be depended upon I see —he is gone off, and as deep, I warrant in the Mire, as any of them.

Friend.

I believe Mr. Trueblue, you never saw so ma|ny Jews together before.

Country Gent.

No, never to be sure—but we shall soon have them swarm in all Parts of the Kingdom, now they are naturalized—Woons! if they come a|mong us, I know what—Let them take Care of them|selves, I say; their Betters have been properly treated there, I can tell them—Let them look to it—But prithee, Friend Worthy, is the Report we have in the Country true? Why, they say, Mon, that there will shortly be laid a Fine upon any one, who is convict|ed of going to Church. Woons! if this should be the Case, notwithstanding the Love I have for Old Eng|land, I am determined to sell my Acres, and retire to some Christian Protestant Country, for I would not be|come a Jew, no, not to be a Minister of State.

Friend.

Hush! who have we here?

Enter Lord Bowsprit and Mr. Servile.

L. Bow.

(Looking at his Watch.)

No, he is not come yet; it is not quite Twelve.

Servile.

Pray, my Lord, how long have you been ac|quainted with Caiphas?

L. Bow.

Ever since the Year forty-six. I leave a Sum of Money in his Hands, which he jobbs for me, and furnishes me with an Account at the Year's End. I would have you do the same.

Servile.

I should like it very well, my Lord; but it does not suit me to lodge a large Sum with him.

L. Bow.

If that be your only Objection, he can act for you in another Shape, he can buy and sell Stock, for your Account, without Money. This we call Bulls and Bears.

Servile.

Yes, but, my Lord, I think there is an Act of Parliament against that, is not there?

L. Bow.

Yes, there is something of that kind; Sir John Barnard's Act they call it; Sir John you know is a particular Sort of Man, and consults the Interest of the Public, but those chimerical Projects of his do not co-incide with the present System, by any Means— He is a very singular Sort of Man, what they call a Patriot;—indeed he has been always the same.

Servile.

I wonder what he gets by that, I was my|self a Patriot for two Sessions, but I found there was nothing to be got by it, and so I entered a Volunteer under the opposite Banner.

Enter Caiphas, (upon which a general Silence ensues.)

Caiphas.

Has any Body enquired for me?—Hah, my Lord! Yours!

L. Bow.

Mr. Caiphas I am your most obedient hum|ble Servant—Give me Leave, Sir, to introduce this Gentleman to your Acquaintance, he is a particular Friend of mine, Mr. Servile.

Caiphas.

I am glad to know any Friend of your Lordship's—Has this Gentleman any Inclination to do any Thing in our Way?—You need but let me know.

Servile.

Under your Direction, Mr. Caiphas, I should like to jobb a little.

Caiphas.

It's enough—Call upon me To-morrow Morning—I'll put you in the Way.

Servile.

I shall be for ever obliged to you, Mr. Caiphas.

Caiphas.

Say no more—You are my Lord Bowsprit's Friend, that's enough.

Friend to the Country Gent.

Well, Sir, what think you of the renowned Caiphas? that is the wonderful Person|age whom you have heard so much talk of.

Country Gent.

I protest, I cannot conceal my Asto|nishment—why, I expected to see a Giant, Mon — Woons! is it possible that Old England should be bam|boozled thus?

L. Bow.

Mr. Caiphas, I am glad to hear that you be|gin to be pretty quiet in the City now. The Clamour against your People, subsides I am told, you need not be under any Apprehension, it will die away entirely in a little Time, I dare say.

Caiphas.

I do not care much, my Lord, whether it dies away or not, Money is my Religion; and if I can but bring together enough of that, I don't care a Pinch of Snuff for any Sect, or any Party whatever.

Several Jew-Brokers shew great Surprize at over-hearing this, upon which Caiphas turns about, puts out his Tongue, and winks at them.

L. Bow.

Nay, I think you would be right in that, Mr. Caiphas, for why should a Man of your Sense lie under any Disadvantage for Punctilios or Form? We have done all we could to serve you. We are not so te|nacious of Religion, but we can admit yours among us; and Money certainly is a very good Religion— that is the Maxim of a wise Man.

Caiphas.

Well, well, we will talk more of this ano|ther Time—Will you dine with the at the King's Arms? I am obliged to go now to the South Sea House, but I have ordered an excellent Ham for Dinner, and if you and your Friend will dine with me, we will be joyous.

L. Bow.

Ham, Mr. Caiphas! Come, come, that is a good Sign—I find you are coming over to us—you will soon be as good a Christian as any of us.

Caiphas.

Nay, my Lord, those Things I laugh at— I tell you what, it is clear to me, that Moses never was in Westphalia, or he would not have prohibited Pork, ha, ha, ha!

L. Bow.

Ha, ha, ha!

Servile.

Ha, ha, ha!

Caiphas.

Well, my Lord, your Servant; Mr. Servile, yours.

Exit Caiphas.

L. Bow.

Now that you know him, Servile, be sure to cultivate your Acquaintance with him, depend upon it, you will find it your Interest.

Servile.

I shall not neglect it, believe me, I will be at his House To morrow Morning by Eight o'Clock—but we have no farther Business here, let us go.

L. Bow.

With all my Heart.

Exeunt L. Bowsprit and Servile.

Country Gent.

Woons! this Place has struck such a Damp upon my Spirits, that I shall not be myself again, until I get into Company with a Set of honest Fellows, and drink The Old Constitution, in a Pint Bumper.

Friend.

Come, come, if you grow melancholy, we must quit these Gentry.

Country Gent.

Woons! I wish I could blow them all up, and then I should have a clear Estate—Let me give them one hearty Curse, and then we will go.

Friend.

No, no, no, let us leave them quietly.

Forces the Country Gentleman out, upon which the Scene closes.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Rainbow Coffee-house, Nov. 17.

THIS Academy flourishes more and more every Day, insomuch, that we can now boast as many Cut-Scratches as any Seminary in the City. Jerry, the Superintendant of the Finances, supports his usual Gra|vity, with such an Air of Importance and Sagacity, that it may be truly said of this great Man,

He makes trifling Things, by his Manner of treating them, Important; and important Things, Trifling.

Slaughter's in St. Martin's-Lane.

Monsieur Rochelle, had he been a military Man, would certainly have made one of the greatest Generals in Europe, as may be conjectured from his perfect Know|ledge of the Game of Chess, and Polish Draughts. At the last mentioned Game he encountered, the other Night, the famous Monsieur Languedoc, who fled from the Cruelty of Lewis XIV. upon the Revocation of the Edict of Nantz, and has had an obstinate Hatred to his Country ever since. The Game lasted about two Hours; and, Monsieur Rochelle gave signal Proofs of his Skill, and very pleasantly called all his Men by the Titles of the different Powers of Europe, and he went so far as to point out one Man, Who, he said, should go to Crown and by Gar be King of de Roman. In this Manner he conveyed to the Company an Idea of the present State of Europe, and Monsieur Languedoc, as he was at length losing every Thing, cried out, Ventreblue, my Men are Massacre, like de Huguenots, upon de cursed Day of St. Bartholemew. Upon this he rose from his Chair with a ghastly Smile, and all the Brother Sufferers for their Religion, who belong to this Seminary, withdrew to their Apartments.

NUMB. 58.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Nov. 24, 1753.

In omnes superbiâ (quae crudelitate gravior est bonis) grassatus — FLORUS.

_A WRITER of periodical Essays is like one, who goes coasting from Place to Place, with Intent to lay down a Chart of the Course of the Country, the Extent of the several Parts, the Bearings, Limits and Connections. As the latter fails along, every minute Object furnishes him with Matter of Contemplation, and not a Hill lifts its Head, whether cloathed with Verdure and imbower|ed with over-hanging Wood, or wild, barren and crag|gy, but he instantly treasures it in the Storehouse of Imagination. Each Recess of the Land, each Creek, Rock and Harbour demand a particular Notice, and he is frequently induced to pause in these Reflections, heedless of the unbounded Prospect which the Ocean presents him. In like Manner, the Person who is en|gaged in a Course of Lucubrations to be published on a stated Day, is constantly traversing about, in order to delineate a just Representation of the different Scenes of Life, and to gratify his Readers with particular Charts, which may either serve to please the Fancy, or contribute to the Purposes of Improvement and Utility. In his Intercourse with Men and Manners every Occur|rence attracts his Eye; and in his Converse with Books, he often meets with Passages, which deserve to be minutely set down in the Account of his Voyage through this Sea of Troubles, and they may serve as Lights or Landmarks to those who are bound upon the same Adventure.

It is thus the best Essays are suggested, and I must own, I never yet, perused a good Author, but I thence deduced some Hint, which afterwards unfolded several latent Reflections, that might otherwise escape me. The Classics are particularly useful in this Way; They display, upon all Occasions, such bright Traces of a manly Way of Thinking, and abound with so many excellent and close Remarks, artfully interwoven with the Thread of their Poem or Narration, that a Man conversant with their Productions will be always able to draw very amply from their Stores.

In perusing, a few Nights since, Florus's Compendium of the Roman History, I was greatly struck with an Ob|servation, in the Character of Tarquin, which that Wri|ter, though no extraordinary Master of the Graces and Elegancies of Composition, has found Means to in|sert with his usual Closeness.

Tarquin (says Florus) insulted all Mankind with an overbearing Pride, which, to an ingenuous Mind, is worse than Cruelty.

This short Observation most certainly carries with it a great Deal of Truth, and deserves to be enforced with all the Strength of Reason and Eloquence.

A witty Satirist has called Pride the universal Passion, and indeed its Influence on Mankind is so manifest, that there is too much Reason to believe the Maxim well founded. The general Prevalence of Politeness suppresses in some Measure the Appearance of it among the French, but any one, who has been at Versailles, may remember, that after all the Attention and De|ference of the embroidered Gentleman, who undertakes the Office of shewing the Curiosities of the Place, the Ceremony is always concluded with a Consciousness of their national Superiority, which breaks out in a brisk Question with a Shrug of the Shoulder.

Eh bien! Monsieur, avez vous ••e pareille magnificence à Londres. Well, Sir, have you any Thing equal to this in

London.

In Italy, Portugal, and Spain their Haughti|ness is manifested by the frequent Use of the Stilleto upon every trivial Occasion; Pride is there displayed by killing others, and the People of England discover it by murdering themselves.

The Notion of Independance with which a free-born Briton is inflamed, renders him untractable and re|fractory to all Laws; Religion he makes a Joke of, and he wonders at the Impertinence of the Parliament in attempting to restrain his unquestionable Right to dispose of his Person as he pleases.

The famous Montesquieu imputes the Variety of Od|dities, which prevail in this Country, to the general Infection of the Scurvy; but if he had charged it upon our national Sturdiness, I am inclinable to think, he would have assigned a truer Cause, though, perhaps, at the same Time, black and sizy Blood may not a little contribute to aggravate the Distemper. To speak with Precision, Pride is to the Soul what the Scurvy is to the Body, each in their separate Channels the Source of ill Humours, Maladies and Disorders. The fatal Ef|fects of the corporal Indisposition, just mentioned, have been so severely felt for a long Time past, that our common News-Papers are filled with Advertisements of Chymical Drops, to eradicate it entirely out of the Blood. This certainly would have been a great Benefit to Society, but, I apprehend, he would deserve still more who should devise a Cure for the Disease of the Mind. On this Account I should be glad to see a Paragraph in the Papers to the following Effect.

To Persons of either Sex, afflicted with any Species of PRIDE.

NEVER were Pride, Arrogance, and Haughtiness so frequent as of late Years; nor has any Re|medy been found adequate to this pernicious Habit, which occasioned a Physician of the Soul, who em|ployed

his Thoughts much concerning them, to adapt a Medicine, or Moral Elixir, which is a sovereign Re|medy against PRIDE and all the Variety of Symp|toms, by which it mimics, by Turns, almost all the Vices poor Mortals are afflicted with, and have their Rise from a depraved Selfishness of Thinking, vicious Fer|ments of Ill-nature, and the Want of Self-knowledge; whence proceed the supercilious Brow, and surly Mo|roseness in the Men, and Coquetry, Airs, Fidgets, Tehees and Titters in the Women, which totally destroy their Beauty and their Features, and by a Consent of Parts affect their Heads, and produce direful Views and terrible Apprehensions; at other Times, Fits, flushing Heats, Lowness and Sinking of the Spirits, Palpitation of the Heart, Twitchings of the Limbs, with many convulsive Disorders, which affect Numbers of both Sexes.

The above Elixir is a wonderful Alterative, oc|casions laudable Humility, and as soon as taken, makes the Patient good-humoured, chearful, and affable to Admiration, and is good for all Sorts of People to preserve, as well as procure, an even Temper of Mind.

Whenever I meet with a proud Man, I should be glad to know what he takes himself for; and I have often imagined that if his inward State of Mind were detected to the Eye of the World, it would afford a ridiculous Contrast between his several Foibles and his fancied Elevation above the rest of his Species. For my Part, it never fails to divert me in a most exquisite Manner, when I observe a Man sit like his Grandsire cut in Alabaster, as Shakespear has it, in order to receive the Compliments of every one, without any real Merit to deserve them, and without that reciprocal Compla|cence, which is always sure to procure Esteem. I would have such a one made Emperor of the Moon or re|moved to some other Sphere fitted for his Reception,

where Cruelty may pass for Courage, Ostentation for Merit, and Pride for Dignity.

Nothing can so surely demonstrate a narrow Mind, as an Attempt to degrade our Fellow-Creatures by an haughty Arrogance of Carriage. Hamlet reckons the Insolence of Office and the proud Man's Contumely among those Instigations which might prompt injured Merit to a Deed of extreme Despair, and this further enforces the Severity, which is felt by him, who is obliged to sub|mit to it, and the Cruelty of that human Brute who can think of putting it in Practice.

I cannot dismiss this Paper without observing that there is a right Species of Pride to which every Man is entitled, and that is a Spirit above Dependance, above Flattery, above an abject Deportment, and above every Thing poor, sordid, and little. There is a Pride, which may serve to invigorate Honour, to embolden Truth, and to carry Virtue to an higher Pitch of Improvement, than it might attain unassisted by this secondary Mo|tive. The Pleasures resulting from this Principle are manly and noble. To enjoy the inward Consciousness of Honor and Honesty, and to exult in the Conviction of a Person's own Integrity, Probity and upright Inten|tions, is just and laudable. Thus much of Pride every one has a Right to, and I know no external Circum|stance, that can reasonably entitle any Man alive to more.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE:

Jonathan's in Change-Alley, Nov. 24.

NOtwithstanding the Exhibition, which Mr. Ranger has lately given us, in his Scenes called the Tem|ple of Laverna, there are some of us, who can boast a Taste for the polite Amusements of the Town, Mr. Simeon Paraphimosis acquainted us the other Day, that

he has seen Garrick in King Lear, this Season; and gave it as his Opinion that he did it 5 per Cent. better than usual. He informed us that tho' he was at the House at half an Hour after Four, he should not have got in at all, if he had not employed one of the Orange Wenches as a Broker, who get him into the Pit thro' the Boxes. He added, that Garrick makes a fine Job of it, and that he should be glad to have an Interest in the House:

For Plays, continued he, are well enough now and then, when it is not a Man's Club Night, and indeed I should go pretty often, only for the Expence of being transferred there, which, notwithstanding the Caravan, is so great, that really it does not turn to Account.

We shall occasionally communicate more of this Gentleman's Remarks, from which the Critics will undoubtedly receive great Instruction.

NUMB. 59.

GRAY's-INN, Saturday, Dec. 1, 1753.

Respicere Exemplar vitae morumque jubebo Do••••um Imitat••rem, et veras hinc ducere Voces. HOR.

_IN a former Essay, I threw together a few Thoughts upon the Profession of an ACTOR; as a Sequel to that Piece, I shall this Day offer some loose Hints upon the Art; and though this Subject may not be interesting to every Reader, I yet persuade myself, as the Drama is the most polite and rational of our Diversions, that an Attempt to throw some Light upon the Matter, will be received with Candour.

The Precept, which the judicious Author of my Motto has laid down for the good Writer, is likewise the best Rule for an Actor; for as both are Professors

of imitative Arts, the same Rule is applicable to each. "I would recommend," says Horace,

to the skilful Imitator a close and steady Observance of Men and Manners, and from that Source, I would have him draw an exact Resemblance, and the true Language of Nature.

This Advice, short and simple as it is, contains the whole Secret of succeeding with the Pub|lic; and whoever artfully conforms to it, will be sure of acquiring Applause from crowded Theatres. The Actor, in every Situation on the Stage, is a Copyist from hu|man Life; the easy and genteel Deportment of Gen|tlemen, is to be attained by an Intercourse and free Communication with People of that Class; the Draw|ing-Room must be visited for a Knowledge of the Ease and Dignity of Men of Rank; and by this Habitude, the Performer will fashion himself into a Kind of men|tal Elegance, which will not sail to inform his whole Per|son, and set off every Action, with a graceful Facility, at the same Time that it will enable him to be upon all Occasions, a more perfect Imitator.

To these external Circumstances must be joined, a close and intimate Knowledge of the human Heart; its most secret Movements must be unfolded, and the Actor must be thoroughly acquainted with their minutest Effects upon the human Body, in what Proportion they agitate the Nerves and Muscles; how they impress the Features with their respective Signatures, elevate or con|tract the Brow, brace or relax the Sinews, and com|mand the Attitude and Disposition of the whole Person. There is not a Passion, in the whole Train of those Feel|ings, to which our Nature is subject, but what has its own peculiar Adjuncts, its own Air, its own Look, and its own proper Tone. Sorrow unnerves the whole System, sinks the Spirits, and depresses the Voice into a plaintive Melancholy; Anger, on the other Hand, con|tracts each Sinew, sends the Spirits in a Blaze to the Eye, and vents itself in precipitate and vehement Ac|cents.

In like Manner, every Emotion of the Soul has a sympathetic Influence on the Structure of the Body, and it is the immediate Business of the Performer, who would aspire to Excellence in the Art, to form to him|self an exact Definition of each Passion, with all its Characteristics; otherwise it will be impossible for him to mark the Progress and Workings of the Mind, awakened and excited by the Vehemence of their Im|pulse, or to separate the tender Desire of a Romeo from the conjugal Affection of Jaffier.

After having thus distinguished the Nature and Boun|daries of each Affection, the next Step to be taken, is, to watch the various Shiftings and Veerings of the Soul, and to observe how the several Passions rise and fall, in quick Vicissitude. The Mind of Man cannot dwell for any considerable Time upon one Object; from whence it results, that, Love and Resentment, Grief and Joy, Despair and Hope, Rage and Tenderness, are perpetually taking their Turns in the Breast. To per|ceive minutely the very Point where the first ceases, and the succeeding one begins to rise, requires a nice Dis|cernment; as in the well wrought Piece of some emi|nent Hand, the Colours run so artfully into one another, that their gradual Evanescence from the Sight, and their growing by insensible Degrees into a full Glow, is only to be discovered by the curious Eye. If I do not mistake, the Touch, which so skilfully blends different Colours in this delicate Confederacy, is called by the Painters the Demi-tint; should not something like this be preserved, in the Performances of a good Actor, in order to render each Transition graceful and natural, to melt the Audience by regular Essays into Tenderness, or induce any other Impression with Justness and Pro|priety? Whatever Passion has at any Time taken Pos|session of the Heart, must abate by Degrees, and the Traces of it must be almost effaced, before a contrary Affection can gain Admittance; and whoever is careful

to mark with Feeling, the Ebbing out of the one, and Flowing in of the other, will be always sure to have an irresistible Command over his Audience.

But the Matter does not rest here; the Performer, who is ambitious of distinguishing himself for masterly Touches in Scenes of Vehemence, will find another la|tent Secret, in the intellectual System, which must ne|ver escape his Notice. It must be remembered, that there are frequent Occasions, in which the Breast is distracted by two different Passions at once, both working the Heart-strings in one mixed Emotion. These com|plicated Agitations of the Mind are often imperceptible to all but the skilful Observer; and, therefore, as the Actor's chief Difficulty lies in this Point, a feeling Expres|sion of it will always be a Proof of his Excellence, and Strokes of this Nature, well executed, will impress on every Breast the liveliest Sensations.

It often happens in mere descriptive Poetry, that the Writer observing some surprizing Agreement between Things, which in their Natures seem totally inconsistent with each other, from thence takes occasion to re|concile Contrarieties in such an agreeable Assemblage, that the tasteful Reader is entertained with a Picture, which at once amuses his Fancy and satisfies his Judg|ment. Virgil has many delicate Touches of this Na|ture, and Horace, who had Art enough for every poe|tic Embellishment, has heightened his Odes with se|veral Beauties of this Sort. In this Class of Elegan|cies may be reckoned the following Passages;

Urit grata Pro••ervitas;— Pignusque direptum lacertis Aut Digito malè pertinaci. —Tityosque vultu Risit invito.—

Milton also, who has every softer Delicacy in minute Descriptions, as well as every lofty Image in the sublime,

has inserted many beautiful Colourings of this Species in his Paradise Lost, and his grinned horrible a ghastly Smile, is an admirable Instance. Mr. Addison has given to Thoughts of this Nature the Title of thwarting Ideas; and he adds, that they are some of the finest Strokes in the whole Compass of Poetry. If I might be allowed to carry this Hint further, I should call all Strokes of this Kind, where the Mind is worked into a Ferment, by the Name of thwarting Passions; and I will venture to say, that they will be universally acknowledged much more beautiful than that mere Clash of Ideas, which the eminent Critic just mentioned has so much insided upon; because they not only surprize with a seeming Contrast, but also interest the Heart; which is the Perfection of Poetry. The Greek and Latin Poets, and indeed the fine Writers among the Moderns, are full of these pathetic Representations of human Nature; but among them all, I do not remember a finer In|stance, than a Passage in Mr. Whitehead's Roman Father, when that Hero is reflecting on the Combat, which is to decide the Fate of Rome.

—Had I a thousand Sons in such a Cause, I could behold 'em bleeding at my Feet, And thank the Gods with Tears.—

To express these complicated Sensations, where se|veral Passions at once agitate the Soul, requires such a Command of Countenance and Voice, that it is cer|tainly the greatest Perfection of an Actor, and with a Kind of magic Power it always leads us into the most pleasing Distress.

If the Bounds of my Paper would admit it, I should here indulge myself in examining our present Per|formers, with Regard to the three Divisions of the Pas|sions above established. To one, I should, perhaps, ascribe the Merit of expressing with proper Enforce|ment

the Sentiments of haughty Anger and tyrannic Cruelty; in another I should chiefly admire the grace|ful Transition from Rage to Tenderness, and probably I should not hesitate to say, of a third, that he is excellent in all Vicissitudes of the Mind, and that in mixed Sensa|tions he penetrates to the very Soul of his Hearers; and, were I to add, that, in many Situations, I have expe|rienced the same from Mrs. Cibber, it would be but barely doing her that Justice, which her excellent Art deserves.

From what has been premised, it will appear, that to express the Emotions of the human Heart is the chief Business of an Actor, and no Account is ever to be made of Figure, Voice, or any other external Circum|stances, unless it be when they combine with the Per|former's Feelings to make deeper Impressions on an Au|dience. I have known an Actor lengthen out the Tone of his Voice, and if it sounded clearly, imagine his Business finely executed, when Nature and the Passions required that he should speak in another Key, and in broken, short, and vehement Accents. Quinctilian has a just Remark on this Head "as Poets," says he,

profess to sing their Works, Verse should be repeated in a Manner somewhat elevated above common Dis|course, with a Sweetness properly tempered by Dis|cretion, and not thrilling into a wanton Luxuriance of Sound, as if the Throat had been gargled for the Purpose.

I shall only add, a lively Imagination is the Talent, which an Actor should principally culti|vate, as it is that, which excites those pathetic Feel|ings, without which no Man will ever succeed on the Stage, and with which it is hardly possible totally to fail.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Rainbow Coffee-house, Dec. 1.

THE Board of Priggism met here, a few Days since, when the following Persons were present; Jack Oakstick, Harry Lapelle, Bob Nankeen, Jemmy Scratch, Nat Pigtail, Billy Spindle, Jack Phaeton, Peter Littlehat, and Billy Lowheels. Nat Pigtail signified to the Board, that he understood a New Tragedy called Boadicia is to be acted this Evening at Drury-Lane.

I don't know for certain,

says he,

that it's a Tra|gedy, but I take it to be so by the Oddness of the Name.

Jack Phacton and Billy Lowheels were of Opinion it might be a Comedy for that very Reason; but Harry Lapelle interposed, that he had not been long from Merchant Taylor's, and that he believed the Word to be Latin. Upon which Jack Oakstick said, he did not Care about the Word, but promised to meet the Company in Vinegar-yard at Three o'Clock, and as|sured them that he would give convincing Proofs of his Valour.

Bill of Suicide for the Month of November.

Cut his Throat Henry Lovegold, worth 100000£.—the Reason of his committing this rash Action, was, because he was ordered by the Court of Conscience to pay five and twenty Shillings to his Washer-Woman.—Found by the Inquest, Lunatic.

Stabbed himself John Gloomy, Esq—He was often heard to say he had lost all Relish of Pleasure, and that it was only the same Thing over and over again. Lunatic.

Shot himself Captain Dreadnought.—He spent the Evening with several Friends, went home seemingly chearful, made his Will, and blew his Brains out. Lunatic.

Poisoned himself, Abraham Stocks, because Lottery-Tickets fell after he had bought half a Dozen. Lunatick.

Took a Dose of Laudanum John Muckworm—This rash Action was occasioned by his loosing Ten Thousand Pounds at a Slap—by a Blank in the Lottery. Lunatic.

Hung himself in a Garret, Thomas Hopeless for|merly a warm House-keeper in Holborn, but reduced by a Series of Misfortunes to an Extremity of Misery, with a Wife and seven Children. Felo de se.

NUMB. 60.

GRAY's-INN, Saturday, Dec. 8, 1753.

Noxia corpora tardant, Terrenique hebetant artus, moribundaque membra. VIRG.

O curas hominum! O quantum est in rebus inane! PERSEUS.

_HOW vain and fantastic are all human Pur|suits? How unsettled and inconstant are our Tempers; one Day pining for the At|tainment of some imaginary Good, and, the next, hating ourselves for all that Perplexity of Thought which our whimsical Desires occasioned in our Breasts? How often are the soberest Understandings disturb'd by Agitations of Spirit about Things in themselves of no Kind of Moment or Importance, and when once the Tumult has subsided, how contemptible do we appear to ourselves, for having been so weak as to yield to the Impression? Every Period of Life is marked with this Inconstancy; the Child has Perplexities which the Boy laughs at; and ripened by a further Accession of Years into Manhood, our previous Occupations become ri|diculous, 'till at length old Age thinks the whole a

Series of Follies, insensible to its own Infirmities, and lit|tle aware that the Passions operate at that Juncture with less Celerity, not because Reason is grown strong, but on Account of the enfeebled Tone of all the mental Powers; like a Weather Cock, which being grown rusty, is not moved with every Breath of Wind, but slowly veers from Point to Point. I am inclined to think that the human Soul will be always in this Progression, constantly making each Moment a Critic on the last, and and that as soon as the Spirit shall be unbodied, it will instantly smile at our wisest Employments in this World, our deepest Reflections, and our most serious Specu|lations. I was engaged in this Train of Thought the other Night, and having an Imagination, which does not very soon detach itself from the Objects that have once possessed it, the same Scenes of Reflection dis|closed themselves to me in Sleep, and formed a Pro|spect, not unentertaining to my Fancy.

I thought the Hemisphere on a sudden brightened with more than common Lustre, a Flood of Glory diffusing itself through all Creation, and from an Opening of the Heavens appeared, high exalted on a Throne, THE GE|NIUS OF HUMAN KIND. After a Trumpet had sounded three Times, the following Sounds were awfully pro|nounced.

Let all those fleeting Spirits, which for|merly animated corporal Tenements, forthwith ap|pear from their several Mansions of Retribution, and let those who now support a feverish Existence upon Earth, instantly repair hither, divested of their bodily Incumbrance, and account before our dread Presence, for the Use they have made of their Time, during their State of Probation.

The Edict was immediately obeyed, and I fancied that I had no sooner emerged from my Tenement of Clay, than every Thing wore another Appearance, and new Faculties of Perception were assigned me. Vanished were the original Colours, concerning which

so many Volumes have been written; Wit, Taste, Learning, Philosophy, Mathematics, and even Money itself appeared an absolute Chimaera; and several Per|sonages beginning to address the Throne, I was further confirm'd in my Opinion that all was Idleness, Vanity, and unavailing Vexation.

Homer declared his whole Poem to be the Rhapsody of an ever-weening Imagination: He owned his ce|lestial Councils and his Battle of the Gods, to be a Jumble of Absurdities; his boldest Flights of Fancy appeared quite contemptible, and he wondered how he could ever employ his Faculties in stringing together such wild enthusiastic Reveries.

Plato owned that he knew nothing of the first Good, first Perfect, and first Fair; and Lord Shaftsbury wished that, instead of being guided by that Pagan Philosopher, he had made use of the Light of Revelation, which might have afforded him some faint dawning Ideas of that Truth of which he is now perfectly convinced. He added, that he did not know what he was about when he wrote his Rhapsody and many other Parts of his Performance, and that he now looked back at them with Contempt.

Aristotle declared his System of Logic to be nothing but an idle Scheme of laboured Perplexities, calculated to puzzle and bewilder Mankind. Pindar smil'd at his Olympics, and did not hesitate to say, that he really believed he was mad when he wrote them; and old Euclid, who, I believe never once laughed on Earth, burst into a loud Expression of Mirth, when he re|flected upon his Endeavours to square the Circle, and his several Triangles and Quadrangles, which he owned do not contribute in any Degree to the Advancement of Virtue.

Alexander frankly confessed himself a Child for weep|ing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 more Worlds. Caesar declared he would as contentedly be the last in a Village, as the first in Rome;

and Pompey had no longer an Aversion to an Equal; Cicero, without elaborating a Period of a Mile, con|demned his Pursuit of Fame as no more than the cha|sing an empty Bubble; and he added, that he never thought himself properly employed but when expatia|ting against the minute Philosophers. Virgil still per|sisted that his whole Aeneid should be burned. Horace and Ovid both laughed at the Duration of their Works which in their Days of Nature they flattered themselves would be indelible Monuments of their Fame.

In short, among all the celebrated Personages of Antiquity, every one accused himself of Misapplication, and even Titus complained that he had lost many Days.

There were those who acknowledged that they ne|ver knew Uneasiness in Life, but what was occasioned by the Success of others, and that they were always completely happy, or completely miserable by Com|parison. Poets laugh'd at all their Pains to tag a Rhyme and their Solicitude for Works which now appeared to them in a proper Light; and Criticks acknowledged that they took too much unnecessary Trouble to destroy Productions of so perishable a Nature. The Miser rail|ed at insolvent Gold, as it is finely called by the witty Doctor Young, and his Heart expanded with Generosity and social Affection.

The softer Sex presented themselves among the Rest on this Occasion; but the Simper of Self-Admiration no longer displayed itself. They were not anxious a|about the Gloss of their Skin, the Arrangement of a Curl, or the Disposition of a Patch. The snowy Breast ceased to heave with studied Carelessness, and the Shape was not tortured a thousand Ways, in order to look at|tractive in the Eye of Man. The Labours of the Toilet were now despised, and each Fair-one wondered how Dress could make so great a Part of the Business of Life; and how they could ever take so much Pride in perish|able Clay, however neatly moulded, and however tinc|tured with a pleasing Hue. They were now per|swaded

that true Beauty dwells in the Mind; Drums, Routs and Cards were held in Contempt, and as Mr. Pope has it, They viewed with Scorn two Pages and a Chair. They were all ashamed of the Falsehoold of their Friendships, their Tehees and Titters at a ruined Character, their several Turns of Coquetry, Dissimulation, and all the Variety of female Artifice. In short, Mankind in general owned themselves distract|ed with Cares beneath a rational Creature; and Envy, Pride, Selfishness, Perfidy and Ambition swell'd the vast Account.

From these Disturbers of our Happiness I was re|joyced to see my Fellow Creatures relieved; and to perceive Love, Joy, and Benevolence effacing gra|dually all Traces of former Guilt, gave me an inex|pressible Delight. But I soon found I was not in Reality launched into Eternity, and therefore my Joy, like all Things subject to Time and mortal Chance, soon came to an End. The Fumes of Sleep were dissipated, and I awaked from my Dream. Loose as it is, the Reader may derive this Moral from it, that there is nothing in human Life worth the Anxiety it creates, and that it should be our Business at pre|sent to fix those Propensities and Habits in our Souls, which we shall not have Occasion hereafter to wish totally effaced, and which it is probable we shall be carrying to an higher Degree of Purity in those Man|sions, which are prepared for our future Existence.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Drury-Lane Playhouse, Dec. 8, 1753.

ON Saturday last was presented, at this Theatre, for the first Time, the Tragedy of Boadicia, with all the Advantages of Exhibition, which new Scenery, new Dresses, and the excellent Performance of Mr. Garrick, Mrs. Cibber, and Mrs. Pritchard, could give it.

It was certainly a bold Enterprize in Mr. Glover, after Shakespear has given us such a Taste for wild and savage Liberty, to attempt a Piece conformable to the Rules and Simplicity of the Stagyrite; and hence it arose, that some Scenes were not found busy enough. How|ever the Fire of the Author glows intensely through the whole, and all his Descriptions of the distant Battle, and his Allusions to the hallowed Groves of the Druids, are finely interwoven. As this Composition is re|markable for an elegant Purity of Diction, which in|stead of overcharging Nature, sets her off in all the Graces and Embellishments of Poetry, I am persuaded it will prove a good closet Companion, and I shall only add, that if Voltaire were to criticise this Produc|tion, he would in Justice wave his favourite Phrases, barbarous, monstrous Farces, &c. and would allow this Piece to be the Work of a very elegant finished Taste.

NUMB. 61.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Dec. 15, 1753.

— Pictis bellantur Amazones armis. VIRG.

_I PAID a Visit, a few Days since, to a Lady, for whom I always entertained a very high Esteem, on Account of a pleasing Turn of Conversation, and many other good and agreeable Qualities, which she is possessed of.

Mrs. Millefont (for that is her Name) was never known to have the least Propensity to Scandal or De|traction: She does not concern herself with the imper|tinent Knowledge of, who and who were together at the Masquerade, who were seen to interchange a few fond Regards at the Theatre, or who has lately had an

Ill run at Play. Politeness, Good-nature and Affability are her characteristic Perfections, and she is ready to allow Wit and Beauty in others, as well as in her own Daughters; though in my Opinion, it is a rare Thing to see them equalled by any of their Sex. Both the young Ladies are tall and graceful; elegant in Shape and delicate in their Features; extremely like each other in the Turn of the Face, and still each of them forming, if I may be allowed to use the Phrase, a different School of Beauty.

Harriet, being two Years elder, is rather more formed and higher in Bloom than her Sister, but seems to be sensible of the approaching Eclipse which her Beauty must suffer very shortly, when all the Charms, which are at present budding forth in the Person of Charlot, have attained their full Perfection. Tho' Harriet is sensible of this, she yet perceives it without any Proneness to Envy. On the contrary she rallies herself with great Vivacity, and will fairly own that she is upon the Look|out for a Man for herself, before Charlot becomes so mis|chievous a Beauty, as to engross the Attention of every Beholder; and then, says she,

I shall lose all my Ad|mirers, and so I'm resolved to get married out of the Way.

On this Account she at present throws the Dart like a Tyrant, as the Poet phrases it, though I am convinced when she resigns her Person, her good Sense will then lead her to imitate the Gentleness and amiable Disposition of Charlot who does not aim at being so fierce a Beauty as Harriet, but is chiefly desirous to be Mistress of wil|ling Hearts. She does not endeavour to kindle her Eyes into that Glare of Fire, for which many others are re|markable, but unambitiously she lets them shine in their own native Mildness; and if the captivates every Heart it is without any premeditated Design. In short, the Difference between these two young Ladies is this;

Charlot's Charms have a constant Emanation, and Harriet's Beauties are in a perpetual Exertion.

I spent an Hour in the most agreeable Manner with this Family, when Harriet in her giddy Manner gave a new Turn to the Conversation by asking me,

Pray, Mr. Ranger, can you tell me something about Mack|lin's new Scheme; pray what is the Man about?

—To this I replied, that I really was not sufficiently in the Secret; that he has built two magnificent Rooms, and intends to furnish them in an elegant Manner; the Apartment on the Ground-Floor to be a public Cof|fee-Room, and the other for the Reception of Gen|tlemen of Rank and Education; but that, however, I was afraid he would share the common Fate of Pro|jectors.

Well, I vow and protest, says Harriet, it's a vexa|tious Thing to see how these Men are always contri|ving Places for their own Accommodation, without Troubling their Heads about the Women. The odious Things are always herding with one another, and the Ladies are sequestred from all the Joys of these convenient Meetings. Does not one hear them eternally saying with an Air of Indifference, Ma'am I must go the Coffee house, and so saunter away with that janty careless Air, that never fails to provoke me? — Well, I wish the Women would agree to have a Coffee-house of their own, to be revenged of the Fellows—Lord, Mr. Ranger, it would do charm|ingly; don't you think so Sister?—It would so tan|talize the Creatures, to see us going into a Place, where none of them can gain Admittance—they would be so proud to wait at the Door to hand us to our Chairs; and it would be such a Pleasure to go and meet one's Acquaintance without going con|stantly in a stiff Dress to Routs and Drums; dear Ranger, you must give us an helping Hand; you must give us an Essay upon it, you wild Devil.

With this she

tapped me on the Shoulder, in her lively agreeable Man|ner, and insisted with all the Rhetoric of a Romp, that I should propose her Scheme to the Public, which I assured her I should take the first Opportunity to perform.

I have ever been of Opinion, that, in the general, Coffee-houses, are not of such Advantage as is gene|rally imagined, most of these Places being frequented entirely by Bucks, Bloods, and Rakes, of all Denomi|nations, from whom there is nothing to be acquired ex|cept a Swagger in the Gait, a drunken Totter, a noisy riotous Deportment, a Volley of Oaths and a total Want of what is called Good Breeding. Perhaps this Opportunity of detaching themselves from the Ladies in Coffee-house Clubs is the Cause of that Aukward|ness, which is frequently remarkable in Persons, who from their Fortunes and Situation in Life should be better accomplished, and on this Account I am ap|prehensive, that a Rendezvous of this Nature might have some ill Effect upon the Deportment of the Fair; but should this Scheme be carried into Execution, I must acknowledge, that it will in many Respects set the Ladies upon a Par with the Men, and the Conve|nience of meeting People of Fashion, without the ne|cessary Parade of going to their Houses, will certainly be very great; also Appointments with each other may be fixed with Ease by the Means of this Institution; and a Memorandum Book, placed at the Bar, as at the Bedford and other Places, may serve for the following Purposes.

Lady Last-stakes came according to Appointment to meet Lady Betty Modish; is gone to hear Shuter give the London Cries; will be here again after the Play, when she will be glad to have a Party of Picquet with Lady Betty, and spend the Remainder of the Evening.

Miss Madcap call'd here about Six o'Clock in Hopes to see Miss Limber-Tongue, is gone to consult Mrs Sermon in Naked B••y Alley, after which she in|tends to see Harlequin Ranger, and will call here again and begs Miss Limber Tongue will leave Word where she may be heard of.

Miss Tattle••••d begs to see Miss Graveairs; has a Million of Things to say to her, and particularly something she heard last Night at Lady Hurly-Burly's.

Such Proceedings as these will inevitably do Honour to the amiable Sex, and as they may judge it necessary to claim an equal Expire o'er the World, I beg Leave to offer them a few Rules, which may serve to conduct a female Coffee-house with proper Regularity.

A SYSTEM of RULES, &c.

• I. That each Lady shall pay Six-pence, at the Bar, whether she drink Tea, Coffee, Chocolate, Capillaire, C••••ron-Water, or Ratafia, &c.
• II. That the Actresses shall be admitted to this Cof|fee-house, by which Means the Ladies may become full as good Critics as the Men.
• III. If a Quarrel should arise between any of the Ladies, they shall not fall to pulling Caps in Company, but take another Opportunity to vindicate their Ho|nour.
• IV. If any Lady is discovered with a Pair-royal of Aces in her Pocket, or endeavours to use any sinister Artifice at Cards, she shall be expelled the Club, with as much Strictness as if it happened at White's.
• V. If any young Lady offers herself to be chosen into the Club by Ballot, a single white Ball shall be sufficient to admit her, it being improbable that a real Beauty will obtain that Favour from above one of her Sex.
• VI. and Lastly. It shall be deemed meritorious in any Lady to brag of her Intrigues, her Amours, by

• which Means the Ladies, may in Imitation of the laudable Practice among the opposite Sex,

  Talk of Beauties, whom they never saw, And fancy Raptures, which they never knew.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

From my Register-Office, Dec. 15.

BY Letters from a Correspondent abroad, we are in|formed, that when Monsieur Voltaire was arrested by order of the King of Prussia; there were found, among his Papers, several Translations of different Pas|sages in Shakespear, done so extremely ill, that it is conjectured, he purposely made use of a frigid Languor of Expression, in order to lessen the Poet's Reputation abroad, in hopes that then himself might be set down as the greatest dramatic Poet in the World. But to quiet this restless Ambition, we must inform him that Apollo has long since issued out his Prohibition, so that he may swell, like the Frog in the Fable, without ever coming near him. Non si te ruperis, inquit, par eris. The same Advices mention, that, there were also se|veral abusive Paragraphs on the same immortal Bard, very improper from the Pen of a Scholar and a Gentle|man. The following Libel was particularly remarkable. L'Action * 6.1 de la piece Chinoise dure vingt-cinq ans, comme dans les farces monstreuses de Shakespear & Lopez de Vega, qu'on a nomme tragedies.

The Action of the Chinese Play includes five and twenty Years, as in the mon|strous Farces of Shakespear, and Lopez de Vega, which have obtained the Name of Tragedies.

Is it not invidious in Monsieur Voltaire to mention Lopez de Vega, in Conjunction with a Poet, whom, in his Soul, he can|not but reverence as a Genius, superior to all the drama|tic

Writers in the World, and of whom he has frequent|ly availed himself? As Mr. Voltaire is so rigid a Critic we shall one Day hold an Enquiry into his poetical Merit, and therefore we think proper to publish the following

ADVERTISEMENT.

Preparing for the Press, a critical Enquiry into the poetical Merit of the celebrated Voltaire, in which the Beauties and Defects of his Fables will be considered, and the great Superiority which Shakespear boasts over him and all other Poets whatever, in point of Senti|ment, Passion, Character and Diction, will be set forth in the clearest Light, to conclude with an Account Cur|rent between Voltaire and the English Nation, in which will appear, on one Side, the Abuse he has occasionally thrown out against our Poets, and on the other Side, the clandestine Use he has made of them in almost all his Plays.

NUMB. 62.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Dec. 22, 1753.

Haud facilè cinergunt, quorum virtutibus obstat. Res angusta domi— JUV.

Maxima debetur puero Reverentia. JUV.

_IT was the Answer of a certain eminent Jew, when asked by what Means he accu|mulated the very large Fortune, which he is supposed to be possessed of, that he had more Difficulty in acquiring the first Three Thousand Pounds, than all the Rest of his immoderate Wealth. This Apothegm may be said to comprize the whole Arcanum of rising in the World, but as not one of the

Adepts in the Science has thought proper to discover the secret Art of putting this Rule in Practice, it is to be apprehended, the Indigent will find as many Diffi|culties as ever to retard their Progress, and hinder them from emerging out of their Embarrassments. The Au|thor of my Motto has observed, many Ages since, that the most exalted Virtues, and the rarest Accomplish|ments do not find it easy to extricate themselves out of Difficulties; and the Course of human Contingencies has proved the Maxim true to this Day.

There is perhaps hardly any Man, but can point out in the Circle of his Acquaintance certain Personages of very extensive Capacities, strong and quick Parts, and a delicate Sense of Honour, who are not however able to raise themselves to any conspicuous Point of Emi|nence, merely because their Talents have not been called forth by Opportunity, or animated by Success. Genius wherever it subsists, must be warmed and che|rished, otherwise it is apt to languish and decay; the fine Sensations, which are attendant on an enlightened Understanding, occasion a certain Delicacy in the Pos|sessor's Way of thinking, which renders him liable to a Dejection of Spirits upon many Occasions in Life. Refined Parts should be tenderly preserved, or they are liable to be chilled by the Blasts of Adversity; like those Fruits, which would wither unripened in our cold northern Clime, were they not carefully assisted in their Vegetation by the adventitious Use of hot Beds.

The Circumstance, which in my Opinion reflects the greatest Lustre upon the Character of Lord Sommers, is the Encouragement he afforded to such a Genius as Mr. Addison, who might have remained in a less con|spicuous Point of View without the Assistance of such a Patron. His Vein of Humour, which is now the gen|teelest in the World, might have taken a Tincture from low Life; his delicate Raillery might have sub|sided into coarse and vulgar Railing; His Taste, which

was finished by Travel and every other Advantage, might have grown quite callous and indelicate: for his Sentiments of Morality might have been substituted a Strain of Ribaldry, to awaken the Blum of Confusion in that female Face, which, as Matters happened, he took so much Pains to set off in the Smiles of native Innocence and unaffected Beauty; and that Pen, which entertained the Town with some of the most elegant Productions of human Wit, might have been employed in Politics, personal Invective, and Party-rage. But the kindly Protection of the Lord Sommers hindered him from sinking into Obscurity, and from being compelled by Necessity to sully that fair Fame, which is now the Reward of his excellent Performances. The As|sistance of so eminent a Person was a Kind of Demand upon him, for all that elaborate Elegance, which now distinguishes itself in his Writings.

He from the Taste obscene refines our Youth, And sets the Passions on the Side of Truth. POPE.

It has been the Fate of many, endowed perhaps with Parts not very inferior to Addison, to droop in Indi|gence, their poetic Fires totally extinguished, and I make no Manner of Doubt, but in the present Age, there are those who might become shining Ornaments of the Republic of Letters, were there any Incitement to spur the Muses Steed. But a Treatise on Cribbidge, or a Calculation of the Chances at Whist, is sure of being better received at present, than the Odes of a Collins, or any Performance of distinguished Genius. While a Smart subsists among us, I cannot help thinking it an indelible Reproach to the Age, that he has not any where sound a Mecaenas, and that he is suffered to draw his Pen in the Praises of his Maker, without receiving any other Reward, than a small Premium at Cambridge, and that Portion of Fame, which, in Spight of Malice and Envy, he will be always sure to enjoy.

Wit is generally considered as an Object of Ridicule rather than an Accomplishment deserving Encourage|ment and Esteem, and the Narrowness of Fortune, in which most of the literary Tribe are situated, is a standing Topic of Pleasantry, and to call a Man a Poet, is, in most Companies, a stroke of irresistible Hu|mour. The witty Doctor Young has ridiculed this with his usual Delicacy.

These, when their utmost Venom they would spit, Most barbarously tell you—"he's a Wit." Poor Negrces thus to shew their burning Spite, To Cacodaemons say, they're Dev'lish White.

There is hardly any Thing more affecting to a Man of real Merit, than to find himself scorned by the Inso|lence of Purse-pride. People of Affluence should con|sider when they attempt to depreciate Men of su|perior Parts, that they betray an unmanly Triumph over those, who have still their Fortune to make. But, as Mr. Pope finely observes, the World in general is apt to form an Idea of a Man, at the Time he is least able to make a proper Judgment for himself; and from thence it results, that we find many utterly ruined by slight Errors, trivial Indiscretions, and petty Inadver|tencies, while others owe their Elevation to Vices, to headstrong Passions, and a Series of selfish Views, which are, for the greater Part, more successful, than Modesty, a sober Understanding, and a Spirit above abject Flat|tery and mean Submission.

They who sit smiling at the Goal of Fortune, while others are running the hardy Course, should reflect, that it is possible for Perseverance and unremitted Ap|plication, to reach the very Point, in which they take so much Pride; and then it is evident on which Side the Superiority will be found. A well turned Spirit, with the Advantages of a genteel Education and a compe|tent Knowledge of the World, must certainly receive

additional Lustre from an Accession of Wealth, and the Accomplishments of such a one, will, in their Turn, adorn and embellish Affluence. On this Account, Ju|venal's Maxim is without Dispute, highly just; a great Respect, says he, is due to Youth. The Practice of this Observation I would recommend to all Parents, Uncles, Guardians, and all Ranks of People, who have any Concern in the Education of the rising Generation; as it is to be apprehended that they frequently, by too much Precipitance in their Conduct, drive them to Ex|tremes, which a little Indulgence might prevent, and by which they might become valuable Members of Society.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

George's Coffee-house, Temple-Bar, Dec. 22.

THE whole Stock in Trade of a very eminent Critic is to be sold upon very reasonable Terms, the said Critic having left off Business. This Collec|tion is reckoned very valuable, as by this sole Assistance the Proprietor became highly eminent in his Profession.

Among several curious Articles are the following va|luable Particulars.

A compleat List of all the technical Terms used by Rymer, Dennis, Sir Richard Blackmore, Oldmixon, &c.

Colley Cibber's Life.

Chetwood's Account of the Players.

A Treatise on acting in the original French, with a Translation of the same, called the ACTOR, by the In|spector, who gave singular Proofs of his Abilities, Taste, and Judgment in this Business by his Performances at Bartholomew Fair, Tottenbam-Court, &c.

An exact Account of what Money both the Play-Houses hold when full, and without Orders.

A shrill toned Catcall, very proper to be used at the next now Tragedy, as it is said to be a Work of Genius.

A sure and infallible Method of Damning any Play, being a proper Vade Mecum for a Critic.

Directions how to appear wiser than a Person really is, by the Use of

Hams and Haws!—and Shakes of the Head,—and saying,—if pressed to an Explana|tion,

—

I don't chuse to throw away the Know|ledge I've gained by twenty Years Experience in a Moment, &c.

—by a MYSTIC PHILOSOPHER.

The whole to be sold in the Lump to any young Gentleman who has a Mind to set up for himself; for farther Particulars, enquire at the Bar, where Cata|logues are given Gratis.

NUMB. 63.

GRAY's-INN, Saturday, Dec. 29, 1753.

—Quem dudum non ulla injecta movebant Tela, nec adverso glomerati ex Agmine Graii, Nunc omnes terrent Aurae, Sonus excitat omnis Suspensum— VIRG.

_THERE is not, in my Opinion, a more exquisite Pleasure in the Power of Man, than what arises from an internal View of his own mental Constitution. To observe the various Association of Ideas, combined with a Ra|pidity, which scarcely leaves a Trace behind it, to watch the subtile Movements of the Passions, and thence to deduce the secret Source of many of our Sen|sations, which are in Appearance extremely compli|cated and surprizing, is a Task requiring the finest Per|ception in the Research, and also productive of the most useful Knowledge we can boast, and the highest Delight our Faculties are susceptible of.

The Solution of a mathematical Problem may be agreeable to that Curiosity, which is implanted in us.;

and the Newtonian Philosophy may expand the Imagina|tion with stupendous Ideas of the Distances of heavenly Bodies; but in these Occupations, like Swift's Taylor, it is possible, we may mistake one Figure, and then all our ingenious Labour evaporates into Air; whereas in the Pursuit of Self-knowledge our Reasonings are from Feeling, and all our Discoveries, besides the Ad|vantage of being as surprizing as in any other Science, carry with them a further Accession of Pleasure, as we are ourselves more immediately concerned in them. In travelling through an open champain Country the Prospect on every Side may administer to the Pleasures of Imagination; but a Man will certainly feel more lively Sensat ons when riding upon Land belonging to himself; the Landskip of his own Estate will look more beautiful to the Eye, the Lawn shall spread a more pleasing Verdure, and the Discovery of a Mine, or the secret Spring of a little Rill running through his Mea|dows, aford him a Delight not to be equalled by the gayest Scenes that can be presented to him.

The Study of the human Mind is, therefore, the most rational and pleasing Employment we are capable of; for my Part I am always highly delighted when any accidental Circumstance throws me into this Tract of thinking, and whether reading Rabelais's frolic Rav|ings, or the sublime Enthusiasm of Homer, I am sure ever and anon to lay aside the Volume, in order to trace the Pleasure, which I have received, to its hid|den Source, and to account for the Appearance upon some Principle in our Constitution. An Opportunity of gratifying this Turn occurred to me the other Day, when casually turning over some of the most beautiful Passages in epic Poetry, I could not help taking notice, that I perused the Description of Thousands stretched upon the Field of Battle, weltring in Blood, agonizing with their Wounds, and trampled under Horses Hoofs, without feeling any of those Propensities to Compas|sion,

which were frequently awakened in me by the Death of a single Person. I could read with the greatest Composure and Serenity, Lines, which mention dying Groans of Numbers falling in one promiscuous Carnage, broken Limbs of Warriors, Men and Horses, all mixed in one general Scene of Destruction.

Tum vero gemitus morientum, & sanguine in alto Armaque Corporaque & permisti caede Virorum Semianimes volvuntur Equi—

A Muster-Roll of Heroes, who in one Line em|braced their Fate, did not move me to the least ténder Sensation.

Chloreaque, Sybarimque, Daretaque, Thersilocumque. Alcandrumque, Haliumque, Noëmonaque, Prytanimque.

The Mind is totally impassive in all these general Ac|counts of the Calamities of War; but, when the Poet thinks proper to distinguish a single Person from the Throng, we melt in Pity of his Fate, heedless of the general Devastation, which is spread around him. That this is the Case every Body that has read the Aeneid will be ready to acknowledge; and yet it might be imagined that our Hearts should be more intensely agitated, when Desolation sweeps whole Ranks of our Fellow-Creatures from the Face of the Earth, than when we read the Fate of an Individual; but such is our Dis|position, that we can go through all these Narratives without Emotion, and when the epic Writer throws out but a short Reflection upon the Fall of one Man, we are instantly fixed in Attention, and our Hearts throb with Compassion for his untimely End.

The Reason of this I take to be, that in the former Case, we are only told, that so many embraced their Fate in Battle, in which Circumstance there is nothing to excite Commiseration in a reasonable Being. Death is one of the Conditions of human Life, and we all

hold our Existence in this World upon the same preca|rious Tenure. We therefore consider the Descriptions of Homer and Virgil as no more than a mere Bill of Mortality, and when they inform us that such a Num|ber perished upon the Spot, we peruse it with as much Calmness as the Paragraph which tells us,

Encreased in the Burials this Week five hundred.

And further, when they tell us, that, one receives an Arrow in the jugular Vein; another has a Spear run through his Shoulder, and is rivetted with his Body double to the Ground; a third is wounded in the Mouth and has his Head split in two, it may serve, as the Critics observe, to give Variety to the Battle, but in Fact, amounts to no more than what we read in a common News paper,

Yesterday a Labourer fell from the Top of an House, by which Accident he broke his Collar bone and in|stantly expired.

An Account of bodily Pain has but a very slight Influence upon our Passions; it is men|tal Distress that principally operates upon our Hearts, and our Pity rises in Proportion to the Agitations of Mind, which we perceive in the Person afflicted. Be|sides this, the Poet frequently finds collateral Avenues to our Souls, by a Mention of Family-Connections, and to heighten our Sorrow, he addresses himself to the moral Sense of his Reader, and interests him still more in the Fate of his Hero, by representing his amiable Qualities, and the elegant Accomplishments, which would have rendered him a deserving Member of So|ciety. By these Mears our tenderest Feelings are awakened, and the Effect is not unlike what a Man may experience in a Church-yard, where he sees a Multitude of different Graves in which, the good, the bad, the old and young lie in promiscuous Silence, and he therefore beholds the Scene without Emotion; but as soon as the Tomb stone presents a Character of one distinguished from the Rest, he then laments the generous Friend, the tender Husband, the indulgent

Father, and mourns for him who acted agreeably to the Relations in which he stood to his Fellow Crea|tures. Thus when we read of a dying Person, that he was a Friend of the Muses, and that Harmony was the Delight of his Soul, we consider him in a different Light from those, who as Mr. Addison expresses it, are celebrated for nothing but being knocked in the Head.

—Amicum Cretea Musis, Cretea Musarum Comitem, cui Carmina semper Et Citharae Cordi, numerosque intendere Nervis.

When we are told of another, that his Death was la|mented by his Friends in sundry Parts of his Country, we cannot help joining in the general Grief.

Te Nemus Agnitiae, vitreâ te Fucinus undâ, Te liquidi flevere Lacus.—

The Number of Sufferers is encreased, and our Pas|sions encrease in Proportion to the Knowledge conveyed to us of their Affections, their tender Friendships, and their Schemes for future Happiness. One falls in the Midst of his half-finished Projects; him his blooming Mistress mourns with frantic Sorrow, and all his Re|lations bewail his Loss. Another receives his mortal Wound through the very Garment which his Mother worked for him with her own Hands.

Trarsiit & Parmam Mucro, levia Arma minacis, Et Tunicam, molli mater quam neveral Auro, Implevitque sinum sanguis—

Besides these little Touches which the epic Writer oc|casionally makes use of to awaken and engage the Pas|sions, they are further obliged to diversify their Battles with Episodes, or short Accounts of particular Adven|tures, in order to secure our Attention, and relieve us from that general Scene of Slaughter, which, they are conscious we peruse without any of those Sensations, which it is the primary Excellence of Poetry to excite.

Thus the Story of Nisus and Euryalus will always soften the ••eader into Compassion, when other Passages, in one Line of which there is infinitely more Mischief done, will be passed over with Indifference. I should not think the worse of him that should calmly go thro' most of the Battles in epic Poetry, but I hope there is not one of my Readers who would not yield to the ten|derest Impressions at the Fall of Pallas, and the Lamen|tation of Aeneas over his dead Body.

The Use I would make of what has been premised is, that, as our Passion are worked up in Proportion to the many amiable Qualities of the Character in Distress, and the Keeness of mental Sensation, which we sup|pose it suffers, our modern Writers of Tragedy should attach themselves to this Circumstance, and consider that it is not the theatrical Apparatus, the Bowl, the Dagger, the Dungeon or the Clink of Chains, that can affect an Audience, but a faithful Portrait of a Mind struggling with various Sensations. If the Players would also consider the same, Noise and Rant would be effectually banished, and instead of aiming at Applause by the mere Effect of own sonorous Voices, they would endeavour by every Look, every Tone, and every At|titude to mark the in-felt Anguish of their Minds.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Bedford Coffee-house, Dec. 29.

THE following is a Copy of Mr. Macklin's fare|well Epilogue, which has been handed about here this Day. The Reader will perceive in it manifest Traces of a Writer, who has often diverted the Town upon similar Occasions. In some Lines the Author has jocosely made the Speaker exhibit a Caricature of himself and his own peculiar Manner, but these Strokes will be obvious, without pointing them out.

EPILOGUE.

POOR I, toss'd up and down from Shore to Shore, Sick, wet and weary, will to Sea no more; Yet 'tis some Comfort, tho' I quit the Trade, That this last Voyage with Success is made, The Ship full laden, and the Freight all pay'd. Since then for Reasons I the Stage give o'er, And for your Sakes—write Tragedies no more: Some other Schemes, of course, possess my Brain, For he who once has eat,—must eat again. And lest this lank, this melancholy Phyz, Should grow more lank, more dismal than it is; A Scheme I have in Hand will make you stare! Tho' off the Stage I still must be the Play'r. Still must I follow the Theatric Plan, Exert my Comic Pow'rs, draw all I can, And to each Guest appear a diff'rent Man. I (like my Liquors) must each Palate hit, Rake with the Wild, be sober with the Cit, Nay sometimes act my least becoming Part—the Wit. With Politicians I must nod—seem full— And act my best becoming Part—the Dull. My Plan is this—Man's form'd a social Creature, Requiring Converse by the Laws of Nature; And as the Moon can raise the swelling Flood, Or as the Mind is influenc'd by the Blood, So—do I make myself well understood? I'm puzzled faith—let us like Bayes agree it, You'll know my Plot much better when you see it. But Truce with jesting, let me now impart, The warm O'erflowings of a grateful Heart; Come good, come bad, while Life or Mem'ry last, My Mind shall treasure up your Favours past: And might one added Boon encrease the Store, With much less Sorrow should I quit this Shore: To mine, as you have been to me, prove kind, Protect the Pledge, my Fondness leaves behind;

To you her Guardians I resign my Care, Let her with others your Indulgence share; Whate'er my Fate, if this my Wish prevails, 'Twill glad the Father, tho' the Schemist fails.

NUMB. 64.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Jan. 5, 1754.

Falsus honor juvat, & mendax infamia terret Quem nisi mendesum & mendacem. HOR.

_MY Readers will observe, that I frequently select Mottos, for my Papers, from the Author, whose Name I have prefixed to this Day's Essay; the Reason of it is, his Sense is so refined, and the Turn of his Expres|sion so peculiarly delicate, that his Remarks are inter|mixed with my own ordinary Ideas, in such a Manner, that they recur to me, upon almost every Occasion. Horace is so sensibly and elegantly sententious, not only in his Epistles and Satires, which are professedly moral Discourses, but also in his lighter Odes, and his gayest Excursions of Fancy, that I have often thought, an ex|cellent System of Morality, might be extracted out of his. Writings; I have even carried this Hint so far, as to think seriously of publishing a Translation of all his excellent ethic Observations, which would, in my Opinion, be the best Collection of Thoughts on various Subjects, that has ever been offered to the Public.

The Passage, which I have placed at the Head of this Paper contains a very beautiful Moral.

Who is there,

says the Bard,

that can desire an Acces|sion of false Honour, who is not sensible of some in|herent Defect? and who can be alarmed at the Blasts of Calumny and Detraction, who bears in his own Heart a Regard to Truth?

—This Sentence con|tains

such indelible Marks of a virtuous Disposition, that it should be written in Letters of Gold, and im|pressed in deep Characters on the Heart of every Man, who would pass through Life with an honest and fair Fame, as it suggests a just Contempt for all ill-grounded Applause, and furnishes the Man of upright Heart with the proper Weapons of a noble Disregard for the mean Designs of Slander and Malevolence.

Hypocrisy is considered, by all Moralists, as the most despicable and infamous Disease of the Soul; it discovers a Sense of the Grace and Beauty of a fair Character, but generally carries with it a total Absence of all good Qualities. It aims at Esteem, by artfully concealing the latent Imperfections, and exhibiting to the public Eye a glossy Appearance of something amiable and honest. But unless the Mind is thoroughly weeded, in spight of every artful Disguise, the lurk|ing Mischief will, one Time or other, break out, and as Perseus expresses it, like a wild Fig-tree, force its Way through the very Liver;

— Quae semel intus Ianata est, rupto jecore exierit Caprificus.

Since I have mentioned this Satirist, it coincides with my present Scope, to observe, that there is not in any Author ancient or modern, a nobler Description of a Man of real Honour, than what is found in two Lines of his Writing; I shall transcribe his Words, because the Passage is highly beautiful, and for the Sake of the mere English Reader, I shall add Mr. Dryden's excel|lent Translation.

Compositum jus fasque Animi, sanctosque Recessus Mentis, & incocium generoso Poetus honesto. A Soul, where Laws both human and divine In Practice more than Speculation shine; A genuine Honour, of a vigorous Kind, Pure in the last Recesses of the Mind.

Certain it is, that for the Formation of a just Cha|racter, it is requisite to have a perfect Knowledge of Right and Wrong settled in the Mind, Virtue should be ledged in the Soul, and the Heart should glow with generous Truth; but as the World now goes, there is more Art to acquire the popular Opinion than Merit to deserve it; and the general Method, by which People grasp at Fame, consists in depreciating some Neighbour's Character. Thus the female Beauty aims at being a general Toast, by detracting from some other Fair-one. The Merchant endeavours to extend his own Credit and Correspondence by an artful Pro|pagation of Suspicions to another's Disadvantage, and the Quack, after setting forth the unerring Efficacy of his Nostrum, closes his Advertisement with,

Beware of Counterfeits, for such are abroad.

Cicero observes, that for one Man to detract from another, and to think of aggrandizing himself at the Expence of his Neighbour, is more against Nature, than Death, than Grief, or any other Calamity incident to human Life. The Realms of Fame are not to be explored by Doublings and Shiftings, and, whenever any one would arrive at those Regions, Honour, Truth, and Generosity must freight the Vessel; the Breath of vo|luntary, impartial Applause must swell the Sail, and the Course must be direct, bold, and open to the Eye of the World.

A Reputation otherwise obtained must certainly af|ford very little Satisfaction, and it will still administer less, when we consider, that it is only, as Shakespear calls it, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 HONOUR, gained from the ignorant, from the self ••••••••rested, the mean, and the contemp|tible,; ••word sua munera c••rd••, says a Writer already quoted; let the Underlings of Mankind keep their Commendations to themselves; for the Praise of such is beneath the Ambition of an honest Man, and by Parity of Reason, their Censure, their Disapprobation,

their Cabals, their Intrigues, their Tattles, their daily Compotations, and their Midnight Clubs, are to be despised by every one, whose Breast is impregnated with a Love of Truth and Virtue.

To draw to a Conclusion; the uncertain Tide of illu|sive Popularity is ever known to fluctuate, to ebb, and to subside, and then the Shallows are discovered, the treacherous Quicksands are revealed, and the Bottom lies betrayed to Sight. In like Manner giddy Detraction spends and exhausts itself; the Storm howls for a Time, and then decays into the Murmur of Obloquy, which at Length dies totally away; the Scene clears up▪ the Lustre of Integrity spreads a Day around it, and In|famy, instead of adhering where it was directed, returns to its native Spring.

I have met in some French Writer a short Chinese Story, with which I shall dismiss this Paper.

The celebrated Ming was accused of entertaining disre|spectful Ideas of Tien and Li, and of being dissaffected to the Emperor Vang. When the Executioners went to seize the old Man, they found him composing a Panegyric upon Vang, and an Hymn to Tien and Li.

—

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Tilt-yard Coffee house, Jan. 5, 1754.

WE are not a little surprized, that Mr. Ranger, in his Rambles, never drops into this military Academy; perhaps he may imagine that among the Gentlemen of the Sword nothing can offer worthy-the Notice of a Man of Letters. But we can assure him we have some Personages of profound Erudition Capt. Halfpay acquainted the Co••ps, the other Day, that he had lately taken up a Book, which lay on the Win|dow at his Lodging, called THE BIBLE. He said, he had never met w••••h the Work before, and that he read a pretty Story enough in it, of one Jos;eph and his Bre|thren.

He observed, that the Stile was somewhat un couth, but that really there was something well enough in it for a Book of the Kind. Upon this Lieutenant Strut said, that he had heard of the Book, but never looked into it.—He believed he had it in his Hand once, when he took the Oaths, but he did not well recollect. He added, however, that he would upon Captain Halspay's Recommendation, carry it with him, when he went next into Country Quarters. We men|tion this only as a Specimen of what Ranger may pick up if he will but Favour us with a Visit.

Covent-Garden Theatre.

The Italian Burletta, which was rerformed here for the first Time about the Middle of last Month, has con|tinued to draw splendid Audiences three times a Week ever since. A Burletta, is a mock Performance in|tended to burlesque the Incidents and Music of the Italian Opera; but whatever Humour it may contain is certainly lost to an English Audience; however, not|withstanding these Disadvantages one of this Exotic Troupe, who in the Piece is called Spiletta, has such a quick Expression of Humour in her Countenance, such a Vivacity of Action, joined to such Variety, that she is allowed, in this fantastic Part of Acting, to be an excellent Performer; though the Manager has observed, that she does not know how to lay her Emphasis.

I assure you, Mr. —, the Italians, as well as the English, lay their EMPHERSIS on the ADJUTANT.

ADVERTISEMENT.

Any Person inclined to go to Drury-Lane Playhouse this Evening in a Hackney-Coach, may hear of three agreeable Companions at the Rainbow Coffee-house in Cornhill.

N. B. As Harlequin Fortunatus is to be performed it will be necessary to set out early.

NUMB. 65.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Jan. 12, 1754.

Manet altâ mente repostum. VIRG.

Hinc illae lacrymae. TEREN.

_AT the last Meeting of our Club, my Friend, Mr. Candid, informed us, that he had lately seen the Character of King Lear admirably performed by Mr. Garrick, and that he had since thrown together some Remarks upon that excel|lent Tragedy, which he desired I would this Day com|municate to the Readers of the Gray's-Inn-Journal.

To be able to criticise a Poet with any Degree of Perspicuity, it is requisite to consider the Nature of his Fable; and the moral Use of the Work. This being sketched, we may then proceed to observe how he lays on his Colouring, the Disposition of each Person|age, the Expression of the Passions, and which is the capital Figure in the Piece. Lear being examined in this Manner, it will appear that the Author intended to exhibit, in the most striking Colours, the horrid Crime of Filial Ingratitude. To enforce this he represents an old Monarch tired with the Cares of State, and wil|ling to distribute his Possessions among his Daughters, in Proportion to their Affections towards his Person. Accordingly, the two that flatter him obtain all, the third Sister being disinherited for her Sincerity, and the King is at length driven by the Ingratitude of his two eldest Daughters, to an extreme of Madness, which produces the finest Tragic Distress ever seen on any Stage.

As this is the Ground-work of the Play, I am sur|prized that any Critic should impute the Madness of Lear to the Loss of Royalty. The Behaviour of his

Children is always uppermost in his Thoughts, and we perceive it working upon his Passions, till at Length his Mind settles into a fixed Attention to that single Ob|ject. This, I think, will appear in a critical Exami|nation of the Play.

Lear, in his first Scene, shews himself susceptible of the most violent Emotions. The Poet has drawn him impetuous to the greatest Degree, proud, haughty, re|vengeful, and tender-hearted. In such a Mind it is not to be wondered that Ill-treatment should excite the most uneasy Sensations. He takes fire at an imaginary Ap|pearance of Disaffection in Cordelia.

But goes thy Heart with this? So young and so untender!

He is soon after alarmed with Suspicions of Disre|spect from Gonerill, "I will look further into't."—He then is convinced of her contemptuous Disregard, and the Effect it has upon him, indicates a Mind, impotent and liable to the worst Perturbations.

D•••••• Lear walk thus? speak thus? where are his Eyes? Either his Notion weakens, his Discernings Are lethargy'd.—

His Reflections after this shew what is nearest to his Heart.

Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted Fiend, More Lideous, when thou shew'st thee in a Child, Than the Sea-Monster.—

He observes that Cordelia's Fault was small; and when even that made such an Impression on him, what are we to expect from his fiery Disposition, when rejected by those to whom he had given all? His Imprecation, though big with Horror, is the natural Result of his Indignation; and the Tenderness and Overflowings of Softness, which melt him in the midst of his Vehe|mence, produce a fine Conflict of Passions.

Th'untented Woundings of a Father's Curse, Pierce ev'ry Sense about thee!—Old fond Eyes, Reweep this Cause again, I'll pluck ye out, And cast ye, with the Waters that you lose, To temper Clay.—

His Haughtiness then breaks out in a Menace to his Daughter.

Thou shal't find That I'll resume the Shape, which thou dost think I have cast off forever.

His Address to Regan is extremely tender and pathetic.

Thy tender-hested Nature shall not give Thee o'er to Harshness.

And a little after

Thou better know'st The Offices of Nature, Bond of Childhood, Effects of Courtesie, Dues of Gratitude; Thy half o'th' Kingdom thou hast not forgot, Wherein I thee endow'd—

There have been many Poets who were acquainted in general with the Passions of human Nature, and ac|cordingly we find them constantly describing their Ef|fects; but Shakespear's Art shows their Impulse and their Workings, without the Aid of Definition or flowery De|scription. Besides the general Survey of the Heart, he was more intimately versed in the various Tempers of Mankind than any Poet whatever. We always find that he makes the Passions of each Personage in his Drama operate according to his peculiar Habit and Frame of Mind; and, in the Tragedy in Question, there are so many Strokes of this Nature, that in my Opinion, it is his Master-Piece. In every Speech in Lear's Mouth, there is such an artful Mixture of thwarting Passions, that the Heart-strings of an Audience are torn on every

Side. The frequent Transition and Shifting of Emo|tions is natural to every Breast, but in Lear they are cha|racteristical Marks of his Temper.

I pr'ythee, Daughter, do not make me mad. I will not trouble thee my Child. Farewel. We'll meet no more—no more see one another. But yet thou art my Flesh, my Blood, my Daughter; Or rather a Disease that's in my Flesh, &c. But I'll not chide thee; Let Shame come when it will, I do not call it; I do not bid the Thunder bearer shoot, Nor tell Tales of thee to high judging Jove.

In this Speech every Master-passion in his Temper rises in Conflict, his Pride, his Revenge, his quick Re|sentment, and his Tenderness. Shakespear has beauti|fully repeated Instances of this Nature, in almost every Line, and the following Passage has some of the finest Turns in the World.

O let not Woman's Weapons, Water-Drops, Stain my Man's Cheeks—no, ye unnatr'al Hags— I will have such Revenges on ye both—I'll do such Things, What they are I know not—But they shall be The Terrors of the Earth—you think I'll weep— No—I'll not weep—I have full Cause of weeping— This Heart shall break into a thousand Flaws— Or e'er I'll weep—O Fool, I shall go mad.

Here the distressed Monarch leaves his Daughter's Roof, and the next Time we see him, he is on a wild Heath in a violent Storm, where all his Reflections take a Tincture from the gloomy Colour of a Mind diseased with Anguish, and we soon see what is the principal Object of his Attention.

— Thou all-shaking Thunder Crack Nature's Mould; all Germins spill at once That make UNGRATEFUL MAN.

And again;

The Tempest in my Mind Doth from my Senses take all Feeling else Save what beats there—Filial Ingratitude!

His sudden Apostrophe to his Daughters must draw Tears from every Eye.

O Regan! Gonerill! Your old kind Father, whose frank Heart gave all.

The breaking off has a fine Effect.

O! that Way Madness lies—let me shun that— No more of that—

As yet the Perturbation of his Mind does not seem fixed to a Point; he begins to moralize, but still with a View to his own Afflictions, until Edgar enters dis|guised like a Madman. Lear's first Question is,

have his Daughters brought him to this Pass? couldst thou save nothing? didst thou give them all?

—And this I take to be the first Touch of fixed Madness in the Play, and might point out to any Man the Cause of his Destraction, without thinking of the Resignation of his Sceptre, or the mere Loss of regal Power.

As our Hero is now out of his Senses, a new Field opens itself to the Poet. He had before display'd every Movement of the Heart, and the human Understanding now becomes his Province, in which, we shall find, he acquits himself with the most masterly Skill. Mr. Locke observes, that Madmen do not seem to have lost the Faculty of Reasoning; but having joined together some Ideas very wrongly, they mistake them for Truths; and they err as Men do that argue right from wrong Principles. For by the Vio|lence of their Imaginations, having mistaken their Fancies for Realities, they make right Deductions from them.

Agreeably to this Account, Lear, upon the Appear|ance of a Madman, takes it for granted that it is owing to his Daughters ill-treatment, and when contradicted, he replies,

Death! Traitor! nothing could have sub|dued Nature to such a Lowness but his unkind Daugh|ters

—He next takes him for a Philosopher, and agreeably to that Notion enquires

what is the Cause of Thunder?

In his next Scene a Desire of revenging his Grievances actuates his Mind;

To have a thousand with red burning Spits Come hizzing in upon 'em!

He then proceeds to arraign his Daughters in a Court of Justice.

Arraign her first, 'tis Gonerill. I here take Oath before this honourable Assembly—she kicked the poor King her Father—Here is another too whose warpt Looks proclaim what Store her Heart is made of.

—He still continues to dwell in Imagination upon the Crime of Ingratitude, which appears to him so shocking that he exclaims,

Let them anatomize Regan;—see what breeds about her Heart—Is there any Cause in Nature for these hard Hearts?

This last Stroke cannot fail to draw Tears from every Eye. The Reader will please to ob|serve, that all this Time there is not a Word said of his Royalty, on the contrary, he says to Edgar,

You, Sir, I entertain for one of my Hundred; only I do not like the Fashion of your Garment,

&c. which hundred, was appointed after his Abdication.

After this how was Shakespear to represent Lear again so as to keep up the Passions, and heighten the Distress? By taking Advantage of every Circumstance in Lear's Temper. He had said that he would reassume the Shape, he had cast off: This then remained untouched, and accordingly in the next Scene we perceive him ac|tually putting it in Execution, and his Fancy suggests to him, that he is a King; from which he reasons as

from every other Principle, and always with an Eye to his Children. "No," they cannot touch me for "coining; I am the King himself."

There's my Gauntlet—I'll prove it on a Giant.

From this, his Imagination wanders.

Bring up the brown Bills— O well flown Barb! i'th' Clout! i'th' Clout— Hewgh, give the Word.

—From this Rambling he soon returns, and the habitual Ideas again take Pos|session of him.

Ha Regan! Gonerill! they flattered me like a Dog,

&c. After this, Glo'ster enquiring if it is not the King, he catches at the Word and answers, "Ay, every Inch a King." And then he draws some more Inferences from that Notion, till he reflects that Glo'ster's Bastard Son was kinder to his Fa|ther than his own Daughters, got in lawful Sheets. From this he digresses into an Invective against Wo|men, and continues raving, till at length his Spirit of Revenge returns upon him.

And when I've stolen upon these SONS-IN-LAW, then kill, kill, kill, kill.

It was Shakespear's Art to reserve his being crowned with Straw for the last Scene of his Madness, as it is a Representation of human Nature reduced to the lowest Ebb. Had he lost his Reason on Account of his abdicated Throne, the Emotions of Pity would not be so intense, as they now are when we see him drove to that Extreme by the Cruelty of his own Children. Every Topic of parental Distress being exhausted, and all the King's Master-Passions displayed in his Mad|ness, the Poet judiciously shews him gradually coming to himself in the next Scene; and we see the Ideas dawning slowly on his Soul.

Where have I been?—where am I?—fair Day-light!

In this Recollection of his Reason, he never once men|tions the Loss of Royalty, but again touches upon the Cause of his Distress in his Speech to Cordelia.

I know you do not love me; for your Sisters Have, as I do remember, done me wrong; You have some Cause; they have not.—

So that before his Madness, in it, and after it, Lear never loses Sight of the Ideas which had worn such Traces on his Brain; and he must be unfeeling to the great Art of our Poet, who can look for any other Cause of Distress, in Scenes which are drawn so forcibly and strong, and kept up with the most exquisite Skill to the very dying Words of the unhappy Monarch.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Court of Censorial Enquiry, Jan. 9.

THIS Day Jacob Rescounter, of St. Mary-Ax, Broker, was indicted, for that he, not being a Subscriber, did, on the 1st Instant, at Sam's Coffee-house in Exchange-Alley, call for one Book or Pamphlet, en|titled, A SURE GUIDE TO HELL, and the same did peruse, contrary to the Rules and Orders in that Case made and provided.

Samuel Wood, sworn.

I am the Master of Sam's Coffee-house, and as I was stirring the Fire (this was on the first Day of the Month) the Prisoner called with a very audible Voice—

A SURE GUIDE TO HELL,

—whereupon I answered —"A SURE GUIDE TO HELL," Sir, you shall have, and immediately put the Book in his Hand; but Major took me aside, and told me, he was not a Subscriber. Upon this I examined the List, and found that his Name was not there.

Major, the Waiter, sworn.

As soon as I heard the Prisoner call for the Pamphlet, smoke him, says I to myself, he is no Subscriber, and accordingly cocks I my Eye at Master, who understood me very well; and when he had delivered the Book

to the Prisoner, we went over the List of Subscribers together, and he was not in it.

Prisoner's Defence.

I had been in the Alley that Morning, to sell some Navy-Bills for Mr. Iscariot, and I dropped in at the Coffee-house, with an Intention to subscribe; but, it be|ing a Holiday, I did not think the Books were open, as they never are at the South-Sea or India-Houses, on those Days.

Court.

—Have you any one to call to your Character?

Prisoner.

I have—Let Mr. Isaac Belshazzar be called.

Isaac Belshazzar, Stock-Jobber, sworn on an India-Bond.

I have known the Prisoner several Years; I have often employed him to buy Blanks for me; and he al|ways behaved very honestly; I could not suspect him of such an Action.

William Doc, sworn.

I have known the Prisoner about nine Months; I always thought him a Man of good Character; I made a Pair of Leather Breeches for him, and he paid me very honestly.

Abraham Shylock, sworn.

I am a Barber in Duke's-Place. I know the Prisoner's Father very well; he sells Cane-strings, and really I al|ways thought his Son Jacob a very honest Man; I never heard any Thing amiss of him, before this Affair of his reading the Pamphlet, and really I could not think him capable of such an Action.

Guilty 10d.

NUMB. 66.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Jan. 19, 1754.

Locus est & pluribus umbris.

HOR.

_THE following Letter is wrote with such a Vein of Candor and Taste, that I cannot with hold it from the Public this Day. I am highly obliged to the Author for so in|genious a Piece, and shall be glad to know by a Line to the Printer hereof, where I may direct to him, as I shou'd be proud to cultivate a Correspondence with so elegant a Critic. The Reader will judge of the Matter for himself, and, upon a future Occasion, I shall offer some further Considerations on this Subject, and will only hint for the present, that I hope it will not be any Detriment to me, that I publish a genteel Performance, which is, in some Measure, against what I have ad|vanced. I flatter myself I shall not have Reason to be sorry for admitting him into my Province, and to say with the Poet,

Et Regni demens in parte vocavi. VIRG:

To CHARLES RANGER, Esq

SIR,

TO address a Letter to you under the Character of of Mr. Ranger, I am persuaded needs little Apo|logy; especially when it goes from one, who, though a Stranger to you, has a real Regard to your Reputation as an Author, and having often received great Pleasure from your Weekly Essays, takes this Liberty of throw|ing out his Thoughts to you on a Piece of Criticism in which he differs with you is Opinion.

Your Paper of last Saturday an Examen of King Lear, and you think many Critics have mistaken the principal Idea in the old King's Mind during his State of Madness: After citing Lear's Exclamation on the Ingratitude of his Daughters you add,

This might lead any Man to the Cause of Lear's Madness, without thinking of the Resignation of his Sceptre.

But certainly, whoever considers Lear's Character with Attention, will from the very Passage you quote, beside an hundred others, think there is much to be said on the other Side of the Question.

I have read with great Pleasure several of the Remarks you make on the Speeches in Lear, which are such as can arise only in the Mind of a Reader of Taste; but I cannot agree, that

He must be unfeeling to the great Art of our Poet, who can look for any other Cause of Distress,

in the Madness of the King, than the In|gratitude of his Daughters.

I know not in what Manner you may treat the Re|marks I am about to make, but I can sincerely assure you, they are only intended as Hints to yourself, on a Subject which I think of some Consequence to the Ad|mirers of Shakespear.

The Critic in the Adventurer was somewhat wanting in Justice to the Poet, by mentioning the Loss of Royal|ty as the sole Cause of Lear's Madness, without taking Notice at the same Time of the forcible Idea he must have of the Ingratitude of his two Daughters; and I think Mr. Ranger also wrong, in excluding intirely his Opinion. What I purpose here is, to point out both the Ideas working strongly in his Mind, and what the Author intended as conducive to the Moral of his Play.

No Critic on Shakespear can better explain the Cha|racters he draws, than the Poet himself does in every Speech; we not only see what his Persons are during the Scene represented, but we are also made acquainted by some nice Touches in each Play, with their former Mode of thinking and acting; and as no Poet ever un|derstood.

Nature better in the Operation of the Pas|sions, so he always makes them speak and act in the highest Conformity to their Characters: In this Respect his Genius and Judgment is every where equal to Horace's Precept,

Aetatis cujusque notandi sunt tibi Mores.

Lear's Deportment and Sentiments in regard to his Daughters in the first Act, and what Gonerill says of him to Regan, mark very plainly his Character; which is, that of a haughty, passionate, inconstant, weak old Man. He does not resign his Authority to his Daughters so much out of Love to them, as to rid himself of the Cares of Government—He retains the Name of King with a suitable Train of Attendants—He still commands with his former Impetuosity of Temper, and is jealous even of Trifles. This the ill natured Character of the Daughters will not suffer, and they are in Consultation in the most undutiful and unbecoming Manner to de|prive him of his remaining Shew of Power: Their Be|haviour and Ingratitude soon appear in the most glaring Instances, and make the old King sorely sensible, that he had given them ALL.—

Nature was Shakespear's Guide, he describes the Imagination affected by concurring Causes to pave the Way for a Scene of the highest Distress—Lear, as a King and Father feels with great Sensibility the Shocks, of his Daughters Ingratitude and unnatural Treatment, and exhibits a moving Picture of the Feelings of the Heart, and the various Conflicts of Passions very expres|sive of his Character and Circumstances; if the Poet had nothing more in view, he might have been well con|tent with the masterly Picture he has drawn of his Di|stress, Grief, and Rage in every Scene before the Loss of his Senses; but he has crowned the Distress by making him at last fix his Imagination on his own Rashness and Folly in giving away his ALL, and putting it out of his

Power to avenge himself. And 'tis this Reflection chief|ly drives him to Madness.

The jesting of his Fool wholly turns upon his unking|ing himself and retaining nothing, which Lear minutely attends to, and says, "A bitter Fool!—After Go|nerill's Proposal to reduce his Train, he breaks out, "Woe! that too late repents."—Then the Ingratitude of his Daughters and his own Folly deeply strike him.

—O Lear, Lear, Lear! Beat at this Gate that let thy Folly in, And thy dear Judgment out. Afterwards he says to Gonerill, Thou shalt find, That I'll resume the Shape which thou dist think I have cast off for ever. Gon. do you mark that? In the next Scene, wrapt up in Thought, he says, To TAKE 'T AGAIN PERFORCE!—Monster Ingratitude!

In this Line the two Ideas are strongly blended, and the Loss of Power foremost, for surely that was the obvious Reason of the Insults he had received; if he had still been in Possession, they would have continued to sprinkle him with Court Holy-water: The Fool, whose Phrase the last is, says,

Fathers that wear Rags, Do make their Children blind; But Fathers that bear Bags, Shall see their Children kind, &c.

I must here take Notice of the different Colouring used by our Poet, and all good Writers, in distinguishing the Characters of Men seemingly agitated by the same Passions. Lear's Idea of his Folly, in divesting himself of his Authority, is nicely and artfully distinguished by Shakespear, from that Kind of Regret, which an im|perious Man of a different Character would feel from the Deprivation of Power.—He is full of the Loss of his Dignity, only as it was the Occasion of the ill Treat|ment he met with, and not from a Thirst of Rule.—

This Idea and that of the Ingratitude of his Daughters, which he feels as the Consequence of it, I cannot help thinking, are as closely united in his Madness, as two Twigs twisted together, and growing out of the same Stem.

When he exclaims and reproaches his Daughters in that heart-piercing Scene of Distress on the Heath, he says,

O Regan! O Gonerill! Your old kind Father! whose frank Heart gave all— O that Way Madness lies—Let me shun THAT— No more of THAT—

On his Recollection that he gave all, he breaks short and immediately subjoins, "O that Way Madness lies; let me shun that; no more of that;—i. e. Let me not think that I have been guilty of so much Folly, as to have given all to such ungrateful Wretches—the Reflection will make me mad.

I know it may be insisted on by you, and perhaps by many others, that Lear makes use of the Sentiment of giving all, only to tax the Ingratitude of his Daughters in a higher Degree; but, tis possible, you may be of a contrary Opinion, if you can allow, that the Moral of this Play, does not expose the Ingratitude of Children, more than the Folly of Parents. This same Folly of Parents is also touched with great Judgment in the Under-plot of Glo'ster; and the Characters of Lear's two Daughters are finely contrasted with those of Cordelia and Edgar; and the Poet's Design in marking out so strongly the Folly and ill-judged Partiality of Parents is confirmed by the Behaviour of Edmund—

When Lear sees the Wretchedness of Edgar, he pursues the same Train of Reasoning which before pos|sest him, and asks,

Didst thou GIVE ALL to thy Daugh|ters!—And art thou to come to this?

And immediately after,

What! Have his Daughters brought him to this Pass? Could'st thou save nothing?—did'st thou give them all?

This is agreeable to his Character—And from all that we hear in common Life (for there are many Stories) of old weak Parents, who have acted much in the Man|ner of Lear, and to the Reproach of human Nature, have met with Ingratitude and Disobedience; these, I say, in their Feeling-hours of Distress, are reported to have re|proached themselves with their Folly in GIVING ALL, as well as exclaimed against the Ingratitude of their Children.

There are many Characters, I doubt not, now in the World, who retain a Heap of Treasure, useless to them|selves, from their Children, on no better Motives, than to insure their Duty and Attention; and some who carry the Moral of this Play to a ridiculous Height, by deny|ing their Children an Independance, merely on the same Parity of Reasoning, without considering the Difference between the Prudence of Parents and their Folly.

I FORBEAR making any Quotations from Lear's Speeches in his Madness. I think the Whole obvious enough, and that our immortal Poet, who had a perfect Knowledge of the Workings of the human Mind, has drawn both the Ideas in Lear's Madness, agreeable to the Representation he has made of him in the first Act.

What I have hitherto said, is entirely confined to the different Opinions of Mr. Ranger and the Adventurer; nor do I expect that you shall alter your's in Conformity to my Judgment.—Let a diligent Examination of the Play determine you in the future Criticisms you intend to give the Public on this Subject.

WHAT has often occurr'd to me, in reading over the several Editions of our Poet, and what has been said by you, and many great Geniusses, only serve to convince me of the Difficulty of any one Man's succeeding in a perfect Criticism on Shakespear; at least, I have Reason

to think so, from what I have seen of the several At|tempts that have been made by different Commentators from the Time of Mr. Rowe, to the mutilated Condition our Poet was thrown into by subsequent Editors.

Several Persons have succeeded in illustrating many of the Characters he draws, and have pointed out to public Notice, many of his latent Beauties; but, I be|lieve,

there is scarce one Man alive (to speak in the Stile of a very extraordinary Address to a great Man, in last Saturday's Inspector) who is even capable of call|ing all his Beauties by their proper Names, much less of exhibiting them all with Advantage to the Public; whose Property they now are, if they will acquire a Taste to enjoy 'em.

I can't forbear mentioning the Obligation which the Public has to the Genius of Mr. Garrick, who has ex|hibited with great Lustre many of the most shining Strokes of Shakespear's amazing Art; and may be justly stiled (as he was once called by you) his best Commen|tator: For 'tis certain, he has done our Poet more Justice by his Manner of playing his principal Characters, than any Editor has yet done by a Publication.

I shall conclude with the same Freedom as I began, by desiring you will consider my Manner of treating this Subject, as the mere Hints of a friendly Letter, and not as an Essay on the Subject in Dispute.

I am, Sir, Your most obedient Servant, G.

Lincoln's-Inn, Jan. 15, 1754.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

To Misiur Squire CHARLES RANGER.

SIR,

THIS comes fith hur harty Sarfice to hur, and thanks hur for the Onour hur tuz hur in speking so fel of hur in hur Paper, ant hur can tell hur,

hur young Mistress, cot pless hur, tuz likewise te same. Te Occasion of hur present Writing to hur, look ye, is in pehalfe of hur Fellow Sarfants, ant hur self, ant it is hur tesirs ant hur requests, that hur would take hur Creses ant hur Trupples into Consiteration. Hur must know then Mistur Squire Charles Ranger tat fen te Cara|fan is arifed at hur House, te all, as if tey were afraid te Lion should pite off teir Pates ant teir Nottles, tirectly co to te upper ent of te Room, ant pulling up te Flappits of teir Coats, run teir Packsites so far into te Fire, tat as cot is hur Shudge, hur has often tink tey foot purn teir Preeches so tat Ropert ant hurself have peen obliget (though Heafen knows acainst hur consciences) to scalt teir Lecks, as if py chance, for which look ye, hur is often in Tanger of her Life. Now Mistur Squire Charles Ranger, if hur fill pe plea'st to pe so coot as to give hur a little of hur coot Adfice, hur fill not only safe hur Mistress a huge teal of hot Water, put hurself ant Ropert from hafing a Sord run into hur Powells.

Hur is hur's, CHARLES PRICE, Porter.

From hur Pench py te Pret and Putter Cupport, at the Petford Coffee house, Cosent-Garten, the 15th Day of Janifery, Anno Tomini one tousant sefen huntret, ant fifty-four, per te, New-Stile.

Court of Censorial-Enquiry, Jan. 19,

Charles Price is hereby empowered to apprehend, and in safe Custody to hold all Offenders in this Shape, so that he or they shall be brought to the Bar of this Court, and for so doing this shall be his sufficient Warrant.

By Order of the Court. CHARLES RANGER.

NUMB. 67.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Jan. 26, 1754.

Non obdara adeò gestamus Péctora Paeni, Nec tam aversus Equos Tyriâ Sol jungit ab Urbe. VIRG.

_THOUGH I have in my two last Papers entirely confined the Attention of my Rea|ders to critical Enquiries, I shall make no Apology for offering another Essay this Day upon a Subject nearly connected with those Mat|ters, the more especially as the Honour of our Coun|try is in some Sort concerned in the present Lucubration against a French Writer, upon whom I have formerly animadverted, and who has taken in some Passages of his Works, unbecoming Liberties with the English Na|tion.

Prefixed to Voltaire's Merope, we find a Letter to Maffei (the Author of an Italian Tragedy on the same Subject) in which that Writer, after mentioning a faulty Piece which was performed on the English Stage; de|livers himself in the following Words. Elle fut sans doute mal reque; mais n'est il pas bien etrange qu'on l'ait representie? N'est ce pas une preuve que le Teatre Angloise n'est pas encore epuré? Il semble que la méme cause qui prive les Angloise du Genie de la Painture & de la Musique, leur óte aussi celui de la Tragedie. Cette Isle, qui a produit les plus grand Philosophes de la Terre, n'est pas aussi fertile pour les beaux Arts; & si les Anglois ne s'appliquent seriensement a suivre les Preceptes de leurs excellens Citoyens Addison & Pope, ils n'approcherent pas des autres Peuples en fait de Gout & de Literature.

The English Merope, (says Voltaire,) acted in the Year 1731, was not well

received; but is it not surprising that it was exhibited at all? May we not infer from thence, that the Eng|lish Stage has not as yet attained a due Degree of Re|finement? It looks as if the same Cause, which has deprived the English of a Genius for Painting and Music, has also withheld from them the Spirit of Dra|matic Poetry. That Island which has produced the greatest Philosophers in the World, is not so happy with Regard to the polite Arts, and unless they se|riously attach themselves to the Precepts of their ex|cellent Countrymen, Addison and Pope, they will be thrown at a Distance by other Nations in Point of Li|terature and Productions of Taste.

Because the Managers of a Theatre suffered a bad Piece to be represented, is it not unfair to derive from thence a Charge of Indelicacy upon a whole Nation, more particularly when the Reception this Piece met with from the Public is rather an Indication of a correct and just Taste?—

What the Cause is, which has deprived the English of a Genius for Painting and Music, I am at a Loss to de|termine. Certain it is, those Arts flourished for a long Time in Italy, before they came over the Alps to our northern Regions; and it is certain that a Taste for them has prevailed many Years since in this Kingdom. They have been cultivated here with the greatest Delicacy by several eminent Masters, though we cannot boast as many exalted Geniusses as have adorned the softer Clime of Italy. The Transfiguration by Raphael, the Nativity by Corregio, and the last Judgment by Michael Angelo will perhaps never be matched any where else; but it is un|fair to deduce a Conclusion from thence, that we have no Genius for this excellent imitative Art in England. Portrait-Painting has been in as great a Degree of Per|fection in this Country as in any other Part of the World. Sir Godfrey Kneller found so much Taste among us, that he made this his own Country; and here—

Lely on animated Canvas stole The sleepy Eye, which spoke the melting Soul.

But not to sneak from living worth to dead, as Mr. Pope finely expresses it, whoever, has observed with Attention the Performances of Hayman, must be con|vinced that Voltaire's Charge of a Want of Taste is perfectly groundless. Every Thing is put out of Hand by this excellent Artist with the utmost Grace and Delicacy, and his History-Pieces have, besides their beautiful Colouring, the most lively Expression of Cha|racter. Hutson's Rooms teem with mimic Life; and Hogarth, like a true Genius, has formed a new School of Painting for himself. He may be truly stiled the Cervantes of his Art, as he has exhibited the ridiculous Follies of human Nature with the most exquisite Hu|mour, and he may be said to be the first, who has wrote Comedy with his Pencil. His Harlot's Progress, and Marriage A-la mode are, in my Opinion, as well drawn as any Thing in Moliere, and the Unity of Character, which is the Perfection of Dramatic Poetry, is so skilfully preserved, that we are surprized to see the same Personage thinking agreeably to his complexional Ha|bits in the many different Situations, in which we after|wards perceive him. The Frible, the Bully, the Poli|tician, the Lawyer, the Miser, and in short all the strik|ing Characters in Life are, by this Gentleman, so ad|mirably depicted upon Canvas, that I am convinced Voltaire would be at a Loss to shew where he has been equalled by any of his Countrymen.—

We may also boast an equal Excellence in Music; for though Mr. Handell is not an Englishman, it is however a convincing Proof of our national Taste, that we have made it worth his while to fix his Residence among us, and that we have shewn a due Sensibility to manly Me|lody, where the Sound is expressive of the Sense, and where no unnatural Divisions, nor idle insignificant

Quirks mislead the Ear in a thrilling Maze of wild and and random Notes. It is owing to the Encouragement we have afforded this Gentleman, that we can now boast the noblest and most rational Music in the World. Be|sides, such a Genius as Doctor Boyce will be always suf|ficient to vindicate us from Voltaire's national Oppro|brium, and the Admirers of Arne have constantly cele|brated him for his peculiar Talent, at finding the most emphatic Expression in a Composition, and discovering where the Passions are placed in every Piece of Poetry. To these Passages he never fails to give their full Energy, and like a ravishing Commentator he brings new Beauties into Light with such a Sweetness of Harmony, that every Breast yields irresistibly to the melting Impression. I am proud to have an Opportunity of saying that we are likely to have an English Opera set to Music by the last mentioned Gentleman, which, I persuade myself, will do Honour to him and his Country. * 10.1

With Regard to Dramatic Poetry, our Advantage over every Nation in the known World is, I think, very apparent. The best Critics have laid it down as a Rule that a Performance is to be judged by its Number of striking Beauties, and not by some Inaccuracies, and the Instances of occasional Conformity to the vicious Taste of the Times. If Shakespear is viewed in this light he will certainly appear to any unprejudiced Rea|der infinitely superior to Corneille, Racine, and all the polished Writers of France and Italy. I remember a Pas|sage in Voltaire's Writings, where he is at infinite Pains to bring together a String of Quotations from the best French Tragedies to evince their great Talents for the sublime; in all he makes up about twenty or thirty at

most; and the Beauties of Shakespear have of late been published in several Volumes. Besides, Otway has found Access to the Heart better than any French Writer what|ever, and the domestic Passions are touched by him with the greatest Elegance and Simplicity. It is very common on the French Stage to hear a Personage of the Drama, exclaiming perpetually Helas, and mon Dicu! and then formally acquainting the Audience that he feels such and such Sensations; but our great Masters of the Passions make their Hearers feel by Sympathy the Agitations of their Hero's Breast, without running into cold languid Declamation.

The Dramatic Poetry of this Country is like our Con|stitution, built upon the bold Easis of Liberty; and though the latter has brought our King to the Block, and the former admits Blood to be shed on the Stage; these are Corruptions which have intruded, and are, as the Poets says,

Effects unhappy from a noble Cause.

Upon the whole, we may apply, what Horace has said to the English Nation,

—Spirat Tragicum satis, & feliciter audet Sed turpem putat in Chartis metuitque lituram.

Our Poets are sufficiently possessed of the Spirit of Tragedy, but they are not attentive to the minute Rules of correct Taste, and the Trouble of blotting. It may be added, that they have more real Fire, sublimer Sen|timents, and Characters better marked than any Nation whatever; and with regard to Painting and Music, we can boast so many Masters in both as might have pre|vented the French Author from charging us with a Want of Genius, and Taste for the fine Arts.

I cannot dismiss this Paper, without observing, that it is a very particular Pleasure to me, to find the Subject, on which I have been hitherto offering some scattered Reflections, touched upon with great Spirit by a Writer of acknowledged Genius. * 10.2 In a Preface to

a Novel called the FRIENDS, he has expressed himself with great Warmth, and a noble national Jealousy. After mentioning that Voltaire calls his Countrymen, THE ABSOLUTE LEGISLATORS OF ALL THE FINE ARTS IN EUROPE, "how shameless," says he,

is this Asser|tion in the Face of a Country, that gave Bread to Holben, Dignities to Reubens, and Encouragement to Vandike; and that for Years before (even by this Writer's own Acknowledgment) the national Taste of France was formed! While that Taste was barbarous, Johnson enriched his native Tongue with Comedies, wrought up to more than Terentian Regularity and Propriety, in point of Conduct; and while France was ignorant of almost every Order of Architecture, Inigo Jones, in England, was rearing Houses, and projecting Palaces which all the boasted Improve|ments of France, in that Art, have not yet equalled. I shall forbear to urge the Examples of Spencer or Shakespear, because I am firmly and seriously of Opi|nion, that no Frenchman ever yet was able (supposing him to understand English equally as French) to taste the Beauties of either of these Poets. For the Truth of this, I appeal to every Englishman's Sense, who has had the Misfortune to read the unwilling, scanty, starved and mistaken Encomiums, that Voltaire has bestowed on Shakespear.

Is it not rather too charitable in the Author of the foregoing Passage to suppose Monsieur Voltaire's reserved Praises of Shakespear could arise only from an Inability of relishing his Beauties? For my Part, I must avow it, the French Writer appears to me capable of feeling every Stroke of our great Poet, but Envy, and a vain Ambition of erecting himself into an imagined Superiority, have rendered him open and explicit in his Abuses, and he|sitating and frigid in his Commendations. But to con|clude; what Virgil has given away from his Country|men, we claim for ours. None better shall inform the

breathing Brass, or soften Marble into mimic Features; none shall better plead, or with equal Sagacity describe the Motions of the planetary System, and the Laws of Nature; and besides, it shall be our further Praise to spare a vanquished Foe, and to check the Encroachments of an intriguing, faithless, perfidious Enemy, ever rest|less and aiming at an universal Monarchy, which, it is to be hoped, the Councils and Arms of Great Britain will for ever hold from them.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Drury-Lane, Jan. 26, 1754.

THE Tragedy of Richard the Third was performed here lately, and as there were many Circumstances in the Battle, which was fought in the fifth Act, quite un|known to the Audience, it may not be improper to give some Account of that Engagement. The Theatrical Cock had done Salutation to the Morn, and Richard had ani|mated the Soldiery, when the Attack was begun on the Left-Wing, under the Command of the Lord High Con|stable Grey. This Impression was received by General Raf|tor, who ordered the Woods to be scowered, but the Enemy setting up the War-hoop, he was repulsed into the Green-Room, where he rallied his Spirits and his Forces, and again returned to the Charge. Upon this the Fight was renewed with great Alacrity, and continued very ob|stinate, until a general Desolation stretched the greatest Part of the Combatants upon the Scene of Action. Upon this occasion General Raftor fell greatly lamented, and (if we may be allowed to imitate Sallust) the same Absence of Passion, for which he was remarkable while living, was legible in his Countenance. Lord High Constable Grey was overpowered by Numbers, and his Body was taken up, far from his Friends, among fallen Heaps of the Enemy, still breathing short, and clinching his Staff with the same Eagerness he had done all his

Life. Lieutenant General Mar fell much lamented. We cannot at present furnish an exact Account of the Loss on either Side, but the Muster-Roll, which has been handed to us, stands as follows,

• Wounded Carpenters 15
• Scene Drawers 11
• Dressers 14
• Thunderers 3
• Lightening-makers 5
• Barbers 11
• Women scalped, i.e. lost their Caps. 13

This is all we can offer at present; but it is expected that a perfect List will be published by the Managers in a Gazette Extraordinary this Evening.

NUMB. 68.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Feb. 2, 1754.

O rus! quando ego te aspiciam, quandoque licebit Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno & inertibus horis, Ducere solicitae jucunda oblivia vitae? HOR.

_I LATELY met with a Fable, in a French Writer, which I thought, carried with it a great Deal of Propriety, and, though it was rather eked out, as is sometimes the Case among the liveliest Geniusses of that Country, beyond the just Limits prescribed by the Matter con|tained in it, it was however conducted with such a Pret|tiness of Fancy and Expression, that I was very much entertained with the Perusal of it. Poetry, (says my Author) is the Son of the God of Ease and the God|dess of Meditation. He bears in his Appearance such a strong Resemblance to these his Parents, that it is im|possible, to mistake the Marks of his Legitimacy, and

therefore, whenever these Proofs of his Birth are de|ficient, we may with Reason conclude him to be of a spurious Breed.

From his Father, he derives his apparent Indolence, his Serenity, his graceful Elocution, and his unlaboured Turn of Thought, together with his elegant Feli|city in all his Compositions; a remarkable Neglect of the ordinary Uses of Life, a Disregard for Riches, and a total Absence of all worldly Ambition, save what is inspired by Virtue and honest Fame, are his di|stinguishing Characteristics. From his Mother, he pos|sesses his Modesty, which makes him not very fond of obtruding himself into Company; his pensive Air, which inclines him to be always enforcing some Precept of Morality, or some Topic which may be subservient to the Use or Enjoyment of Life; his Love of Solitude, which induces him to shun Crowds and great Cities, and leads him into rural Scenes, where he may give free Scope to his Imagi|nation undisturbed by the Cares and Anxieties of Life. The same Disposition in his Temper renders him not very fond of being known by the Bulk of Mankind, that he may prevent the Inconveniencies attendant on him when his Affairs require that he should make his Appearance in Public. If he puts any thing abroad into the World, and thinks proper to publish the Re|sult of his contemplative Moments, he does not like to be pointed at by the Multitude, but chuses to receive the Tribute of Applause, obtained by his Writings, without being liable to the Sarcasms, the Taunts, and malevolent Jests, which are always the sure Concomi|tants of Praise, and which are generally a very great Discount upon his Happiness.

From these Motives he is enamoured with Retirement, and he is further confirmed in his sequestred State by a Consideration, that the more he keeps himself at a

Distance from the Rest of Mankind, the more Beau|ties they are willing to descry in his Productions; in like Manner as the Hills, and the remote Parts of a Prospect present a more vivid Green, than when our Advances to them have brought the Scene more close to our Inspection, and the Heath, the craggy Rock, and ploughed Land, are familiarised to the naked Eye.

This is the Substance of the Fable; the Meaning that it inculcates is certainly very just and obvious. The best Writers in all Ages have subscribed to it, and the most applauded of the antient Poets are constantly offering warm Pictures of rural Imagery to our Ima|ginations; they seem to be stifled with Dust and Smoke, when they mention a City-Life, and we frequently sind them expatiating with Rapture upon the Pleasures of a Country-Life, which they look upon to be the Nurse of Thought, and the only Sphere in which their Studies can be prosecuted with any Degree of Success.

The same Observation will hold good with Regard to all Kinds of Writing, unless it be those excellent Productions of the Press which make their Appearance under the various Shapes of Newgate-Memoirs, New's-Papers, and political Pamphlets. In Works that call for a long Train of Reasoning, subtile Disquisitions, and unwearied Application, undoubtedly the proper Place to accomplish them, is in those Regions, where Riot and Debauchery are Strangers; where Gaming, Drinking, and idle Amusements of all Sorts are un|known, and where, above all, Health and Cheerfulness add new Lustre to the Face of Things.

It may perhaps seem a Paradox, if I should assert, that, among all the Gentlemen of the Quill, there is not one, to whom Solitude and Ease are more necessary than the periodical Writer; but though his Compo|sitions are generally comprized in a narrow Com|pass, and though he does not, for the most Part,

pretend to search every Subject to the Bottom; though it is not expected of him to lay before the Reader deep, philosophical Speculations, abstracted Reasonings, and new Systems of Morality and Religion; yet, in my Apprehension, it will be found, upon an attentive Survey of his Situation, that it is particularly incumbent on the Adventurer in this Way, to withdraw himself from the Bustle of Mankind, and to appear, as seldom as possible in little Circles at Coffee-houses, convivial Clubs at Taverns, and the long Train of public Places, which serve no other Purpose in this Metropolis than merely to kill Time, as the Phrase is, and to hurry a Person into a Course of Vanity and Dissipation.

There is a Passage in Mr. Pope, which I have ever perused with Admiration, because it shews him to have been a Man of the most prudent Understanding, as well as the most finished Poet; Two Adjuncts which are seldom found to coexist.

I ne'er with Wits, and Witlings pass'd my Days, To spread about the Itch of vulgar Praise. Nor, like a Puppy, daggl'd thro' the Town, To fetch and carry Sing-song up and down. Nor at Rehearsals mouth'd, and sweat, and cry'd, With Handkerchief and Orange at my Side. I askt no Homage from the Race that write, But kept, like Eastern Monarchs, from their Sight; And sick of Fops and Poetry, and Prate, To Bufo lest the whole Castalian State.

Perhaps too great a Tincture of Pride runs through these Lines, for any one else to make Application of them to himself. Pope had Talents superior to al|most all Mankind, but if a more humble Writer can|not withdraw himself from our present Town-Smarts and Critics, like an Eastern Monarch, he may at least accomplish it, like Juvenal's Friend in his third Satire,

who retired from Rome, to avoid its Plagues and In|conveniencies.

— Atque unum civem donare Sibyllae.

It is possible, my Readers may think these Tenets inconsistent with the Character of Ranger; but airy and gay as Ranger may appear, he is now perfectly averse to the wild Sallies of his Namesake in the Play: He would not chuse to stagger home from a Box and Dice in the Morning, nor to get through a Window into an honest Gentleman's House at Night; he can|not run after every white Apron he sees, nor keep Company with a Set of Fellows whom he despises. And yet there are Dissipations to which a Resident in Town is for ever liable; add to these, the Danger attendant on a Writer's making himself known in too many Quarters of the Town. Prejudices are ever apt to arise against an Author, who does not take care to conceal himself. The Transition is so quick from the Performance to the Person who produced it, that from the Moment a Man begins to publish, he is enlisted into a State of Warfare with almost all the Critics and Malevoli of the Age.

Some Readers have no Criterion, by which to judge of a Production, except the Rules of Physiognomy; and if an Author appears younger than themselves, they hold it absolutely impossible to receive any Instruction from him. It is, by the Way, somewhat strange that this experienced Class will not allow a Man to be sit to entertain them, until his Imagination begins to flag, his Invention to close, like Flowers at the Setting of the Sun, his Memory to decay, and his Wit, if he have any Share of it, to become slow and tardy. This however, is what is desired by the Man who would look an Author in the Teeth to know his Age, and from thence make an Estimate of his Merit.

Qui redit ad fastos, & virtutem estimat annis.

There is another Set of People who make it their Business to pry into a Writer's Connections, and tho|roughly inform themselves of his Attachments, his Friendships, and his Resentments. According as these coincide with their own Way of Thinking, they blame or approve; even though the Author is absolutely im|partial in his Animadversions.

There, says one, Ran|ger is right—O, D—n the Fellow! was ever such a Position as this?—my dear Ranger, that won't pass upon us—We know you are ptejudiced in this Affair —and there again; — You praise this Man because you are intimate with him. — Did I not see you walk Arm in Arm with him, the other Night, at the Coffee-house?

In this Manner is the Person judged, who attempts to run the dangerous Career of Wit, as Boileau ex|presses it, du bel Esprit la Carriere epineuse; and upon the whole, I think it may be laid down as a Maxim, that no periodical Writer should ever reside in this Metropolis, that he may effectually evade the Censures of Prejudice, the Blasts of Detraction, the Envy of rival Wit, and the several Avocations of a Town-Life. It may be added, that it is absolutely necessary, that an Author should never suffer himself to be known, on Account of the Antipathy which will arise to his Per|son. Patroclus conquered for a long Time in the Armour of Achilles; but had he let the Secret escape abroad, with double his Strength and Valour, he would not have been able to atchieve any Thing remarkable against the Trojans, who would have instantly conceived an utter Contempt of the Man, whom they dreaded in a feigned Appearance.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Slaughter's, in St. Martin's-Lane.

THE repeated Advices from France of the noble Struggle made by the Parliament against the arbitrary Measures of the Clergy, occasion inexpressible Joy in this little Asylum of the Refugees. Yesterday, indeed, an unlucky Dispute arose between Monsieur d'Onion and Monsieur d'Echalotte, which had like to have been attended with bad Consequences. The Oc|casion of it was as follows: Monsieur d'Onion, after perusing the Paris à la Main, for about five and thirty Minutes, broke out into an Exclamation.—

Parblieu! (says he) de ting go ver vel in France, de Parliment make noble Effort, et ma fois, it is not imposseeble, dat de Huginots may be restore — Ventrebleu! if I zee dat Day, I die vid Pleazure, for I have sacrifize my Estate of many honderd Livre de Rente for my Relizion — Ventreblue! it is true.

Monsieur d'Echalotte, looking upon this Boast to be a Reflection upon the other Gentlemen of the Religion, took him up short.

Monsier d'Onion, (answered he) fat Right have you to make the Man of Consequence more dan oder Peeple?—Dere are dose that have de Zele as eclatante as Monsieur d'Onion:—my Fader too gave up his Estate of five honderd Livres a Year, avec Droit de Chasse too, because he would not be Papiste, and myself, Monsieur d'Onion, I myself, if I had a tousand Livres de Rente, I vood abandone it, rader dan submit to de Whore of Babylon, Corblieu! damn it.

To this replied Monsieur d'Onion,

I would have you know, Monsieur, dat my Estate was full as good as yours, if not better.

Parblieu, (says Monsieur d'Echalotte) dat may be, Monsieur d'Onion, but not avec de Droit de Chasse.

Sir, (says the other) it

was more dan five honderd Livres.

Mais, Mon|sieur, (interrupted Monsieur d'Echalotte) avec Droit de Chasse, tink of dat, avec Droit de Chasse. This Matter growing serious, Monsieur Charenton, who is of a very friendly Disposition, thought proper to in|terpose.

Messieurs (says he) pourquoi querellez vous? Why you quarrel? You have bote suffer ver much in the Persecution, and I too, aldo I never talk of it, lose my Charge of two honderd Livres a Year, but I do not make Merit of dat—no, no, cela me'chappe jamais—for all dat every Body know it.—Derefore, Messieurs, as we are persecute all sor de zame Cause, let us be good Vriends, je vous en prie.

This pa|thetic Speech had so good an Effect upon the two Gentlemen above-mentioned, that they immediately embraced each other, and spent the Remainder of the Evening, in a very affectionate Manner, at a Game of Chess.

ADVERTISEMENT.

LATELY arrived in this Town, Lewis Grotesque, Stay-Maker, who engages to shew more of the female Person than has yet been attempted; he also makes the Ladies appear so large round the Waist, that they have all the Pleasure of appearing big with Child, without the Burden of being so.

N. B. He lives at the Sign of the Naked Venus in Pall-Mall.

NUMB. 69.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Feb. 9, 1754.

— Nec te tua plurima, Pantheu, Labentem pietas & Apollinis infula texit. VIRG.

_AS the late Lord Bolingbroke's Works have come abroad into the World with all the Pomp of a superb Edition, and as Part of them, by being addressed to Mr. Pope, may be thought to co-incide with his religious Tenets, I have jugded it not improper to lay before my Readers, some Particulars relating to this Matter, which I lately met with in a Volume of the ingenious Racine. That excellent French Author had, it seems, given vent to some Animadversions on Mr. Pope's Essay on Man, and the Consequence was, that our great Poet, uneasy at the Reflection, resolved to assert his System, in a Letter to the French Writer, which he inclosed to the celebrated Chevalier Ramsay. This Correspondence will throw a Light on Pope's Way of Thinking in re|ligious Matters, and will evidently shew that he was far from embracing Bolingbroke's Principles. As the Sanction of so great a Genius would, in all Probability, greatly ferve the Purposes of the noble Writer, it will in some Measure defeat that End, and convince Man|kind that Mr. Pope thought the Imputation of Deism would blemish that fair Fame of which he was ena|moured; and it may prove entertaining to the meer

English Reader to see what a polite Intercourse was carried on between two Geniusses of different Nations, Strangers to each other, and only connected by their Wit and Parts.

A Letter from the Chevalier RAMSAY to M. RACINE.

SIR,

I WAS highly pleased, and do not doubt but you will be pleased also, at the Receipt of a Letter which Mr. Pope has sent me to be forwarded to you. You will perceive by the Contents, that it was not with|out just Grounds, I undertook, in a former Letter, to justify the Principles of my illustrious Countryman. My Vindication of him might possibly be suspected to have its Source in Friendship; and therefore lose great|ly of its Strength. But here, Sir, he pleads his own Defence; his Letter will demonstrate to you his Zeal for Religion, and it is to be hoped, will silence his Ac|cusers. You will find it accompanied by a Defence of his System, written by Mr. Warburton, a celebrated Clergyman of the Church of England. Mr. Pope, by distributing this Performance amongst his Friends, adopts the Doctrine, approves the Sentiments, and thereby gives to the whole an additional Value.

The Opinion, which you conceived of Mr. Pope, is on your Side very excusable. You received the Im|pression from the Misrepresentations of his Enemies, for many Enemies he has. Urit enim fulgero suo, &c. His superior Talents have excited a great deal of Envy towards his Person, and his Connections with several eminent Personages, all engaged in opposite Interests, or attached to the Court, have further served to inflame the Minds of Men against him. But there are many evincing Proofs of his Probity, and the Incorruptibility of his Principles.

I have been informed, that he was in Intimacy with several successive Ministers, and often with many at the same Time. Thus circumstanced, it would have been easy for him to create a large Fortune, had he availed himself of the Disgrace of one Party, in order to recommend himself to the other. But he possessed a Soul superior to such mean Artifices.

My Intelligence adds further, that the Queen, who was an Admirer of his Genius, expressed an Inclination to employ him, without requiring any Thing further of him than a dissembled Conformity to the established Religion of his Country, promising, at the same Time, to dispense with the Strictness of the Oath usually ad|ministered upon such Occasions But Mr. Pope was in|accessible to Temptation, which may serve to prove he was directed by other Principles than those of a Sceptic or a Deist.

I must assure you, Sir, that I am not induced to this Task by supererogatory Friendship to Mr. Pope, nor am I willing to offer him the Incense of Adulation. I mean solely to serve the Cause of Truth and Justice, and am,

Sir, &c.

Letter from Mr. POPE to M. RACINE.

London, September 1, 1742.

SIR,

THE Expectation, in which I have been for some Time past, of receiving the Present you have honoured me with, was the Occasion of my delaying so long to answer your Letter. I am at length favoured with your Poem on Religion, and should have received, from the Perusal of it, a Pleasure unmixed with Pain, had I not the Mortification to find, that you impute several Principles to me which I abhor and detest. My Uneafiness met some Alleviation, from a Passage in

your Preface, where you declare your Inability, from a Want of Knowledge of the English Language, to give your own Judgment on the Essay on Man; you add, that you do not controvert my Tenets, but the evil Consequences deducible from them, and the Drift of some Passages in my Poem, which Persons of notable Sagacity imagine they have discovered. This Decla|ration is a shining Proof of your Candor, your Discre|tion and your Charity. I must take Leave to assure you, Sir, that your Unacquaintance with the Original has not proved more fatal to me, than the imperfect Con|ceptions of my Translators, who have not sufficiently informed themselves of my real Sentiments. Though the many additional Embellishments, which my Piece has received from the elegant Version of M. D. R—, have done an Honour to the Essay on Man; yet it has, on the other Hand, suffered a greater Injury from his frequent Mis-apprehension of the Principles it incul|cates. These Mistakes you will perceive are totally refuted in the English Piece, which I have transmitted to you. It is a critical and philosophic Commentary written by the learned Author of the divine Legation of Moses. I flatter myself that the Chevalier Ramsay will, from his Zeal for Truth, take the Trouble to ex|plain the Contents of it. I shall then perswade myself that your Suspicions will be effaced, and I shall have no Appeal from your Candor and Justice.

In the mean Time I shall not hesitate to declare my|self very cordially in Regard to some Particulars, about which you have desired an Answer.

I must avow then openly and sincerely, that my Principles are diametrically opposite to the Sentiments of Spinoza and Leibuitz; they are perfectly coincident with the Tenets of M. Paschal, and the Archbishop of Cambray, and I shall always esteem it an Honour to me, to imitate the Moderation, with which the latter sub|mitted his private Opinions to the Decisions of the

Church, of which he professed himself to be a Member, I have the Honour to be,

Sir, &c.

RACINE 's Answer to M. POPE.

Paris, Oct. 25, 1742.

SIR,

THE Mildness and Humility, with which you justify yourself, is a convincing Proof of your Religion; the more so, as you have done it to one, on whom it is incumbent to make his own Apology for his rash Attack upon your Character. Your Manner of pardoning me is the more delicate, as it is done without any Mixture of Reproach; but though you acquit me with so much Politeness, I shall not so easily forgive myself.

Certain it is, a Precipitance of Zeal hurried me away. As I had often heard Positions said to be yours, or at least Consequences resulting from your Essay, cited against certain Truths (which I now find you respect as much as myself) I thought, I had a Right to enter the Lists with you. The Passage, in my Preface, was extorted from me by a Degree of Remorse, which I felt in writing against you. This Remorse, Sir, was awakened in me by the Consideration, that the greatest Men are always the most susceptible of the Truths of Revelation. I was really grieved to think that Mr. Pope should oppose a Religion, whose Enemies have ever been contemptible, and it appeared strange, that in a Work which points out the Road to Happiness, you should furnish Arms to those, who are industrious to misguide us in the Research.

Your Letter, at the same Time that it does Honour to your Character, must bring a Blush in my Face, for having entertained unjust Suspicions; but, notwith|standing this, I think myself obliged to make it public; the Injury which I have done you, was so, the Repa|ration

should be the same. I owe this to you; I owe it to myself; I owe it to Justice.

Whatever may be urged in your Favour in the Commentary you have sent me, it is now rendered un|necessary by your own Declaration. The Respect, which you avow for Religion, is a sufficient Vindica|tion of your Doctrine; I will add, that for the Future, those among us, who shall feel the laudable Ambition of making their Poetry subservient to Re|ligion, ought to take you for their Model, and it should ever be remembred, that the greatest Poet, in Eng|land, is one of the humblest Sons of the Church. I am

Sir,

&c.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

To CHARLES RANGER, Esq

SIR,

I FOUND your Essay upon Female Beauty upon a Lady's Toilet, but must tell you, I'm not a Pinch of Snuff the better for it. A Fiddlestick for your being good-humoured for a Complection; I can't be good-humoured; all my Acquaintance are getting Husbands before me, and so you must prescribe some other Me|thod for me, and you'll oblige,

PENELOPE PALE-FACE.

I cannot advise this Lady better than by bidding her "Marry for a Complexion.

To CHARLES RANGER, Esq

Dear RANGER,

ARE you any Relation to Ranger in the Play? He's a dear Man, and I shall love you the better for his Sake.—Answer me this, you wild Devil, if you have a Mind to be in the good Graces of

CHARLOTTE RAMBLE.

To Miss RAMBLE.

MADAM,

IF you will please to refer to my Paper, N^o. 3. you will find I am related to that Gentleman, and so, Madam, as my Cousin says, "My Service to your Monkey."

CHARLES RANGER.

Covent-Garden Theatre.

On Tuesday last, the Audience here was agreeably surprized with the Appearance of a new Actress, in the Character of Hermione, and after the Play, it was un|animously agreed, that it was a most admirable first At|tempt. Mrs. Gregory, who performed the Part, came on without any of those previous Notices, commonly called Puffs, to prejudice the Town in her Favour, tho' it soon was manifest, that she possessed the Materials of a great Actress. She is happy in a graceful Dignity of Deportment, natural and sensible Elocution, and in short, the Character was so well sustained, throughout the Play, that she was allowed the most conspicuous Figure in every Scene, tho' performing with experienced Players; which is certainly such a Degree of Merit, as cannot fail to render her a shining Ornament of the Stage.

NUMB. 70.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Feb. 16, 1754.

Aetas parentum pejor avis tulit Nos nequiores, mox daturos Progeniem vitiosiorem. HOR.

_I WAS surprized the other Day to receive a Letter, which, by the Post-mark it bore, appeared to come from the Height of a Caledonian Mountain. I could not con|ceive who should address me from that Part of the World; but upon opening it, I found it subscribed by my Friend the Second Sighted Scotchman, who formerly entertained my Readers with his News for one Hundred Years hence. I received his Epistle with that Pleasure, which I always feel in hearing from an honest Man, and, as I am in Hopes that the Contents of his Packet will not be found disagreeable, I shall lay the whole, without any further Preface, before my Readers, taking only the Liberty to suppress such Parts of his Letter, as seem rather a Compliment to myself, than in any Way relative to the Public.

Extract of a Letter from a Second Sighted Scotchman, dated December 15, 1753.

THAT we have had a Share, by our joint En|deavours, in obtaining a Repeal of the Jew-Bill, affords me muckle Content, but notwithstanding this Suc|cess, there is still another Matter that has purturbed my Spirits for some Time past. I believe, I need nottell one of Mr. Ranger's quick Penetration, that I mean the Mar|riage-Act, which, I make no Doubt, was designed for very good and laudable Purposes, but will most certainly, in its Consequences, prove of the utmost Detriment to this

Nation, and be the final Ruin of our British Nobility. I already see them dwindling by Degrees into an emaciated, puny, sickly Race; and let me tell you, Mr. Ranger, it cannot be otherwise, if, for the fu|ture, they are only to marry among one another, without any possible Means of improving the Breed by a Mix|ture of wholesome Flesh and Blood. To what a wretched State England may be reduced, I have lately had an Opportunity of observing in some Scenes that were really very affecting. As I was sojourning upon the Height of a Caledonian Mountain, the Air was suddenly rarified to a greater Degree of Purity than usual, and such Openings of Futurity were disclosed to me, that I am even now shocked at the Reflection. As I was formerly taught the Rudiments of Humanity, and instructed to indite a Letter, by my Friend Mr. M'Gregor, a worthy Philomath of Aberdeen, I resolved to lose no Time, but to send the Particulars of my Vision to my Friend Ranger; and this too I have done, as I did upon the former Occasion, in the Form of a New's-Paper, which I am sure will be the Stile of the Times.

News for One Hundred Years hence in the Public Advertiser.

LONDON.

On Wednesday last arrived in Town, being returned from his Travels, the Right Honourable the Earl of Pentweazle, of rare Accomplishments, and very pro|mising Genius. He is counted the tallest Nobleman now in England, being in Height very near four Feet and ten Inches, which greatly exceeds the Standard of No|bility at present.

Yesterday came on, at the Sittings in Lincoln's-Inn Hall, a very remarkable Hearing, in a Cause mentioned in our last, upon a Petition from George Beverly, Esq a Minor who is not to be of Age until his Twenty-fifth

Year, complaining, that his Guardians have hindered him from performing a Contract of Marriage with Miss Maria Healthy, a beautiful young Lady of a moderate Fortune. The Council for the Guardians replied, that they have concluded a much more advan|tagious Match for him, with Miss Ricketty Barren, an Heiress, upon which this Cause, now depending al|most two Years, was finally determined against the Complainant; this being the summary Way of pro|ceeding in Cases of this Nature.

By the last Mail from Ireland, we have Advice, that as soon as his Grace the Duke of Slender-Shanks, Lord Lieutenant of that Kingdom, landed on George's Key, the Croud, that was gathered on the Occasion, all burst into a loud Fit of Laughter, crying out, "Arrah, but "is that he.

We can assure our Readers, that the Managers of both Play-houses have resolved to fit up the Boxes with Stoves, to prevent the Complaint of their being too cold for People of Quality, who have suffered great Inconve|niencies for Want of this Accommodation of late Years.

Last Tuesday Night, as the Lords Scrophulous and Spindle were returning home from the Burletta in a Vis-a-vis Sedan-Chair, the Chair-men, walking in a violent Hurry, gave such a violent Motion to the Car|riage, that the two young Lords were both thrown out of their Seats, and both their Heads were unfortunate|ly knocked together. Very happily their Lordships received no great Hurt, and their Nerves being now less convulsed after their Fright, they are in a fair Way of Recovery.

On Sunday last, an excellent Sermon was preached at the Chapel Royal, by Dr. Rubric, Chaplain in ordinary, upon which Occasion the Sword of State was carried by the Earl of Jessamy, and Lord George Frible.

About Eleven o'Clock last Night, the Countess of Hysterick was delivered of a dead Child, to the great

Disappointment of Lord Hysterick, and all his Rela|tions.

This Morning early, the Lady of the Right honour|able Lord Viscount Shadow was delivered, at her House in Palace-Yard, Westminster, of Twins, to the great Amazement of his Lordship and all the Family, as her Ladyship shewed no visible Tokens of Preg|nancy, her Shape being to the last remarkably delicate and fine. Whether Providence has sent Boys or Girls as yet no Conjecture can be made.

Yesterday at Noon died of the Gout in his Stomach, and a Complication of other Disorders, his Grace the Duke of High-blood, aged nine Months. By this unlucky Event that noble Family is extinct.

We hear that several Petitions for Divorces, with Leave to marry again, have been lately presented to the Lords; — All at the Suit of the Ladies.

Last Week, above fifty Ladies of Quality were found in Bed with their Coach-men, their Butlers, &c.

On Monday last was reviewed upon Putney-Common the First Regiment of Guards, by the Honourable Sir Robert Lungs, who, was handsomely mounted upon an easy Pad, sent to him as a Present from the Isle of Man. Sir Robert was in great Spirits, and wore a white Hand|kerchief about his Neck.

A Suit is commenced in the Commons, by a Person of Fashion, against a Gentleman of Ireland, for criminal Conversation with his Wife, and we hear that a Law will shortly be enacted, to prohibit the Importation of Irishmen into this Kingdom for the Future.

A Duel was fought Yesterday in Mary le Bon Fields, brtween Sir Dilberry Diddle and Lord Trip, in which the latter had his Cheek so violently scratched, that it is now feared he cannot recover.

By Letters from Portsmouth, we are informed, that Lord John Fiddle-faddle, hoisted his Flag there on Wed|nesday

last, but an hard Gale coming on, his Lordship was unfortunately blown over board.

The same Advices add, that the Banns were publish|ed twice in the proper Parish-Church between Capt. Hardy and Miss Wholesome, but sailing Orders hurrying the Captain away on a Voyage round the World, the Nuptials remain unfinished.

Never did the crying Sin of Cuckoldom so much prevail in this Metropolis, as at present; on which Account, it is said, the B-sh-p of L••nd••n apprehends an Earthquake very shortly, and he therefore intends to publish an Exhortation to Piety, in order to suspend the Laws of Gravitation.

Births and Burials this Week.

Christened

• Males 14
• Females 11
• In all 25

Buried

• Males 232
• Females 229
• In all 461

Increased in the Burials this Week 91.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Batson's Coffee-house, Cornhill, Feb. 16, 1754.

THE Company were entertained, Yesterday Evening, by a Dispute between the Doctors OPIUM and SNAKEROOT, upon the Question whether Preaching or Playing is of the greatest Service to a Christian Community. Doctor SNAKEROOT thought pro|per to declare that though he had not seen the Inside of a Church any Time these fifteen Years past, yet, unless the Method of exhibiting was different from what it used to be, when he was taken to those Places by his Grand|mother, he could not possibly conceive what could be the Advantage of frequenting them. Doctor OPIUM, not a little picqued at this Declaration, thought pro|per on his Part to mention that he knew as little of what passed within the Walls of the Church as the

other; but out of Respect to many reverend Digni|taries, who were his extreme good Patients, he could not help thinking, that those Assemblies, under proper Management, might be rendered a tolerable instructive Amusement.

I grant you, (replied Snakeroot) if the Managers would pay some little Deference to the public Taste; and in these Cases it ought to be consulted, for it appears to me that Preaching and Playing had originally a pretty close Affinity. Indeed I know nothing that can give a better Idea of the Simplicity of the antient Drama, which, without any Distinction of Scenes was divided into three Acts, reci|ted by one Person, and each of them closed by a Chorus; and they were generally presented upon some Festival, instituted in Honour of the Deities; and as a further Proof, you know, Sir, (continued he) that in their Churches they still retain the Word. Pulpit, which the Greek Writers made use of to signify a Stage.

Doctor OPIUM was going to reply when his Discourse was interrupted by the Appearance of Mr. HARTSHORN, the Apothecary, who hastily came up and for about five Minutes buried his Nose in the Periwig of the said Doctor. A Consultation was then held by the said Doctor OPIUM, the said Mr. HARTSHORN, and the said Doctor OPIUM'S Cane; when they all three withdrew together, and left Doctor SNAKEROOT in quiet Possession of the Argument.

NUMB. 71.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Feb. 23, 1754.

In nova fert Animus mutatas dicere formas Corpora.— OVID.

_THE Chambers over my Apartment in Gray's-Inn having been unoccupied for a considerable Time past, I was enabled to pursue my Lu|cubrations with the greater Ease and Tran|quillity, being free from those sudden Alarms of Noise, which are otherwise inevitable in any of the Inns of Court. But my Repose has met with an Interruption of so pleasant a Kind, that I have determined to acquaint my Readers with all the Particulars of the Incident.

About ten Days since, a Gentleman entered upon the Premises, and ever since I have been frequently disturbed, when at my Studies, by such quick and unexpected Shocks, that it was absolutely impossible for me to pur|sue the same Train of Thought with any Degree of At|tention. As I was Yesterday-Morning perusing Mr. Hawkins Brown's excellent Poem upon the Immortality of the Soul, in which he has artfully combined in their full Force all the Arguments in Support of that impor|tant Article of our Belief, suddenly I heard a violent Bounce over my Head; the Cieling shook as if ready to come down, and a Convulsion shook the whole House. Deep Contemplation sometimes unbraces the Nerves to such a Degree, that an unexpected Noise startles the whole Frame of the Body, and throws the Spirits out of that placid State, which is requisite in order to think with Calmness and Perspicuity. This Discomposure I experienced upon so many Occasions, and sometimes in

such quick Succession, that I judged it proper to step up Stairs to the Gentleman, to inform him of the Incon|veniencies, which I lay under, and to beg of him to manage his Affairs for the future with less Turbulence.

I knocked two or three Times at his Door, but re|ceiving no Answer, and hearing him run about with great Violence of Exertion, I made bold to walk in unbid. You go into the Dining-Room through a Glass-Folding-Door, which was at this Time shut, but the Curtains undrawn. Through the Window, I saw the Gentleman pulling off his Cloaths with the utmost Vehemence, and in an Instant he appeared in the Ha|bit and Air, of an old Woman delivering Doctor Rock's Bills upon Ludgate-Hill. Surprized at this Change, I stopt short to observe the Actions of this extraordinary Personage, and very shortly I was entertained with ano|ther Vicissitude of Appearance; for, quick as Lighten|ing, he shifted Cloaths, and walked about the Room with a Basket, and with an audible Voice pronounced,

Muf|fins for Coffee and Tea, Gentlemen and Ladies.

This appeared extremely whimsical; he then varied his Dress, and with a Silver Pipe cried out London-Evening Post: After which he threw away his Bundle of Papers, fall down upon his Knees, laid his Hand on his Heart, looked up with a great Expression of Joy, and then rising, indulged himself in all the whimsical Vagaries of a Man frantic with Sensations too exquisite to endure. In this Way he continued for some Time, and at length threw himself into an Attitude of Surprize; after which, he ran wild about the Room, like one almost distracted with Despair, looking up in vain to Heaven for Relief, when to my great Amazement, he unexpectedly mustered up his Spirits, and with great Alacrity leaped through a small Aperture into the Coal-Hole. After absconding there for a short Space of Time, he came forth with a Sack of Coals upon his Shoulders, which he emptied in the Middle of the Room, calling with some Earnest|ness,

"Below." He had no sooner done this, but he directed his Eyes sparkling with Joy to some imaginary Object with which his Fancy seemed to be highly pleased; He then came forward, and knocked at the Door, where I had taken my Station, which I then took an Opportunity to open, and as I was advancing towards him, he seized me by the Shoulder, and twin|ing me round with all his Strength sent me reeling into a Corner of his Room. Upon this, he walked into the outward Apartment, slapping the Door after him, and immediately opened a small Casement Window, which was over the Door of his Bed-Chamber. From thence he stretched out his Neck, and looking me full in the Face, burst out into a loud Fit of Laughter; then pro|ducing a Squirt, he began to let fly at me in such a Manner, that I was soon pretty well watered from Head to Foot. The Exclamations, which I vented upon this Occasion, rung such a Peal in the Gentleman's Ears, that he was brought to a Recollection of himself. He came down very leisurely from his Post, and with a modest Air and genteel Address he politely asked my Pardon, and told me that he was so intent upon his Busi|ness, that he really did not perceive that he was offer|ing Indignities to a Stranger.—

Imagining that I was in the Hands of a Madman, I was willing to acquiesce with his Apology, but to satisfy my Curiosity, I took the Liberty to enquire of him, the Nature of his Business and what might be his Vocation.

Sir, said the Gentleman, won't you please to be seated, With regard to my Business, Sir, I am a Pantomime Poet—a Pantomime Poet!

—

Pray, Sir, what is a Pantomime Poet?

—To this Question my Friend answered with a Smile,

a Writer of Pantomime, Sir. —It is a Plan which I have determined to apply my|self to, having Reason to think that it is the only Way of succeeding in the present Age. I was bred at Eton School, from whence at a proper Time I was re|moved

to the University; at both which Places I laid in a sufficient Store of Greek and Latin, and always feeling a particular Turn for the Drama I applied my Genius principally to Tragedy and Comedy. In each Species of Writing I have given the finishing Hand to some Pieces which have received the Approbation of a few Gentlemen of known Taste and perfectly versed in critical Matters. Encouraged by their Opinion I came to Town, and after a long tedious Application I find it impossible to get any of my Performances ex|hibited. Mr. Garrick has already, like a provident General, laid his Plan of Operations, and Mr. Rich is determined to bring on no new Pieces, until we have such a Genius as Tom Durfey

I wish Mr.—, says he, we had such another Writer now.

On this Ac|count I have taken a Resolution to cultivate a Species of the Drama, which cannot fail of being profitable to all Parties, and, being agreeable to the public Taste, will be brought on without Difficulty as soon as offered.

—

Here I broke in upon the Thread of his Discourse, by asking if he was determined to become Harlequin himself? To this he answered me in the Negative; but as it is a Rule in Writing to place yourself in the Situa|tion of the Character for which you are to find suit|able Dialogue, he had judged it not improper to con|form to this Precept, and therefore, in order the better to concert the sudden Escapes and Changes of Dress, which have so pleasing an effect in this kind of Poetry, he was practising over every striking Attitude, and every unexpected Situation of the Harlequin, that he might be the better able to form an Opinion of the Plot and the several Incidents of the Marvellous, which he had found it necessary to introduce. He proceeded to inform me, that he purposed calling his first Piece HARLEQUIN TRIUMPHANT, or POETRY IN THE SUDS. In this Performance the whole Race of Authors are to be ex|posed

to the Derision of the Public, and Harlequin is to crack a very great Number of facetious Jokes upon their shoulders with his wooden Sword. A Poet is to be placed at a Table with a Beef-stake laid before him, to his inexpressible Joy, when in an Instant, by some cu|rious Stroke of Art, the solid Substance is to be changed into a modern Tragedy, and Calvert's Entire Butt wafted away from his longing Eyes. The Bard after this is to be ducked in a Well, and then tossed dry in a Blanket, while Mother Dulness enjoys the sprightly Vein of Mirth, happy to see her Orders so faithfully executed. In short, the unhappy Poets are to undergo every Indig|nity that human Wit can invent; and in Contrast to this, Harlequin is to riot in Luxury; the Spring is to pour fourth her freshest Verdure to charm his Eye, Summer to ripen the various Fruits upon the loaded Boughs, in order to regale his Palate; Autumn must administer the circling Glass, and Winter expand the frozen Surface of the Waters for him to skate with all his Dignity, in Sight of the astonished Audience.

Though this Plan appeared highly romantic to me at first Sight, I could not help telling the Gentleman, that I made no doubt but he would find his Account in it. I told him, that the surest Way to rise in the World was to gratify the Follies of the People, and therefore com|mended this Scheme, which I am convinced cannot fail of Success. I just then hinted, that if he could contrive to be less violent in his Studies, I should take it as a Fa|vour, and after assuring him of my sincere Wishes for all the Encouragement his Project deserves, I took my leave, and am at present tolerably quiet in my Study, not hav|ing above two or three Alarms in a Day, which must be now and then expected from so vigorous and warm an Imagination.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Crown Coffee-house, Bedford-Row, Feb. 2.

IF Mr. Ranger would sometimes favour us with his Company, and make a Hand at Whist, we should take it as a particular Favour. Possibly he may now and then have an idle Hour on his Hands, and be at a Loss what to do with himself on a rainy Evening; in that Case let him repair hither; and we promise him he will meet with very high Entertainment in this Academy. Particularly he will receive great Pleasure from the su|perannuated Members, who, worn out in the Service of the four Kings of those mighty Empires, CLUBS, SPADES, HEARTS and DIAMONDS, and now unfit for Action, please themselves with relating the Battles, Sieges, and For|tunes they have passed; and frequently draw Tears from their Auditors, when they tell us some distressful Stroke their Youth hath suffered.

N. B. Mr. Shortcough attends as usual, and,

having a Guinea in his Pocket which his Wife knows nothing of,

is always generous enough to offer a Bett,— when the Odds are in his Favour.

Sam's Coffee-house, Change-Alley.

A Gentleman mentioning the other Day, at the second Table, that the Author of the Gray's-Inn Journal comes to this Academy, a Dispute arose between Mr. Profound and Mr. Prettywit concerning the said Author. Mr. Profound insisted upon it, that Mr. Vandergut, the Dutch Merchant writes that Paper; but Mr. Prettywit assured him he was mistaken, for that to his certain Knoledge, that Gentleman only furnished the Articles of Intelli|gence from Holland, but, says he,

you may depend upon it, the real Author is the little old Man with queer Eyes, who sits near the Fire Place, and never

speaks to any Body.

Not agreeing in this Point they referred it to MAJOR, who answered

ay, Gentlemen, I knows fast enough; but mum for that.

ADVERTISEMENT.

Lately arrived in this Town an Animal, with an hu|man Head, and an Horse's Neck; likewise a Woman of a beatiful Frame down to her Waist, from whence she commences another Creature, and then ends in a Fish; both very proper to be exhibited in the next new Pan|tomime Entertainment.

N. B. To recommend them the more forcibly, they are both expresly against Horace's Prescription.

NUMB. 72.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, March 2, 1754.

Dii, quibus imperium est animarum, umbraeque silentes, Et Chaos & Phlegeton, loca nocte silentia late, Sit mihi fas audita loqui. sit numine Vestro Pandere res altâ terrâ & Caligine mersas. VIRG.

_THE Sixth Book of the Aeneid has always been a Favourite with me, for the noble Sen|timents of Morality, and the inimitable Strain of Poetry which run through it. I frequently read it with the most transporting Pleasure, and, after finishing it, I cannot but look down very much upon the degenerate State of Poetry among the Moderns. For the strong nervous Thought and natural Expression, they have substituted pretty Conceit, quaint Phrases, Turns, Strokes, and I know not what, tending to a general De|pravity of Taste among us. Filled with these Thoughts, I lately retired to rest, when Queen Mab immediately ap|peared to me, and from the Mixture of Ideas fluctuating in my Mind, she dressed up the following Scene to my Imagination.

I thought she informed me, that the intellectual Re|gions are divided into Districts similar to those of the Nether-world, so admirably described by the Poet; I then fansied that she commanded me to set out on a Journey through the Head of a modern Writer, which, I instantly agreed to, and the Goddess accordingly took me in her Chariot. In a short Time, we arrived at the Apartment, where the Bard sat, sicklied o'er with the pale Cast of Thought. At my first Approach towards the intellectual Regions, a terrible Effluvium "proceeding," as Shakespear has it, "from the Heat-oppressed Brain," struck my Senses; but I was soon diverted from that uneasy Sensation by a Personage, who offered to be my Guide. From a conscious Simper, a careless Disposi|tion of his Person, and the Tenor of his Discourse, I knew him to be VANITY, and accepted the Compli|ment. Our Way was through a thick Skull, of which we at once took Possession, and plunged into the Abyss.

At our first Entrance, a confused Noise assailed our Ears, and we were instantly beset by a Number of Phan|toms placed around the Portal. The God Somnus lay stretched at full Length, diffusing round him lethargic Vapours and stupid Insensibility; a Group of wild Dreams and Reveries hovered over him, and at a small Distance flowed the River of animal Spirits, dull, slow, and lazy. Numbers were gathered round the Banks begging a Passage into this gloomy World, but the Charon of the Place, a torpid, decrepid Fellow, known there by the Name of PERCEPTION, gave a few of them a tardy Admittance, and to the greater Part he was entirely deaf. Among those, whom he rejected, I perceived a Train, which I took for the nine Muses, but was in|formed they never had attempted to pass that Way, and upon a nearer View I found they were the amiable Band of moral Virtues, who were highly desirous of gaining Admittance, which was refused them, with the

Addition of as much Insolence in the Denial, as if they had been suing at a great Man's Door. They gave me to understand, that it is now become fashionable to discard them every where, at which I could not help expressing great Uneasiness; and I then advanced to|wards the Boatman, PERCEPTION, who, with the Help of his Spectacles, at Length descried me, and received me into his Care.

The River had a great many Turnings and Windings (for ductile Dullness new Maeanders takes) but, after some Trouble, we at Length reached the opposite Bank. An uncultivated Tract lay before us, dreary, dark and gloomy; no Ray of Light to break through the Mist; impenetrable Obscurity involved the Scene, and Va|pours rolling over Vapours made every Thing an univer|sal Blot. I pursued my Journey with all possible Expe|dition, and arrived at the Repository of Ideas, as it is here called, the Key of which was kept by MEMORY. As I supposed this to be a Store-house of universal Know|ledge, I begged to be favoured with a View of the se|veral Acquisitions he had made. I desired he would produce some occult Qualities, of which I had no Manner of Notion; and I called for several of the metaphysical Train too tedious to enumerate; in Divinity I remem|bered several Things, of which I never could attain a clear Conception, and I have not Arithmetic enough to recount the Multitude of the Mathematical Species which I wanted; the Debates, which I have heard in Westminster-Hall, gave me occasion to enquire for many of the legal Band, and I was curious after an infinite Multitude of the Parnassian Tribe, mentioned in a pompous Stile in several modern Poets. I longed to see an en|venomed Shaft, taking its fatal Aim, wind wafting Pray|ers on rosy Wings to Heaven, &c. I begged a Sight of Colley Cibber's old Friend BATTLE ARRAY, and the many other Poetic Beings, which he and others of his

Brethren of the Quill, had created; but all to no Pur|pose.

The next Place we came to was the Lugentes Campi, or the mournful Fields, sacred to Venus. I met with nothing here but Cupid's Darts, consuming Fires, and all the modern Train of Love's Artillery. As I was sufficiently acquainted with these, from a constant and unwearied Perusal of our modern Tragedies and other poetical Productions, I hastened to the Seat, where JUDGMENT presided.

Judgment seldom made any Decisions of his own, but was biassed in all his Decrees by several that surrounded him, with so much Authority, that I supposed they were in the Commission. The Chief of these was PRIDE, with a lofty Air and supercilious Brow, which called to my Mind the excellent Remark in the Essay on Cri|ticism;

Of all the Causes which conspire to blind Man's erring Judgment, and misguide his Mind, Which the weak Head with surest Biass rules, Is Pride, the never-failing Vice of Fools. POPE.

Next in Place was ILL-NATURE, callous and hardened to every gentle Sensation of Humanity, and quite a Stranger to that Delicacy of elegant Minds, which be|holds the Merit of another with Pleasure; but on the contrary, every Thing shining with the smallest Degree of Lustre is the Object of his Aversion, and he is never pleased but with the Misfortunes of his Neighbours. PREJUDICE also seemed to have no small Influence with the Court, and VENALITY, with itching Palm, fre|quently gave a new Turn to every Thing, being ready to engage on either Side in Politicks, to abuse a worthy Character in Satire, or exalt a base one in dedicatory Panegyric.

From these Principles I could easily imagine to myself what Kind of Opinions were likely to arise, and there|fore

hastened towards Elysium. In my Way, I perceived a desolate Tract, which may be called the Region of Tortures. Here I saw Grief, Despair, Envy, Revenge, and all the agonizing Cares, that made this Place worse, than what the Poets fable of their Tartarus. In one Part was to be seen Ambition falling back, like the Stone of Sisyphus; in another Place, Hunger was tantalized with the Hopes of a Supper, but the worst of Fiends, cruel Want forbids the Touch. Here stood a Pillory, with Defamation nailed to it by the Ears, there a Blanket stretched out, and a Bard going to be tossed in it.— Here a tumultuous Play-house at the Damnation of a Virgin Muse; the sneering Beaux in the Boxes display their false Teeth; the Pit rises enraged, the Gallery open-its rude Throats, and nothing is to be heard but

throw him over—won't y' ha' some Orange Chips —won't y' ha' some Nonpareils—off the Stage, off,

till at Length the Catcal Whizzes, and the poor Poet in the mean Time is ready to expire, and Pangs as bad as Hell t••rment him.

Had I all the Pens of all the Scriblers of the Age, I should not be able to relate every Occurrence in my Adventures, and I was by this Time admonished by my Guide, that we were arrived at the Seat of Happiness. Here we found Invention happy in a Review of all his airy Beings, that were fluttering round him in a va|riegated Dress, pressing and crowding upon each other, as if to force a Passage into open Day. I stood for a Time wondering at this mighty Bustle, and then en|quired what might be the Cause of it. To which IN|VENTION,

that bright Band which you behold so eagerly gathering about the Gates of Life, are the chosen Few, to whom Apollo has appointed a new Birth into the World, and they are now impatiently waiting till proper Bodies are prepared for them by those poetical Midwives, commonly called Booksellers. They were all in the Beginning wasted over by PERCEPTION,

whom you have seen, and were thence conveyed to the Repository of Ideas, in the Care of MEMORY, till in the various Course of human Contingencies, they are again called forth, and by my Skill, arranged in proper Order for their Appearance among the Sons of Men.

Thus having said, he led me round the whole Extent of Elysium, gave me a compleat View of all his intellec|tual Train, and at Length dismissed me through the Ivory Gate to breath the vital Air, to which I was highly pleased to find myself restored, and the Joy occasioned by this Reflection operated so strongly on my Spirits, that I felt myself in some Agitation, and was instantly wakened out of my Dream.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

To CHARLES RANGER, Esq

SIR,

AS you are occasionally a Critic on Theatrical En|tertainments, be pleased in your next Paper to take Notice of a Doubt among some Lawyers, viz. Whether Mr. Blakes coming on the Stage, in the new Piece of Harlequin Fortunatus, with an Hare and a Brace of Partridges, and Mr. Cook, in one of the Dances at the other House, appearing with a Gun and an Hare, are not liable to be prosecuted as unqualified Persons by the Game-Laws, and whether they are not obnoxious to the Association for preserving the Game.

I am, Sir, Your most obedient Servant, *****.

Lincoln's-Inn, Feb. 5.

I am not sufficiently acquainted with the Laws of Pantomime to know, whether its Design be to promote

Virtue or Vice, and therefore cannot determine, whether encouraging the Breach of the Law is just, or otherwise, in this modern Species of the Drama:

By Advices from several Routs in this Metropolis, we are informed, that the Beau monde has undergone within these few Years, a total Revolution, and that Love is entirely banished from every Bosom. The Men no longer mind how a Lady looks, but how she plays; instead of observing the Delicacy of her Shape, the Turn of her Face, and Elegance of her Features, they only consider how many Trumps she holds, how often she makes a Finesse, and "can ye one?" The Ladies on their Part, despise all Considerations of Health, Good Humour, and Good Sense in the Men, and their Chat has taken a different Turn.

Lard I know that Gentleman,—saw him at Mrs. Quadrille's Rout— bet Fifty Guineas on a Rubber, &c.

Thus Cupid is grown mere Lumber, and Cards, it is to be appre|hended, will thin the rising Generation, or produce a haggard, infirm, puny Race, to constitute, what is called, People of Fashion. The Advice of an eminent Satyrist, I think not amiss on this Occasion.

If Sin you must, take Nature for your Guide, Love has some soft Excuse to sooth your Pride: Ye fair apostates from Love's antient Pow'r, Can nothing ravish but a golden Show'r? Can Cards alone your glowing Fancy seize? Must Cupid learn to Punt, e're he can please?

NUMB. 73.

GRAY's-INN, Saturday, March 9, 1754.

—Sub Judice lis est. HOR.

_AS the Trials, at the Court of Censorial-Enquiry, have been more numerous, these last Sessions, than happened to be the Case heretofore, and, as it is Matter of Moment that all the Transgressions, which are there cognizable, should, as much as possible, be obviated, I shall devote the entire Papers of this and the ensuing Saturday to an Account of the several Hearings, that have passed there this Week.—

The Proceedings of the Court of Censorial-Enquiry, on the Commission of OYER and TERMINER, and general Goal Delivery, held for the Cities of London and Westminster.

About Nine o'Clock the Judges took their Seats, and the Jury, consisting of the following Persons, were sworn and impannelled.

• Thomas Thimble an EMINENT Haberdasher of Small-ware.
• John Rhubarb, an EMINENT Apothecary.
• William Buckram, an EMINENT Taylor.
• Joseph Bauble, an EMINENT Toyman.
• Abel Drugger, an EMINENT Tobacconist.
• John Candlewick, an EMINENT allow chandler.
• Jeremiah Prim, an EMINENT Mercer.
• Timothy Buck, an EMINENT Breeches-maker.
• Joseph Instep, an EMINENT Shoemaker.
• Robert Frizzle, an EMINENT Peruke-Maker.
• David Elzevir, an EMINENT Bookseller.
• Isaac Birmingham, an EMINENT Hard-ware-Man.

Jack Oakstick was indicted for that he, on Saturday Night the 16th of February, went into the Middle Gal|lery

at Drury-Lane Play-house, and from thence one Apple, Value a Farthing, on the Stage did fling to the great Annoyance of the Actors, and Disturbance of the Com|pany. The Fact was proved by two undeniable Evi|dences, who, being interrogated whether they had not the Freedom of the House, severally answered, that they had not, and added, that they did not even go in with an Order, and that their only Motive for appearing on the Occasion was, to bring to condign Punishment an Offender against the Respect and good Manners due to a public Assembly. Whereupon the Prisoner, being asked by the Court what he had to say for himself, made Answer that he was drunk, and, as he hoped to be saved, it was nothing but an innocent Frolick. GUILTY; upon which he was ordered to wait upon the Managers of the abovementioned Theatre to ask their Pardon for his Misbehaviour, and he was sentenced to drink but a Pint of Wine after his Dinner for the future. —

Sir Peter Jessamy was indicted for standing between the Scenes in such a Manner as to hurt the most pathetic Situations of the Drama. GUILTY; but it appearing to the Court, that it was not done with Malice prepense, but only with intent to display his Cloaths to the Ladies, he was dismissed without any other Punishment than a severe Reprimand, and an Order, that he should not be admitted behind the Scenes again without giving Se|curity for his good Behaviour, of which Mr. Varney and Mr. Crudge are to take proper Notice.—

Elizabeth, the Wife of John Gayless, Esq was in|dicted, for that she, not having the Love of her Husband before her Eyes, hath, for the Space of three Years past, obstinately, willfully, and urged on by the Instigation of a certain Fury called GAMING, addicted all her At|tention to Cards, to the great pecuniary Detriment of her Husband, and the utter Extinction of all domestic Happiness, &c.

The Cause was opened by Counsellor Manly, who urged in a long Harangue, that it is an absolute Apostacy from all that can be counted elegant in the fair Sex, to spend a Life over a Pack of Cards; that such a Conduct can only serve to spoil their Complexions, disturb their Tempers, suppress the natural Affections, which alone can create conjugal Felicity; that it must inevitably put to flight the Loves and Graces, which would otherwise hover round them, and in their stead, surround them with a Band of Harpies, such as Suspicion, Mistrust, Vex|ation, Disappointment, &c. and that, in short, it must at last bring on such an Insensibility, as to render a Wo|man capable of venturing a Daughter's Portion upon the turning up of a Die, and oblige her to surrender her lovely Person, in Case of Non-payment, upon an Habeas Corpus from the Court of Venus.

After this, Betty Minnikin, Chambermaid to the Pri|soner, was examined, and she deposed, as how her Mistress never went to Bed till Four or Five in the Morn|ing, and that she had often heard her say, she actually thought the King of Clubs a much handsomer Man than her Husband.

Cross Examined.

Pray Mistress—Remember you're upon your Oath—Have you no Intrigue with your Master?—

Betty Minnikin.

—I'd have you to know Sir—that I scorn your Words—I've nothing to do with Fellows— though to be sure (in Tears) he does use me barbarously, and has taken no notice ever since he had his wicked Will of me.

James Ditto, Mercer, was sworn and deposed, that he had served the Lady ever since her Marriage, and that he knew no more of the Colour of her Money, than of the real Colour of her Face, though he was informed by her Husband, and he verily believed the same to be true, that she had been supplied occasionally with Money to discharge all her Bills.

The Defence.

The Prisoner's Council proved to the Court, that their Client always preserved her Virtue, and that no Instance of Infidelity to the Marriage-Bed could be charged against her, even though she had been tempted by Lord Trumpabout, who offered to remit a considerable gaming Debt, for so small a Consideration as cuckolding her Husband; and upon this they rested their Defence.

To this it was replied by the Council for the Prosecu|tion, that it is not enough for a Woman to preserve her Virtue, if she is insensible to Shame in every other Point, agreeably to the Statute 6th Young,

Some modern Ladies think one Crime is all; Can Women then no Way but backwards fall?

Lord Townley's Case was also cited, by which it appeared a Matter of Indifference, whether a Man be cuckolded by a black Ace, or a powdered Beau. Whereupon the Jury, without withdrawing, brought in their Verdict, GUILTY, and the Prisoner was ordered into the close Custody of her Husband, to be by him carried into the Country for twelve Months, there to read the Spectator, Tatler and Guardian, and never suffered to revisit London without proper Security for her good Behaviour.

John Cockney was indicted at the Suit of Mrs. Seesaw, for that he, as a Servant to the said Mrs. Seesaw, be|haved ill in his Place, by several Misdemeanors, such as not answering when called, nor shutting the Room-Door after him, and, when bid, doing it in such a Manner, as to shake the whole House, &c. The Fact being proved, the Prisoner was asked, what he had to say in Mitigation of his Offence; to which he replied,

I does not want to live with the Lady—I have often bid her discharge me—She keeps but seven Card-Tables—and what can a poor Servant do, if he gets no more Vails nor that?—It is not the Pay of a Country Curate—Lord bless her, she may get

some raw Boy to live with her, but it won't do for me

—Upon this the Jury declared him GUILTY; and the Court directed Mrs. Seesaw to discharge him without a Character, giving her at the same Time an Hint to keep fewer Card Tables for the future.

William Dactyle was indicted, for that he hath fre|quently been, during the Winter Season, at the Bedford Coffee-house, and then and there for a Dish of Coffee did call, or for red Tea, or Capillaire, as his Fancy di|rected, and did afterwards steal out of the Back-Door, without paying for the same, to the Prejudice of the House, &c.

Charles Price, sworn.

The Prisoner at the Par was at our House on Suntay Evening last, ant hur gife hurself fery grate Airs, as Cot is hur Shudge, as much as Mrs. Ap Jones of Trinigidie, or any Shentleman in the Place.

Waiter give a Tish of Coffee,

says he; and so hur was helping a Shen|tleman, and so te Prisoner huff hur, as if hur was no petter tan a Tog. Ecot, it mate my Plood poil in me, and so I was resolsed to pe efen with hur, ant so I watch hur, when hur was going out, accorting to hur olt Tricks, ant so Ropert ant I detect hur in te fery Fact.

Q.

—Did he make a Practice of this?—

Charles Price.

I pelief hur to it ten times since No|fember last.—

John Hazard, sworn.

I am Marker at the Billiard-Table, and I serve in the Coffee-Room on Sundays. Charles Price bid me watch the Prisoner, telling me of his Ways, and so he went out at the Back-Door.

Prisoner's Defence.

I have People to call to my Character.

Quinbus Flestrin.

I know Mr. Dactyle perfectly well; we both lay together upon a Flock-bed in Fleetstreet, when we translated Juvenal's Satyrs; he was always in

a strong Glow when our Author declaimed against Vice, and I did not think him capable of such an Action.—

John Rubric.

I am a Bookseller; I employed the Prisoner to write me an Account of lamentable Acci|dents; I advanced him the whole Money, being Fifteen Shillings and Six pence, and he behaved very honestly.

Court.

What is his general Character?

Rubric.

A very pretty Versifyer—I never heard an ill Thing of him before this.—

Guilty 10d.

NUMB. 74.

GRAY's-INN, Saturday, March 16, 1754.

Ergo exercentur Paenis, veterumque malorum Supplicia expendunt.— VIRG.

Continuation of the Proceedings at the Court of Censorial-Enquiry.

_JOhn Vainlove, Esq was indicted, for that he, not having the Fear of this Court before his Eyes, but falsely, vainly and in|considerately tricked, deluded, and jilted several of his Majesty's most amiable Subjects, and urged on by the Instigation of a most extraordinary Self-conceit, hath continued for a long Time in this Practice, to the great Disappointment of several young Ladies, &c.

Clerk of the Arraigns.

John Vainlove hold up your Hand.—How will you be tried?—

Prisoner.

By this Court and my Country.

Upon which the Attorney General of the Court opened the Cause in a long Speech, setting forth, that such Be|haviour argues a depraved Mind, insensible to Truth, and wantonly derighting in giving Uneasiness to the

Fair Sex, by making many of them imagine he had honourable Intentions, when, at the same Time, he only meant, in the End, to break off to their Disappoint|ment and Confusion.

Miss Saffron, sworn on her Pocket Looking Glass.

I met the Prisoner at the Bar at Enfield Assembly, where I danced with him till Two in the Morning; he squeezed my Hand several Times, called me his Angel, and "I protest, Miss Saffron," says he,

you have the finest Neck in the World.

I was so far misled by this Speech, that I have ever since gone without an Handkerchief; he visited me next Morning, and gave me strong Reasons to expect Proposals for Marriage. But instead of that, I have been the Laughing-stock of all my Acquaintances ever since, for shewing the Yellowness of my Skin, and I never saw the Prisoner since till now.

Miss Threadneedle, sworn on a Billedoux.

I danced with the Prisoner at Hamstead. Assembly; I was at that Time upon a Treaty of Marriage with my Father's Prentice, which I broke off on his Account; and I have since rejected many very eligible Offers, en|couraged by the Prisoner's Promises, in Consequence of which I bought me a new Gown at Carr, Ibson's and Bigg's, and now I find I'm not likely to be a bit the better for it.

Widow Liquorish, sworn on a small Box of Carmine.

I had not been spoke to for several Years, till I met the Prisoner at a Rout; we played in the same Sett, and he paid me so many Compliments, and lost his Money with so much good Humour, that I was sure he was in Love with me. I had five Card-Tables at my Lodging since, when the Prisoner promised to be one of our Party, but I never saw him since, till I heard he was taken up; I am sure that is he; I can swear to the Man.

Prisoner's Defence.

May it please this Honourable Court, I am a Beau, and in order to support that Character, I thought it would not be amiss to have a few Treaties of Marriage de|pending, though, at the same Time, I protest, I have no Attachment to any one breathing except myself.

Upon this the Prisoner rested his Cause, and the Jury, without retiring, brought in their Verdict, a Male Jilt, and the Court adjudged, upon the Statute of Isaac Bicker|staff, that no Lady whatever should admit the Addresses of John Vainlove, Esq unless he could produce a Cha|racter from the Lady he last served, testifying that, he behaved well in her Service.

Lady Tittle-Tattle was indicted, for that she went fre|quently to one or other of the two Theatres, and there, placing herself in a Side-Box as near the Stage as pos|sible, talked louder than the Actors, even though a Gar|rick, or a Barry, a Cibber or a Pritchard were Principal in the Scene. The Prisoner, instead of denying the Fact, insisted upon her Right to behave in that Manner, alledging it was what she always did at Church, and truly she could never be made to hold her Tongue in her Life. Verdict, GUILTY; upon which the Court was going to pass Sentence that she should lose her Tongue, but one of the Judges recollecting an Instance in Ovid, where the remaining Roots and Fibres retain their Ac|tivity, Radix micat ultima linguae, objected to the Punish|ment, insisting upon it, that it would not cure the Disease, and though no articulate Accents could be pro|duced, nec vox nec verba sequuntur, yet such Sounds might issue, as would still continue to annoy the Com|pany; she was therefore required to give Bail for her good Behaviour for the future, which she found difficult to do, as her Husband, for Reasons best known to him|self, refused to be one; at length Mr. Hoyle became her Security, he being in Possession of the only Charm which can for a while stop the female Tongue.

Bob Riot was indicted, for that he, in a full Gallery at Drury-Lane Play-house, cried out Fire. The Fact being incontestibly proved, but no one being able positively to swear to the Man, the strongest Evidence amounting to no more than I believe it is he, and I think it is the same Voice, he was acquitted.

William Quibble was indicted for picking a Gentleman's Pocket of a Silk Handkerchief, Value Three Shillings. The Prosecutor deposed, that he went into the Bedford Coffee-House, and stood for some Time next to the Prisoner at the Bar, and when he wanted his Pocket Handkerchief could not find it.

Crose Examined.

Pray, Sir, was you at the Play that Night?

Answer.

I was.

Q.

And did not you pass through the Mob that is generally gathered in the Piazza?

Answer.

I did.

Q.

Then might you not lose your Handkerchief there?—What Reason have you for charging the Pri|soner at the Bar?

Answer.

Because he made a Pun, and every Body knows that a Man that will pun, will also pick a Pocket.

Acquitted of the Hankerchief, but detained upon an Indictment for the Pun.

Joseph Indolent was indicted, for that he murdered all his Time every Evening at the Bedford Coffee-House. It was plainly proved to the Court, that the Prisoner generally took his Seat among the rest of the Loungers at the Middle Fire, and there past all his Hours in dozing, yawning, telling long Stories, listening to long Stories, enquiring of every one that comes in, have you been at Drury-Lane to Night?—"Yes"—Great House I suppose—"very great House'—ay, as usual—have you been at Covent Garden? "I looked in"—very thin I hear—"about five People in the Boxes, and

"half a Pit"—ay, as usual, &c. Upon which the Jury, without going out of Court, brought in their Verdict, WILFUL MURDER; but the Prisoner seeming to have a very sensible Feeling of his Condition, the Court, in hopes he might by this be awakened into Re|flection, allowed him Benefit of Clergy, which they as|sured him was the only Thing that could redeem him from Destruction, and therefore they recommended to him to read four Hours every Day for the future.

William Clumsy was indicted, for that he walked about the Room at the Bedford Coffee-House, for near half an Hour every Evening, and trod fre|quently upon Peoples Toes to the great Annoyance of Mrs. Michell's Customers. GUILTY; upon which the Court ordered him to Mr. Hart's Dancing Academy for grown Persons, until the said Mr. Hart shall think proper to trust him with the Use of his Limbs abroad.

John Sceptic was indicted for that he, after reading the posthumous Works of the late Lord Bolingbroke, did embrace the absurd Doctrine of Scepticism, and is now an absolute Unbeliever in the most obvious Truths.

Miss Sweetlips, sworn.

I was going through Tavistock-Street—this was about Seven o Clock at Night—and I met the Prisoner at the Bar, who led me to a Lamp, and after looking me full in the Face, kissed me with great Eagerness. He then told me that I was a pretty Apparition—upon which I could not help saying I was as good Flesh and Blood as himself—he then repeated the Word Apparition, and brushed away.

Abraham Buckram.

I made Cloaths for the Prisoner at the Bar, for many Years past, and he never disputed Payment, till I car|ried in my Bill the other Morning,—being obliged to make up a Sum;—and he told me, they were only

imaginary Cloaths, and that I must prove the Reality of Matter, of which, he said, he doubted the Existence.

Mary Spinster.

I am a maiden Lady; I let Lodgings in St. Martin's Lane—the Prisoner has had an Apartment in my House for nine Months, and when I ask him for some Money, he says he owes for no Lodging, and that all is Elysium round him.

Prisoner's Defence.

I doubt the real Existence of every Thing I meet. As for Instance; I have often heard of Honour, and Ho|nesty, and Patriotism, and Friendship, and I am sure there is no such Thing in Reality. I therefore demur to the Jurisdiction of the Court, because. I doubt the Rea|lity of it, and of all these Appearances about me. Ver|dict; guilty of wilful Scepticism; whereupon the Court adjudged the said posthumous Works of Lord Boling|broke to be forfeited as a Deodand, and allowed him Benefit of Clergy.

Copia Vera, CHARLES RANGER.

The Court broke up till next Sessions.

NUMB. 75.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, March 23, 1754.

—Ut omnis Votivâ veluti pateat descripta Tabellâ Vita— HOR.

Tecum habita, & noris quam sit tibi curta supellex. PER.

_TO endeavour at some Degree of Self-Know|ledge, was the constant Advice of the ethic Writers among the Greeks and Romans; and this Precept we find inculcated by each of them in Terms that come home to every Man's Breast. Among the Moderns, my Lord Shastsbury, has more particularly enforced the Doctrine to the Race of Writers, and has recommended this intuitive Intercourse to every Author, by desiring him frequently to enter into a Soliloquy with himself; by which Means he will probably stand informed, whether he can boast that in|tellectual Harmony, which is requisite for the Formation of a tasteful Mind; whether he is sufficiently acquainted with the Progress of the human Understanding, the se|cret Movements of the Heart, the Grace of Character, the Beauty of Virtue, and all those elegant Refinements of Thinking, without which it is impossible to reach any Degree of Excellence in a Composition. We likewise find that Boileau, the famous French Satyrist, was aware of the Necessity of this spiritual Retreat (if I may be allowed to call it so) and accordingly he has entered into a Review of himself in his ninth Satire, which is certainly as pleasant a Piece of Humour and Raillery, as ever was produced by any Writer antient or modern. The Poet addresses himself to his own Mind, by saying,

that he wants to hold a little private Conversation with that internal Agent, whom he had too long encouraged in Whims and Frolicks, by an indolent Indulgence; and, now that his Patience is provoked to the utmost, he will, once for all, tell him his own.

Cest à vous, mon Esprit, à qui je veux parler; Vous avez des defauts, que je ne puis celer. Assez & trop long-temps ma lache complaisance De vos jeux criminels a nourri l'insolence. Mais puisque vous poussez ma patience à bout, Une fois en ma vie, il fant vous dire tout.

In Conformity to the Injunction of the noble Writer, and in Imitation of the sensible and polite Satyrist, just quoted, I have lately divided myself into two Persons, in order to examine my inward Frame, the Motives of my Actions, the secret Spring of my Writings, and to attain a more int mate Knowledge of my several Foibles, my various Humours, and the whimsical Vicissitudes of my Passions. The Dialogue was carried on with great Warmth on both Sides, as if there was really an intestine War within me. As I am willing to disclose myself, as well as to dissect any other Character, that occurs to me in my Rambles, for the more effectual Improvement or Entertainment of my Readers, I shall lay the whole Drama, before them this Day. The candid, I am con|vinced, will pardon all such Errors, as arise from the Imbecillity of human Nature, and the Enemies of the Author (if he has any) will abate from their Inveteracy, when they perceive that timorous Self love cannot pre|vail upon him to conceal his own Infirmities.

SCENE, the Author's Study; he sits down to his Writing-Table, rubs his Forehead, bites his Nails, pauses for some Time in Reflection, and then the Dialogue begins,

Ranger.

—Come, my Soul, or whatever you are, that actuate this Machine; you and I have long been

wrangling, and I desire now to have a private Conse|rence with you, Pray, what could put it into your Head to make me turn Writer?

Soul.

How can you ask me such a Question? You know my original Motive was to make as much waste Paper, as the Rest of the Scribblers of the Age. The Town began early to take Notice of my Undertaking, and so the Amusement of it, and a Principle of Gra|titude induced me to persevere.

Ranger.

Let me tell you, that you are a busy, prag|matical, intermeddling, foolish Kind of a Being, and when once you take a Fancy into your Head, there is no such Thing as reasoning with you. Did not I repre|sent to you that Writing is a State of Warfare upon Earth, and that the most candid and unassuming Ex|pression will not secure a Man from secret poisoned Arrows while Malice and Envy, and Ill-nature are such predominant Vices in Mankind?

Soul.

True; but did not I always answer you, that the wise and good will not become Tools to a Party, and that they will never condescend to do the dirty Work of Calumny and Detraction? A public Writer, who is attended with a Degree of Success, must expect to be attacked by Scribblers, and let me tell you, Mr. Ranger, you are an errant Blockhead, if you ever suffer any of them to ruffle your Temper. Take my Advice, and laugh at the Impotence of Malice; and whenever any one attempts to wound you with the Weapons of Falsehood, smile at the Dart, which, short of its Aim, falls harmless at your Feet, and repeat with me from my favourite Virgil,

—T••lumque imbelle sine Ictu Conjecit—

Ranger.

This is all fine Talking! But am not I pointed at in the mean Time? Don't I perceive the

contracted Brow, the inflamed Eye, the Look that de|nounces Vengeance?

Soul.

Not so fast in your Career; Pray, Sir, have not you brought all this upon yourself? what Business had you to discover the Author? Prejudices will una|voidably arise, against a known Writer. But you must go and consult with a few of your Friends, before the Work was commenced; and what was the Consequence? Did they assist you? They only whispered it about, and in a Month's Time, you were known every where. I often told you, you are of too open a Temper. Observe how some People lock up their Minds in Company; Snug's the Word; not a Syllable from their Lips, and they make Use of all they can extract from your com|municative Disposition. Look ye, if you would but keep my Secrets a little closer, I don't in the least doubt but we should succeed much better. Don't be quite so precipitate, and let us take Time to plan, to alter, to touch, and retouch, and I'll stake my Immortality, that we go on with more Safety and Ease. Or, if you must take the Opinion of People, ask it of those only who have both Inclination and Capacity to serve you, Learn to distinguish between Men.

Ranger.

I have no sinister Intentions myself, and I never suspect any Body else of harbouring ill Designs. But do you intend to persevere in this Task?

Soul.

Most certainly, while the Public continues fa|vourable.

Ranger.

Gad, its pleasant enough to see you as|sume the Air of a Dictator, and take upon you to reform Men and Manners, to correct vitiated Taste, to offer your Criticisms on fine Writings, give Rules for Style, reprobate a Profusion of Metaphors and flowery Epithets, and ridicule the Foibles of Mankind. I tell you, we are too young for the Task; do you feel within you the Emotions of a sublime Spirit? Have your pervading Eyes searched every Subject to the Bottom? Had not

you better employ yourself in reading the best Authors, ancient and modern, than spinning out from yourself? Has Apollo opened to you the Secrets of Parnassus? And then don't I know your Method of Proceeding? Don't you some Times defer Things to the last Day, and don't you let Inaccuracies escape from you, which a little Time would inform you want Correction?

Soul.

There I allow you hit me; but the Nature of periodical Writings must admit some slight Inadverten|cies. The Dissipations of Pleasure, and a thousand other Avocations must inevitably disconcert a Person at Times; and then one is not always in the same Humour. But why don't you take care to correct the Press? When you should be attending to that necessary Trouble, you are often running about the Town, which is no Excuse to the Reader. For my Part, I flatter myself that the best Judges will allow for an youthful Enterprize, and in a more advanced Period, and at more Leisure, I pos|sibly may repay them for their present Indulgence.

Ranger.

I see you will have your own Way. How|ever, I must tell you what I hear of you; It is remarked, that you are too fond of mentioning Players. 'Sdeath, if you pretend to any Genius, can't you have more Plea|sure in reading Shakestear, than in hearing any-of them repeat from him?

Soul.

Why, you are sensible, that my Paper is cal|culated for a Multiplicity of Readers; some like one Thing, some another; there is no pleasing all at once, Besides, there is a Performer on the Stage, who has, upon many Occasions, surprized me with new Lights in Pas|sages that were before obscure, and who has often had an irresistible Power over my Passions.

Ranger.

Still harping on your favourite Garrick— but what Occasion is there for it? Every Body knows he is an universal Genius.

Soul.

Would you have me change my Style, and say that there are others equal to him?

Ranger.

No, that would be taken for Raillery; they'd think you were laughing at them. But to cut the Matter short, this Itch of Scribbling is a dangerous Thing. You'll never be cured of it, till the Critics ef|fectually damn you, which between you and I—

Soul.

Hush! blabbing again? Hold your Peace, Man.

Ranger.

Well! well! I will; for Faith I am hear|tily tired of the Controversy; and so, since we are tied together like Man and Wife, without any Possibility of a Divorce, until Death us do part, I think we had better jog on as well as we can, with the Civility of People of Fashion.

Hereupon the Debate was broke up, and other Thoughts breaking in, these two Shaftsburian Persons were both united into one, like two different Liquids in a Glass, which by the Infusion of a single Drop, change their Appearance, and both become one clear and tran|sparent Fluid.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Bedford Coffee-house, Feb. 23.

THE Board of Criticism met here last Night, when Mr. Town laid before them, the following Lines, which he said were the late Mr. Pope's, and de|sired the Sentiments of the House concerning the same.

What are the falling Rills, and pendant Shades, The Morning Bow'rs, and Ev'ning Colonades; But soft Recesses of th' uneasy Mind, To sigh unheard into the passing Wind?

So the struck Deer, in some sequester'd Part, Lies down to die, the Arrow in his Heart. There hid in Shades, and pining Day by Day, Inly he bleeds, and melts his Soul away.

The Court of Criticism brought in their Verdict, Ignoramus; however, it is said they really are Mr. Pope's, and were written on reading a Poem, Intitled, A FIT OF THE SPLEEN, in Imitation of Shakespear.

Batson's in Cornhill.

The Doctors Ennema, Catarrh, Anodyne, Capivi, &c. meet here every Evening in the Nature of a Coroners's Inquest, to enquire into the Causes, that occasions the Deaths of their Patients. Yesterday they sat upon the Body of John Hypocondriac, who from a very robust Constitution, reduced himself to a Skeleton, by taking no other Sustenance for three Years together, than Febri|fuge Draughts; in which emaciated State he dragged on Life till the 30th of January last, when he at length died of the Doctor; Verdict, Felo de se. After this, the Case of an eminent Tobacconist, who was lately buried in Little St. Helen's, though the Doctor the Evening be|fore lest him in a fine Way, came under their Considera|tion, when a certain Wag interposed,

Damn it, Gentlemen, why do ye puzzle yourselves about the poor Devil's Case, when all the World knows his Case is a Coffin?

ADVERTISEMENT.

The Lovers of Theatrical Entertainments are desired to take notice, that the Benefit of Mr. Cross, Prompter, is fixed for this Day Month at Drury-Lane, when they will have an Opportunity of rewarding a Person, who, though unseen, bears a very considerable Share in the Trouble of rendering the Business of the Stage so regu|lar as it now is; and therefore 'tis hoped the Public will know their Cue to go on the above Night, without a Prompter.

NUMB. 76.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, March 30, 1754.

Illum non Populi Fasces, non purpura Regum Flexit, & infidos agitans Discordia Fratres, Aut conjurato descendens Dacus ab Istro; Non res Romanae perituraque Regna, nec ille Aut doluit miserans inopem, aut invidit habenti. VIRG.

_THE Stoic Philosophy was by many of the Antients esteemed the Height of human Wisdom, the sure Road to Happiness, and the last Finishing and Apotheosis of an ex|alted Character. Its Excellence consisted, not in the due Government of the Passions, but in extirpating them totally from the human Heart; by which means the Seat of feeling, and Source of every exquisite Plea|sure, as well as tender Pain, was rendered quite cal|lous and insensible, and suffered to move only with the Flux and Reflux of the Blood, without being agitated with any Kind of Sensation whatever. Our excellent Poet has given us a very picturesque Description of this notable System of Philosophy.

In lazy Apathy let Stoics boast Their Virtue fix'd; 'tis fix'd as in a Frost, Contracted all retiring to the Breast; But Strength of Mind is Exercise, not Rest.

How an absolute Repugnance to the Laws of Nature, and the Want of those Feelings, which are the best In|gredients in our Composition, can in any Way consti|tute an exalted Character I am at a loss to determine. Vita secundum Naturam, a Life conformable to the Laws of Nature, is Tully's Definition of a moral, as well as an happy State. Certain it is, all Elegance of Mind,

and Relish for Virtue, must arise from those Sen|sations, which Nature has implanted in us, as Ex|citements to Action, and Inlets for due Degrees of Plea|sure and Pain. Without these, our most refined Gra|tifications must suffer a considerable Abatement; the pleasing Anxieties of virtuous Friendship, the grateful Solicitude of Love, the melancholy Luxury of tender Compassion, and the Delights which we derive from a well-wrought Scene of Distress in an affecting Tragedy, must all lose their Influence, and the Mind sink into a dull State of Insensibility. For my Part, I have always had a sovereign Contempt for the unfeeling, pedantic Wisdom of those unnatural Followers of a brutal Phi|losophy; nor could I ever admire their ridiculous Osten|tation of a towering Superiority of Soul. That this is also the Sense of the greater Part of Mankind, is very visible from that soporific Awe, with which they behold Personages of this Cast, when interwoven into the Drama; while Characters of a mixed Nature, in whom the Pas|sions are in a beautiful Struggle between Virtue and Vice, are always sure to seize the Affections of an Au|dience, and interest every Heart in the Fortunes of the Hero thus represented.

Virgil has transmitted to us a Picture of the Comple|tion of that Happiness, which was the exalted Boast of the Stoics: In the Words of my Motto, he tells us, that the Person, whom he describes in the Possession of true Felicity, is never touched with popular Esteem, or the dazling Splendor of the regal State; that Difference between Brothers, Conspiracies against his Country, or the Decline of the Constitution, never disturb his Breast; nor is he ever made uneasy by Compassion for the Indi|gent, or Envy towards the great. This is a Cha|racter totally different from the amiable Sketch, by his Brother Poet, of the Man who considers the Relations in which he stands to Society, and feels for all Mankind. The negative Enjoyments above described can result

from nothing but an absolute Indifference to our Fellow-Creatures, and is so far from being commendable, that, in my Opinion, it is equalled by every Debauchee in Town. I was lately in Company with one of this Class, who appeared to me to be a very great Proficient in the Stoic Philosophy, and to have carried into his Practice, every Branch of the foregoing System, and as a further Instance of the Excellence of the Stoic School, I shall here present my Readers with a Character of a modern Stoic Philosopher.

Jack Wildair is possessed of a Fortune, which might enable him to live with Splendor, or to prosecute any Enterprize in the Service of his Country; he has also the Advantages of Birth, to render him reputable in the Eye of the World; but like a true Philosopher he never placed any Value upon these happy Circumstances. With a noble Contempt for Riches, he squanders away his Substance in a Manner which shews him to be above the mean Ambition of popular Applause; and, instend of being arrogantly elated with the Thoughts of his high Birth, he has been known to associate with the lowest of Mankind, so superior is he to those little Sen|sations of Pride which might be apt to play about the Heart of a Man of worldly Vanity. Contented in his own Mind, he never condescended to court the Favour of his Countrymen at an Election for Member of Parlia|ment. The populi Fasces have never had any Attrac|tion for Jack Wildair, and so little is he touched with the Splendor of Majesty, that he does not care for any King in Europe. While all our Politicians have made the two Brothers the constant Object of their Attention, he is little sollicitous whether there be a Difference be|tween them or not. The Fortifications of Dunkirk, the Depredations of the Spaniards in the West-Indies upon our Merchantmen, the Election of the King of the Romans, the Equipment of French Fleets, and all the other Points of Moment, which engross the Thoughts

of our present Race of Patriots, never once discomposed the Serenity of his Mind. Liberty and Property are to him unideal Sounds, and if Magna Charta were burned by the common Hangman, it would not occasion the least Gloom in our Hero's Soul. He can also behold the Distresses of the Indigent, the corroding Anxieties of Poverty, most Stoic like, without a single Sigh. Nec doluit miserans inopem; and so far from being envious of another's Superiority in Life, while he is easy himself, he never was yet known to compare his own Situation with any Man above him, though he has now and then condescended to cast a Look beneath him, with no small Degree of Satisfaction.

Nor does the Firmness of Wildair's Mind rest here. He can visit all the Brothels in this Metropolis, with|out feeling the least Degree of Uneasiness. He can be|hold, undisturbed by any of those tender Touches, which might agitate weaker Breasts, an elegant Form, and the most beautiful Set of Features falling a Prey to Insamy, Diseases, and Prostitution; and as the antient Wor|thies thought it a noble Atchievement totally to forget the Man, in order to raise their philosophic Fame to an higher Degree of Eminence, so our modern Stoic can fat press the natural Affections, and in the Rake he can also forget the Man. Jack Wildair is a very Roman in that Point; he is an excellent Practitioner of Horace's golden Rule, to admire nothing; and, if confined to the Ped of Sickness, to repair the Waste made by Folly and Intemperance, he is sure to spend his Time in a Series of moral Reflections. He wisely observes, that all Plea|sure is fugitive; that the Reversion of Pain falls to every Man's Lot; and that the Condition of human Life is frail and uncertain. When his Health returns, he in|dulges in all the Sallies of his wild Imagination, to shew, that, like Aristippus, he can adapt himself to every Situation. In short, Jack Wildair has upon all Occa|sions a true Philosophical Turn; and indeed in all Oc|currences

of Life every Thing is sure to suggest to him those Reflections, which are most conducive to secure his own Happiness, to prevent the ruffled State arising from conflicting Passions, to preserve the even Tenor of his Thoughts, to reconcile him to himself, and enable him to possess his Soul in Ease, Tranquility, and Chearful|ness.

This Character of a modern Town Philosopher con|tains, in my Opinion, all the Branches of the much boasted stoic System, and all the leading Principles of Happiness, which it inculcates, are carried by our mo|dern Academic to a much greater Height of Wisdom and Felicity, than they ever were by the most rigid Follower of the stoic Academy, in so much as the modern Hero grafts his Happiness on the Passions, which he plays against one another, and in that Sense may be said to live secundum naturam; whereas the antient Stoic endeavoured to subvert the very Elements of our being, and among that Sect, he was the most exalted Worthy, who was the most divested of Humanity.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Bedford Coffee-house, March 2.

SINCE the Profession of Buckism is grown into such Repute, a Bard, who boasts himself a Descendant of the same facetious Wagstaffe, that in the Tatler opened a new Vein of Poetry, by his admirable Verses on a Shower in Town, and a Description of a City Morning, has attempted an Ode in Honour of every honest Fel|low, who bears a laudable Attachment to the said Pro|session. The Piece, which I now present is an Imitation of that celebrated Ode of Horace, which begins with Integer vitae, &c. and is the Twenty-second of his first Book.

I.

A BUCK secure the Streets may pass, Nor, fear the burnish'd Front of Brass, At George's often seen; He, though with Oaths equipt from Tom's, And blust'ring Airs DARE DEVIL comes, Shall ask no shelt'ring Skreen,

II.

Me once at Jonathan's a Jew Approach'd in Ire, but streight withdrew, And grinn'd with ghastly Grace; No tawny Surface of a Phiz, No Horrors, er a Brow like his, Are found in all Duke's Place.

III.

Place him where Fleet-Ditch Torrent rolls, Amidst a Crew of captive Souls, No Ills can there approach him; Insidious Catchpoles, base and sly, At Distance wait with cautious Eye, And fear to seize and coach him.

IV.

Or where, with busy curious Hum, Wits and grim visag'd Critics come, To blast a Stripling's Bays; The Bedford he nor fears to trace, But walks the Room with measured Pace, Nor censure Fears, nor Praise.

V.

When in full House, with dreadful Ire, Pit, Box, and Gallery conspire To doom the Poet's Fate; Amidst the Storm he sits serene, Pleas'd to behold his Paphian Queen, Sweetly smile, sweetly prate.

NUMB. 77.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, April 6, 1754,

— Migravit ab Aure Voluptas Omnis ad incertos Ocuios & Gaudia vana. HOR.

_THE pantomime Poet, from whom I some Time ago felt a little Interruption in my Studies, has remained in the Chambers o|ver my. Head ever since; but, the Fervour of his Enthusiasm being a good deal abated, he has proved a very peaceable and quiet Neighbour. For though he cannot entirely refrain from his peripatetic Lucubrations, he is, however, careful to conduct them with a Degree of Temperance, and he now proves a Companion of very singular and entertaining Oddities. The other Morning he paid me a Visit, and was con|tented in the Beginning to converse with me upon com|mon and ordinary Topics, upon which he discoursed with sufficient Sedateness. At length he took occasion to introduce the Subject which was the Cause of his Visit, and I observed, that the Moment he touched up|on his favourite Scheme of Thinking, he betrayed se|veral whimsical Gestures, and an extraordinary Manner of Address.

Sir, says he, I have taken the Liberty to intrude upon you this Morning, in order to consult you in Relation to a Work, which I have had in Hand for some Time past, and which I think cannot fail to be of public Utility, as it is one of the De|siderata in Literature, and a Species of Criticism likely to be productive of singular Advantages to the learned World. The Thing I mean, Sir, is THE ART OF PANTOMIME, which I propose to publish by Sub|scription, not noubting but I shall meet with suitable

Encouragement to prosecute so arduous a Task, and if Mr. Ranger will be kind enough to favour me with his Recommendation, I shall for the future e|steem him, as a generous Promoter of the polite Arts.

In order to be able to comply with my Friend's Request, and to serve him as effectually as my small Abilities will permit me, I desired him to explain to me at large the Plan of his Undertaking, and the whole Method, which he had chalked out to himself for so noble a Work. Upon which I was informed, that he intends to execute his Design, in Imitation of Aristotle's Art of Poetry, divided into as many Sections, and, as near as the Nature of the Subject will admit, comprized under the same Heads. His first Chapter is to set out with an Account of the imitative Arts, in which Pan|tomime will be proved to be superior to all the Rest, having the greatest Variety of Gesticulation, and the most expressive Significance in all its Attitudes and Actions. In the next Section, it will appear what Sort of Persons and Things are proper for Imitation, and that the Pantomime Poet must either attach himself to the Representation of Personages above the ordinary Race of human Nature, such as Magicians, Enchanters, Genii, Gods, Imps, and Monsters, Devils, Furies, &c. or to the Exhibition of Characters to be met with in the ordi|nary Occurrences of Life, such as we find introduced in Harlequin Ranger. Then follows a Dissertation upon the proper Manner of imitating, and Enquiry into the Origin of Pantomime, tracing it from the Time of Herace down to the glorious Time of Mahomet Carathra.

After this, our Author proceeds to examine into the Nature of Farces, and shows how they differ from the Pantomime. He then enters more minutely into the Laws of Pantomime, and gives an Account of it's seve|ral Parts. Among these the Fable is first considered, and it is allowed, it may be either simple or implex. He does

not totally reject the former, but insists principally upon the Beauties of the complicated Plot, such as Harlequin Sorcerer, or the Loves of Pluto and Proserpine; Harlequin Fortunatus being of the simple Kind, consisting of one Action only, impeded or accelerated by several Inci|dents, all tending in a direct Line to the Completion of the Whole.

The refined Beauties of the Art offer themselves next, and our Author exhausts all his Erudition, all his Rhe|toric, and all his whole Stock of Criticism, to point out the Advantages arising to a Piece from a well conducted Peripetia, which he defines in these Words.

The pan|tomimical Peripetia consists in sudden Changes of For|tune, arising from a Concatenation of Incidents high|ly improbable in their Nature.

Then the Agnitio is displayed at large, and proved to be the liveliest Beauty in this Species of the Drama, it being a sudden Recol|lection in the Personages of the Piece, when, after a long Absence, they recognize, and know each other again. As when Harlequin finds Access to his Co|lombine in a disguised Appearance, she by some Token discovers her Lover, and is happy in his Embrace.

After having enforced these striking Particulars, he de|livers Rules for the Excitement of Terror, Pity, and the Marvellous. The two former he mentions but slightly, not thinking them essential in these Compositions, but in the Marvellous, he observes, consists the utmost Effort of human Genius, and then enumerates the various Means by which it is excited, such as flying Mercurys, Rope-Dancers, Kicking Straws, Children playing on the Flute, Storms of Rain, Thunder and Lightening, &c.

The next Division of the Work, relates to the Man|ners of each Personage of the Drama, in which he re|commends a serious Attention to Character, in order the more forcibly to unfold Men and Manners, and the Customs, the Intrigues, the Flights and Descents of the

Gods, with the whole History of the Heathen Mytho|logy. In this Part of the Work he expatiates at large upon the Use of Machinery, and I make no Doubt, will greatly excel the celebrated Bossu in this Part of the Performance. Having the Interests of the Theatre greatly at Heart, our Author proves, that no Play-house can long subsist without a good Set of Carpenters, an expeditious Band of Scene-Drawers, excellent Candle-Snuffers, Fire-Eaters, Trap-Door-Men, Ostriches, Monkeys, Serpents, and the whole animal World, be|sides a Race of Beings never seen upon the Face of the Earth.

The Sentiment comes into Consideration in the fol|lowing Chapter. The several Modes of the Mind are explained in an ample Manner, and Directions given to the Performer to render himself perfectly acquainted with the Operation of all the Passions on the whole Frame of the Body, and it is laid down as a Rule that he must be careful to mark the different Actions of Begging Commanding, Threatning, Interrogating, Answering, that he may be able to impress a lively Idea of each up|on the Minds of his Spectators.

The Sentiment being established, the Diction claims our next Regard. Under this Head the several pretty Pieces of Poetry introduced into Pantomimes are criti|cised, and proper Rules prescribed for Writing these Kind of Nonsense—Verses. To the whole Work is an|nexed a particular Examen of Harlequin Fortunatus, in order to give a Specimen of the great Utility and Truth of the foregoing Rules. I shall therefore conclude this Paper with an Abstract from this Part of the Work.

There cannot, says my Author, be sound in any Pan|tomime Writer a better imagined Opening for the Drama, than the first Incident in this Piece. The Scene discovers a large Wood, in which the poor, forlorn Har|lequin is wandering, in a violent Storm of Rain, Thun|der and Lightening. In a Fit of Desperation he throws

himself on the Ground, and to heighten our Compas|sion poor Madam Fortune is introduced bemoaning her Condition in a very pathetic Strain of Poetry. The ami|able Character of Fortunatus is seen in his Readiness to assist the distressed, and the Sequel conveys a fine Moral, viz. that Riches, Riot, and Debauchery are the most desirable Things in this World, as the Piece ends with Harlequin's being in the full Enjoyment of all his Wishes. The Farmer's Yard affords a pleasing Image of rural Happiness, and the beautiful Incident of the Dog's biting the Clown conveys this Incident, that a Dog's obeyed in Office, and it serves further to enforce the Necessity of an Act of Parliament to lessen the Number of Dogs, which over-run the Kingdom, to the great Annoyance of his Majesty's loyal Subjects. The fre|quent Remembrances between Columbine and her Har|lequin make upon all Occasions an admirable Agnitio, and the sudden Changes of their Fortunes form a very beautiful Peripetia. Harlequin's Escape into the Oven, his running up the Chimney, and his Leap over the Gateway, when his Enemies are in close Pursuit of him, are all Touches of the highest Elevation and Genius, and upon the whole, we may say with Mr. Dennis, that this Piece is admirable for its fine Moralities, its Uni|versality, and its Integrity.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Theatre-Royal Covent-Garden, April 6.

ON Monday Evening last, the Tragedy of Othello was performed here for the Benefit of Mr. Ryan; Othello by Mr. Barry, and Iago by Mr. Ryan. After the Play, Mr. Foote, who came from Bath on purpose, per|formed his last new Farce, called the Knights which he introduced with the following occasional Prologue, writ|by Mr. Ranger.

PROLOGUE.

WHILST one brave Vet'ran † 19.1 quits the Tragic Lore, And Dear Jack Falstaff charms the Age no more; His firm Achates, to the Drama's Laws Attentive still, serves in the good Old Cause. Bless'd in the Greeness of a cheerful Age, But somewhat stiff— * 19.2 with Buckram of the Stage. Urg'd by your Candor to my short Essay, A Whim he takes to add it to his Play. A Visit pays me;—compliments ensued;— "Welcome from Bath—I hope I don't intrude— "You look extremely healthy in the Face— "And my old Friend—you left him in good Case"— Then with a Smile and Looks of soft Condition Comes to the Point—"I've, Sir, a small Petition." Proud of the Word, erect I sit in State; "Petitions numberless are sent of late."— Your Farce—I mean your last new Comedy— "I'm ever bad at Phraseology— "Exactly pleas'd the Palate of each Wit— "I'd take it kind, Sir, at my Benefit." For former Freedoms willing to attone, "I'll play once more, Sir—and for you alone." Pleas'd he retir'd—and pleas'd I now appear, To serve known Worth a cheerful Voluntier. If feigning well be our consummate Art, How great his Praise, who, in the Villain's Part, Has UTTER'D THOUGHTS—so foreign from his Heart? Oft in this House your sympathetic Sires Wept at his Woes, and kindled at his Fires. Over their Offspring still he boasts his Sway;— Witness that Circle of the Fair and Gay, Who gild with gen'rous Beams his Ev'ning Hour, And pleas'd adorn the Sunset of his Pow'r.

NUMB. 78.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, April 13, 1754.

—Inter Sylvas Academi quaerere Verum. HOR.

_I Had the Honour, in one of my former Pa|pers, of introducing my Readers into that celebrated Academy of Arts and Sciences, THE ROBIN HOOD SOCIETY, which con|tinues in as flourishing a Condition as ever. Last Mon|day I was so happy as to attend the Debates of this learned Body, and with Pleasure I reflected, that the Seat of Investigation, Knowledge, and Sense is now likely to be fixed in BUTCHER-ROW. In Imitation of Spratt's History of the Royal Society, I have some Thoughts of collecting together the Annals of this re|spectable Assembly, the Members of which have nothing so much at Heart, as the Discovery of Truth, inso|much that it is common to hear a bare-footed Shoemaker settle a Point in Philosophy; a Taylor in Rags prove, that a Remnant of all shall be saved; an Attorney bring his Writ of Error against Revelation; a Philomath from Aberdeen confute the established Religion and an in|solvent Tradesman, chiefly sollicitous about the na|tional Debt. In short, such a Spirit of Free Enquiry reigns in this Seminary, that you may see Journeymen-Barbers, Hackney-Clerks, Porters, Chairmen, Hack|ney-Coachmen, &c. &c. &c. all actuated with a no|ble Enthusiasm, and by Turns pleading for Rewards and Punishments, the Existence or Non-Existence of a Deity, the moral Fitness of Things, the eternal Rule of Right, and in half an Hour they are Shaftsburians, Hutchensonians, Mandevillians, Muggletonians, Theists, A|theists, &c. During the Course of their Researches the

Students are frequently observed to make such vigorous Application to certain Pewter Pots lying before them, and to draw from thence such copious Draughts, that it is by many imagined the Academy has found out, that the Ancients were mistaken, when they supposed TRUTH to be in the Bottom of a Well; this coy and retired Goddess, in the Opinion of the Robin Hood So|ciety, being to be found at present in the Bottom of a Pot of Porter. Be that as it may, certain it is, the noble System of Free-thinking is here displayed in it's genuine Lustre, as, I fancy, will appear from the following De|bate, with which I shall fill up the Remainder of this Day's Paper.

Robin Hood Society, April 8, 1754.

At Six o'Clock this Evening the Members began to assemble, and spent their Time in various Modes of Contemplation; such as sleeping, dozing, snoreing, whistling, drinking, yawning, &c. until Seven, when the President made his public Entry, through a Lane of bowing Coblers, Barbers, &c. Having taken Possession of his Chair, he began ex Cathedrâ with a clear and au|dible Voice—

Silence Gentlemen—Pray Gentlemen be silent—Gentlemen, here are two Questions to be read to you for your Approbation, before they can be inserted in our Book of Free-Enquiry.

Whether English Quartern Loaves are not better than French Bread?

Signed, Antigallicus.

You that are for its being a Question, hold up your Hands—

(Hands up)

—You that are against it, hold up yours

(Hands up.)

The Majority is for it. The other Question is,

Whether Religion is consistent with the Genius of a trading Nation?

Signed, Lovegold.

You that are for it, hold up your Hands

(all up)

it must be a Question.

First Member.

'Sdeath, Sir, what do you throw down the Porter for?

Second Mebmer.

A mere Accident.—

First Member.

An Accident!—Pox take it,—I have it all in my Shoes.

President.

Pray Gentlemen be silent—pray Gentle|men don't laugh—are all the Gentlemen served with Porter?—Gentlemen, the first Question is, Whether Italian Operas are a rational Entertainment for an English Audience. Signed, Manly.

Is Mr. Manly here?—If he is, I wish he would answer—

Manly,

Sir, the Question is mine, and my Reason for proposing it is, because, I think, we have Com|posers of our own, who deserve the Encouragement of the Public.

President.

Do you chuse to speak, Sir?—You Sir?— You?—Does any Gentleman on this Row chuse to speak? —Do you, Sir?—

William Crosslegs (a Taylor without Buttons to his Coat.)

Mr. President, I is for demolishing Operas, because I be against all modern Harmony; I believes in a pre-esta|blished Harmony, and also that there was Prae-Adimites, and as I heard the Gentleman who preached the last Time at the Tabernacle in Moorfields.—

President.

Time, Sir.—Do you chuse to speak, Sir?—

Monsieur D'onion, (a French Refugee)

I am incline to tink, Mr. President, dat de Opera is not at all fit for his. Country, because Mr President de are all Papis, and,— Parblieu,—fy should de Papis come among free-born Peo|ple, to eat de Bread of us Protestant?—We are all here for Liberty and Property, and no Pope, no Devil, no Pre|tender; and while de Persecution last against de Huguenots, I am,—parblieu,—for no papis Singer.—

President.

Time, Sir—

Timothy Meek (a Journeyman Barber, with a Wife and seven Children starving.)

When I thinks, Mr. Pre|sident, on those horrible Times, when a Persecution was

carried on in the very Bowels of this Land, and a worse Persecution than what the Gentleman mentions, who spoke last,—though he be, methinks, a Frenchman himself, notwithstanding his Violence against Frenchmen, and perhaps he is only come over for our Beef and Pudding; but that's neither here nor there—I says, Mr. President, when I think of Fires being lighted up in Smithfield, and Men, Women, and Children con|sumed in the Flames, when I think on this, I can't sleep in my Bed. I knew'd of this-Question a Week ago, and I have spent all my Time in thinking of it, and when I read in Eachard's History of the Cruelties of the Papists, I am ready to go distracted.—

Isaac Instep (a Shoemaker, whose Customers are all leav|ing him, because they can get no Work out of his Hands.)

I have considered the Question, Mr. President, for this Week past, as well as my Friend who spoke last, and I fansy's I have come at the very Soal of it, and I'll now lay my All before ye, and, as a Body may say, you'll find I have taken right Measure of the Subject.—

President.

Time, Sir—Mr. Profound, do you chuse to speak?—

Mr. Profound.

Sir, I have a Motion to make—

Mr. Witwould.

Sir, you must at present speak to the Question—

Mr. Profound.

Sir, do you know what I am going to say?—

Mr. Witwould.

No Sir, do you?—

President.

Pray, Gentlemen, don't laugh—the pre|sent Question must be militated before any other Ques|tion can be received—

Mr. Profound.

Mr. President,—a—I think,—I think, —a—Mr. President,—that you have all been wrong-headed in this Debate;—I believe they have not read Quintilian, and of Course have not correct Minds—a —Mr. President,—I never, for my own Part,—looked into the Vitals of the dead Languages, but there is a

Gentleman, who tells me what Quintilian says in the Beginning of a Chapter, and then I can think with the Author, if I hear but one Sentiment, for I'll be d—ned, if I have not more Imagination than I can dispose off—In the present Debate there is a Trinity of Cir|cumstances, that—a—a—make up a Vesuvius—or a—a—a Mount Aetna, as I may say, in the Mind—

President.

Time, Sir.—

Mr. Profound.

Pray, Sir, why are you to lay an Em|bargo on my Thoughts?

President.

Sir, the Rules—

Mr. Profound.

But Sir, every Discourse should have a Beginning, a Middle, and an End—I have got but to the Middle, and so I move for five Minutes more.

Mr. Witwould.

It is with Difficulty I survived the last five Minutes, and so Mr. President, we'll do with him, as he does with Quintilian, when once he has told us a Sentiment for the future,—we'll think with the Author.

Mr. Mackflummery.

Be pleased to read the Question

(Question read.)

As to Operas, Mr. President, I never was but at two, in my born Days, and the first of them, I liked it as if Heaven and Earth was coming together; but at the second, I no more cared for it, no, no more nor an Oyster is like an Egg-shell. For my own Share on't, I had rather hear Ellin-a-roen than all their Qui|vers, and Carolun was a better Composer than any Ita|lian of them all.

President.

Time, Sir.

Mr. Macflummery.

What is it?

President.

Time, Sir.

Mr. Macslummery.

Time? What would you have one speak in Time, like those she-Fellows of Singers there?

President

Pray, Gentlemen, don't laugh—pray be silent, Gentlemen—your five Minutes are out, Sir.

Macsluummery.

Is that all? Give me that Porter there —here's my Service to you, and I'll tack a Senti|ment to it—Here's all honest Hearts and sound Bottoms.

President.

Pray, Gentlemen, don't laugh, do—be si|lent, Gentlemen—Does any Gentleman there chuse to speak?—Mr. Macpherson, it's with you.

Mr. Macpherson.

I do not know whether the Gen|tleman's rasoning be reet, about Mr. Carolun, but this I cun say, that one of Ramsay's Compositions set by the Philharmonic Society at Dumferlin would make muckle Entertainment, and by fare exceed the squeaking of those Eunuchs, who are, in my Opinion, a Disgrace to Society. I remember Master Deenis, in his Book, has many Ideas on this Subject, deleevered with muckle Oratory; and I would rather, at any Time, see the Exhebeetion of the Dramatic Piece of the Scotch Ballad, given in the Hay-market, two Years elapsed since, than have a dozen Operas exhebeeted for nothing.

President.

Time, Sir.

(Mr. Macpherson sits down, and speaks the Highland Language, which Mr. Macflummery answers in Irish.)

President.

Pray, Gentlemen, be silent. Gentlemen, as to my Opinion on this Subject, I has but little to offer, and I hope that the Proposer of the Question will give us some Arguments against the Operas, which will militate stronger, than those which has been already offered. Mr. Manly, it is now with you, Sir.

Mr. Manly.

Sir, I am against Operas, for this ca|pital Reason; viz. because most of them are composed by People ignorant of the first Principle of Composi|tion, which is Counterpoint, or the Art of placing dif|ferent Notes, sounding together in true harmonic Or|der. Musick, Sir, consists of Melody and Harmony. Me|lody is the regular Progression of a single Part; and Har|mony, of different Parts united. Now the Melody of all the Songs in our late Italian Operas is extravagant and unnatural, consequently unpleasing, and sitter for Instruments than Voices. Their Singers are constantly endeavouring to surprize, by which Means, their Songs are all Quirks and Divisions, and the Performers are

sometimes squeaking like Cats at the Top of a House, and sometimes growling like Dogs in a Cellar. The Energy of the Words is totally neglected, and the Pas|sion is entirely lost; and therefore I cannot help won|dering, that, while we have Handel, Arne, Boyce, and Smith, &c. the English will lavish Sums upon a false and depraved Taste, merely to be thought Judges of what they do not understand. I shall finish, Sir, with asserting, that an elegant Drama, by a good Au|thor, and the Music composed by either of the Masters mentioned already, might be a high and rational En|tertainment; it would certainly save an immense Sum to the Nation, and would excite some new Genius's to study, and excel all other Nations, in manly, sensible Compositions, where the Sound would be an Echo to the Sense, and the Passions would be agitated by the joint Power of Poetry and Harmony.

President.

Gentlemen, it is now too late, and so I wish you all a Good-night. Adjourned.

NUMB. 79.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, April 20, 1754.

Mendici, Mimi, Balatrones, hoc Genus omne. HOR.

_THERE is not a Word, in the whole Com|pass of the English Language, more grosly abused than the Term Friendship, which, at present, means no more than that Men eat together, walk together, game together, und are grave and merry, drunk and sober together, without ever conceiving any real Regard for each others Hap|piness and Interest. I believe every Day's Experience will point out many, who are Dupes to this florid Out|side

of Friendship. In the Course of my Observation I have marked out a particular Character that falls more egregiously into this Error, than the rest of Mankind. The Character I mean is that of THE COMICAL FEL|LOW, or THE AGREEABLE DEVIL, or THE CURSED HIGH FELLOW, or THE MAN OF INFINITE HU|MOUR, or THE GENIUS, or by whatever Name (for many Names will suit him) you may please to distinguish the Person, whom a cheerful Flow of Spirits, and a quick Circulation of the Ideas, that fall to his Share, conspire to render an entertaining Com|panion.

The COMICAL FELLOW, is in high Request among all his Acquaintance; and different Parties at the Shake|spear, the Bedford-Arms, the King's-Arms, &c. are vying with each other to have him the Master of the Joke in their convivial Parties, because he is without Doubt the finest Creature in the World to kill an Hour with, the merry Droll has such Variety of Chat, and such a deal of Humour in telling a Story. But while this Son of Gaiety and Wit is thus happy in the Caresses of all the Lovers of Mirth, this secret Misfortune attends him, that he has not any where procured himself the least Degree of Esteem, because it is too well known, that he has not a single Virtue under the Sun, that he would at any Time, according to the common Saying, rather lose his Friend than his Joke, that no Obligation can bind him, but that indiscriminately he lashes all alike, and is constantly upon the look out for some Incident, which by a Perversion of Circumstances, or by a few Touches of Mimickry, or some other adventitious Aid, may be worked up into a Story for the Entertainment of the next Company he goes into. On this Account THE AGREEABLE DEVIL is held in utter Contempt; but the Vivacity of his Imagination will not afford him Leisure to attend to this; his Vanity is fully gratified by the general Applause he meets with, and he is con|stantly

exhausting his scanty Finances in keeping Com|pany with a Set of People, who are good humoured enough to be perpetually entertained with his Jokes.—

I will venture to affirm, that few Evils are more epi|demic, than this Rage of being an HIGH-FELLOW, and I am apt to think, that many of those Bankrupt|cies, which fill the Columns of the Gazette, are not en|tirely owing to Losses in Trade, but to the pitiful Am|bition of discovering a fine Vein of Humour. When once the sober Cit becomes the Ringleader in Wit and frolick Festivity, when once he has learned to elevate and surprize, his Shop assumes a gloomy Aspect; Book|keeping is but a dull Employment, unfit for Men of ••••ner Senfations, and instantly his fervid Imagination conveys him to the Gentleman and Porter; then he cracks each Joke over again, and thrice he enjoys the Laugh, and thrice repeats the Pun. But in a little Time, his Name is inserted in the Gazette with a WHEREAS; his former Companions shake their Heads, and are very sorry for it;

he was a Wag, a merry Man; a CO|MICAL FELLOW,—but Business is a serious Thing.

Poor Jack Spatter!—He is at present the most re|markable of all THE AGREEABLE DEVILS I have ever known. Jack does not want a Share of native Hu|mour, and he dresses up a Story at second hand with such additional Touches, that a Man is frequently as much entertained as if he had never heard it before, or if he himself had not told it to him the very Day be|sore. For it is often the d'verting Rogues Way unwit|tingly to fasten with something cursea High upon the very Person, who at first supplied him with the Subject. And then THE GENIUS is such a Mimick!—Well to be sure nothing can escape him. A Cat, a Dog, a Monkey, a Manager, a Burletta-Girl, a Woodward, a Garrick, all must undergo the Touches of his humouróus Imitation, and mean while, the Company, Whores, Waiters and all, do so laugh, and so shake their Side,

that Life is quite flat and insipid without Jack Spatter. But in this World, where, as Moliere says, on donne rien pour rien, where every Thing must be paid for, it can|not but prove very expensive to be thus aspiring in Company. But Jack's Vanity extends to Expence, as well as Wit and Humour. How many Shifts have I known him to make, that he might display his Vivacity at the Tavern!—A Turtle-Feast was sometime since fixed at the King's-Arms in Cornhill, and Spatter was in|vited to make one. "A Turtle Feast," says Jack,

very well!—it can't be better—Citizens laugh hear|tily when their Bellies are full—I'll certainly go— but how to pay my Reckoning!—There's Title|page, the Bookseller;—he likes a Touch of my Humour—he'll tip me two Guineas for an Epi|logue—I'll write him one—let me see what's here?—Dryden's Miscellany!—I'll transcribe one from this.

—No sooner said than done, for Jack has quick Parts, and away he sets out towards Fleetstreet, meets his Friend Humdrum at Temple-Bar, reads the Piece to him, to shew what a COMICAL DEVIL he is; Humdrum admires it; Jack forgets that he stole it, and admires it more, touches Two Guineas from Title-page, and who but he at the Turtle-Feast? A Masquerade re|quires somewhat a larger Capital. "Egad," say Jack,

I'll write a Pamphlet for that, and touch Five Gui|neas

—To work he falls, and finishes his Piece in the Space of one Morning, though it cost the Original Au|thors from whom he compiled it, many nocturnal Vi|gils. A Jant to Tunbridge, in the Summer Season, with some Lovers of Wit and Humour could not but be agreeable to Mr. Spatter; and so instantly he sets down and writes a Farce; and because Fielding's Coffec|house Politician is not very likely to be acted again on either of our Stages, what does the merry Wag do, but he takes the Character, gives it a new Name, makes a little Alteration in the Scene, where the

Politician reads the News-Papers, and instantly Genial Jacob, and a warm third Day, as the Poet has it, equips the GENIUS for Tunbridge. Thus is the CURSED HIGH FELLOW, the AMIABLE FRIPON, perpetually spending the Income of his Brain, and torturing his Invention in Endeavours to live with those, who have Fortunes to supply their Expences, and who do not entertain the least Symptom of Friendship towards their merry Com|panion. What will become of him, when he has played all his Tricks, I tremble to think, and, as if his Mis|fortunes were now present, I cannot help crying out,

Alas, poor Yorick!—I knew him, a Fellow of infinite Jest—where be your Gibes now? Your Flashes of Merriment, that were wont to set the Table on a roar?—Quite Chop-fallen!

But my Fancy has pictured this Scene of Distress so strongly to me, that I could wish some Means could be devised to avert the impending Evil. An Ingenious Gentleman, whom I have the Pleasure of knowing, proposed some Time since a Scheme for an HOSPITAL FOR DECAYED POLTS. Suppose, in Imitation of this laudable Design, an Hospital were to be raised for DECAYED COMICAL FELLOWS. For my Part, I cannot but think the Plan should meet with general Encourage|ment, and I will willingly give the Profits of this Paper, N^o. 79, towards carrying it into Execution. Mr. Gar|rick and Mr. Rich will, I dare say, contribute on their Parts an annual Benefit towards this Charity, the Ob|jects of which may be admitted, as follows.

It being certified to us, that the Bearer—A.B.; was an AGREEABLE DEVIL, and entirely ruined him|self by endeavouring to keep Company with Men of Fortune, who countenanced him merely as their Jester, you are hereby directed to admit the said unhappy pleasant Creature into the Hospital for DECAYED COMICAL FELLOWS, London—Signed by Two Directors.

Should this Proposal take Effect, I shall rejoice at being instrumental in the Redemption of so many diverting Creatures from utter Misery; for surely it would be melancholy to reflect that he, who often enlivened even the sprightly Champain, might become miserably witty in an Ale-house, or be a joking Boot-catcher at an Inn, and tell your Honour a Story, while he is divesting your Legs of their leathern Incumbrance. I shall there|fore hope that all true Lovers of Humour will promote the Scheme, just hinted, for the sake of those, who ruin themselves for their Pleasure; and I shall be highly pleased that there will be a Receptacle for poor Jack Spatter, and that the AGREEABLE DEVIL may, in his old Days, find Repose in the HOSPITAL FOR DECAYED COMICAL FELLOWS.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Court of Censorial Enquiry, April 19.

THIS Day came on a remarkable Trial in this Court, in which the Muffin-Man, the Watchmen, &c &c. &c. were Plaintiffs, and—Shuter, Comedian at the Theatre-Royal in Covent-Garden, Defendant, up|on an Action brought against the said Shuter for Da|mages suffered by the Plantiffs at a public Exhibition on Wednesday Evening last, when they were all taken off, as it is called, with such lively Touches of Mimickery, that the Audience was kept in a constant Burst of Laughter, to the very great Uneasiness of the said Plain|tiffs. The Jury being impanelled, Counseller Blunder|buss opened the Cause in a very vehement Speech. He inveighed severely against Stage-Players, and urged, it was a very great Hardship, that honest and worthy Characters should be converted into Ridicule by the Buffoonery of an impertinent Player. For his Part, he would take upon him to say, that his Clients were Per|sons of known Integrity, Probity, and Honour, and he

thought them more valuable Characters in Life than any Set of Comedians whatever.

The Muffin-Man, he insisted, was so reputable and worthy a Personage, that nothing but the Height of In|solence could induce a Mimic on the Stage to attempt to hurt him in his Reputation. If these Things are per|mitted, he could not determine where the Thing would end, and he himself, he added, might be treated in the same Sort; he therefore prayed, that the Gentlemen of the Jury would take the Premises into Consideration, and award suitable Damages. He then proceeded to call his Witnesses.

William Topewell, sworn.

I live near Temple-Bar. I saw the Prisoner at Comus's Court, and he was so diverting, that I took two Tickers for myself and my Wise. I could have swore as how it was our Watchman that was speaking, and I also heard the Muffin-Man very distinctly, and my Wife did the same; and I thought it very misbecoming that honest Folks should be brought to Shame in that public Manner.

Elizabeth Sugarkey.

I was sent with a good Character from the Register-Office, to live in a sober quiet Family, and with much ado—Lord bless me! I never had so much trouble in my Life about any Thing—Mrs. Molly was waiting for me till almost one o'Clock before we could set out—and so at last we went, and we got Places near the Door in the Piazza, and there we waited till the House was opened. And then there came such a Crowd of Fellows that it was with much ado we got in at all—and when we did get in, they placed us on the Stage—Well! sure I never was so ashamed in all my born Days—I thought I looked as impudent as any Actress among them,—and at last the Prisoner came on the Stage, and as he was passing by, he said to me, "you had better take off your Pat|"tin's Miss" Saucy-Fellow!—and so be began to mimic

the Muffin-Man, and it was the very same Person that serves my Mistress with Muffins.

The Defence.

Mr. Shuter's Council owned the Fact, but offered many Arguments in Mitigation. They insisted, it could not be of any material Detriment to the Plaintiffs, even allowing that they were mimicked. Why, theresore, then, continued the Council, "I cannot perceive, Gen|tlemen of the Jury

that my Client—a—has—incurred so severe a Penalty; because why—it was not done with an evil Intent—and—a—my Client has but fol|lowed the Example of Mr. Garrick, who formerly availed himself of his Talents for this Species of act|ing, and took very pleasant Liberties with all the Actors on the Stage. As did likewise—a—Mr.— Foote, who called it, if I remember right, giving Chocolate. Why therefore then, all that is to be said in the present Case, is—a—that—my Client, Gentle|men of the Jury, has given Chocolate to the Muffin-Man.

Upon this the Jury withdrew, and in a few Minutes brought in their Verdict Not-Guilty; whereupon the Court dismissed Mr. Shuter with Honour, and told him if he does but endeavour strenuously to exert his comic Powers, with a close Eye to Nature, he cannot fail to be an excellent Comedian. Adjourn'd.

NUMB. 80.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, April 27, 1754.

Studia Adolescentiam alunt, Senectutem oblectant, secundas res ornant, adversis perfugium & solatium praebent, Delectant domi, non impediunt foris, pernoctant nobis|cum, peregrinantur, rusticantur. TULLY.

_THE Application of Part of our Time to Letters is recommended by the Author of my Motto in such glowing Colourings, as serve at once elegantly to display the mani|sold Advantages resulting from Study, and at the same Time prove an Incentive to every Mind to enlarge its Views, and encrease its Store of Ideas, by a due At|tention to the Labours of the Learned. "Letters," says the Roman Orator,

cherish and invigorate the Mind in its greener Years, amuse it in the more advanced Periods of Life, beam a Lustre on Prosperity, and soften the Shocks of Adversity; they yield Delight in our domestic Hours, and are no Incumbrance abroad; they protract the Midnight-hour, are our Fellow-Travellers in foreign Parts, and make the best Part of Equipage in all our rural Excursions.

I am aware, that the Translation, which I have here offered, falls many Degrees short of the Purity and graceful Strength of the Original; but such as it is, it may, in some Sort, serve to inculcate the real Utility of a very pleasurable Occupation, which is at present too much neglected by People of Condition of both Sexes. Mr. Addison wonders how Men of Sense can spend so many Hours together, without receiving any other Ideas than what are suggested, by an Arrangement of black

and red Spots. But such is the prevailing Fashion of the Times, that the Book of Four Kings is the only Vo|lume at present perused with any Degree of Attention, and, I will venture to affirm, the Four motley Monarchs, are better beloved by several Persons of Condition than any real King in Europe. A Friend of mine, who has a Knock in conforming all his Compositions to the pre|vailing Taste of the Town, tells me very seriously, that he has often wondered how Men of Discernment can sit down to Performances, which a little Experience Light inform them will never be read; such as, the History of England, the Life of Harry the Seventh, the History of Charles the First, the History of Lewis the Four|teenth, &c For his Part, he is determined to avail him|self of the favourite Passions of his Readers, and is now actually employed in compiling Memoirs of the KING OF EPADES, the Annals of the KING OF CLUBS, Anec|dotes relating to the KING OF HEARTS, Remarks on the KING OF DIAMONDS, including Battles more me|morable than those of Cressi and Poitiers, fought in the verdant Plains of Picquet, Cribbidge, Quadrille, Whist, &c. in which will be interwoven the private Characters of the Knaves, with the secret History of the Queens, their Intrigues, &c. The Work to be published in Numbers, Price One Guinea each Weekly Number; in proper Places will be inserted a beautiful Copper-Plate of the Crowned-Heads and eminent Personages, taken from the original Drawings now in the Possession of the Club at White's; at the particular Desire of several Persons of Quality, five Thousand Copies will be printed upon Royal Paper; the Subscribers Names to be annexed with their Places of Abode, and how many Card-Tables each Person keeps, which may serve to give Posterity some Idea of the Grandeur of the present Age.

I make no Doubt but this Work, if carried into Exe|cution, will be in great Demand, and, I am sensible, that a Disinasive from Pursuits of this Nature will be the

Jest of every tittering Card-Table in Town. I must, however, beg Leave to inform my pretty Readers, that they are highly mistaken, if they imagine, that, by de|dicating a few Hours to litterary Amusements, they en|danger their lovely Features, and run a Risque of dim|ming the sparkling Lustre of the Eye. On the con|trary, a Page or two in a Morning may serve to adjust the Countenance, and the Acquisition of a new Idea may give a more engaging Ornament to the Head, than a new Paris Cap, and the Eye will certainly beam with more Attention, when directed by an active Principle within, than when it swims round the Room in pretty, giddy, vain, senseless Affectations? How sinely has Mr. Pope described the Consequences attending a Life spent thus in a Circle of Follic.!

See how the World its Viterans rewards! A Youth of Frolicks, an old Age of Cards; Fair to no Purpose, artful to no End, Young without Lovers, old without a Friend; A Fop their Passion, but their Prize a Sot, Alive, ridiculous!—and dead, for got.—

How much more eligible therefore is it to employ some Portions of our Time in a Way, that will furnish the Mind with Ideas fit to be communicated to rational Crea|tures, and give an Embellishment to the highest Sphere of Life. Add to this, that softening Quality, which Let|ters have in all Cases of Adversity. In the Day of Affliction, the surest and most certain Relief the Mind can receive, will be derived from the Habit of being conversant with Books. If I remember right. it is Mr. Locke that observes, in his Conduct of the Understanding, that a Power of transferring our Thoughts from one Object to another, is an Essential requisite in a well|formed Understanding. And surely nothing can better help to prevent the Mind from dwelling too long upon any habitual Set of Ideas, which may induce a settled

Form of Melancholy, than an Attention to the Perfor|mances, which Men of learned Leisure have sent into the World. Instead of urging any Thing further on this Subject, I shall conclude this Paper with a Journal for one Week of an Acquaintance of mine who never reads at all, and a Journal of another who devotes Part of his Time to Letters.

Journal of William Tasteless.

Monday. Dozed away five Hours after natural Rest —Rose at One o'Clock, pulled on one Stocking, then yawned for a Quarter of an Hour by the Bedside, and pulled on the other—Journeyed into the next Room to Breakfast—looked out of the Window—every Thing appeared the same—no Variety in Life— lounged at the Coffee house—looked over the Papers —Paragraphs all the same—Deaths, Births, Burials and Marriages—played Cards at Tom's in the Evening —went to Bed fatigued.—

Tuesday. Got up fatigued—the same Thing over again—the Park—the Play—the tall Woman at Charing-Cross—Cards at Night—

Wednesday. Nothing done.

Thursday. Nothing again.

Friday. Horrors all Day—weary of my Life—ready to hang myself.

Saturday. Waked in bad Spirits—wished myself dead —went to the Play at Night—slept during three Acts—lost my Pocket Handkerchief as usual—weary of the World.

Sunday. Weather gloomy—Horrors—Sunday the most muzzy Day in the Year—went to ten different Routs—came home tired—ready to hang myself again.—

Journal of Alexander Tasteful.

Monday. Waked at Eight o'Clock out of a pleasant Dream of being in Company with Horace, Virgil, &c.

—went to Breakfast, read a Paper in the Adventurer —opened my Book-Case—went back three thousand Years with Mr. Pope to converse with Homer's Heroes— looked over Spence's Polymetis—went to my Bookseller's —adjourned from thence with two Men of Genius to Dinner, and afterwards to see Mr. Garrick in the Cha|racter of Hamlet—supped at the Rose, and admired the Poet and the Player—went home, and read the three first Acts of Hamlet—

Tuesday. A rainy dull Morning—had recourse to Virgil, who dispensed blue Skies, Lakes, Caverns, low|ing Herds, &c.—turned to Warton's elegant Criticisms on several Passages, and went through the Dissertation on the Eleusinian Mysteries—went in the Evening to a Rout—tired of the Company—retired home, and spent the Evening with Locke, Sir William Temple, and Lord Bacon.

Wednesday. Met with an unexpected Misfortune; soothed my Uneasiness by reading Fielding's Joseph Andrews.

Thursday. Read the World at Breakfast, also the Connoisseur—opened my Book-Case, and took in Hand Brown against Shaftsbury—highly pleased with the Au|thor's Account of Ridicule—turned to Akinside's Pleasures of Imagination, to see what he has on the Subject—car|ried away by the Enthusiasm of his Poetry, and could not lay down the Book till I went through it.

Friday. Rose somewhat severish—my Mind unsettled —had recourse to the Letters between Pope, Swift, Bolingbroke, Gay, &c.—walked in the Park—The Soft|ness of the Season, and glad Beauty of the Hemisphere, called to my Mind several elegant Passages in Poetry—went home in the Evening, and read Addison's Plea|sures of Imagination.

Saturday. Walked in the Fields early in the Morning —turned over Dodsley's Collection—breakfasted at the Coffee-house—overheard a Debate between two Poli|ticians—went

home and read Swift's Dissentions in Athens and Rome—went to the Opera—best Singers had sore Throats—tired—went to Drury-Lane Play-house, to see Mr. Garrick and Mrs. Cibber in the last Act of Tancred and Sigismunda.

Sunday. Brown against Shaftsbury again—read one of the Bishop of London's Sermons—dined with two Men of Genius—went home at Six o'Clock, and read the Tragedy of Cato—concluded the Evening with Pope's Essay on Man.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

From my Register-Office, April 27.

I Have received three extraordinary Letters, and shall present them to my Readers without Addition or Dimunition.

To CHARLES RANGER, Esq

SIR,

I Have read your's of the 23d of March, and damn your SOUL.

John Blunt.

Mr. Ranger,

YOU are a QUEER SOUL, that's certain.

Tom Buck.

Dear Rattle,

I Will call you Dear, because I like you. A Gentle|man and I have been reading your Dialogue between YOU and YOURSELF, and he admires your SOUL, but I could not help repeating with your Name-sake in the Play,

I take the BODY, you the MIND; Which has the better Bargain?

Harriet Lively.

Bedford Coffee-house, April 27.

The Tragedy of Creusa, Queen of Athens, written by Mr. William Whitehead, Author of the Roman Father, and acted at Drury-Lane for the first Time on Saturday last, has been the Subject of Enquiry here for some Evenings past; and it is agreed, even by the Malevoli, that the Story is interesting and well conducted, the fourth Act particularly fine, and the Whole put out of Hand with those neat Finishings, which appear all through this Author's elegant Performances.

Sam's Change-Alley.

Yesterday at Noon it was currently reported, that Doctor Hill had got ONE Subscriber to his Book on God and Nature; But we can now assure the Public, that the said Report is without Foundation.—

NUMB. 81.

GRAY's-INN, Saturday, May 4, 1754.

Prorsus jucundê Caenam produximus illam. HOR.

Nil admirari propé res est sola, Namuci, Solaque quae possit facere & servare beatum. HOR.

_NOT to admire, is the golden Rule, esta|blished by Horace, for the Acquirement of inward Peace and Happiness, and also for securing the Tenure of them, when once obtained. The same Precept may also be enforced as the surest Method to form a sound Understanding, and to preserve the Judgment free and undistempered. Mr. Pope, in his Essay on Criticism, a Poem, in which good Sense and Poetry are beautifully combined, has given this Observation the Sanction of a Maxim;

For Fools ADMIRE, but Men of Sense APPROVE.

In our greener Years indeed, when the young Affections are, to use the Poet's Phrase, tremblingly alive all o'er, when every Object presents itself in some new and strik|ing Attitude, fond ADIMRATION may be then allowed to gaze, and each Incident in the Scene of Life may call forth the juvenile Expressions of Wonder and Asto|nishment. But surely, when we become somewhat hackneyed in the Ways of Men, when Habit has coated over that Quickness of Sensation, which attends the raw and inexperienced Mind, the elevated Brow of Amazement may be expected to subside to the sober Cast of Reflection and Knowledge. I am at present ac|quainted with a Gentleman, who has made so many sensible Animadversions on the various Occurrences of Life, that, I am convinced, nothing can arrive to excite in his Breast any Emotions of Surprize, and I have often heard him say very humorously,

Lord! I have already known so many unexpected Turns and Revolutions of Things, that were I to see the MONUMENT walk down Cheapside, and take out St. Paul's Church to dance a Minuet, it would make no Manner of Im|pression on my Spirits, no more than when I read that it will be High-Water at London-Bridge, at half past Ten.

But in the general Mass of Life, there is such a la|mentable Inanity in the Minds of most People, and the Gross of Mankind are so scantily furnished with Ideas, that there are but few, who, when taken from their ma|nual Occupations, or their other Business, do not fall into a sluggish Oscitancy, for want of a Sufficiency of Matter to employ their intellectual Faculties. Thus by an habitual Remissness in reviewing the ordinary No|tices of Things, the Power of arranging and comparing our Ideas in their manifold Relations to each other, which we commonly call JUDGMENT, lies indolently dormant, and the Consequence is, that, upon every Emergence, the idle Passions of Astonishment take

Possession of the Soul. It is observable, that, this Dis|ease is not always confined to the unenlightened Part of Mankind, but we may sometimes perceive this mental Debility among those, who, from their Education, and from their Intercourse with the World, might be ex|pected to be somewhat more solid. There are, perhaps, in the Circle of my own Acquaintance, at least half a score Persons, possessed of Talents capable of extensive Discernment, and of thinking very justly upon any or|dinary Topics of Conversation, and yet, through an Habit of Inattention, such a total Relaxation unstrings their intellectual Powers, that they in Fact appear to have impotently pinned their Faith on other Mens Sleeves, and to have lost all Kind of Capacity of judg|ing for themselves. It is among such People, and such only, that THE COMICAL FELLOW, or THE AGREEABLE DEVIL, whom I have described in a former Paper, ac|quires his prodigious Reputation for Wit and Humour. Sir Andrew Wonderful has for some Time past been esteemed a knowing one by his Neighbours in the Ward of Farringdon without, and in his Business, he is accounted a Man of very notable Dexterity; but spend the Evening with Sir Andrew at any Tavern on the St. James's Side of Temple-Bar, and he is all Amazement from the Time he enters the Room, until his old, rumbling Coach conveys him back to the City. If you mention to him the Lie of the Day, that the Lady of a certain noble Lord was caught in Bed with a Lieutenant of the Guards,

Good Law! says Sir Andrew, you dont say so!

—It's very true though, and this Morn|ing early a well-dressed Man walking across Lincoln's-Inn Fields fell down dead—

Dear Heart, says the Knight, you surprize me!

—Late last Night a Game at Whist was played at White's Chocolate-house, on which upwards of three thousand Pounds depended—

Three thousand Pounds! I never heard of such a Thing in

my born Days—three thousand Pounds!—Good Law!—Three thousand Pounds!

—

Every Man, who is actuated with the laudable Am|bition of being a rational Creature, should endeavour to fix within himself such Habits of thinking, as will keep him collected, and prevent his Thoughts from being scattered into wild Surprize upon every little Emergence that offers. There should certainly be cherished in every Breast an honest Pride in preserving its own free Agency, and maintaining an Independency of Understanding, self-impelled, and self-directed; awakened into think|ing by the Impressions of its own Ideas, and adopting all its Principles and Maxims from the Suggestions of its own Judgment. For surely there can not be any Thing more unmanly, than leaving either the Faculties of the Soul, or the Muscles of the Face to be played upon by the Will and Pleasure of another. To have a Titter ready whenever the COMICAL FELLOW chuses to be facetious, and to hold a Man's Belief at another's Disposal, according as he chuses to decide upon any Subject, most incontestibly indicates a weak and frivo|lous Understanding.

I was led into this Tract of Thought by a Reflec|tion on the Manner, in which I spent an Evening, this Week, with three Gentlemen, who had sollicited the Meeting with earnest Importunity. During the last six Weeks, I never met any one of them, but he instantly began,

Well! my dear Boy, when shall we have an Evening—you know it is what we have long wished for?

—At length the Rendezvous was fixed, and at the appointed Hour I met my Friends, not without very high Expectations of a pleasant Evening. A Bottle of Allen's in an Instant appeared on the Table, and circu|lated with uncommon Celerity. I then expected my Friends to open some Vein of Discourse, but all con|tinuing in determined Silence, in order to break the Ice, I began with an ordinary Topic, and enquired about

Elizabeth Canning.

I suppose, said I, the Govern|ment is resolved to let her see foreign Parts.

— That's Humour, said one of the Gentleman to his next Neighbour, and then they all burst into a loud Laugh. I did not perceive the Joke, but, continued I.

whe|ther she is guilty or not, it will do her no Prejudice to see the World.

—"Humour again," says the Gen|tleman who sat opposite to me;

You're a fine young Fellow,

says a second; "This is high," says the third, and then all three formed a Chorus of Laughter. "The Captain, who carries her abroad," added I,

will have a good Contract of it; for he need give her nothing but Crusts and Water for six and twenty Days, and she'll subsist upon that.

Another Touch, says my Friend over the Way. Admirable! cries his Neighbour, and the Gentleman next to me, alarming me with a Slap on the Shoulder, roars out—"Odzouns," and then Laughter, holding both his Sides, took possession of them for the Space of ten Minutes.

Upon this, I perceived, that my Company held more of ADMIRATION, than of JUDGMENT, and I became heartily tired of the Party; though, were I inclined to Self-Approbation, they omitted nothing that could ad|minister to my Vanity; the Gentleman opposite to me frequently testifying his Approbation with that's Hu|mour! the second, repeating, you're a fine young Fellow! and my next Neighbour thundering in my Ear his rap|turous Odzouns! which extraordinary Interjections were absolutely the Sum total of all the Conversation, that I heard from these three notable Blanks in the Creation. I accordingly took occasion to break up the Meeting as soon as possible, and upon retiring home to my Chambers could not help drawing up this loose Essay, which I have ordered my Publisher to send to each of the Gentlemen, in order, if possible, to cure them of their servile Ad|miration, and inform them, if they desire to be ranked

among Free-Agents, that their only Title to it consists in thinking and judging for themselves.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Bedford Coffee-house, May 4.

THE Board of Criticism sat late last Night upon the following Copy of Verses, and by the Fret|fulness of some of the Malevoli, who are never so un|happy, as when they have Reason to be pleased, it is imagined that the Lines are elegant, and deserve to be inserted in this Paper.

On Travelling with a LADY.

AS at my pretty Pilgrim's Side, A long the sultry Day; A timorous, but a faithful Guide, I chose the dubious Way:

With anxious Care, and watchful Pace, The smoothest Paths I trod; Contriving pleasing Tales to ease The tedious, irksome Road.

I told of gallant Knights, who fir'd By gentle Ladies Eyes, To more than mortal Feats aspir'd, Their Love the precious Prize.

I watch'd from far the black'ning Storm, And wafted off the Air, That press'd with rude Assault to harm My fearful Traveller.

Now, stopping with unheeded Stealth, I catch'd her wand'ring Eyes, Whilst the dear Question of her Health, A kind Pretence supplies.

To Prospects that from far invite, I teach her Eyes to roam, While ravish'd with no other Sight, I feast my own at Home.

If chance some lonely Cot I spy; Retreat of happy Pair; I sigh, and say, how blest, were I, Was Caelia Mistress there!

When thro' some straggling Town we go, Their honest Joy I share; As round the gaping Rustics bow, In Homage to my Fair.

Thus, for so dear a Partner's sake, Might I for ever rove, And Life's long tedious Journey make A Pilgrimage of Love!

NUMB. 82.

GRAY's-INN, Saturday, May 11, 1754.

Hic secura Quies & nescia fallere Vita, Dives opum variarum; hic latet otia fundis, Speluncae, vivique Lacus, hic frigida tempe, Musitusquè Boum, mollesquè sub arbore Somni. VIRG.

_THE following Letter contains so many Touches of rural Imagery, and so sea|sonable an Invitation to visit the Country, in this soft Period of the Year, that I shall make it serve to furnish out the Entertainment of this Day.

To CHARLES RANGER, Esq

Dear CHARLES,

Richmond, May 10, 1754.

WERE I not to inform you, you would certainly never be able to guess at what Hour I have now set down to write to you, It is now almost Six in the Morning, and I have already spent half an Hour in an agreeable Attention to some certain domestic Cares, which have taken possession of me since my Retreat to the Country. I am here a Kind of Pater-familias with all my little Brood of Hens and Chickens around me. I look upon myself to be greatly interested in their Wel|fare; their Wants, and their Inconveniencies it is my earnest Care to remove. I am entirely conversant with their different Tempers, and can tell you the ruling Pas|sions of each of them. I can here shew a Bantham Co|quette, and a Prude from the other Side of the Line; among the Males I have a Coxcomb, a Bully, a Coward, and, in short, almost all the Characters that offer in hu|man Life.

Since my rising from my Pillow, I have interposed in two violent Feuds, and in this Manner am I enter|taining myself, while my Friend Ranger is, perhaps, reeling home from some Tavern; or, it may be, like your admired Horace, tumbling and tossing in restless Impatience for the Arrival of some delusive Fair, whose Persidy has carried her to a Rival's Arm's.

— Mendacem stultissimus usque Puellam Ad mediam expectans noctem.—

If this is not the Case, you lie in enervating Repose, and slumber away the Prime of Life, in a few Hours more to wake from a distempered Dream, with a troubled Spirit, a throbbing Pulse, and with Nerves en|feebled and relaxed. Give me leave here to address you in the Words of the excellent Author of the Seasons.

Falsly luxurious, will you not awake, And rising from the Bed of Sloth, enjoy, The cool, the fragrant, and the silent Hour, To Meditation due and sacred Song.

Believe me, Dear Charles, the most jovial Three in the Morning at the Shakeypear, never can afford such home|felt Delight, as plays around the Heart-strings in this calm Period of the Morning. The Mind is then cheer|ful and serene; Fancy is light and airy, and seems to threaten I know not what prodigious Things; every Object excites finer Feelings and more delicate Percep|tions, than can be suggested to the heat-oppressed Brain, as Shakespear phrases it.

Prithee, honest Ranger, how long is it since you saw the Sun rise? I dare believe not since we were together at Eaton. But surely, if this Phaenomenon had not very expansive Beauties, the Poets would never have been so fond of seizing every Opportunity to describe it. Since I have mentioned this Circumstance among the Poets, I must observe, that our great Dramatic Bard has in two Passages excelled all the Writers from the Days of Homer, down to the present State of modern Poetry, in their favourite Openings of the Morn. The Saffron|tinctured Fingers of Aurora, the Sun rising from Thetis's Lap, the Daughter of the Dawn coming from the Bed of Tithonus, are, in my Opinion, all poor and ineffectual, when compared with the more natural Description in Romeo and Juliet;

—Jocund Day Stands tiptoe on the misty Mountain's Top.

I have compared this admirable Piece of Imagery, for several successive Mornings, with the real Object in Na|ture, and I really am at a Loss which to admire most; like the travelling Persian, who, when the Reflection of the solar Rays (as happens sometimes in those Countries)

have formed in a Cloud another imaginary Sun, gazes at both with reverential Eyes, in doubt with himself to which he shall offer his Morning Adoration. The se|cond Passage I mean, is, in the Tragedy of Hamlet, where after seeing the Ghost of the deceased King, Horatio breaks off with,

But see the Morn in Russet-mantle clad. Walks o'er the Dews of yon high eastern Hill.

You know the Poets are fond of personalizing both physical and moral Qualities, in order to give Anima|tion to their Poetry, and to throw Things as much as possible into Action; and here, surely, we have that creative Figure in its high Perfection; the whole Pic|ture could not receive finer Colourings from the Hand of Titian; the Drapery is beautiful, and the Action in which this poetical Being is represented, is admirably descriptive of the first Dawnings of the Day.—

My, Dear Ranger, come, and let us criticise upon this Phenomenon; let us enjoy that Delight, which the Mind takes in comparing the Objects of Imitation, with the Finishings of mimic Art. Let me assure you, that to see this gradual Expansion of the solar Influence on the Face of Nature, will give such a calm Flow of Spi|rits for the ensuing Vocations of the Day, as cannot be experienced in a City Life. You will possibly say, you had rather loiter in your Chambers, than endure the in|tolerable Rage of the Sun tending to his meridian Height. In this Case, Richmond-Park affords its nmbrageous Walks, where the Noontide Ray has no Access. How sweet here to lose oneself in pleasing Error, to re|cline under an impervious Shade! and there in lettered Indolence converse with Maro, Tully, Pope, Shakespear, Milton, Spencer; or with Waller cry out,

O! how I long my careless Limbs to lay Under a plantane Shade, and all the Day With am'rous Airs my Fancy entertain! &c.

Or, if inclined to diversify the Scene, and ramble about in gentle Exercise, what Place so fit as these very Gar|dens, which afford all the Variety in Nature? Do you delight in trim Hedges, uniform Vistas, smooth Pastures, and studied Regularity? Your Taste may here find enough to gratify it. Or are you rather like the Person of a truer Sense of Things described by Martial, Rure vero barbaroque laetatur, one who likes true Country, rude, barbarous, and unspoiled by the Elegancies of Art? Here you are suddenly surprized to find yourself upon a barren Heath, lost to the World, and nothing pre|sents itself to View, but the withered Shrub, and the blasted Clump of Trees, and Hares and Rabbits run|ning athwart the dreary Scene. From hence, it may be, you wander into some Forest, and hear the Wood|man at his Labour; then issue out upon the ploughed Land, and behold around you nothing but busy Tokens of rural Industry; then, led by the Hand of Contempla|tion, lose yourself in the Solitude of the Hermitage, or wander into

The Thrush-haunted Coppice, where lightly leaps The fearful Fawn the rustling Leaves along.

If, at length, you are satisfied with this Retreat, Rich|mond-Hill invites your Steps, from whence you may command a boundless Prospect of all the Country round. There Villas, stately Buildings, Groves, Meadows, the Woodland, fertile Pastures, Hills and Vales offer them|selves to the Sight in mixed Variety. The barren Heath, and the Sun-burnt craggy Soil appear with all those Sof|tenings to the Eye, which Distance throws upon a Land|scape; and Nature all around appears with all her stri|king Majesty and all her softer Graces.

To crown the Whole, at the Bottom of the Hill Thames expands his rural Stream. To pursue it in its se|veral Windings, fertilizing the Country round, is at once a Refreshment to the Eye, and the constant Suc|cession

of new Objects, takes off from that Stillness, which would otherwise overspread the Whole. Here, my Dear Charles, we enjoy that Tranquillity of which Virgil speaks so feelingly; here we have Innocence, living Lakes embowering Shades, indolent Repose be|neath an Arbour, and the Mowing of the Cows; Mu|sick, believe me, far preferable to the Savoyard. or a City Concert. Besides this, let me assure you, you will find the Muses more coming Girls here, than in the Noise, and Smoke of London. But, I fear I have length|ened this Letter beyond all Bounds; I can only tell you after an eminent French Writer, had I Time enough, I would make it shorter; but take it as it is, loose, ram|bling, and desultory, and believe me to be,

Dear RANGER,

Your sincere Friend, and humble Servant, *****.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

From the Court of Censorial-Enquiry, May 11, 1754.

IT being represented to this Court, that the present soft Season of the Year gives every Mind, more or less, a Biass to Poetry, and an Affidavit being made by a Gentleman of undoubted Veracity, that his Bar|ber, while he was shaving him, said, with a peculiar Air of Enthusiasm,

Now the genial Spring is opened, the pretty Choiristers of the Wood begin to pour forth their little Notes,

—and this being thought by no means suitable Language for a Barber, and it being apprehended that the Distemper may become epedemic, it is ordered by this Court, that no Man, who has some|thing else to do, shall versify until the Dog-days are over,

and of this all Pastoral Poets, and all amorous Sonneteers are to take proper Notice, upon pain of the highest Displeasure of this Court.

Copia vera. Charles Ranger••

ADVERTISEMENT.

To all Gardeners, and others whom this may concern.

If any Person wants a large Number of Tin-Cascades, imaginary Fountains, or unreal Water Works of any Sort, very proper for all Gardens during the Summer-Season, they may be supplied at reasonable Rates, by John Burlesque, who is at present engaged in Prepara|tions to throw the whole Stage under Water next Win|ter, in order to give some Idea of Enfield-Wash, in a new Scene to be added to Harlequin Fortunatus.

NUMB. 83.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, May 18, 1754.

Misce Stultitiam consiliis brevem Dulce est desipere in Loco. HOR.

_AFTER having perused the new Tragedy of Creusa, with all that Pleasure which re|sults from a well-conducted Story, and in|teresting Situations of the Dramatis Perso|nae, I was at length struck in a very particular Manner with the second Epilogue, which the Author has an|nexed to it. A Parliament of Women suggests many Ideas of a pleasant Nature to the Fancy, and there is a Variety in the Turn of Expression, for which this little

Piece may very justly be called a pretty Composition. Having laid aside the Book, I found that the female House of Commons had taken entire Possession of my Imagination; I fancied to myself, to see my amiable Countrywomen engaged in a deep Debate; the lovely Whigs and Tories carried on their Party-Divisions with great Warmth and vehement Elocution; the Words Court and Country Interest, British Constitution, Patriotism, Virtue, Bribery and Corruption, Liberty and Property, free uninfluenced Election, arbitrary Power, with a long Et caetera of Phrases, were methought banded about by these beautiful Representatives, with as much Zeal and Impetuosity, as ever they could possibly have been from the Days of Hampdex down to the present happy Period. Their Fans. I imagined, prettily diversified with va|rious emblematical Figures; and, instead of love-sick Virgins, Jessamine Bowers, Rural Swains playing on the Flute, they displayed to View nothing but Scaffold|ings, Executions, Scenes of Broils and Battles, Sea|pieces, embattled Squadrons, the Spirit-stirring Drum, as Shakespear has it, the Ear-piercing Fife, the Royal-Banner, and every Circumstance of glorious War. The Patch no longer served as a mere Embellishment of Beauty, but carried with it a very expressive Energy, and denoted the Attachments of the Ladies to the Court or Country-Party. Blue and Yellow Ribbons adorned the Head-Dress, and hung out a Kind of Flag of De|fiance to the opposite Party. Elections were strongly contested all over the Kingdom: The Old and Now Interest clashed in Oxfordshire, and ended at last in a double Return. In Kent a Lady of antient and ho|nourable Family was thrown out. The People of Bri|stol paid a voluntary Compliment to a Lady of distin|guished Genius, who had been instrumental in bring|inging Bristol Stone-Buckles into Fashion. After a very

warm Contest for the City of London, upon finally clo|sing the Poll the Numbers stood thus;

• Lady Betty Alworthy, She-Knight, and Milliner 3650
• Mrs. Mary Meanwell, Haberdasher 3570
• Lady Fanny Comely, She-Knight, and Perfumer 3125
• Mrs. Elizabeth Sugarcane, of Billinsgate-Ward 2950
• Lady Harriet Lutestring, She-Knight, and Mercer 2603
• Lady Deborah Gideonite, She-Knight and Malt-Distiller. 2521

Whereupon the four first were declared duly elected, and the last mention'd Lady, it was said, would be brought in for some other Place at the Recommendation of an old Dutchess at Court. The Writs being all re|turned. I supposed the Parliament assembled, the Ladies in the Upper-House, and the Commoners in the Lower. The Female Commons immediately proceeded to chuse a Speaker, which was a Point of great Difficulty, every one being eager for that Office, upon a Supposition, that the Speaker was to have the largest Share of the Debate; but being undeceived in this Point, the Matter was at length adjusted, and they then went upon Busi|ness. As several Occurrences offered themselves to my Thoughts on this Occasion, I shall throw the Busi|ness of this Part of my waking Dream, into the Form made Use of on these Occasions.

Numb. 27.

VOTES of the FEMALE HOUSE of COMMONS.

Veneris, 17 Die Maij, 1754.

AN ingrossed Bill from the Ladies, intitled, An Act, for repealing an Act, made in the last Sessions to pro|hibit short Aprons, and bring the same into Fashion again, was read a second Time, and committed.

An ingrossed Bill from the Ladies, intitled, An Act for repealing another Act, made in the last Sessions for prevent|ing clandestine Marriages, and other Purposes therein mentioned, it being the Sense of all Ladies of Condi|tion, that they should have a discretionary Power to marry Mr. Thomas the Butler, or John the Coachman, or 'Squire Hazard the Gamester, or Bob the Footman, or any other Person according to their own Whim and Fancy, was read a second Time and committed.

Ordered,

That Leave be given to bring in a Bill to amend se|veral Laws relating to the paying and returning Visits in the Cities of London and Westminster, and that Mrs. Letitia Loveit do prepare and bring in the same.

A Message from the Ladies, by Mrs. Tattle and Mrs. Gobetween, that the Ladies have passed a Bill, intitled, An Act for Sale of a Capital Messuage in Grosvenor-Square, in the County of Middlesex, and the Gardens, and Outhouses thereunto belonging (Part of the Estate of the present Lord Townly) and vesting the same in William Pounce of Lombard Street, Banker, and for laying out the Purchase-Money in Discharge of Lady Townly's gaming Debts, and for other Purposes therein mentioned; to which the Ladies desire the Concurrence of this House; and also,

That the Ladies have passed a Bill, intitled, An Act for vesting Part of the Estate of George Fiddlefaddle, Esq in the County of Suffolk, and Part of his Estate in the Isle of Wight, in Trustees, to receive the Rents of the same, and apply the Issues in Payment of Mrs. Fiddlefaddle's Pin-Money, to defray the necessary Expences attending Routs and Drums, the keeping of a Faro-bank, and other Purposes there|in mentioned, to which the Ladies desire the Concurrence of this House;

And then the Messengers withdrew.

An ingrossed Bill from the Ladies, intitled, An Act to dissolve the Marriage of Lady Betty Witless, with Lord

Viscount Manly, on Account of his insolent Presumption in controlling his said Wife, and to enable her to marry again, and for other Purposes therein mentioned; was read a se|cond time, and committed to a Committee of the whole House.

Resolved,

That this House will, upon this Day sevennight, resolve itself into a Committee of the whole House up|on the said Bill.

Mrs. Gadabout moved for Leave to bring in a Bill to enable Mrs. Tarbarrel to keep a Dozen Card-Tables, in Spight of her unruly Husband, Captain Tarbarrel, just returned from the East Indies, who is Brute enough to say, he'll have no such Doings in his House.

Ordered,

That Mrs. Gadabout do prepare and bring in the same.

Mrs. Bizarre (according to Order) reported from the Committee of the whole House, to whom the Bill to repeal several Laws to prohibit the Importation of French Laces and Cambricks, and for an Act to suppress the Spit|tle-Field Weavers; and relating to Paint, Washes, Fans, Gloves, &c. and for the better Encouragement of French Hair-cutters, and to authorise the Payment of the Bounty to John Exotic, and others, upon a Ship fitted out for China, in order to import Teas, and China-Figures of all Sorts, and lost near Madagascar, was committed; and she read the Report, and afterwards delivered the Bill, with the Amendments, in at the Tea-Table, where the Amendments were read, and agreed to by the House.

Ordered,

That the Bill, with the Amendments, be ingrossed.

Ordered,

That Mrs. Trifle have leave to make a Motion:

And she moved the House accordingly.

An ingrossed Bill from the Ladies, intituled, An Act to enable Pompey the little, Lap-Dog to Lady Mary Crea|ture, to relinquish the said Name of Pompey the little, and assume for the future to him and his Heirs the Stile and Name of MARQUIS, was read the first Time.

Ordered,

That the said Bill do lie upon the Tea-Table.

Ordered,

That Mrs. Bragwell have Leave to make a Motion.

And she moved the House accordingly.

And an ingrossed Bill from the Ladies, intituled, An 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for changing the present current Stile in this Kingdom, and to convert Night into Day, was read the first Time, and ordered to be read a second Time.

An ingrossed Bill, intituled, An Act for impowering Lady Stakeall to cut down and sell Timber standing and growing upon the Estate of Lord Stakeall, her Husband, in order to enable the said Lady Stakehall to purchase Monkeys, Parrots, and other Necessaries, and also to make a very large Bet at the next Masquerade, and for other Pur|poses therein mentioned; was read the third Time.

Resolved,

That the Bill do pass.

An ingrossed Bill, called by the Vulgar, the Stark|naked Bill, but more properly intituled, An Act for abo|lishing the present Form of Dress among Ladies of Fashion, and reducing it as near, as modern Manners will permit, to the primitive Custom of our first Mother Eve, by shorten|ing the Petticoat, and lowering the Stays, against the ap|proaching Vaux-hall Season; was read a third Time.

Resolved,

That the Bill do pass.

Ordered,

That Mrs Fetch do carry the Bill to the Ladies, and desire their Concurrence.

And then the House adjourned till To-morrow Morning Nine of the Clock,

By Virtue of an Order of the Female House of Commons, I do appoint William Faden to print, and Paul Valliant to publish these Votes; and that no other Person do presume to print the same.

ELIZABETH GRAVEAIR, Speaker.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Bedford Coffee-house, May 18.

THE Board of Criticism came to a Resolution last Night, not to adjourn until Mr. Garrick closes the Theatrical Season. The Commanding Offi|cer of the Covent Garden Forces, has dismissed the Subal|terns to their Country Quarters. They have carried with them a Store of Thunder and Lightning, very proper for the Summer-Season, a Flying Mercury troubled with a Rupture, the Straw being ready to fall out of his Abdomen; a Bowl of Poison (wants new gilding) several cast off Dominos for Romeo and Juliet, a well toned Bell, &c. so that it is not doubted, but the Country People will have as much start, strut and roar, for their Money, as ever was exhibited at the Theatre-Royal.

Since our last arrived a Mail from Vaux-hall, which brings Advice, among other Particulars, that Miss Burchell's Voice charms every Hearer with its Melody, and there are great Crowds every Evening to refresh themselves with the Tin Cascade. It is further suggested, that there is a great Struggle among the minor Poets, which shall be elected Vaux-hall Poet for the ensuing Season. Mr. Lyrick and Mr. Spondee, have each of them given in Specimens of their Talents, in those little De|signs, that are amorous, and yet innocent, as Mr. Bayes says; but, the Waiters are of Opinion, that it will be decided in Favour of Quinbus Flestrin, the unborn Poet, whom we have already mentioned, he being a Person of undoubted Appetite, and passionately fond of the Amusements of this Place, both in eating and drinking.

NUMB. 84.

GRAY's-INN, Saturday, May 25, 1754.

Contemptor Divûm Mezentius — VIRG.

_AT the last Meeting of our Club, of which I must consider myself an unworthy Mem|ber, as I have not of late attended them with proper Punctuality, my Friend Cap|tain Gulliver, whom I formerly introduced to the Ac|quaintance of my Readers, produced a Paper, which he said, he had brought with him from Cairo, amongst several other Manuscripts of the same Nature. After perusing it, I judged it would make no improper En|tertainment for my Readers, and I therefore have or|dered it a Place in this Day's Paper.

In the Days when the Empire of Bagdad spread Ter|ror round the Nations, and their conquering Arms added a constant Accession of Honour and Wealth to the Califfs, Aboulcasem, a Youth of extensive Parts and boundless Ambition, had the Address to raise himself to the first Honours of the State, and in Process of Time, he arrived to the Dignity of Vizier. In this Office his Conduct was such as might be expected from a Person of his exalted Parts. His Renown for Genius and a bright Understanding distinguished him above the Rest of the Ministers, and the Name of Aboulcasem was wafted on the Wings of Fame through all the Regions of the Last.

But amidst all the Effulgence of his Glory, Aboulcasem was hurried away by the Violence of his Passions, which were rapid as the Cataracts of the Nile, and vio|lent as the Whirlwinds in the Desart. His Soul was apt to kindle into a Blaze at the Sight of Beauty, and in the Height of his national Business he would

frequently sport away his Hours in wanton Dalliance with a Circassian Beauty, with whom he would often betake himself to the Baths, and there, in amorous Dis|sipation, write Letters upon Matters of the utmost Con|sequence to the Califf, and the whole Empire of Bagdad, and dispatch them to his Agents, whom he had sent to other neighbouring Courts. At length, he was suspected to favour the Cause of the banished Prince Abdallah, who was then wandering about the Desarts of Arabia; and though no convincing Proofs could be alledged against him, yet not being able to vindicate himself from the Imputation, he was obliged to fly his Country.

Aboulcasem immediately betook himself to the Prince Abdallah, and finding his Cause totally ruined, without any Possibility of re-instating him, he then exerted all his Industry to obtain Leave to return home. As Things of this Nature cannot be compassed in a short Time, in order to hinder his Mind in the mean Time from falling a Prey to Melancholy, and all the Horrors of disap|pointed Ambition, he applied himself to the Labours of the wise Men in order to relieve his Mind. Here he penned his Thoughts upon Exile, and many other im|portant Points of speculative Morality. He lived like an Hermit in the Desarts of Arabia, and there, illustri|ously hid, he carried on his Researches into the Study of Nature, History, and all the Branches of human Learning which could adorn and enrich so accomplish|ed a Mind.

Thus furnished with all mental Embellishments, Aboulcasem was in Time permitted to return, but he was not restored to his Honours. As Ambition is ever un|relenting, he was no sooner fixed in his own Abode, than he instantly became an implacable Enemy to the Vizier, who had consented to recal him. He drew from the Stores of Knowledge, which he had formerly treasured up, some of the severest Reflections, which could be made upon the Minister's Administrations, and

this in such a powerful Strain of nervous Eloquence, that he may very justly be said to have had a great Share in his ••ownfal. Aboulcasem was so happy as to have accomplished this Business, which was for a long Time the grand Object of his Intentions; but it was no sooner done, than he perceived himself as distant as ever from re-gaining his Prince's Ear. He therefore betook himself to his Country-House at a small Di|stance from Bagdad, where he employed himself in reading all the Moralists of Arabia, and in short, all the fine Eastern Writers. In this Recess he cultivated an Acquaintance with two of the first Geniuses of his Time, Selim and Mirza; the former was remarkable among the Eastern Sages for elevated Strains of Poetry, and the latter for those Oriental Tales, which are generally called the Tale of a Tub, and the Adventures of Gulli|ver, the Merchant of Bagdad. These two undertook the Defence of Aboulcasem's Character, and spared no Pains to blazon his Fame to the World.

Mean Time Aboulcasem pursued his Researches into all the Branches of human Wisdom; the civil Polity of States was to him a Store-house, which disclosed a con|stant Fund of Supply; he then turned his Eye inwards upon the Texture and Make of his own Mind; he used to say, that the Mind was a concealed Repository of Riches, and that it behoved every Man to find out the Secrets of it; this accordingly he did; but he did not enjoy the secret, selfish Gratification of many, who, when in Possession of a Treasure will never let it be seen by human Eyes; on the contrary, he was glad to have every Opportunity of displaying himself, and this ra|ther to a Degree of Ostentation; from this Branch of Study Aboulcasem proceeded to examine into Matters of Religion; the various Systems of the Eastern Sages were all to him perfectly well known; he laughed at the Keran; the System of Morality which Confucius taught, Aboulcasem held in Contempt; Mahomet's Paradise was

to him a mere Chimaera, and he declaimed with a pompous Flow of sounding Eloquence against all these various Opinions; the Bramins were always the Ob|jects of his severest Contempt; in the Dictates of natural Religion, he would say, we have no Occasion for such Guides, and in the Explanation of established Forms, they are highly dangerous; he was an Enemy to all Forms of Worship offered in the Temple of the Pro|phet; he endeavoured to subvert the Principles upon which this Worship was founded, and to introduce a new Form of Thinking of his own. Since Aboulcasem could have no Share in the Direction of State-Affairs, he was determined to soar above sublunary Things, and to have the Lead in Matters of higher Importance. He was highly dogmatical in his Assertions, and he carried his Extravagance so far, as to advance, that there was no Difference between the human Species and Brutes; and that it was highly probable that Dogs and the rest of the animal Creation were endued with Souls as well as Mankind; and in the general he asserted that all Souls were material.

In the midst of these Disquisitions, Aboulcasem was sitting one Night in his Study, his Lamp burning be|fore him, when of a sudden, Thunders rolled deep and awful over his Head; the Mountains were shaken and they groaned; keen Lightenings flashed athwart the Hemisphere; the third Heaven was opened, and a Flood of Radiance descended upon the Earth. The So|lemnity of the Scene appalled the Heart of Aboulcasem; Trembling seized his Limbs; he fell prostrate and adored the Messenger from God, who now stood before him, and spoke in Accents, which chilled the Blood within him, and made him stand convinced of his vain Philosophy.

Aboulcasem, said he, receive my Sayings with an Ear of Attention. Know then, that the Eye of him, who is in the third Heaven hath beheld thee; he hath

viewed thy Ways with Compassion, and he hath made this Vision a Vehicle of Instruction unto thy Soul, which is at present lost and bewildered in a Maze of idle and foolish Philosophy; for thy Philo|sophy is not calculated to advance true Knowledge, Virtue, and Wisdom, but has its Source in Osten|tation. Ostentation and Vain-glory have induced thee to display thy imagined Superiority of Parts, which pretends to pervade all Systems of Religion, and thy Heart's Conceit will approve of none. Thy Studies are ill directed, and their Drist is only to alienate the Minds of Men from any settled Form of Worship, which you are in the Wrong to disturb, as your own Insufficiency cannot substitute a better than what is designed to keep Society in a due Sense of Resigna|tion to a Supreme Being, and to preserve the Bands of civil Compact religiously unbroken. Cast but thine Eye upon yonder Vale; behold what is there transacted. There thou may'st see Men divested of all Forms of Worship, and rendered perfectly con|formable to thy vain Notions of Religion. There thou may'st see what is the State of Man ungoverned by settled Forms of Devotion; they have shaken off all Regard to the Prophet, and behold them immersed in all Manner of vicious Practices. Uncontrouled they invade each other's Rights; they make War to gratify their Ambition; freely without Restraint they proscribe whom they please; the Bonds of Society are broken, and the Contempt of divine Laws has introduced a Contempt for all human Institutions. To promote this Scene of Confusion are thy Writings calculated, but know, and dread the Truth I am now to utter, that it will better behove thee to pay Submission to the established Forms of Worship of thy Country, than to disturb the Peace of the Faithful, and thereby fill their Minds with Doubt, with Jealousy,

Mistrust, Suspicion, and all the Horrors of an over|weening Imagination.

At these Words the Radiance, which spoke, with|drew from his Eyes, and left Aboulcasem in the utmost Consternation; the Impression was, however, very soon effaced; for notwithstanding this Admonition, he per|severed in his ill Designs; but the Thread of his Days was cut short before he could vent them abroad into the World. However, his Intentions were not totally fru|strated, for the Hand of Death had no sooner smote him, than his Compositions fell into the Hands of Namahran, another Eastern Writer, who sold them for a certain Number of Sequins of Gold, and by those Means the Writings of Aboulcasem came into every Body's Hands, and spread their baneful Influence on the Minds of all the Inhabitants of Bagdad.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Hay-market, May 25, 1754.

Last Night the new English Opera of Eliza, set by Mr. Arne, and performed here last Week with universal Applause, was suppressed by an Order from a superior Power, by which many Persons of Taste were deprived of a very elegant Entertainment; and it is now said, that Mr. Arne, instigated by this Disappointment, will apply for a private Bill to unnaturalize him, that he may then enjoy the Privileges of an Englishman,—as well as any Foreigner of them all.

Bedford Coffee-house, May 25.

The Parliament of Criticism will be prorogued on Friday next — Last Night they broke up early, after returning Thanks to an ingenious Gen|tleman for his new-invented poetical Quadrant, by which a Critic may take an Observation of the Altitude

of modern Wit. The same Person has also a Micro|scope, to discover the Faults of the Ancients, and Merit of the Moderns, very proper to be had in all Coffee-houses, and fit for all Critics, Templers, &c.

N. B. The Caravan is not to come here any more this Season; the Loungers begin to bask, like Chelsea Pensioners in the Sun-Beams, and Wit and Humour have bid us farewel, till the Middle of September next.

NUMB. 85.

GRAY's-INN, Saturday, June 1, 1754.

Vere magis, quia Vere calor redit ossibus— VIRG.

_THE gloomy Month of November is distin|guished by Foreigners, as the Heighth of the Season for Englishmen to hang and drown themselves; but from a diligent Observation I can venture to affirm, that the Month of May is always attended with a larger Bill of Mortality than any other Part of the Year. It is the Spring-Time of Love, when the Blood has received a Renovation of Warmth, and young Minds are then more easily melted down in the amorous Fire. A Bookseller, whom I now and then chat with at his Circulating Library, informs me, that he can tell when the Poison of Love begins to rankle in the Breast, that he can trace it in its Pro|gress, and knows exactly when it is become quite ge|neral in its Influence. Romances, he says, in the Be|ginning are more and more call'd for; as it encreases, Lord Grey's Love Letters, the Loves of Octavia and Philander, Abelard and Eloise, Letters from a Nun to a Cavalier, &c. come into Play; and when the Infec|tion is grown Epidemic, then the Tragedies of Romeo and Juliet, All for Love, or the World well lost,

Theodosius or the Force of Love, &c, cannot be supplied quick enough to answer the wonderful Demand for them. My ingenious Friend will sometimes take me into his back Room, and "Friend Ranger," says he,

can't you touch us up some secret Memoirs, or a Love-Tale, or something by Way of Novel—If green Peas come in fast—the Season for Peas is always favourable to love-sick Minds—I can manage to put you off— let me see—ay, about a couple of thousand by Mid|summer—yes, thereabouts—I could get—if you will put your Name to it,—a matter of fifteen hundred subscribed among the Trade—how will you make it end?—happy or unhappy?—for there will be a Difference in that—but, that must be determined by the Chapter of Accidents—a North-East Wind chills the amorous Heat—in that Case, you had bet|ter make them die—but, if the southern Gale con|tinues, they may in the Conclusion be conducted by the laughing Loves to the nuptial Bower—the Book will soon be in every Body's Hands, at Tunbridge, Bath, Scarborough, &c.

Thus is this skilful Person in his Trade for taking Advantage of that Succession of Foibles, which are constantly rising and falling in the most whimsical Vi|cissitude in this Metropolis. The Truth of it is the Play-houses, the Circulating Libraries, the public Gar|dens about Town owe very much of their Success to the love-sick Minds of Boys and Girls. It is this uni|versal Passion which rolls so many of the Youth of both Sexes down the soft Declivity in Greenwich-Park; it is this which is so fond of taking cold at the Tin Cascade in Vaux-hall Gardens, and it is this which pours forth so many Groupes of Enamoratos along the Fields and Meadows about London every Sunday Evening.

Notwithstanding the extensive Influence of this soft Infection, it is somewhat surprizing that among all the Writers, who have endeavoured to describe it, very few

of them have succeeded in any tolerable Degree. What Numbers of English Tragedies have been sunk into an insipid Languor by the ineffectual Whim of Episodic Love? The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet, excepting now and then some glittering Conceits, which we may suppose to be Transfusions from the Italian Novellist, who furnished Shakespear with the Story, affords a beau|tiful Representation of two young Minds touched with this tender Sympathy. Many of the Tragedies of Beau|mont and Fletcher, though they are now too much neg|lected, display the delicate Sensations of Love, in all their native genuine Simplicity. I am not clear whe|ther the fine Interchange of Sentiments between Jaffier and Belvidera should come within the Precincts of Love; because the Desire of Possession, which fires the tender Imagination into a gentle Enthusiasm, has then sub|sided into a sympathetic Friendship between Man and Wife; and accordingly the most pathetic Touches are derived, not from the Lover's fond Hope of mutual Bliss to come, but from a Retrospect to those vanished Hours, when Jaffier lay for three whole happy Years in his Belvidera's Arms; and thus the Transition from their former Endearments to their present Misery, ex|cites those intense Emotions of Pity for their Fate. Perhaps, after the Writers just mentioned, the Tragedy of Tancred and Sigismunda, has the fairest Claim to any Degree of Reputation; in this Piece the Love of the young Prince is manly, and never dwindles into childish Conceit; the Feelings of Sigismunda are delicate and sensible, and through all the Scenes the Softness of their Passion is ennobled by Sentiments of Honour and moral Dignity. But, among all the Books, which the ena|moured of both Sexes are apt to call for at this Season of the Year, there is none which can exhibit so lively a Picture of Love, as the Fourth Book of Dryden's Virgil, which I would recommend to my young Readers, not by Way of adding Fuel to the Fire, but to warn them

of the Dangers of the growing Flame; as they will here perceive all the Vicissitudes of the Passion, till at length it terminates in a melancholy Catastrophe.

I shall conclude this Paper with an Extract from an unpublished Pamphlet, written by an ingenious Gentle|man, who has given me Leave to make my own use of it. It is called the History of Rosamond's Pond for the Month of May, and, though some of the Incidents are not the Effects of Love, it will, however, shew many of the Disasters that attend that sweet, but dangerous Sensation.

The History of Rosamond's Pond for the Month of May.

A young Lady of Fashion, whose Name it is thought proper to suppress, flung herself into the Pond, because she had an Amour with Thomas the Footman; she was taken up by the Centinel, and only damaged a Gauze Capuchin.

Miss Betty Threadneedle, Milliner, in the New-Ex|change, threw herself in, on account of Ill-usage from Monsieur Capriole, a French Figure-Dancer at Drury-Lane Play-house; the Coroner's Inquest sat upon her Body, and brought in their Verdict, Lunacy.

William Ponderwell, was in Love with a celebrated Coquette, and after paying an Attendance of several Months, he was at length quite tired out, and walked very demurely to the Brink of the Pond, where he stood for some Time fixed in Thought, then changed his Mind and walked home very cooly.

Bob Dare Devil, having very passively received a Kicking from an Officer, threw himself in the oblivious Lake, that he might not survive the Loss of his Honour; he was taken up, and now lights your Honour across the Way about Drury-Lane Play-house.

John Henpeck, drowned himself, after walking very soberly with a Friend in the Bird-Cage Walk. There were found in his Pocket, a Cork-Skrew, a Tobacco-Stopper,

Passeran upon Self-murder, and a Piece of Pa|per, on which were written the following Lines,

A frowning World, and a scolding Wife, Is the Cause of my putting an end to my Life.

Dick Nimblewrist, alias Crook-fingered Jack, sell in Love with a Gentleman's Handkerchief, but being dis|covered in the Attempt to steal it, he was ducked by the Mob, in order to cool his unruly Passion.

Dick Wildfire threw himself in about Six in the Evening, which drew together a large Concourse of People; but it being only a Frolick for a Wager, he swam across and got out again.

N. B. He took cold, and died in a few Days of a raging Fever.

Sappbo, the famous Poetess, fell in, while she was refounding aloft an Ode of her own composing, upon the new Building at the Horse-Guards.

Fresh-coloured Moll, was tired of the World, and went to fling herself into the Pond, but meeting a young Templer at the fatal Brink, she adjourned with him to the little Island, and instead of sending a Person out of the World, it is considently said, that in nine Months, she ushered a Foundling into it.

N. B. She now fells Apples and picks Pockets in the Piazza of Covent Garden.

Monsieur Languedoc, a French Gentleman, who came over here for his Religion, was challenged to box by a Pick-pocket in the Mall, whereupon he drew his Sword, which so enraged the Populace, that they took him to the Pond and ducked him three Times.

Mrs. Fretful, Wife of John Fretful, threw herself in, because her Sister was better married, and kept more Card Tables than herself—Upon being taken out she said,

There was no such Thing as bearing it, and that she was the most unhappiest Woman in the World.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Bedford Coffee-house, June 1, 1754.

LAST Night the Parliament of Criticism met here, when Mr. Town came with his usual Apparatus, and gave his Assent to the following Bills.

An Act to prevent a constant Repetition of the same worn-out Tragedies throughout every Season.

An Act to oblige every capital Actor to bring at least TWO new Parts into the Stock every Winter, by Way of shewing how he passed his Time, in his Recess from Business during the Summer, and to several public and private Bills. After which Mr. Town made the follow|ing most gracious Speech.

My Friends and Critics,

As we are now come to the Conclusion of the critical Sessions, I cannot dismiss you, without returning you Thanks for that Peevishness and Petulance, which you have manifested during this last Season. It is with the utmost Pleasure I now let you know, that several Pre|tenders to Poetry have wrote new Tragedies and Co|medies, and in such a Manner as will afford the highest Joy, as they will all most infallibly be damned, when|ever they appear.

Gentlemen of the City,

Your clapping and hissing, with implicit Deference to my Judgement, at both Play-houses, during this last Winter, shews your Affection for me and my Cause.

My Friends and Critics,

It is with an unspeakable Regret I am now to tell you, that Criticism does not agree with my Constitution, and therefore I must retire from those weighty Cares, until Providence shall please to restore my hissing Powers, which are now somewhat impaired. On this Account I must now dissolve the Parliament of Criticism, and, whenever you are summoned together again, I hope

will adhere to the noble Principles of Malevolism, which it has ever been my Study to inculcate.

And the Parliament of Critictsm was dissolved accordingly.

NUMB. 86.

GRAY's-INN, Saturday, June 8, 1754.

— Veteres ita moratur laudatque Poetas. Indignor quidquam reprehendi non quia crasse Scriptum, ille pideve putetur, sed quia nuper. HOR.

To CHARLES RANGER. Esq

SIR,

_I Know the Importance of an Author to him|self is so very great, that he looks upon it as absolutely necessary, that the Public should be informed of every particular Cir|cumstance relating to his Body or Mind; as for In|stance, at what Hour he goes to Bed, on which Side he composed himself to Sleep; whether his Slumbers were interrupted, and above all, the Purport of his Dreams, for Dreams descend from Jove. This Practice I believe, is perfectly just; but I hope Mr. Ranger will not mono|polize Dreaming, and that he will give an occasional Writer the Liberty of communicating to the Public, how he passed the Night. My Hopes of succeeding in this Request are the more sanguine, as the intellectual Scene, of which I mean here to give some Account, was occasioned by a Perusal of a Vision of your own, in which you describe a Sacrifice to the Graces.

The Images, which that Piece excited in my Fancy, incorporated, if I may so call it, with the Ideas, that have been uppermost in my waking Thoughts for some Time past, and I imagined in my Sleep that there was a general Election in Parnassus for proper Members to re|present

the Republic of Letters. It seems, Apollo was induced by frequent Murmurs and Complaints to dis|solve his Parliament; some Malcontents among the Moderns, being of Opinion, that the Antients had ar|bitrarily voted themselves perpetual Dictators in Wit; whereas, upon a free uninfluenced, Election, they be|lieved themselves capable of returning a larger Number than the said Antients. The Party for the Moderns was led on by Monsieur De la Motte, Perrault and Wot|ton; the two former were vigorously opposed by Boi|leau, Madam Dacier, and the latter by Mr. Pope and Doctor Swift. Swift ordered a new Edition of his Battle of the Books to be published forthwith, and Pope took occasion to reprint his Essays, and Criticisms upon Homer. The Old and New Interest were the Words by which each Party signified their Attachments, and Reams of Lampoons, Acrostics, and Rebusses were issued out by the Moderns, which were all answered by Epi|grams, Fables, and Burlesque Pieces written by the Friends of the Antients.

At length the Writs were issued out to the proper Officers to chuse Representatives for the several Coun|ties and Borough-Towns in Parnassus, some Places, by poetic Licence, having Leave to return as many Mem|bers, as could fairly prove a Qualification. Homer and Virgil were declared for epic Poetry; Milton was set up by the Encouragement of several Friends, and they were all three accordingly chosen. Homer had four and twenty upon the Poll, and Virgil twelve; Milton, by an Assessment a little before the Election, created two new Votes, by which he also reached the Number twelve, and Virgil was so modest that he made no Ob|jection to it. Tasso, and Sir Richard Blackmore, were declared Candidates, but the former was proved to have bribed with clinquant, and the latter could not make out a Qualification.

In the Regions of Tragedy, Sophocles and Euripides joined Interests, and Aristotle undertook to canvass for them; but Shakespear carried it by a great Majo|rity; Corneille and Racine stood next upon the List, but a Scrutiny was demanded in Favour of the Old In|terest, upon a Suspicion that several Copy-holders had polled for the Moderns, and the New-Interest employed some French Critics to go through their Answer; it was thought it will at last end in a double Return; and it was further said, that Otway and Row would be de|clared duly elected. Dryden and Lee joined Interests, and though many gay and flighty Persons were very warm in their Cause, their Schemes were looked upon by the cool and judicious, as rather too wild and ro|mantic. The French Critics threatened, that at some future Election, they should be able to make more Members, being resolved to put up Crebillon and Vol|taire even against Shakespear, to which end, several Li|bels against the last mentioned Genius were already drawn up by Voltaire.

In the comic Territories the Antients lost their Elec|tion by a very great Majority; Moliere, Ben Johnson, Congreve and Vanburgh, being declared duly elected. Shakespear was made an honourary Member for this Quarter, and was universally allowed to be a Represen|tative of both Places. Dryden found Means, by the As|sistance of a Spanish Friar, to insinuate himself into this Place, and it was given out, that when Colley Cibber ar|rives here, he will be put up as a Person duly qualified, though it is apprehended that his Quarrel with Pope has deprived him of several Votes.

The New Interest exulted greatly upon their Conquest in the last Election, and in order to compleat their Triumph, proceed further into the Regions of Humour and Ridicule. Homer was here again put up by Aristotle, who urged the Margites as a sufficient Claim; but the Writings of that Estate being lost, he was obliged to

decline the Poll. After this, an Advertisement was pub|lished, desiring the Votes and Interest of all the true Sons of Merriment for Aristophanes, Menander, Plautus, and Terence, who had just lost their Election in another Place; Lucian set up upon his own Interest. The Moderns declared Cervantes, Rablais, Swift and Butler joint Candidates, being all Gentlemen heartily attached to true Wit and Humour. Votes were also sollicited for several other Personages; Monsieur la Sage, Scarroon, Marivaux, and Addison were strongly recommended; but the latter being returned in Conjunction with Te|rence and la Sage for the Borough of POLITE-MIRTH, Sir Richard Steel appeared on the Hustings, and with|drew his Friend's Name. Swift mixed with the lower Sort of People; joked with the Women about their Dressing-rooms, and republished his Account of the strange Man just arrived in Town. Rablais contributed a good deal to the general Mirth; Cervantes occasion|ally gave vent to a Vein of low Humour, but Lucian could not make himself universally understood, and many of his Turns did not allude to modern-practised Life. Scarroon got together a Company of Strollers, and exhibited Entertainments in Booths with great Suc|cess. Ward, Concanon, and Tom Brown offered them|selves on this Occasion, but were rejected with Con|tempt. At length the Books were closed, and Lucian Cervantes, Butler, and Swift were declared duly elected. At which the Managers for the New Interest were highly instamed; they lodged a Petition in Favour of Rablais, but such a Vein of Extravagance run through the Whole, and some Passages were worked up into such a Strain of unintelligible Frolic, that it was generally supposed it would be given against him. However, his Friends were determined to bring him in for an inferior Bo|rough, and Scarron and Marivaux were also assured of their Election. Whenever Fielding shall arrive to his

Estate in this Part of Parnassus, there is a Borough ready to elect him.

To have so many Moderns chosen for the last Divi|sion was highly agreeable to the New Interest; they were however a good Deal dejected at the Election for History, for which the Contest was ineffectual. Thyci|dides, Sallust, Livy, and Tacitus being chosen by a great Majority. Faminianus Strada endeavoured to hurt the Election of the last mentioned Writer, in order, as it was thought, to substitute himself; but Peers being al|lowed to appear at Elections in Parnassus, Lord Boling|broke gave all his Interest to Tacitus, and assured him that his Works were of infinite Use in all his political Tracts. Sallust recommended St. Real, an approved French Historian, to a Borough. Julius Caesar was put up without his Consent, a literary Fame not being the Object of his Ambition; Lord Clarendon was for a long Time decried by a Party, but was at last declared duly elected.

Demosthenes and Cicero harangued from the Hustings, and were unanimously chosen for Oratory; and it was thought that some who have made a conspicuous Figure in the British Parliaments, would be admitted to the Ho|nour of a Seat with those immortal Geniusses. A Party of Frenchmen endeavoured to make a Stand, upon the Strength of some certain Funeral Orations, but in a few Hours they found themselves greatly out-polled.

Horace, Boileau, Dryden, and Mr. Pope were made the Representatives of Satyr; Juvenal and Perseus ha|ving set up for Places upon their own separate Interests; as soon as the Election was over Mr. Pope thanked the Constituents for the Honour conferred upon him, and signified his Inclination to take his Seat for Ethics, to which he was reeommended by the Lord Viscount Bo|lingbroke, and the Voters came to a Resolution to fill up the Vacancy by putting up the famous Doctor Young, though in his Absence.

Lord Bacon and Mr. Locke, were returned for real and useful Philosophy, at which Aristotle was violently curaged. He was, however, somewhat comforted to find himself the first on the Poll for Criticism; Longinus, Quintilian, and Bobours were also declared duly elected. There was a great Number of Boroughs in this County, most of which were repsesented by Frenchmen, the Chief of whom was the Abbé du Bos, Author of the Reflec|tions upon Poesy and Painting. Mr. Addison was also returned in this District, but being previously chosen, he thanked the Voters in general, and told them they would not be at a Loss for a proper Representative for that Place, whenever the Author of the Polymetis should be willing to stand the Poll.

In the Regions of miscellaneous Poetry Dryden had an Offer from almost every Place; Spencer was elected for a Borough, said to be over-run with Witches and Fairies; in Pastoral, Ambrose Phillips exerted his utmost Interest; but it was said that Mr. Pope, though he did not chuse to be the Representative himself, had resolved to hinder Philips from coming in. Virgil thanked the Country People for the Offers made to himself, expatiated on raral Happiness, and said he should always be a Lover of Woods and Rivers; but begged Leave to recommend in his room Vaniere, Writer of the Praedium Rusticum, and the late Mr. James Thompson Author of the Sea|sons.

Aesop. Phaedrus, la Fontaine and Gay, were chosen for the fabulous Country, where a new Party was springing up for the Author of the Fables for the female Sex, and, also for the Fables lately addressed to the Prince of Wales. With these Proceedings the New In|trest had no Reason to be dissatisfied, though they were highly disappointed in several Places. However, they were determined to keep up their Spirits with a Shew of a general Victory. I fansied their Acclama|tions

of Joy were so loud on the Occasion, that I was awaked from my Dream.

I am, SIR, Your most obedient Servant, J. NIGHTMARE.

Oxford, June 7, 1754.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Sam's Coffee-house, Exchange-Alley.

VArious are the Sentiments which the Frequenters of this Place have formed to themselves of the Ar|ticles of Intelligence, collected by Mr. Ranger in the Gray's-Inn Journal. After half an Hour's close Study, a Gentleman of profound Penetration called upon Major for farther Information. What, says he,

is all this true?

No, Sir, replied Major,

it's only his comi|cal Way.

Mr. Vandergut seems highly pleased with the Scheme, and observes, that the Gray's-Inn Journal is very humoursome, and on every Saturday his first Question is, what, is Ranger punny to Day? But after perusing it he generally shakes his Head, and laments that the Author never entertains his Readers with a Letter from the Hague.

Rainbow Coffee-house, June. 8.

Yesterday at a Board of PRIGGISM held here, it was pretty warmly debated between Jemmy Spindle and Jack Dupe, whether a Gentleman acquires more Honour by whor|ing than by gaming? When Mr. Spindle begg'd Leave to say, that the little Reputation he held in the World was entirely owing to his appearing every Night, du|ring the Winter Season, between two Girls in the Bal|cony—here Mr. Dupe interrupted him, and observed, that undoubtedly whoring was essentially necessary to|wards establishing the Character of a Man of Spirit; but that in his Opinion, gaming shewed more the Man

of Consequence; for, says he, the first Men in the Kingdom are Gamesters, and—here Harry Edging cried out, d—n me, there's a pretty Girl going by, upon which the Board was broke up, and the Point left undecided, to the great Disappointment of Jerry, who was all At|tention, and waited the Event of the Dispute, with open Mouth, which plainly shews an eager Appetite for Knowledge.

NUMB. 87.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, June 15, 1754.

Ire iterum in lacrymas, iterum tentare precando Cogitur, & supplex animos submiltere amori. VIRG.

_MY Friend, Mr. Candid, desires that he may discharge his Promise to give some fur|ther Animadversions on the Tragedy of King Lear; as he has run into a long Essay, I shall resign to him the entire Paper of this Day.

Notwithstanding what is ingeniously urged by the Gentleman, who obliged me with a Letter upon my former Criticism of King Lear, I cannot, after a Review of that Tragedy, find any Reason to retract my Asser|tion, that the aged Monarch's Madness is occasioned by the Ingratitude of his Daughters. The Folly of a Pa|rents putting himself in the Power of his Children, must incidentally appear in a Play, founded on such a Story as that of Lear; but, had those Children not proved ungrateful, I apprehend there is no Reason to imagine, the King's Mind would have taken the fatal Turn it did. But the best Way of knowing, with any Degree of Cer|tainty, the secret Causes of those Effects, which disclose themselves in sundry Appearances in human Life, is

by gaining an Insight into the private Tempers of Men. Lean considered in this Manner, soon discovers to us the latent Seeds, which are likely to kindle into a Blaze, upon the Revolt of his Daughters. The Impression which Cordelia's artless Answer had upon him is de|scribed by himself.

—O most small Fault, How ugly didst thou in Cordelia shew, Which, like an Engine, wrench'd my Frame of Nature From these a Place; drew from my Heart all Love, And added to the Gail—

This plainly evinces where the old Man's Passions were most accessible, and how strong the Workings of them were likely to be, when he should find a total Disaffec|tion: No wonder if then his Frame of Nature is wrench'd from the fix'd Place, and indeed, his Ten|dency that Way soon discovers itself, when he breaks out into these Words.

I will forget my Nature;—so KIND a Father!—

Were the Loss of Royalty uppermest in his Thoughts, his Remarks would most assuredly take their Tincture from thence, and he would rather blame himself as a WEAK Father, who had given all to his Children. But the Circumstance of his having given all, is never men|tioned, unless it is to aggravate the Ill-usage he has met with, and when he says to himself, To take't again per|force, it is plain, that it is not merely for the sake of re|gaining lost Grandeur, but to avenge his Wrongs; and he immediately subjoins, Monster Ingratitude!—and a little after, let me not be mad; not mad, sweet Heaven! —The hool, indeed, taunts him with the Folly of his having divested himself of his Power, and put the Rod, as he calls it, in his Childrens Hand. These Ideas are so obvious, that Shakespear knew they would strike even the most superficial Mind; but we find it is no Consi|deration

with the Father, who never dwells upon it, though it is suggested to him so frequently. On the other Hand, how acute are his Feelings, whenever he recurs to his Daughters want of filial Piety! He that can read the following Lines, without being softened into Tears, must, as Mr. Addison has said upon another Occasion, have either a very good, or a very bad Head.

—Oh! Regan, she has tied Sharp-tooth'd UNKINDNESS like a VULTURE here— —I scarce can speak to thee—thoul't not believe With how depraved a Quality—Oh! Regan!—

What a Picture of a Mind have we here?—The Strugglings with his Sorrows, the Breaks of Passion, the Attempt to speak, and the instant Suppression of his Powers, are the most natural and pathetic Touches. Can the human Imagination, in all her Treasury of Lan|guage, find Words to express at once the detestable Crime of Disobedience to our Parents, and the exqui|site Feelings of an injured Father, like the following Passage?

—She has struck me with her Tongue Most Serpent like upon the very Heart!

Who is there, that does not instantaneously find himself in a Gush of Tears on reading these Lines? And more particularly, when, a little afterwards, he comes to the Speech which closes with,

—You think I'll weep;— No, I'll not weep—tho' I have full Cause of weeping— —This Heart shall break into a thousand Flaws Or e'er I'll weep—O Fool, I shall go mad—

The last Touch in this Speech, is the finest close of a Climax of Passion that can be conceived; and even then the old Monarch feels that his Wits begin to turn, for which melancholy Situation, Shakespear all along

finely prepares us, by skilfully marking each Step the Mind takes, in all its Workings, towards that settled State of Grief.

I have dwell'd thus long on the Cause of Lear's Distraction, because the Arguments, offered by my in|genious Correspondent in the Essay of the 19th of Ja|nuary, carry some Degree of Plausibility; but from what has been premised, together with what I have urged in my former Paper, there cannot, I think, re|main any Doubt about it. Those that are not satisfied with this reasoning are referred to the noblest Com|mentary this, or any Poet ever had; I mean Mr. Gar|rick's Performance of Lear, in which there is displayed so just a Knowledge of the human Mind under a State of Madness, together with such exquisite Feelings of the various Shiftings of the Passions, so finely at the same Time enseebled with the Debility of Age, that I be|lieve, whenever this admirable Actor ceases to play this Part, the unhappy Monarch will lose more than fifty of his Followers at a Clap.—

Though our great Poet pays us very amply for all his Transgressions against the Laws of Aristotle; yet, I have frequently wished, that the noble Wildness of his Genius had not rendered him so unbounded in his Fa|bles. Had this Tragedy been planned with more Art, without an underplot to draw off our Affections from the principal Object, it had been a Piece for all the united Efforts of Greece to envy. However, the Episode, in which the Bastard is acting the same unnatural Part as Lear's legitimate Daughters, is not entirely detached from the main Subject; the Misfortunes of the good old Gloster, who endeavours to assist the forlorn King, must touch every Breast, and the Character of Edgar must appear amiable in every Eye.

The close of this Tragedy is full of Terror and Com|miseration, and our great Foet has here given us a Death, which is not often to be found in the Play|house

Bill of Mortality, viz. the Death of Lear with|out the Dagger, or the Bowl. But, perhaps, af|ter all the Heart-piercing Sensations, which we have before endured through the whole Piece, it would be too much to see this actually performed on the Stage; from the Actor whom I have already named, I am sure it would; though, I should be glad to see the Experiment made, convinced at the same Time that the Play, as it is altered, will always be most agreeable to an Audience, as the Circumstances of Lear's Restoration, and the virtuous Edgar's Alliance with the amiable Cordelia, must always call forth those gushing Tears, which are swelled and enobled by a virtuous Joy. The Alteration is justified by another Rea|son, which is, that Lear was really restored to his Crown, if we may believe Spencer, who gives the following re|markable Narrative, with which I shall close this Paper, making no Doubt, but it will afford great Entertainment to the Reader who has not before amused himself with the Comparison, to see Shakespear's Story related by so great a Poet as Spencer, in his tenth Canto of the Fairy-Queen.

27.

NEXT him King Lear in happy Peace long reign'd, But had no Issue male him to succeed, But three fair Daughters, which were well uptrain'd, In all that seemed fit for kingly Seed: 'Mong whom his Realm he equally decreed To have divided. Tho', when feeble Age Nigh to his utmost Date he saw proceed, He call'd his Daughters, and with Speeches sage Inquir'd, which of them most did love her Parentage.

28.

The eldest Gonoril, 'gan to protest, That she much more than her own Life him lov'd; And Regan greater Love to him profess'd,

Than all the World, whenever it were prov'd. But Cordeil said, she lov'd him, as behov'd; Whose simple Answer, wanting Colours fair To paint it forth, him to Displeasance mov'd, That in his Grown he counted her no Heir, But 'twixt the other twain his Kingdom whole did share.

29.

So wedded one to Maglan King of Scots, And th' other to the King of Cambria, And 'twixt them shar'd his Realm by equal Lots; But without Dower the wise Cordelia Was sent to Aganip of Celtica. Their aged Sure, thus eased of his Crown, A private Life led in Albania, With Gonoril, long had in great Renown, That naught him griev'd to been srom Rule deposed down.

30.

But true it is, that, when the Oil is spent, The Light goes out, and Wike is thrown away; So when he had resign'd his Regiment, His Daughters 'gan despise his drooping Day, And weary wox of his continual Stay. Tho' to his Daughter Regan he repair'd, Who him at first well-used every Way; But when of his Departure she despair'd, Her Bounty she abated, and his Chear empair'd.

31.

The wretched Man 'gan then avise too late, That Love is not where most it is prosess'd, Too truly try'd in his extreamest State. At last, resolv'd likewise to prove the Rest, He to Cordelia himself address'd, Who with entire Affection him receiv'd, As for her Sire and King her seemed best;

And after all an Army strong she leav'd To war on those, which him had of his Realm bereav'd.

32.

So to his Crown she him restor'd again, In which he dy'd, made ripe for Death by Eld, And after will'd it should to her remain; Who peaceably the same long Time did weld, And all Mens Hearts in due Obedience held; Till that her Sister's Children, woxen strong, Thro' proud Ambition against her rebell'd, And overcomen, kept in Prison long, Till weary of that wretched Life, herself she hong.

NUMB. 88.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, June 22, 1754.

Tum Dea nube cavâ tenuem sine viribus umbram In faciem Aeneae, visu mirabile monstrum, Dardaniis ornat tells, clypeumque jubasque Divini assimulat captis; dat inania Verba, Dat sine mente sonum.— VIRG.

_WHEN Turnus, in the tenth Aeneid, is busied in Fields of Slaughter and Devastation, an interposing Goddess shadows forth an illu|sive Appearance of the adverse Warrior, arms the Phantom with an air-drawn Javelin, gives an imaginary Shield and Crest, adds a mimic Voice, and Sounds innocent of Thought, and then makes the un|real Mockery sly before the Ranks, in order to divert the real Combatant, and engage him in a vain Pursuit. The Imposition takes Effect, and the General is seduced from the Field, when the fugitive Illusion vanishes into Air, and then too late the Hero perceives, that he had

quitted the Field of Glory, and the necessary Duties of his Calling, to distinguish his martial Prowess against a fictitious Enemy, where no Honour could be reaped. In the Warfare of the Pen, something like this very commonly happens, and a Writer is no sooner observed to be engaged in a right Course, but a counterfeit Ge|nius is instantly set up in Opposition to him. Mother Dullness, who is always as careful of her Favourites as any Goddess in epic Poetry, is sure to make something appear in the Shape of a Writer; she arms him with a Goose-Quill, furnishes Ink and Paper, supplies him with empty Words, and unideal Sounds, without any thinking Faculty. Dat inania verba, dat sine mente sonum.—

I have ever looked upon the warlike Hero, in the former Instance, to be in a very ridiculous Situation, and surely the Author, who can quit the Pursuit of nobler Game, to follow an idle Scribler in the Form of a Pamphlet, a Letter to a Friend, an unmuse-like Poem, or a pointless Epigram, must, in the Eyes of the Judi|cious, appear to act unworthily, and very much beneath himself. On this Account it is, that Ranger has hitherto kept himself clear of all Disputes with his Brethren of the Quill, and has incessantly pursued his Plan, though there have not been wanting Things,

that would be Poets thought,

who have endeavoured to molest him in his Career.

But deaf to all such Avocations, I have attended only to the Prosecution of the Design this Paper first set out with, viz to conduce my utmost to the Entertain|ment and Instruction of my Readers. The former of these Views, I flatter myself, has in some Degree suc|ceeded, and with Regard to the latter, I do not pre|tend to have enlightened the Understandings of all my Cotemporaries, nor to have brought about a general Reformation of Men and Manners. The Truth of it is, I cannot consider the Gray's-Inn Journal, as a general

Panacea for the Defects of Mankind, though my Book|seller and many of my other Friends (i. e. Enemies) have been pleased to compliment me on that Score. When I declare thus much, I beg, I may not be sup|posed to envy the Fame of a very elegant and ingenious Brother-Writer, who very pleasantly congratulates him|self on the extensive Amendment of Mankind since the Commencement of his Paper, and assures us, that there is no such Thing at present as Cards at White's, or naked Shoulders at Ranelagh; and from the general Cessation of Vice, conceives the Millennium to be at Hand; at which happy Period he is determined to lay down his Pen.

For my Part, I shall not wait for the Milennium; for I must own, I have met with very different Success in my District, and therefore I am resolved not to cry out, in Imi|tation of Falstaff to the vanquished Hotspur,

there lies Vice; an the King will reward me;—so;—if not,—let him write the next Paper himself.

So far from having any Title to this Boast, I have at present only one Letter by me, testifying the surprizing Cure wrought by my Lu|cubrations, which is as follows.

To CHARLES RANGER, Esq

SIR,

FOR twenty Years last past, I have been afflicted with a most extraordinary Species of Pride, which affected my Head to so great a Degree, that I could never, during that Time, bow it to any one, who was not possessed of a Fortune of ten thousand Pounds; which reduced me to such a Situation, that all my Ac|quaintance shunned my Company. But upon Perusal of your Paper of the 24th of November, I immediately found such a Relaxation in the Sinews of my Neck, that I can already make a slight Bow to my Equals, and there is such an Amendment in my Organs of Speech,

that I can pronounce, Sir, or, Madam, to any decent Person of either Sex. The Truth of the above I am willing to attest on Oath, when called upon, and am,

SIR,

Your most obedient Servant, GEORGE STIFFNECK.

This is the only Certificate I can produce at present of the Success of these Papers; and, though I suppose that Individuals have occasionally profited by them; yet my Intelligence says, that most of the fashionable Vices and Follies of this Metropolis are carried on with as much Alacrity as if, to use the Phrase of Moll Bluff, Charles Ranger had never been in the Land of the Living.

By Advices from the City I learn, that, while the Husband is cheating for a Groat behind the Coun|ter, the Wife is venturing Hundreds at a Rout; that the Course of Exchange was on Thursday last very much 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by the Jew-Brokers; that the Stocks 〈◊〉〈◊〉 raised or lowered in Change-Alley; and that Criticism 〈◊〉〈◊〉 prevails at Sam's. Orator Henly, 〈…〉〈…〉 continues to ra••e among his Butchers; 〈…〉〈…〉 of the Leg and the Pit of the Stomach, I am credibly informed, are shewn by all the young Ladies of Fashion every Night at Vauxhall and Ranelagh; and Mr. Ashley on Ludgate-Hill, who sells Punch pro bono 〈◊〉〈◊〉, if the only Patriot I can any where hear of.

But though this general Contagion of Vice and Folly 〈◊〉〈◊〉 prevails, I hope it will at least be found some De|gree of Merit to have opposed it, and I persuade my|self, that throughout these little Volumes, my Satyr has been to levelled, as not to have deserved the Displea|sure of any worthy Character. As to the anonymous invectives of little Scriblers, I have already declared my Opinion of them, and should a whole Inundation be hereafter discharged against me, I shall not be sur

prized after perusing the following Piece, which fell in|to my Hands by an extraordinary Accident a few Days since, and appears to have been issued out almost at the Commencement of this our Undertaking.

The Society of Grubb-street, by the Influence of Dullness-Head-College of Great-Britain, Defender of Absurdity, and so forth; to all our dearly beloved Members, to whom these Presents shall come, greeting:

Whereas Charles Ranger, Esq has taken upon him to publish once a Week, namely every Saturday, a Paper entitled the Gray's-Inn Journal, and hath endeavoured, as far as in him lies, to introduce into all Coffee-houses Essays of Wit and Humour, according to the Practice of the Authors of the Spectator, &c. whom we have always held in the highest Detestation; and farther, whereas the said Charles Ranger hath avowed himself an Enemy to all modern Critics, stigmatizing them by the Name of the Malevoli, and to all foreign Monsters, Ostriches, Pantomimes, &c. we hereby enjoin you all and several of you, to abuse, revile, traduce, calumniate, and desame him, the said Charles Ranger, so as to make him uneasy in his Province, and oblige him, if possible, to lay down his Pen.

And we further command our Dearly beloved, the Au|thors of the Monthly Review, (a Work hitherto devoted to our Cause) either not to mention the Works of the said Ranger, or to damn them with faint Praise, or grosly and scandalously to condemn them, as they have done to every Thing praise-worthy for some Years past; and for so doing, this shall be your sufficient Warrant; Given in Grub-street, December 1, 1753.

By Order of the Society,

• JOHN BOBADILL
• QUINBUS FLESTRIN

Secretaries.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Lloyd's Coffee-house, Lombard-street.

BUsiness being pretty well adjusted among the Fre|quenters of this Place, about One o'Clock every Saturday, the Gray's-Inn Journal is perused over a frugal Dish of Coffee by the Wits, Jokers, Sly Ones, &c. who resort hither. Many of them receive their first Impressions from James, who sometimes delivers his Judgment, and sometimes Tea, with an Air of Impor|tance peculiar to himself. James is really a very good Judge of Sugar, and when a Ship is sold by the Candle, he frequently hints to his Friends, whether she is a Bar|gain or not. From this Sphere he will at Times con|descend to speak of this Paper, and it is really not un|pleasant to hear him pronounce;

I don't like the Essay To-Day, but the News is well enough,

and Vice versâ. Upon the whole, we must say of James, that he has too much Wit for the City, which plainly appears from the Sugar-Bakers shaking their Heads at him; and we must farther declare, that, if he had been bred at the Court-End of the Town, he would have been ranked among the best Criticks, and would in all Probability have engrossed the Name of Mr. Town to himself.

Bedford Coffee-house, June 22d.

We have lately set up in this Place a new invented Machine, in Imitation of the Weather-Glass, by which we can, by sure Prognostics, tell in the Morning the Rise, and Fall, of Wit and Humour for the whole Day. The several Stages which are fixed for its Progress are in a gradual Ascent from DULL, MUZZY, HEAVY, HOWISH, FINE, very FINE, HIGH, GREAT, IMMENSE BY G—D. The Mercury has not ascended this whole Week past further than GREAT, and it is thought, that

it will not reach IMMENSE BY G—D till next Winter; it is rather feared, that there is a Tendency downwards, it being at present below HOWISH, and therefore the Loungers are requested to attend, in order to dissipate the Gloom that at present hangs over us.

NUMB. 89.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, June 29, 1754.

Multa renascentur, quae jam cecidere, cadentque, Quae nunc sunt in honore, vocabula, si volet usus, Quem penes Arbitrium est & jus & norma loquendi, —Sermonum stet Honos & gratia vivax. HOR.

To CHARLES RANGER, Esq

SIR,

_THE Languages of all Nations have ever been in a State of Fluctuation, and we find this Complaint is constantly made by the sensible and judicious in every Age. Tho' the Diction of the Romans is likely to endure as long as Time shall subsist; yet we find that Horace, in the Words of my Motto, is aware of the Decay of Words and Phrases, which die away, and are constantly suc|ceeded by a sudden Birth of new Terms and Modes of Phraseology. In several other Passages of his Writings, there are short Reflections upon this literary Phaeno|menon, in which he always delivers himself with Sor|row and Regret. They fall, says he, like Leaves, and are replaced by a new Product; like young Persons, they flourish for a short Time, and then tend to Obli|vion. The Comparison is most certainly very just; and as young Men in their Bloom and Vigour are said to be upon Town, it is the same with Words; they are also

upon Town for a Time, and then totally perish. I have often thought, that a weekly Bill of Words would not be unentertaining to Men of Letters, and if there was a proper Register Office for the Purpose, where their se|veral Births and Burials might be recorded with Ac|curacy and Precision, I should imagine it would furnish no disagreeable History. A Distinction might be made between a Kind of Sex in Words, according as they are appropriated to Men or Women; as for Instance, D—n my Blood is of male Extraction, and Pshaw, Fiddlestick, I take to be female. Upon this Plan the weekly Bill might stand in this Form.

Born this Week

• Males 300
• Females 900
• 1200

Buried

• Males 400
• Females 900
• 1390

Decreased in the Burial of Words this Week 57.

If, for the Satisfaction on of the curious, a List should be furnished of the several Terms that are born, or that die away, with a short Account of the Life and Character of each Phrase, whether it be born of honest Parents in England or Ireland, what Company it kept, whether it was Whig or Tory, Popish or Protestant, it would in my Opinion be an agreeable Addition to this verbal History. There might further be added an Account of such Ex|pressions as might happen to be naturalized, with the Objections of the Learned, who should think proper to protest against such a Naturalization of Foreigners among the Natives of this Land. Such a Procedure could not fail to yield Satisfaction to the curious; and, though it would not prevent the Instability of our Lan|guage, it would at least display the gradual Steps to|wards Improvement or final Destruction. For my Part, I have ever looked upon the Permanency of our Language to be of greater Consequence than the Stocks, of whatever Denomination, and for that Reason, I should be glad that some Mcans were devised to hinder

the Diction of our Shakespear and Milton from being ob|literated, and to suspend the Evils, which Mr. Pope threatens us with, when he says

And such as Chaucer is, shall Dryden be.

The Dictionary, which the Erudition of Mr. Johnson is preparing for the Public, may in some Measure an|swer this End, and, in Aid to that Design I have been for some Time past planning a Dictionary of such Words, as appeared to me from a Concurrence of various Causes, to be most likely to be totally forgot. In or|der to forward this Undertaking, I have annexed a Spe|cimen of the Work, not as yet reduced into alphabe|tical Order, but drawn out in such a Manner as may serve to convey some Idea of the intended Work. When the Whole is compleated it may serve as a proper Companion to the Spectator, the Tatler, and all the Works of Morality, which have been published in this Coun|try, and it may be contributing to make our Posterity have some faint Notion of what is meant in many Places, when the visible Tendency of our Manners to an entire Change from antient Simplicity has almost effaced the Ideas, which the Author of the Times in|tended to express.

A Specimen of an English Dictionary.

CREATURE, A Term to shew our Contempt of any Person whom we dislike, chiefly used by the Ladies.

THING, Very often used to imply our Dislike, but chiefly used to signify our highest Approbation. Thus it is said of a fine Lady; "She's the very Thing," or of a young Fellow, "O, Ma'em, he's the very Thing;" and sometimes with Limitation, as,

yes, very well, but not the Thing.

PATRIOT, A Man who speaks against the Court till he gets a Place or Pension.

HONEST, This Term is derived from the Latin Word Honestum, which among the Romans implied every

Thing that is honourable in a Character. From thence Pope was induced to say,

An honest Man's the noblest Work of God.

This is the original Meaning of the Word; in its con|sequential Sense it is strangely altered. Honest now sig|nifies Gaming, Drinking, and Debauchery of every Sort; it being common to say of a Man who is ad|dicted to all these fashionable Vices, that he's an

Ho|nest Fellow.

GOOD-NATURE, an old English Word used by our Ancestors; it is plain, that it carried with it some Allu|sion to the Customs and Manners of those Times, but there is no tracing it to its Source.

RELIGION, an old English Word for the Worship of a Supreme Being, and the Practice of social Duties to our Neighbours; probably a Custom known to the an|tient Druids.

HUMBUG, A Lye.

WORTH, originally it meant laudable Qualities of the Mind; at present tis solely confined to a Man's For|tune: Thus a Scoundrel of fifty Thousand is a Man of Worth, and an honest Man in Indigence is worth no|thing.

PARTY, sormerly signified Divisions in the State, at present it means a Jaunt to Vaux-hall, Bedlam, Church, or any Place of Diversion.

TRAGEDY, a Name by which Shakespear, Otway, and some others entitled their dramatic Writings; the Mo|derns retain the Word, but have totally lost the original Sense of it.

COMEDY, probably a Piece in which our rude An|cestors represented the Follies and Characters of the Age; nothing of this Sort is at present known amongst us.

DAMNED, when Priestcraft prevailed in this Country, the People were frightened with strange Ideas of Hell,

or a Place of Torture, where the departed Spirits of bad Men were supposed to be confined. At present it signifies the highest Praise we can confer. Thus we say,

A damned fine Woman; a damned charming Crea|ture; a damned fine Fellow, &c.

DRUM, an Instrument of warlike Music used at the March of an Army, or in Time of Battle to animate the Soldiery: Hence stiled by Shakespear the Spirit stirring Drum. It has not been used to any Purpose by the English since the Days of the Duke of Marlborough. In its metaphorical Sense it means a Party of Cards, (Vide Rout.)

FRIENDSHIP, an old English Word used by our An|cestors to signify the complex Idea of Affection and Esteem between two or more Persons, founded upon a virtuous Sympathy of Tempers, and congenial Habits of Virtue (for the Meaning of the Word VIRTUE, see in its respective Place:) This Custom was totally banished in the Reign of King Charles II. and few or no Traces of it have been discovered ever since.

GOD, The antient Druids, it is probable from all Hi|storians imagined that a superior Being super-intended the Direction of the Universe, and the Term GOD, it is not unlikely, originally fignified this superior Being; but since it has been happily found out, that every Thing was made by Chance, or that Nature, (Vide Na|ture in its proper Place) produced every Thing we be|hold, and since the Properties of Matter have been sufficiently detected by Lord Bolingbroke and others, the Term God is totally exploded, as merely expressive of some Chimaera, which has no Existence.

MODESTY, alludes to some Custom among the an|tient British Ladies.

EARTHQUAKE, a Party at Cards. (Vide Rout, Drum, or Hurricane.)

FASHION, a polite Term of Excuse for all the Vices that can be thought of.

NATURE, Nothing at all; it is often called Plastic Nature, universal Nature, &c. but the Idea is always the same.

ROUT, formerly signified the Defeat of an Army, and when the Soldiers were all put to flight or to the Sword, they were said to be routed. The Ladies, in order to preserve some Idea of Cressi, Poitiers, Blenheim, &c. have agreed to call their Assemblies by the Name of Routs. This, it is thought, they do with more Propriety, as frequently at these Meetings whole Families are en|tirely routed out of House and Home.

SOUI. It was formerly believed, that in each human Creature there existed something incorruptible, which was not to perish with the Dissolution of our Bodies, but to be removed to some other Part of the Universe, and there to enjoy the Reward due to Virtue, or suffer condign Punishment for all Transgressions, while in this State of Probation. But the happy Discovery of the Properties of Matter has also banished this absurd Doc|trine, which serves now to embellish the Fictions of Poets.

IMMENSE, an Epithet of Praise, thus we say

an immense fine Woman, &c. (vide Damned.

)

VIRTUE, The antient Druids made it a Rule to keep all their Passions in due Government, by which Mean, they were never known to prejudice their Neigh|bours, or hurt their own Constitutions by Intemperance; and this Practice, it is probable, was signified by the Word Virtue. It is used by Shakespear, Spencer, Milton, Pope, and other Poets, as a pretty Ornament for their romantic Performances. (Vide Friendship.)

PITY, This is also an old English Word, the Mean|ing of which cannot be traced; it is now a Word of Course, when we do not care a Farthing for a Friend in Affliction.

Yours, &c.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Hanover-Square, June 29.

LAST Night the Dowager Dutchess of Hurricane, had a grand Rout at her Grace's House in this Place. It was computed by Mrs. Sugarkey, the House|keeper, that there were at least about two hundred People of all Ranks and Denominations present. There were no less than seven Brag-Tables, and several un|married Ladies had such trying Luck, that it was thought they discovered their Tempers, full as much as they did their Breasts. The rest of the Company were decently composed at Whist, except a small Party, who amused themselves at Cribbage and All-Fours. At the last mentioned Game, a Dispute arose concerning some difficult Point, and the Company, not being able to decide it, Bryan Rapaway, a Chairman, was called up, who settled the Affair with great Precision, and then withdrew, with Half a Crown for his Trouble, con|ferring several good Wishes on the Company as he walked down Stairs, such as, Long Life to you; the Beg|gars Blessing to you; and many other Expressions of the same Import, flowing from a Heart thoroughly filled with Gratitude.

NUMB. 90.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, July 6, 1754.

— Res antiquae laudis & artis Ingredior, sanctos ausus recludere fontes. VIRG.

_OUR Club met a few Nights since at the Devil Tavern, when the Conversation principally turned upon Topics of Litera|ture, and particularly dramatic Poetry. Many of our best modern Tragedies were examined, and I observed it was frequently said of Pieces con|fessedly inartificial in the Fable, unforcible in Senti|ment, and destitute of Character, that they contained a very fine Vein of Poetry. Our Professor of Criticism immediately objected to the Propriety of the Expression. He did not understand how a bad Play could have fine Poetry, and he has formed a Plan for a Set of Papers, which may throw some Light on this Matter. I shall this Day present my Readers with one, which I think may serve as an Opening to the Design.

In order to decide upon the Excellence or Imper|fection of any Art, it is necessary to know the original Intent and Aim of that Art, and also the several Means by which it accomplishes its Designs. The bet|ter to investigate this, with regard to any Branch of Li|terature, it will be expedient to trace all Manner of Composition to its Source, and thence to pursue the se|veral Rivulets which have streamed from it. This has been done with great Perspicuity and Elegance by the Author of the Essays on the Characteristics, who has very justly determined the three primary Branches of Composition to be, Poetry, Eloquence, and Argument. He adds, that a just Coalition of the three forms the con|summate Beauty of fine Writing, and then, continues

he,

it would be perhaps both a new and pleasing Speculation to point out the Writers in their several Kinds, who have been most remarkably excellent, or defective with Regard to the just Union of these three Species of Cemposition. At present it must suffice to have hinted such a Criticism, which the Reader may easily prosecute.

Such a Criticism might distinguish the respective Graces of all Kinds of Writing, and furnish the Criterions by which to judge of the proper Beauties of each different Species. I shall now beg Leave to offer a few cursory Reflections on this Subject; and, in order to proceed with the greater Perspicuity, shall attempt a short Account of the Rise of the three Modes of Writing already mentioned.

Man being a sociable Creature, it was necessary, that certain Signs, universally agreed upon, should be used for the reciprocal Conveyance of his Ideas. Sounds, which we call Words, were the quickest Vehicles, and therefore grew into general Use. According as our Stock of Ideas enIarged itself, the Demand for Words became more extensive, and as Societies were framed, and People assembled by civil Policy, Intercourse begot further Acquisitions, and thus, Language was daily en|larged. But it being impossible that every distinct Idea should be expressed by a Term appropriated to it, the Mind naturally had Recourse to the Faculty of Reason, which compares, distinguishes, and separates the Ideas which have passed through the Senses, or have been formed into different Combinations by the Power of Imagination. By these Means, a Similitude was dis|covered between sundry various Images, and thence it followed, that Things were expressed by borrowed Names, on account of a Resemblance existing between them. The Term thus transferred was called a Meta|phor, and, as it happens in the commercial Intercourse of Mankind, what was at firist introduced out of Neces|sity, became, in Process of Time, an absolute Luxury.

This the Poets soon perceived; and as it was their Busi|ness to lead uncultivated Multitudes from their Huts and Dens, by seizing their Imaginations with their Songs and Ballads, the Metaphor soon appeared to them to be an effectual Means of painting Things in warmer Colours to the Fancy, which is ever greatly de|lighted when any new and unforeseen Assemblage is offered to its View. The Epithet which denotes the Qualities inherent in all Objects, lent its auxiliary Aid, and Poetry, with these adventitious Ornaments became the Delight of Mankind.

But the Matter did not rest here; as Cities were mul|tiplied, and as States enlarged themselves, artificial Passions began to operate; Ambition then began to grasp at Power and Pre-eminence, and Envy, Jealousy, Revenge and Malice sowed the Seeds of Discord, and mutual Distrust; and thus while they were distracted with intestine Commotions, the adjacent States, desirous of extending their Possessions, made Inroads upon them. In these Emergencies there was not Time for the mea|sured Writer to produce his poetic Composition; an immediate Address was requisite to influence the Pas|sions of the Multitude, and therefore Men of Genius came forth, and destitute of Number, addressed the People in humble Prose. But here, still the Attention was to be fixed, and therefore they could not divest themselves of all the Properties of Poetry, but continued to address themselves to the Imagination of their Au|ditors, and thus to influence their Passions and perswade them to their own Good. As the least Appearance of a Design upon their Understandings on these Occasions would totally defeat itself, it thence resulted, that all those ambitious Ornaments, and all those gaudy Colour|ings, which Poetry spreads so lavishly on every Subject, were here introduced with a more sparing Hand, and the Imagination was only addressed as it affords various Accesses to the Passions. In this Manner Eloquence

deduced its being; and was only a less luxuriant Kind of Poetry, which endeavoured to practise the Arts of Persuasion, and to win over the Passions of the People to its own End and Use.

In Proportion as Mankind became enlightened, as Arts and Manufactures encreased, and as Science ex|tended itself, it was not enough that Poetry charmed with its graceful Combinations, and that Eloquence awakened and agitated the Passions; Reason began then to exert its Influence, to look for Utility and Truth in every Composition, and stripping away the Luxuriances of lavish Description, it began cooly and dispassionately to consider every Thing that was offered. Hence sprung the Didactic, or the Argumentative; Demosthenes was obliged to proceed by fair Deductions, and as much as possible to conceal his Art from a People, who were so polished, that they would have despised those Arts of Persuasion, which Tully practised with Success upon Minds less artful and less informed than the Greeks.

In this Manner, it appears to me, these three pri|mary Branches of Composition arose in the World, each being plainly deducible from the very Principles of our Constitution. For as the Imagination is the warmest Faculty of the Soul, Poetry, whose principal Intent is to please, is particularly addressed to this Power of Perception. Eloquence, though more chaste and reserved in its Embellishments, strikes chiefly at the Passions, and as they are then most powerfully excited, when Fancy pictures strong Appearances of Good or Evil. Eloquence is obliged to have Recourse to the Regions of Imagination, in order to render its Co|lourings stronger and more glowing; and further, as the Province of Reason is to compare its Ideas, and to form various Affirmations or Negations relative to them, the Didactic is principally confined to this Province. There are not in human Nature any other Inlets of Per|ception, or any other Faculties of Sensation to which

the Art of a Writer could apply, and therefore the Imagination, the Passions, and Reason are justly the three Springs of Composition. But Men of Refine|ment and Reflection, perceiving what a powerful Influ|ence any one of these Branches of Writing has upon the Mind, have thence inferred, that the joint Force of all three united, must carry the Power of Genius to still a greater Degree of Perfection, and, therefore, in whatever Way they were engaged, they have made it their Business to make Excursions into their Neighbours Territories, and borrow thence several Improvements to heighten their Productions. As for Instance, in like Manner, as Eloquence has learned from Poetry to warm and enliven the Imagination, Poetry has marked the Influence of Eloquence on the Passions, and has en|deavoured to glide to the Heart through the same In|lets; and both have also found it necessary to recom|mend themselves to Reason, and have occasionally strengthened themselves with Insertions of the Didactic. The reasoning Faculty has, in its Turn, perceived, that a mere Train of Deductions would be too dry, and therefore it takes Occasion to adorn itself with the Flowers of Imagination, and, in some Speculations, it even endeavours to awaken the Passions.

Hence then it appears, that a Concurrence of the primary Branches of Writing is requisite in all Works of Genius; but, as there is some Danger of running Riot, and making too frequent and unjustifiable Pro|gresses into each others Territories, it was necessary to fix the Boundaries of each Kind, and to determine how far any one of them may indulge itself in its Approaches towards the others, in order to preserve the essential Dif|ference in every Composition, to observe the proper Qualities, and the just Colourings of each; or as Horace has it,

D••••••••nctas servare vices operumque colores.

There are in Nature but few original Colours, and it is from the Meltings and Softenings of these into each other, that all other Appearances to the Eye derive their Origin. It is the fame in Writing; the several Species of it, which are now practised, are Modes of Poetry, Eloquence and Argument differently blended. How far the Union is just, shall be occasionally exa|mined in a few detached Essays; and by these Means we shall see the peculiar Merit of an Epic Poem, a Tra|gedy, a Comedy, &c. and the Reader may at his Leisure carry the Research into several subordinate Branches of Writing.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Rainbow Coffee-house, July 6.

IT having been observed by several People that Jerry has been for some Time past, greatly wrapped up in Thought; we think proper to acquaint the Public, that the King of Prussia's Memorial has given him a great Deal of Uneasiness, and that he is preparing some very judicious Remarks upon that Performance, which it is apprehended, will surprize the World.

Wednesday last the Abbé de Bagatelle, Embassador Extra|ordinary from the Republic of Criticism in Paris, landed at the Tower; and we hear, that he intends to make his public Entry into the Bedford Coffee-house, about the latter End of the Month.

Last Week Robert Noodle, Esq Son and Heir of Sir Robert Noodle, Bart. of Shallow-Hall in Yorkshire, set out with his Governor Mr. Archibald Glingary, in order to pass through France and Italy, and return home again.

Letters from Paris advise, that the venerable Mrs. Douglas of Covent-Garden, has been lately sent to the Basile, for attempting to inveigle a Lady of the first Di|stinction at Court, who has been for many Years past the principal Favourite of his Most Christian Majesty.

Last Thursday died Mr. Abraham Tally, an eminent Stock-Jobber; a Gentleman possessed of every good Quality—in a Fortune of 30,000 l.

By Advices from Vaux-hall and Ranelagh, we are in|formed, that more pretty Legs and Shoulders have been shewn there lately by the Ladies, than has hitherto been attempted in this Country, which causes various Speculations, and it is said a certain Irish Gentleman is so pleased with this Phaenomenon of the Descent of the Stays, and Ascent of the Petticoat, that he expects short|ly to see both Ends meet.

NUMB. 91.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, July 13, 1754.

—Felices ter & amplius Quos irrupta tenet Copula. HOR.

To CHARLES RANGER, Esq

SIR,

_YOU have long since listed yourself in the Service of the Fair; as a Volunteer in the same Cause, I now take the Liberty to address this Letter to you, which will, be|fore I have done, sufficiently unfold me and my Call|ing. I am induced to it, by an Advertisement in the common News Papers, calculated merely for the Use of the rougher Sex, without any Regard to the weak, but lovely, Part of the Creation, who stand most in need of adventitious Aids, to guide them in an Age of Vice and Folly. The Advertisement I mean is as follows:

Gentlemen that are inclined for Marriage.

I have daily fresh deplorable Reasons to press you to fly to me to prepare for that important Statc; if my Advice

only is wanting, you shall have it, without any View of Return, and, let what will be wanting, be assured the Emclument or Pleasure I shall have from the Institu|tion, will chiefly consist in that sweetest of Sensations, which the Heart feels in having relieved the Distressed, or in|spirited the Languid. I have by hard Study found out Medicines that will give perfect Redress to any afflicted with the venereal Infection, or Weakness of Body, from any Injuries, in a short Time—from Mr. J. O. Hospital Surgeon, opposite the Auditor's-Office, in Upper Scotland-Yard, near White-Hall. N. B. The strictest Honour may be depended on.

Would not one imagine, upon Perusal of the first Part of this Advertisement, that it is the Effusion of Benevo|lence in some Clergyman, prompted by a laudable Zeal to encourage the Observance of the Commandment for the Propagation of the Species, and add his Efforts to strengthen the late Marriage Act. To prepare for that important State.—Does not this Expression suggest Ideas of our awful Religion, and the solemn Institution esta|blished by it?—And then how disinterested is the sweetest of his Sensations!—It does not lie in the Palm of his Hand, but plays around his generous Heart, and is an Indication of a pure and extensive Charity. On read|ing a little further, it however appears, that Mr. J. O. has only assumed the Appearance of a Parson, like Sir John Brute in the Play, for a Frolick, and, when you are just upon the Point of enquiring if he has any Cure, he cries out very frankly, "an excellent Cure for a Clap," As Surgery is now arrived to a very great Degree of Per|fection, I do not doubt but the last Assertion may be very true; but as to his Preparations for the important State of Matrimony, we are quite lest in the Dark. But be it the Business of the Men to make farther Enquiries about this his boasted Nostrum. As I do not propose to con|cern myself, in the Course of my Practice, with the Lords of the Creation, being devoted entirely to the Service of

the Ladies. I shall now proceed to offer my own Adver|tisement, which, I hope, will be attended with very good Consequence.

To the Ladies inclined to Matrimony.

Never were ner••ous Decays less frequent than at pre|sent, which has induced me to press you to enter into the married Life, as you will not, in the present Glow of Health, be in any Danger of converting your Bed-Cham|ber to Nurseries for your Husbands, nor have any Oc|casion to lie with your Footmen. To prepare you for the important State, I have, with infinite Pains, devised a Recipe, which cannot fail to procure you good Offers very 〈…〉〈…〉, and to make the married State compleatly happy.

N. B. I have the Honour of having Mr. Keith, late of May-Fair, to vouch for my being regularly bred at the Hand and P••n, and always a zealous Promoter of Mar|riage before the late Act. From Q. D. G. near May|hair-Chappel.

I know the World in general is apt to form very dis|advantageous Ideas of us advertising Doctors; but I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 have to assure Mr. Ranger, that the above is not in the ordinary Way of puffing, but to promote the real benefit of the Community. I have obtained a Patent for the sole vending my Composition for the Space of Fourteen Years; and, to convince you of its Efficacy, I will hereby inform the World of the Ingredients, which are in the Possession of so few, that I am not apprehensive of having my Business taken out of my Hands. The component Parts of those admirable Powders, with which Heaven has enabled Doctor James to preserve, as it were by Proxy, the Lives and Constitutions of Mil|lions, are all very well known; but it is in the Propor|tion of the Mixture, and the whole Process of the Pre|paration, that the Secret lies. In like Manner my Me|dicine will save me the Trouble of crying out,

Beware of Counterfeits, for such are abroad.

As it will be im|possible

to offer any Mixture to the Public, that will not immediately be liable to Detection, the Ingredients are as follow:

Good-Manners, Good-Humour, an Abstinence from Politicks, an Aversion from Cards, mo|destly to keep the Neck and Shoulders covered, Dislike of Scandal, Pride, Levity, Folly, Humility, Discretion, Scorn of Fools, Reserve, Dissimulation, Vanity, Frank|ness, Truth, Neatness, Honour, Sobriety and Mirth.

Among these it appears there are some Poisons; but these, properly tempered, and counterballanced by op|posite Qualities, will, I venture to pronounce it, get a young Lady a Husband, and ensure mutual Happiness, better than any Thing hitherto devised.

Instead of producing a large Number of Vouchers for the salutary Effects already felt from my Medicine, I shall close my Letter with the History of two female Reigns; for every Beauty is, for a Time, the Queen of her Admirers. The first is that of a beautiful Tyrant, who made a wrong Use of her Power; the second, of a more discreet Sovereign, who had recourse to the above Recipe.

MARIA ascended the Throne of Beauty in the eigh|teenth Year of her Age; immediately upon her Acces|sion, she dissolved her Parliament, turned out of her Privy-Council every Person of Sense and Discretion, and introduced, in their Room, a French Hair-Cutter, two Milliners, a Chambermaid, and many other Personages of equal Rank and Condition. By the Advice of these Assistants she reigned with despotic Sway. She heard the Complaints of her Slaves without ever feeling the least Propensity to a Redress of their Grievances, which occasioned violent Heart-burnings, and at Length called forth a Shoal of Writers against her Government, as generally happens in all political States, when the supreme Power is abused. A Num|ber of Sonnetteers, Libellers, and Epigrammatists, who

daily poured forth Treason against her Beauty, and pro|nounced her born to enslave Mankind. She had a very particular Pleasure in signing metaphorical Death. War|rants for her Votaries; and she looked upon the whole Race of Mankind formed to flatter her Vanity, and to pay her Adoration. She exacted Tributes of Admi|ration at such an exorbitant Rate, that at last an Hamb|den arose, who disputed with her a Contribution of In|cences which she insisted upon. This Proceeding open|ed the Eyes of the rest of her Subjects, who all con|spired to dethrone her in the twenty-third Year of her Age; and then fell the Tyrant Maria, without one to lament her Fall, after a short Reign of five Years, in which she conquered with so wild a Rage, as the Poet has it, that, with the universal Joy, succeeded to her, the fair Elizabeth, whose Reign commenced, like a mild Evening after the violent Scorching of a hot Summer's Day.

ELIZABETH endeavoured to render herself the Mistress of all willing Hearts, and valued herself more upon the Love of her Subjects, than any idle Flattery she might extort from them. The Poet's Description was perfectly adapted to her;

Favours to none, to all she Smiles extends; Ost she rejects, but never once offends.

She had no She-Friends in her Cabinet-Council, but guided herself entirely by the Directions of Prudence, Virtue, and good Sense. An Essex, at length, insinu|ated himself more particularly into her good Graces; but she had such a Command over her Passions, that she never disgraced him by a Blow, but, in the End, took him as an Associate into her Empire, which she, in a short Time, finally resigned, in order to enjoy the calmer Gratifications of a domestic Life, where she now shines with every amiable Grace, while Toasts and other

ambitious Beauties fatigue their Eyes, and weary every Feature, in vain, to gain them Admirers.

I am, Mr. Ranger's most humble Servant, Q. D. G.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Court of Censorial Enquiry, July 13, 1754.

A Motion being made in this Court, on Wednesday last, against the Authors of a Pamphlet published every Month, and entituled the Monthly Review, for certain evil Practices; Writs were immediately issued out for the apprehending all or any of the said Authors, so that he, she, or they, may be brought to Trial, and be obliged to shew Cause for assuming a Decision upon literary Performances, to give an Account of themselves, who, and what they are, and by what Authority they have erected themselves into Judges of literary Merit.

The Public shall have a speedy Account of them when taken, and the Proceedings on the Trial shall be inserted at large in this Paper.

Bedford Coffee-house, July 13.

By Advices from sundry Parts of the Country we learn, that Blood and Blank-Verse have had a surprising Effect upon the Minds of the Country People, during the Summer-Expedition of the Actors; particularly from a Country-Town, on the Borders of Wales, we are in|formed of the following remarkable Incident: A Gen|tleman, arriving at an Inn, after a long Day's Journey, with a Hare, which was given him as a Present on his Way, and with which he intended to regale at Night, ordered it to be roasted for his Supper; but the Landlord told him, it could not be. Why so pray? —Why, I'll tell you Master—We have a Company of Players in Town.—Well, what then?—Why I'll tell

you, Master—I have lent them the Wheel we always roast with.—Lent 'em the Wheel!—What for? Why you must know—they act Venice Preserved, Master— and Pierre, you know, is to be broke on the Wheel, in the last Act, and so they have got our's to do it with, and also the Chain; because you know Pierre is to wear Chains. The Result was, the Gentleman was obliged to wait the Catastrophe of the Play, before he could have Execution done on his Hare, when the Landlord begged hard for a Part of it for his favourite Pierre, who, he said, was a brave Man.

NUMB. 92.

GRAY's-INN, Saturday July 20, 1754.

Et prodesse volunt & delectare Poetae, Et simul & jucunda & idonea dicere Vitae. HOR.

Nee satis est pulchra esse Poemata, dulcia sunto, Et quoeunque volent, animum auditoris agunto. HOR.

_THE Author of my Motto was one of the best Crities the World has ever produced, and he has, in the above Lines, comprised the three principal Qualities of Poetry. Its Aim, says he, is to afford at once Utility and De|light, to offer what may be agreeable to the Fancy, and also what may conduce to the Advantages of hu|man Life. He further adds, it is not enough for a Poem to abound in Prettynesses, it must also have a sweet Access to the Heart, and should be able to agitate the Soul with what Passions it pleases. This Description involves all the leading Requisites of Poetry; and, it is

remarkable, includes the three primary Branches of Composition, exhibited in a former Paper, viz. the Art of addressing our Reason, in order to be useful, the Imagination, to be agreeable, and the Passions, in order to persuade and gain upon our Affections. Here then we have Poesy, Eloquence, and Argument united, and most assuredly, that Performance will be found the most excellent in its Kind, which is the most highly finished with Regard to these three Essentials.

Epic Poetry has always had the Pre-eminence, and, I suppose, the Reason of this Determination, is, be|cause it affords the freest and most ample Room for a Display of the three primary and original Species of Writing, It is by observing how these friendly Colours mix and blend with each other, that we are to deduce a Judgment upon the different Authors, who have proved any Way eminent in the literary World, refer|ing to the first Principles, being the only Criterion in every Art. Bossu and other Critics have informed us, that the epic Fable must involve one entire Action; that this Action must have a Beginning, a Middle, and an End; They have told us, that the Poet must not take up the Thread of his Narrative too near the Clue; but that he must hasten into the Midst of Things, and oc|casionally give a Retrospect to such Things as are ne|cessary to be known. They have treated largely of the Machinery, of the Time the Fable should include, with many other Particulars, which though proper to be explained, do not any Way conduce to the Refine|ment of Taste, or the Improvement of true Genius. It is most certain; by observing from what Principles in the human Frame each Art is deducible, that any real or valuable Criticism can be formed.

It is manifest then, that the Epic Writer has free Latitude of inserting all the Graces of every Kind of Composition. All Nature lies at his Command; where|ever

he casts his Eyes, he is Lord of the Manor; he can turn a Road, by poetical Act of Parliament, through Lawns and Groves, and Scenes of Pasturage; the four Seasons obey his Directions, and he need never be at a Loss for agreeable Exhibitions of Nature, to please the Imagination. The whole System of Ethics is also his; he may frequently take occasion to improve his Read|ers by short Sentences, and transient Reflections on hu|man Life, and by these Means he may gain upon our Reason to approve his Performances. The whole Art of Eloquence is likewise perfectly open to the Epic Au|thor, and from thence he may derive an irresistible Power over our Passions. In this last mentioned Requi|site the Abbé du Bos places the consummate Persection of fine Poetry. Certain it is, the Mind of Man never feels such intense Pleasure from any of the imitative Arts, as when its Passions are awakened, and it finds itself roused from an impassive State, and unexpectedly agitated by the skilful Touches of a Master-poet. The Author just quoted ascribes this ideal Appearance to the Satisfaction which the Soul enjoys at the Perception of its own Acti|vity: May we not add to this, what is suggested, if I re|member right, by the Author of The Pleasure of the Ima|ginations? "Our moral Sense receives on the Occasion an additional Delight, to see that the social Affections are in Harmony' and Proportion, and feelingly awake to the due Sensations of Humanity; and this, in Conjunction with the Gratifications, which we are apt to take in comparing the Ideas, which Reality has suggested, with those excited by the Art of Imitation, conspire to ren|der a warm and well-executed Passage in Poetry, so agreeable to all Mankind in general."

Were I to declare in which of the three Powers of the Mind, already mentioned, I think Homer, Virgil and Milton, to be most eminently shining; I should as|cribe

to Homer the strongest and most vigorous Efforts of Imagination, and an amazing Faculty of alarming us with noble and amazing Descriptions of all the magni|ficent Objects in Nature. As to our own Milton, I should be inclined to declare him a Rival of the Greek Poet, for a comprehensive Sublimity of Conception: and Virgil's Excellence I should place in beautiful Touches of poetic Eloquence. His whole fourth Book I take to be a Master-piece in this Way. The various Agita|tions of Mind which Dido endures, her Love, her Jea|lousy, her Rage, her Tenderness, her many mixed Emotions, are perhaps the finest Strokes in Poetry. In his sixth Book also there are several Scenes of the most tender Nature; and, in the ninth Book, the Grief of the Mother, after the Death of Nisus and Euryalus, and the Lamentations of Evander, are all to be ranked in the same Class, and, in my Opinion, af|ford a Pleasure, not to be met with in either of the other Poets, even though Homer has succeeded so well in Hector's last Scene with Andromache, and though our great Mil|ton has a great Deal of finely impassionated Dialogue in his justly celebrated Poem. Virgil more frequently applies himself to the Passions of his Readers than the other two; and, notwithstaneing some pretty strong Improbabilities, he does not so frequently shock our Reason, as the Grecian Poet, who certainly, in some Particulars, is extravagant to the highest Degree. Mil|ton has the Advantage of having founded his Story up|on Traditions, which our Religion has sanctified, other|wise I should consider his fallen Angels, and the War waged by them, together with the Invention of Can|non, and many other Circumstances, highly chimerical, even though they expand our Fancy with grand and surprizing Appearances.

I shall take another Opportunity to consider how far Tragedy may dispute with the Epic for the Preference,

and shall only add at present, that I have ever been of Opinion, that all the Writers of heroic Poesy have, in general, been too fond of the Marvellous. By this I would not be understood to censure the Use of Machinery, which, when introduced with Sobriety and Discretion, serves to present agreeable Scenery to the Mind; and I could wish that the Correctness of Mr. Glover's Judg|ment had not entirely excluded it from his Poem of Leo|nidas, which certainly has many Passages of warm po|etic Eloquence, many Pieces of beautiful Imagery, and several Strictures of useful and improving Morality, artfully interwoven with the Ground-work of his Fable.

I shall beg leave to conclude with an Observation, which is not entirely foreign to the Purpose. It is re|marked by Mr. Addison, that Virgil has but one Conceit throughout his Poem, and that, says he, is put into the Mouth of the young Julus, when, with a Kind of punning Ambiguity, he observes, that they are eating their Tables. But surely the great Critic had forgot the Passage, where the Poet tells us, that Aeneas, in runuing round a Tree after the flying Turnus, follows the Man who follows him.—Sequiturque sequentem.

This, tried by the Rule of Bohours, appears to have Truth for its Foundation; but it is so childish a Truth, that I am sorry to find it intermixed with the Majesty of the Aeneid; but, perhaps, it is like the Fly on the Picture, which a minute Observer was going to brush away, and then found it was placed there on purpose by the Hand of the Artist.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Bedford Cossee-house, July 15.

THE frequent Showers of Rain, which sell yesterday Evening, drove the Loungers from their summer sauntering Places, into this Coffee-house. One

of the Company produced the following Copy of Verses, which, he said, were written extempore, by a cele|brated Actor, upon Sir G—L—'s asking him, if he did not intend to quit the Stage, and go into Parlia|ment.

The ANSWER.

THINK not, Sir George, 'twas ever my Intent To wear the Cap and Mask in Parliament; To change the Scene, and foolishly transfer My Skill from Drury-Lane to Westminster. Had I my Wish, I'd quit the mimic Art, Nor strut and fret my Hour in any Part. No more in publick Life would I engage, Or play the Fool or Knave on any Stage.

After perusing these Lines, it was lamented that the Court of Criticism was not sitting, that it might be known what Decree the Malevoli would pass on them. They happened, however, to please the Company then present, which encouraged the same Gentleman to pro|duce another short Piece, written, as he hinted, by the same Hand.

On the Academy for teaching grown People to dance.

MARSEILLES no more shall boast his Art, Which form'd the Youth of France; For you instruct, great Duke and Hart, Grown Gentlemen, to dance. He only bent the pliant Twig; You strike a bolder stroke; You fosten Rocks, make Mountains jig, And bend the knotted Oak.

NUMB. 93.

Gray's-Inn, Saturday, July 27, 1754.

—Fulgente trabit constrictos Gloria Curru Non minus ignatos Generosis. HOR.

Vendidit hic auro Patriam, dominumque potentem Imposuit, fixit leges Pretio atque resixit. VIRG.

_MIRGEHAN was a Peasant in the De|sarts of Arabia; he frequently begged an Alms of the Travellers in the passing Ca|ravan. For along Time he drove the loaded Camel over Mount Pharan for a Jeweller of Cairo, and having at length by an amazing Parsimony, got together a few Sequins of Gold, he followed the Occupation of his Master. Affairs thrived so well with him, that in the Course of a few Years Mirgehan began to assume to himself the Pride of Wealth, and his Countenance, which formerly was humbled by Poverty and a Dejection of Spirits, began to brighten into Gleams of Self-Satisfaction. In order to extend his Interest, and enlarge his Schemes for the Accumulation of Wealth, Mirgehan, now basking under the Sun|shine of his Fortune, resolved to remove to Bafra, where he was soon distinguished as the most eminent Merchant of the Place. As it is the Nature of Ambition to be ever restless and unsatisfied, after having, in the Course of six Years Residence, amassed a very ample Fortune, he determined with himself to change his Abode once more, and settle himself, with all his im|mense Wealth, at Bagdad.

Mingehan was no sooner fixed at Bagdad, than the Re|putation

of his Affluence spread itself abroad. In all convivial Meetings among the rest of the Merchants, as soon as his Lips seemed to open, every Tongue was suspended with Silence, every Eye gazed at him with Admiration, and every Ear devoured the Periods of his Story with greedy Earnestness. His Voice, which naturally was as rough as the Sound occasioned by a Collision of Billows on the Ocean, now seemed as fost as the fragrant Gale, which pants upon the Leaves of the Arabian Trees.

By this Time Mirgehan's Credit was become so exten|sive, that People of all Ranks and Conditions deposited their Money with him, and he had every Day a very great Number of Servants counting over the Se|quins of Gold, which he was either to receive or pay away for others. In the Midst of all these Smiles of Fortune, it happened, that the Relict of a rich Merchant, lately snatched away from the Face of the Earth, by the Angel of Death, attracted his Attention. Her Name was Dardanè, born in the City of Damas, and now in the Possession of very great Wealth. From the Habits, which Education and Time had implanted in her, she was in her Temper of a most greedy Avarice, and a powerful Ambition to be counted richer than the rest of her Acquaintance; urged by these Instigations, she be|stowed her lovely Form upon Mirgehan, who, in a short Time, so contrived it, that the Roses faded on her Cheek, the Lilly appeared of a yellower Hue, and by flow Degrees, her Constitution received such severe Strokes from his Severity, that she totally pined away, and, in a short Time, lay breathless on her Bed.

Mirgehan was now happy in the Completion of his Wishes; he had got rid of a Wife, whom, notwith|standing her exquisite Beauty, his Soul ever abhorred, and he exulted in the Review of the vast Accession to his Fortune, which, through her Means, he had ob|tained.

His Heatt now began to expand with greater Alacrity, and he resolved to spend the Remainder of his Days in Ease, in Elegance, in Luxury, and every delicate Enjoyment. The Dainties of the East did not suffice to crown his Board; he would send to the West for Turtle, and every Corner of the Globe administred to his Gratifications. Not far from Bagdad, he purchased a most elegant and magnificent House, where he deter|mined to fix his country Retreat. The Rooms eter|nally resounded with Singers and Minstrels; Amber and Aloes contributed their rich Perfumes; and his Tables were covered with Vases of Agate, filled with the most delicious Liquors. Painting and Sculpture con|curred to adorn his Apartments. Mirgehan was led into all this Profusion by an irresistible Vanity, from which he derived many exquisite Sensations of Pleasure; when he found his Wealth and his Possessions admired, he the more readily suffered himself to be governed by this Turn of Mind, from a Conviction, that all his grand Appearance of Affluence, served to extend his Reputation, and that, in Consequence of his extensive Credit, he should have ample and frequent Opportuni|ties of re-imbursing himself, by the Use he knew to make of the pecuniary Confidence, which others re|posed in him.

Mirgehan was now happy in all the Enjoyments which Riches could procure him; his Heart danced to per|petual Tunes of Joy, and the Meanness of his Birth he thought sufficiently compensated by the Lustre and Dig|nity of his present Way of Life. And now, to com|pleat his Elevation, and to raise himself to that Point of Eminence, from which he imagined, he might look down upon most of his Fellow-Creatures, Fortune, who had for a Series of Years smiled propitiously upon all the Undertakings of Mirgehan, at length presented an Opportunity.

It happened, that the Emperor of Bagdad had Occa|sion, on a particular Emergence in his Affairs, to call together an Assembly of the wisest and ablest Heads in his Territories, in order to assist his Councils, to help him in framing salutary Laws, for the due Regulation of his Subjects, and to point out proper Measures for him to levy the Monies necessary towards defraying the Expences of his Soldiers, and other Contingences in Government. The Califf resolved upon this Step, with the Advice of his Vizir, and, in a few Days, Mandates were dispatched to sundry different Parts, commanding the Provinces and Towns to depute to the general Di|van, two Persons the most renowned for Sagacity and Judgment. Mirgehan was at his Country-Seat, when he heard this News, and his Passions being violent as the eddying Sand during a Tempest; he instantly con|ceived a Desire to be enrolled among the most distin|guished Politicians of Bagdad.

Accordingly he forthwith set out upon this Expedi|tion; but he had not gone far from his own Habitation, when travelling a solitary Road, over a long extended Mountain, the Heat of the Day, together with the Fatigue he had undergone, inclined him to stop under a shady Retreat, and refresh his Senses with a gentle Slumber. From this he was soon awakened by a Strain of Musick, which thrilled so melodiously in his Ears, that he thought Gleams of Paradise were opening to his dazled Sight. He looked around, and saw a reverend Form advance towards him; Mirgehan arose from the Arbour, in which he was reclined; and instantly throw|ing himself on his Knees, he worshipped the venerable Appearance which stood before him. This Personage was an holy Hermit, who long inhabited a small Man|sion on the Side of a Rock, which terminated the Pro|spect on the left Side of the Mountain. Being endowed with a magic Power, he called forth to his Sight such

beautiful Scenes, as looked like a new Creation. Mir|gehan's Heart throbbed with holy Rapture. At length the hoary Sage began.

Mirgehan, I know thy Pur|pose; I am acquainted with thy Design in this thy Journey. But reflect, O Man! on the Obscurity of thy Birth, and the Meanness of thy Education. Canst thou confer Light to the Councils of the Wise? Canst thou dispel the Mist from before their Eyes, and let in powerful Irradiations of Truth upon their darkling Understandings? Desist, vain Man, from thy ill-founded Pursuits.

At these Words the vene|rable Hermit waved his Wand, and suddenly the Scene vanished like a Morning-Dream from Mirgehan's Eyes. After having again raised his Arm;

Now, says he, let the Objects that are placed before thee instruct thy Soul; there behold how easily thou mightest have squandered away all those Possessions, which thy Soul delights in for a mere empty Bubble. There see an Election for two Persons to assist in the Debates for the Ease and Happiness of the Califf, and his People; see the Blind, the Lame, the Old, the In|firm, the Sick arriving in Caravans, to vote for those who pay them highest. See how they all solemnly vow by the holy Prophet, that Money has no Influ|ence upon them; and yet behold how in private they grasp the Sequins of Gold! Does not thy Heart, which has fixed all its Affections upon thy yellow Dirt, tremble within thee, to think that in this Man|ner all thy Wealth might be squandered away, and thou not be able to render the least Service to the Califf, thy Country, or thy Family? That this is the Fate of many, who, like thee, have arose from mean Beginnings, and have, in their old Days, proved mere Spendthrifts, thou may'st receive ocular Demonstration, by surveying those Wretches, who are now despised by their Country, detested by their

Relations, and despised by the Vizier, in whose Ser|vice they exhausted all their Treasures.

Here Zemroude (for that was the Hermit's Name) perceiving the Affections of Mirgehan perfectly changed, dispersed into the Air his new Creation, returned with solemn Step to his Cell under the Rock, and Mirgehan ordered his Camels to be turned towards Bagdad, where he spent the Remainder of his Days in Ease and Con|tent; and, at his Death, he left those Sums of Gold, which he was going to squander in visionary Schemes, among his Relations, who now live in Affluence, and the Memory of Mirgehan is respected among them.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

WE hear from Richmond, that a young Gentleman fell very deeply in Love there, at the last-As|sembly, as a young Lady was giving her Hand to him in a Minuet. It seems she performed it with such grace|ful Ease, that his Knees entirely faultered under him, and he spent the Remainder of the Night in Libations of Claret to her Health. The next Morning, it is said, he went in a pensive Manner towards Ham Walks, carved Verses on every Tree in his Way, and he still continues such an Enthusiast, that is it imagined he will either marry immediately, or turn Poet; in the latter Case, the Magazines will certainly be greatly the better for him.

From the Daily Advertiser.

A Turtle, which weighed Three Hundred Weight, has been presented to the Gentlemen of White's Chocolate-House, and on Monday it laid five Eggs. We should rather expect that a Turtle at this Place would have laid five Pounds!

Yesterday Morning William Purl and Walter Worm|wood were taken together in a Flock-Bed in Fleet-Street, on Suspicion of being concerned in the Monthly-Review. They were carried before a Magistrate, and committed by him to Goal.

Also yesterday at Noon Edmund Groundivy was taken at the Bedford Coffee-House, in Grub-Street. He has desired to be admitted as an Evidence, and has given Information against several not yet taken.

NUMB. 94.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Aug. 3, 1754.

Ille per extentum Funem mihi posse videtur Ire Poeta, meum qui pectus inaniter angit, Irritat, mulcet, falsi•• terroribus implet, Ut magus, & modo me The bis, modo ponit Athenis. HOR.

_THERE is not a Species of Writing which has not had its particular Admirer, and various Affirmations have been made con|cerning the Excellence of each. The famous Doctor South was of Opinion, that a complete Epigram is the Master-piece of Composition; and Mr. Addison calls a perfect Tragedy the noblest Production of Human Nature. The Truth of it is, each Person has delivered his Sentiments agreeably to his own private Temper, and his own peculiar Turn of Thinking. Doctor South excelled in lively and surprizing Strokes of Wit; every new Combination, which he formed in the vivacious Sallies of his Imagination, was Epi|gram in itself, and we find all his Writings sown ex|tremely thick with unexpected Assemblages; and on

this Account we may suppose him inclinable to extol his own favourite Talent. In like Manner, Mr. Addison had employed many of his Hours in planning his Tra|gedy of Cato, and after it had received the most con|summate Polish, which his Skill could bestow upon it, it was to be exhibited as the greatest Production of hu|man Wit. But the Assertions of great Men, when they are unsustained by Argument, are not to be consi|dered as Decrees from which there can be no Appeal: Tragedy most certainly can only claim the second Place, because it is manifest, that all the Powers of Genius, viz. Imagination, Eloquence and Reason, may be exerted in their full Force in the Epic Composition, whereas in Tragedy they frequently suffer great Limi|tation. The same Thing, which on many Occasions makes Tragedy the most powerful Performance, serves also to divest it of those Advantages which give great Brilliancy to heroic Poesy, and that is, its coming im|mediately before the Eye. It is justly remarked by Horace, that what is conveyed to our Notice through our Ears, acts with a more feeble Impulse upon the Mind, than Objects that pass through the Organs of Sight, those faithful Evidences in a mental Court of Judicature.

Segnius irritant animos demissa per Aurem, Quam quae sunt Oculis subjecta fidelibus, & quae Ipse sibi tradit Spectator.—

For this Reason many Passages, in which the Epic Wrietr warms and expands the Imagination of his Readers with the noblest Exhibitions of poetic Imagery, are entirely excluded from the dramatic Scene; the Eye will not suffer itself easily to be deluded, and all the Amazement of Machinery is also for the same Reason totally superseded. A God, says the Critic, should

not be introduced, unless the Occasion should peremp|torily require a supernatural Agent; he had said better, if he had absolutely interdicted the Appearance. We may in reading suffer such an Incident to be imposed upon us; but the Eye would be too much shocked with such Representations, and, of Course, the Mar|vellous is entirely banished. Besides Tragedy will not admit any extraordinary Display of pure Poetry, or De|scription; the heroic Poet for the most Part speaks in his own Person, and it is expected of him to pay great Court to our Imagination; but the Dialogue of Perso|nages, engaged in a Sphere of Action, intended to interest the Auditors, will not allow them to take up the Scene with florid Exhibitions of rural Imagery; such as Brooks, murmuring in scanty Rills through peb|bled Channels, &c. The following Lines in the Mouth of Calista in the Fair Penitent may be extremely picturesque, if considered as pure Description, but if considered with regard to the Situation of Character, they are certainly very inartificial and undramatic.

— my sad Soul Has form'd a dismal melancholy Scene: An unfrequented Vale, o'er grown with Trees, Mossy and old, within whose lonesome Shade Ravens and Birds ill-omen'd only dwell; No Sound to break the Silence, but a Brook That bubbling winds among the Weeds.

Hence then we find, that in the Regions of Fancy, the Drama must yield to the Epic, and as this is a very considerable Part of Poesy, I think it determines the Precedence. In the Art of Eloquence, and in all Applications to our Reason, Tragedy can boast full Room for the most vigorous Exertion. The Drama may be full as sentimental as any other Kind of Writ|ings;

nay its Excellence frequently consists in being so, and with Regard to the Passions, the Mode of Imitation, renders its Influence more forcible, and when we are deceived into a Notion that the Personages are actually suffering Distress before our Eyes, the Performance as|sumes a Kind of Reality, and more keen and intenser Sensations agitate our Breasts, than in Pieces where the Description is left to operate upon us without any other Aid than that of lively and impassioned Expressions. Virgil, I apprehend, was as skilful a Master of the Passions as any Writer, ancient or modern; and though the Passions of his Dido are drawn with as strong and glowing Colourings, as Language can bestow; though their various strugglings are all finely and closely marked, though all their Vicissitudes, Veerings and Doublings, if I may so call them, are finely touched; yet, I be|lieve, Shakespear's Lear and Othello have made much more lively and deep Impressions upon an Audience, than ever the former has done upon his Admirers in the Closet.

These Advantages, however, are derived to the tragic Queen from supernumerary Embellishments, and from the Labours of another Art, I mean that of acting, which is in itself a Mode of Imitation, and serves to render the Touches of the Writer more striking, and more feelingly expressive. This Superiority the Drama certainly has over the Epic, and in Consequence of all its additional Aids, it can boast a more powerful Com|mand over the human Heart. It imitates the very Voice of Nature, and speaks the same simple and af|fecting Language. All that Profusion of Figures, which mere Poetry admits, is discarded from the Stage. When I mention Figures, I must observe, that Men of critical Knowledge have justly distinguished between Figures of Speech, and Figures of the Sentiment; the former

including Metaphor and all Transtations of Phrases, and the latter consisting of such Breaks and Transitions in Discourse, as the Mind is known to make when under the Compunction of warring Passions. As for Instance, when the Poet says of Dido, that she is devoured by an inward Flame.

Et caeco carpitur igne.

He then expresses Love by a sigurative Expression; but when he says,

Ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere manes.

The Repetition expresses the natural workings of the Mind, when other Ideas are awakened, and serve to ex|cite a new Conflict of Passions. The use of these kind of Figures in Tragedy should be as free and bold as possible, and with Respect to Expression, no other Re|gard is to be paid to it, than to chuse such Words as may be most significantly picturesque, in order to have the more lively Effect on the Imagination, the Passions being then in a stronger Ferment when lively Images are presented to the Fancy.

I believe our Shakespear is almost the only Poet who has excelled in a masterly Power of striking the Imagi|nation, the Heart, and our Reason all at once; but in him Poetry, Sentiment, and Passion are combined in the most agreeable Assemblage. In his Tragedy of Macbeth, there are several surprizing Strokes of this Nature. Amidst a great Variety of Instances, the following Lines are introduced with a Solemnity suitable to the Occa|sion, and they carry with them a pleasing Kind of gloomy Imagery.

—E'er the Bat hath flown His cl••••sier'd Flight, e'er to black Hecate's Summons The Shard-born Beetle, with his drouzy Hums, Hath rung Night's yawning Peal, there shall be done A Deed of dreadful Note.—

The Soliloquy in the Tent-Scene of Richard the Third is also a further Instance of the same Beauty, though by the Way it may not be improper to observe, notwith|standing we must allow that Mr. Cibber was in the right to transplant Shakespear's own Words, that they are not perfectly suitable to the Character of Richard; and I believe had our great Poet thought of shewing his Hero in this Situation, he would have shewed Richard's Feel|ings quite otherwise on such an Occasion.

To conclude: Aristotle was certainly mistaken when he called the Fable the Life and Soul of Tragedy; the Art of constructing the dramatic Story should always be subservient to the Exhibition of Character, our great Shakespear has breathed another Soul into Tragedy, which has found the Way of striking an Audience with Sentiment and Passion at the same Time.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

EARLY on Monday Morning last John Bobadil, the Herbalist, was taken in the Fact of culling Simples in Chelsea Physick-Garden; he was carried before a Magistrate, and, his Pockets being searched, a Proof Sheet of the Monthly Review was found upon him; on which he was committed to the proper Goal.

The same Day Alexander Mac Gregor, the Presbyte|rian Parson, and Oliver Tattoo, famous for his Republi|can Principles, were apprehended as Aiders and Abet|tors of the said Monthly Review, and committed for fur|ther Examination.

From my Register Office, Aug 3.

The following Copy of Verses was transmitted to me by an ingenious Gentleman at Cambridge, being a Tran|slation of a little Piece of Poetry greatly admired by the celebrated Bohours. The Inaccuracies, which that great Critic points out in the Original, are converted into

Beauties in the English, and will, I doubt not, be highly pleasing to every Reader, who has a Taste for in|genious Thoughts, with Truth for their Foundation.

An Ode on a Looking-Glass.

1.

MIrrour, who happily do'st foil The noblest Works of Raphael's Race, Who, without Pencil's Aid, or Oil, Giv'st back each Air of Mien and Face.

2.

All of myself express'd in thee, Except my Language, I descry: You only want a Voice to be As much inform'd with Life as I.

3.

Thou, what escapes the Painter's Art, Can'st clearly to my View betray; The various Passions of my Heart, As in my various Looks they play:

4.

You, to my Humour, and my Age, Pliant to each Impression bend: Change as I will, in every Stage, Their Changes you as quick attend.

5.

An Artist, with unwearied Pains, (His Skill the Fruit of toilsome Years) The Canvass with a Portrait stains, Which, but a Moment, like appears:

6.

You, brilliant Painter, at a Hit A vague inconstant Picture frame; A Picture, to our Nature fit, For ever like, yet ne'er the same.

NUMB. 95.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Aug. 10, 1754.

—Saevitque animis ignobile vulgus. VIRG.

_AMONG all the Writers, who have dis|canted on the British Constitution, I have not met with any one, that seems to be thoroughly acquainted with the Subject. An ingenious Friend of mine, who furnished me with an Essay some Time since, reduces our present Party-Divisions into Garrickeans and Barryists; but this is not going to the Bottom of Things. The famous Mon|tesquien has performed, in my humble Apprehension, as little towards a Detection of the Root of the Evil, tho' he seems to perceive, with a Kind of prophetic Spirit, the Declension of British Liberty. The great Locke, who has treated, in a very masterly Manner of Government, does not any where give us a Clue to guide our Re|search, and after glowing with Bolingbroke through a Number of Pages, we are as much in the Dark as ever. England can never be undone but by a Parliament, says the excellent Author of the Use and abuse of Parliaments; but even there, we are again put upon a wrong Scent. The Truth of the Matter is, ENGLAND CAN NEVER BE UNDONE BUT BY THE MOB. I am aware, this may at first Sight appear a Paradox; but a Retrospect to the Behaviour of that Body of People, will convince every intelligent Mind of the Truth of this Assertion.

The Generality of political Writers have wasted a great Deal of Paper in settling the various Forms of Government; one, say they, is a Monocracy; another is an Aristocracy; a third is a Democracy, and the British Constitution, they inform us, is of the mixed Spe|cies;

consisting of a Coalition of all three. But furely a little Observation will point out to us, that they have all passed by unnoticed another Mode of civil Policy, which cannot be called by a better Name than a Mobo|cracy, under which this Country has been for many Years past, and in all human Probability will continue so for a long Period still to come; nay, I will be bold to say, until Monocracy, Aristocracy, and Democracy are all swallowed up by this alone.

There is hardly ever a Bill brought before the ho|nourable the House of Commons, but the Scope of it is immediately canvassed in an Assembly of the Mobo|cracy; where if it passes in the Negative, a Deputation is forthwith sent by them to the Parliament-House, where, though their Remonstrances are not heard at the Bar, they nevertheless enforce their Arguments with such a truly British Eloquence, that they never fail to have a due Degree of Influence upon the Debates within Doors. On these Occasions, they generally make use of a Rule of Logick, which indeed is not mentioned by Aristotle, but which is always found of great Efficacy in all Di|sputes. The Mode of Reasoning I mean, is the Argu|mentum Boculinum, a nervous Exertion of which, ac|companied with all the Force of the most vigorous Lungs, has over ruled many an intended Act, when it happens not to please in the Councils of the common People. The Mobecracy have further the legislative and executive Part of their Laws in their own Hands, and we find them very frequent in a diligent Attention to them. For Instance, though the common Law of Eng|land has provided a proper Punishment for Pickpockets. The Mobocracy has reconsidered that Matter, and, after mature Deliberation, have devised a Correction, in their Opinion, more adequate to the Offence, and whenever any one is found to incur the Penalty of their Law, they immediately proceed to Execution, without Judge or Jury, which, in their Apprehension, serve but to retard

the Course of Justice, and therefore they seize the De|linquent, and, without Delay, duck him in the River, the Canal in St. James's Park, or the next Pool of Water. On all these Occasions, it is observable, that they take infinite Delight in seeing the proper Punish|ment inflicted, as may be observed from the Acclama|tions, the Huzzas &c. wherewith their Burst of Joy rends the Air. In like Manner, the Pillory is some Times ordained by the Statute Law of England, in or|der to expose such Transgressors as deserve to be set up the Marks of public Shame; on every Occurrence of this Nature, Wisdom is sure to cry out in the Streets, and the award of the Judges is determined by a popular Circle to be just or unjust. When once they have pro|nounced Sentence, the Person doomed to make his Ap|pearance is sure either to meet with their Protection, or to call forth the utmost Indignation of an incensed Populace. Nay, it has been known that these perpe|tual Dictators have proceeded so far as to rescue Felons, condemned to suffer Death, from the Hands of the pro|per Officers, and generously to have recalled the Death-Warrant. In many Parts of England they have an im|placable Aversion to Turnpikes, and it is said they will never be at Rest, until they have entirely demolished those disagreeable Passports. I remember to have heard a Story of these People, which I think may serve to give the Reader a tolerable Idea of their arbitrary Power. Not very long since three Indian Kings came to visit this Metro|polis, and, after they had seen most Places of Curiosity, a Play was at length advertized by Command of their Indian Majesties. The Mobocracy, who have entirely exploded all Notions of the Right Divine of Kings, and who, in Fact, consider crowned Heads as no more than common Men, took care to attend at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, in order to survey the swarthy Monarchs. At length the Curtain drew up, but in vain did the Players attempt to begin the Diversion of

the Night The Mobocracy, who had Possession of the Upper Gallery, declared that they came to see the Kings,

and since we have said our Money, the Kings we will have.

Whereupon Mr. Wilks, who was then one of the Patentees, came forth and assured them that the Kings were in the Front-Box; to this the Mo|bocracy replied, that they could not see them there, and defired that they should be placed in a more conspicuous point of View,

otherwise, by G—d Jack, there shall be no Play.

Mr. Wilks who was not in his Heart of Mo|bocratical Principles, yet loved his own Interest so well, that he always knew how to be an occasional Conformist, assured them that he had nothing so much at Heart as their Happiness, and accordingly got three Chairs and placed the Kings on the Stage, to the no small Satisfaction of the Mobocracy, with whom it is a Maxim to have as much as possible for their Money. From hence it ap|pears that the Power of the Multitude is perfectly Dicta|torial; and, indeed, in all Ages the Managers of Play|houses have acquiesced under the Gallery-Jurisdiction. Mr. Garrick, I am credibly informed, notwithstanding the submissive Bows he occasionally makes them, is not entirely reconciled to their Government, and, it is said, is very apt to quote certain treasonable Words from Horace, implying that the Vulgar have no claim to In|sallibility. Interdum Vulgus Rectum videt, est ubi peccat. My Intelligence further adds, that he has suppressed many Schemes for adding Novelty to the Amusements of the Public, from a Fear he has conceived of the many-headed Monster of the Gallery; nay, he will at Times carry Matters so far as to pronounce their Beha|viour illegal, arbitrary, &c. and, when they broke all the Windows of his Dwelling-House, so discontented a Spirit possessed him, that he would by no Means ac|knowledge the Justice of their Proceedings.

Be that as it may; it is certain one dissaffected Per|son cannot withstand the Mobocratical Power, which it

is manifest has gained great Strength of late Years, and, I am persuaded, will continue to flourish more and more every Day. They have many wise Maxims by which they govern themselves; such as, "no wooden Shoes", —"Liberty and Property and no Excise"—

no French Dancers

—"no Mounseers"—Let every Man toast his own Cheese, &c. such prudential Axioms, founded on the soberest Sense, must undoubtedly con|tribute to render their Administration both wise and prosperous. It does not appear that they have made any great Progress in the modern Art of War; on the contrary, there is Reason to suppose that they all hold it in Contempt; as it is certain that on many Occasions, when our mixed Form of Government has endeavoured to oppose them, by sending the Soldiery against them, they have always laughed at the Military Force, and re|pelled them from the Assault, without their daring to Fire. Their Military Discipline seems to be derived from the Romans; they know no Use of Cannon, Fire-Arms, &c. but proceed to Battle with Sticks, Bludgeons, setting up loud Shouts, somewhat like the War-hoop of the Indians, and hurling Stones, Brickbats, Bottles, Glasses, &c. with tremendous Force on the adverse Party. They are likewise totally Strangers to all Re|sinements of modern Luxury; Bread and Cheese, and Porter being their chief Sustenance; Gin being only used by them when they are low-spirited, or are going to be hanged. They do not paint their Bodies with Woad, like the ancient Britons, but generally with Kennel-Dirt, which lends them a formidable Air in Battle Thus enured to Danger, it will be no wonder if the Mobocracy at length becomes Masters of this King|dom, which, as I conceive it, must shortly be the Case, unless the Vices of People of Fashion should descend to them, and retard them in their Progress. Of this, I must own I am inclined to cherish some Hopes, as I am in|formed, that, in some Parts of the Town, they drink,

and game and swear, and are full as wicked as the better Sort of People. Particularly in Hockly the Hole, I am told, that they have a Place called White's Chocolate|house, that clean Lodgings for Travellers are dearer than ever, and that you cannot any where Shave for a Penny, the Depravity of the Times having raised the Prices of every Thing there, as well as at the St. James's End of the Town.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

From my own Apartment, Aug. 10.

AFTER a Soliloquy, which I have this Morning held with myself, agreeably to the Advice of Lord Shaftsbury, the Upshot was, that I determined to in|form the courteous Reader, that the Plan of the Gray's Inn Journal is now drawing towards a Conclusion, and in the Course of a few Papers more, Ranger must sub|side into an absolute Silence. Whether he is then to sink into Obscurity, like many other evanescent Pro|ductions, or whether a new Edition of these Papers, in small Volumes, will hinder them from sharing the Fate of the Sybils Leaves, which are generally scattered away without any Trace of them left behind, Time only can determine. Thus much Ranger thinks proper to say on this Occasion, that he only begs, that the Gale of In|dulgence, which has hitherto wasted him through a Sea of Troubles, may not, now he is in Sight of his Har|hour, die away, and-leave him with slackened Cordage and sluttering Sails to come in with disgraceful Labour, like the baffled Hero in Virgil's Ship-Race;

Derisam sine honore ratem Sergistus agebat.

To continue the Metaphor, when once safely landed he hopes to deliver his Freight in good Order and well con|ditioned, and, in Imitation of those skilful Traders the Dutch, who are said to destroy a large Quantity of their

Spice, in order to enhance the Value of the remaining Part, upon a careful Review of his Stock, it is possible he may also commit some Portion of it to the Fire, being determined that whatever he presents to the Public, after a long Experience of their Candor, shall be as genuine and perfect in its Kind, as his Leisure and Abilities will permit. And whatever shall be the Decision of the Public on his Genius or Inability, he will stand con|vinced of their Equity, and will not suffer fond Self-love to lodge an Appeal in his own Breast; he only hopes, that if the Verdict be found against him, it may be, as in the Case of Elizabeth Canning, with this qualifying Circumstance; GUILTY of DULLNESS, but not WIL|FUL and CORRUPT.

CHARLES RANGER.

On Wednesday last Abraham Scurvygrass, another Ac|complice in the Monthly Review, was taken at Pye-Corner, as he stood inhaling the Effluvia from a Cook's Shop. He was committed to the proper Goal, by the Magistrate.

Also the same Evening Robert Mum, alias Threethreads, was apprehended, and is to take his Trial at the next Sessions of the Court of Censorial Enquiry, which will commence, in the Beginning of September next.

NUMB. 96.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Aug. 17, 1754.

Creditur, ex medio quia res arcessit, habere Sudoris minimum, sed habet Comaedia tanto Plus oneris, quanto est veniae minus. HOR.

_A Ristotle informs us that Homer wrote a Co|mic-Epic Poem entitled Margites, which to the no small Detriment of succeeding Ages, is unfortunately lost. To this Spe|cies of Poesy, we may suppose Comedy has the same Reference, that the Tragic bears to the Heroic. For my Part, I cannot conceive why a good Comedy has never been stiled by those, who are fond of deciding literary Precedence, the greatest Production of human Nature. Certainly its consisting of known and familiar Ideas, should not derogate from its Merit, because on Account of that very Circumstance, it meets with less Indulgence; the Business of it coming more near to every Man's Breast, and, of Course, the very Vulgar being in some Measure Judges of the Justness of the Imitation; whereas, in Tragedy, frigid Declamation lulls, florid Epithets amuse, lofty Metaphors amaze, and sonorous Expressions elevate and surprize.

As Tragedy aims more particularly at an Excitement of the serious Passions, so the chief Merit of Comedy consists in its Effect on the merry Affections of the hu|man Mind; the former principally awakening Sen|sations of Terro, and Pity, and the latter giving Emo|tions of a gay Contempt, as it is elegantly called, or in plainer English, making us despise and laugh at an Ob|ject at the same Time. To succeed in this last men|tioned Mode of Writing, it requires as fine and as lively

an Imagination as any of the other imitative Arts; for as it is manifest, that the Tragic Poet then excites in us the most intense Sensations, when his Expressions con|vey the liveliest Images to the Fancy, so the Comic Poet, when he seizes the Imagination with a bright Assemblage of ludicrous Ideas, is sure of agitating those Passions, to which his Art directs him, with an irre|sistible Power. And therefore this Animadversion is sufficient to put an End to that idle Dispute, which, as we learn from Horace, engaged the Learned, viz. Whether Comedy might be called Poetry or not.

—quidam Comoedia necne Poema Esset quaesivere—

It is manifest that it is an imitative Art, and different Pas|sions being the Objects of its Address, it only makes use of Means different from the more elevated Species of Writing; but surely it is full as hard a Task to paint or|dinary Things, as Objects of more Importance; and, in my Opinion, Virgil's Line which describes an old Woman running across Dido's Apartment with officious Zeal,

Illa gradum studio celerabat anili,

Is as picturesque and has as much Merit as the Descrip|tion of the ambrosial Locks of Venus.

Ambrosiaeque comae divinum vertice odorem, Spiravere.—

The Comic Writer, as well as the Tragedian, must derive his Force from the true primary Sources of Com|position; that is to say, he must learn to seize our Ima|ginations, with striking Pictures of human Life; he must instruct our Reason by inserting sensible Observa|tions on worldly Contingencies, and he must also fre|quently apply himself to those Passions which it is the Merit of his Art to awaken. In this last mentioned

Particular consists the real Merit of a well wrought Comedy; in like Manner as the serious Drama must fill us with Ideas proper to excite Terror and Pity. To obtain either Effect, the Poet is to select such Cir|cumstances in every Object, in every Passion, and in every Action, as will be most conducive to his peculiar End, and he is constantly to avail himself of such Ex|pressions as will serve to convey the liveliest Images to the Fancy. When this is rightly performed, whether in the solemn or humourous Scene, it is true Poetry, and in either case it is by the Means of a Mode of Elo|quence, that the Art produces its desired Effect. For Ridicule, by which Comedy works, is as much a Mode of Eloquence, as the several Arts of Persuasion, and the several Figures, which Rhetoric has reduced into a System for the Excitement of the more serious Passions.

The Dispute that subsisted among the Learned for a considerable Time, and is perhaps not yet determined, viz. Whether Ridicule is a Test of Truth, is, in my humble Opinion, extremely idle and frivolous; the Fa|culty of Reason, which compares our Ideas, and fu|stains or rejects the various Affirmations concerning them, being the sole Judge of Truth, however com|plicated the Means may be by which it gains its End. I have often wondered, that neither Aristotle, Tully, nor Quintilian, have given a just and adequate Desinition of Ridicule. To say that it consists in raising our Laugh|ter at some Turpitude, is a very insufficient Account of the Matter. Mr. Fulding, in his Preface to his Joseph Andrews, has thrown some Light upon the Matter, but as he places the Source of it in Affectation, he appears to me not to have taken a comprehensive Survey of his Subject. I apprehend the Ridiculous may be formed, where there is no Affectation at the Bottom, and his Parson Adams I take to be an Instance of this Assertion.

The best and most accurate Desinition I have ever met with of the Ridiculous is in a Note of Doctor Aken|side's to his excellent Poem on the Pleasures of Imagina|tion.

That, says he, which makes Objects ridiculous is some Ground of Admiration or Esteem connected with other more general Circumstances, compara|tively worthless or deformed; or it is some Circum|stances of Turpitude or Deformity connected with|what is in general excellent or beautiful; the incon|sistent Properties existing either in the Objects them|selves, or in the Apprehension of the Person to whom they relate, implying Sentiment or Design, and exciting no acute or vehement Emotion of the Heart.

The Effect which the Circumstances thus specified have upon us he thus desines;

the Sensation of Ridicule is not a bare Perception of the Agreement or Disagreement of Ideas, but a Passion or Emotion of the Mind consequential to that Perception.

The Emotions here intended are Laughter and Con|tempt, and these it is the Business of Comedy to excite, by making striking Exhibitions of inconsistent Circum|stances, blended together in such a thwarting Assem|blage, that a gay Contempt irressistibly shall take posses|sion of us. To perform this in all Objects which come before the Comic Muse, in Men and Manners, in all Actions and Passions, requires a very delicate Hand, and it frequently is necessary to have an almost micro|scopic Eye to perceive the latent Inconsistency in Cir|cumstances seemingly fair and praise-worthy. Prion has expressed this with his usual Delicacy;

And tho' the Error may be such As Knaggs and Burgess cannot hit, It yet may feel the nicer Touch, Of Wycherly or Congreve's Wit.

In producing Portraits of Mankind it is not enough to display Foibles and Oddities; a fine Vein of Ridi|cule must run through the whole, to urge the Mind to

frequent Emotions of Laughter; otherwise there will be Danger of exhibiting disagreeable Characters with|out affording the proper Entertainment I think Ben Johnson extremely apt to err in this Point; his Morose, is a surly, ill-natured, absurd Humourist, whom we can hardly laugh at, and he soon becomes very bad Company. Many of Johnson's Characters are of the same Cast, while in Shakespear's Falstaff, the ridiculous Ideas are placed in such an artful Point of View, that our Merriment can never be restrained, whenever Sir John appears. Congreve in my Opinion had a great Deal of the same Talent, and what I have somewhere seen objected to him, that many of his Characters are obvious in human Life, is with me a strong Proof of his superior Genius. An Old Batchelor, for Instance, is very common, but he must pass through such an Imagination as Congreve's to support several Scenes in the Drama with the most exquisite Pleasantry; tho' the Character was not new, yet his Management of it has all the Graces of Novelty, and the Situations in which we see him are all exquisitely ridiculous. Personages of this Class, unless artfully conducted, may very soon tire an Audience, but in this excellent Poet's Hands nothing suffers a Diminution. The same, I think, ap|pears in his Sir Paul Plyant, in which Character there is perhaps as much Comic Force as in any one Piece on the Stage. Sir John Vanbrugh was also a perfect Master of his Art in this Respect, and of this his Sir John Brute is a remarkable Proof. The Knight is constantly di|verting us with an odd whimsical Way of Thinking, which at once serves to display his own Foibles, and en|tertains his Audience with a Pleasantry of which he seems all along totally unconscious himself.

It is therefore by placing the Humours and Foibles of human Nature in a ridiculous Light, that the true Comic Force is created. The Author of the Pleasures of Imagination, whom I have already quoted, has judi|ciously

explained each Part of the Desinition cited above, and has finely traced the several Sources from which true Ridicule springs. Whoever chuses to consider the Matter will find Affectation to be but one Spring, how|ever diffusive the Streams of it may be. To the Poem itself I beg leave to refer my Readers, and I shall dismiss this Paper, with observing, that the whole Beauty of the Comic Diction consists in the Words and Phrases being so chosen as to give to the Mind the most lively Impression of known and familiar Images, and at the same Time the strongest Marks of Character and each Person's peculiar Temper.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Bedford Coffee-house, Aug. 17.

THOUGH the Barometer for Wit and Humour has not reached DAMNED HIGH all this Sum|mer, yet it now and then happens that a Person of Taste drops in, with something for the Entertainment of the Company; this was the Case Yesterday Evening, when the following Elegy was extremely relished by all who perused it.

An Invitation to a Mistress to walk by Moonlight. An Elegy.

1.

COME, Birtha, let us tread the flowery Mead, Distinct with countless Gems of pearly Dew, Now the cool Hours the sober Evening lead, And Phaebe lists her silver Lamp to view.

2.

Here we may rove secure of busy Spies, Thick as these glittering Drops our Kisses sow: Tho' Heaven an Argus seem beset with Eyes, 'Tis a dumb Witness of what's done below.

3.

See you yon Stars, so eminently bright, That mix so friendly their congenial Rays? Our natal Stars are met perhaps To-night, Pleas'd on that Union, which they plann'd, to gaze.

4.

The Moon, tho' loth to lend her Virgin-Beam To guide the Drunkard to his brutal Joys, Views with Complacence and serener Gleam The noiseless Revels of fond Girls and Boys.

5.

See what a twinkling Leer athwart she throws, Whene'er I press thy Lip, or snowy Breast! With sweet Remembrance now she lovesick glows, How once, like you, on Latmos she was blest.

6.

In Sleep's soft Chains the quiet Village lies, And Toil now dozes all its Cares away: This is Love's Harvest; let us then be wise, And make our Night as busy as their Day.

7.

Soon from the dappled East the Sun will break, And we like Elves must from his Beams retreat: From their short Pastimes let us warning take To make the Circle of our Joys compleat.

8.

Then to our seperate Homes our Course we'll steer, You in your Bridegroom happy, I my Bride: Vowing, when next bright Dian's Orb shines clear, To taste the Pleasures of sweet Even-tide.

NUMB. 97.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Aug 24, 1754.

Angustis hunc addere rebus honorem, VIRG.

Ampullas & Sesquipedalia verba. HOR.

_HAVING in my last offered some cursory Remarks upon RIDICULE, I shall in this Day's Paper take Notice of a Species of Writing, which on Account of some Af|finity between them, is often supposed to be the same with the Ridiculous; and yet, upon an attentive View of the Matter, it appears to be a Mode of Composi|tion introduced by Men of Genius in order to fall in with that Propensity to Laughter, which prevails with all Mankind in general. What I here intend is Bur|lesque; to mark its Boundaries, its Procedure and Ex|tent, will be no improper Subject among these Essays, which only pretend now and then to glance so much Light upon Matters of this Nature, as may serve to illu|strate them to the Unlearned.

It must be remembered, that as the Ridiculous consists in a Coalition of Circumstances repugnant to each other in their own Natures, but yet whimsically blended to|gether in any Object, any human Action or Passion, to call forth this Inconsistency to public View, and to shew the heterogeneous Assemblage, in such a Manner as to provoke the Mind to laugh at it with Contempt, is to exert the rare and excellent talent of Ridicule, and as this when well executed is attended with fine conse|quential Effects, the Lovers of Burlesque will not wait to discover a real Incongruity, but by the Force of their own Imaginations they create it for themselves, and by

obtruding Circumstances, which perhaps do not belong to the Object, they are frequently very successful in rendering Things apparently ridiculous, which to an attentive Eye may not wear the motly Livery, however it may serve the Purposes of Mirth to invest it with it. In order to explain more fully what is here insisted on, it may not be improper to lay before the Reader a few Instances of the Ridiculous, and also of Burlesque, which may in some Measure serve to render this Matter still more intelligible and clear.

When Fielding's Parson Adams in Distress at an Inn, retires very gravely with a London Bookseller to raise Money upon some Manuscript Sermons, I believe the dissonant Circumstances in this Case strike very forcibly, and our Laughter is still urged with greater Impetuo|sity, when, after having travelled a great many Miles from his own Place of Abode towards London, with no other Business upon Earth, but to dispose of these Ser|mons, we hear the Parson not being able to find them, very gravely say,

I protest I believe I left them be|hind me.

When the same Personage assures us, that he is very rich, and then adds, that he does not say it by way of boasting or complying with worldly Vanity, but to shew that he can live well on the Road, and, to confirm this, produces half a Guinea, the Dif|ference between his Opinion and the small Value of the Piece, and this too from a Clergyman, a Scholar, and in many Things a Man of excellent Understanding, produces an Emotion of Laughter attended in this In|stance with a Contempt for Adams's Want of Know|ledge of the World. In like manner, when Don Quixote very gravely says, that he has seen the Sea, and that it is much larger than the River at La Mancha, we can|not help laughing at a Man who has formed his Ideas of Things by what he has seen at his own native Place, and to find an insignisicant River compared to the Sea,

presents such a repugnant Conjunction of Images, as must necessarily operate upon our risible Faculties.

These Instances, which have first, among a Thousand, offered themselves to my Memory, are true Instances of the Ridiculous, nothing here being obtruded upon our Imaginations; but in Burlesque there are many adventi|tious Ideas called up, in order to form a motly Concur|rence of thwarting Images, and so produce the same Effect with the really Ridiculous. As for Instance, if any Object which comes before the Burlesque Writer, be low in its own Nature, he immediately bethinks him|self of conferring on it a mock Dignity, in which it begins to look big, like the Champion at a Corona|tion, who boldly challenges all Mankind when he knows no Body will fight him. I have ever been highly pleased with a Touch of this Kind in a Note to Mr. Fielding's Tom Thumb, where mentioning something of the Soul of Man, he gravely tells us,

Plato is of this Opinion, and so is Mr. Banks.

The Stroke in the Beggar's Opera is of the same Nature —

There is no|thing so moving as a great Man in Distress.

In this Case the great Disproportion between the two Objects strikes our Imagination, and our Laughter bursts out at that which is, without Foundation, set in Competition. In the following Passage of the Poet, it seems to me, there is a ridiculous Appearance intended by giving a mock Majesty to an Object in the general Opinion not so highly exalted.

Oh! could I view thro' London as I pass Some broad Sir Balaam in Corinthian Brass! High on a Pedestal, ye Freemen place His magisterial Paunch and griping Face. Letter'd and gilt let him adorn Cheapside, And grant the Tradesman, what a King's deny'd.

Thus the ludicrous Assemblage is formed by an Asso|ciation of Ideas, which we are diverted to see joined

together. The other Method of Burlesque is, if an Ob|ject has any Thing respectable about it, to join it with Images, not only inferior, but in themselves con|temptible. Mr. Pope is very frequent in this Kind of Satyr throughout his Dunciad, and Boileau is, I think, admirable in both Species of Burlesque, in his Lutrin. Our own Garth also has many beautiful Passages in his Dispensary, where a Ridicule is thrown upon his Heroes by associating with them Images of Things, to which some Kind of Turpitude is adherent; thus a Set of Physicians quarrelling among themselves are finely placed in a ludicrous Light by the following humourous Simile.

Thus often at the Temple Stairs we've seen Two Tritons of a rough athletic Mien, Sourly dispate some Quarrel of the Flood, With Knuckles bruis'd, and Face besmear'd with Blood; But at the first Appearance of a Fare, Both quit the Fray, and to their Oars repair.

Another very common Method of Burlesque is by making frequent Application of grand and sublime Passages in our best Poets to Things unworthy and mean. Bioleau is, in my Opinion, the happiest of all modern Poets in this Particular. As Passages of this Nature are frequently mistaken for an Intent to bur|lesque the Author, from whom the Image is borrowed, it may not be improper in this Place to observe, that Parody does not always carry with it any Sneer at the Author parodied. The best Lines in Virgil may be aptly applied to other Objects, without his being burlesqued, and we find that Vida in his elegant and beautiful Poem on the Game of Chess, has al|most in every Line surprized us with Expressions from the Aeneid, by which means he gives Spi|rit and Life to his Poem, animates his imaginary War|riours with human Passions, and fills the Fancy with en|tertaining Ideas of mock heroic Majesty. The De|scription

of the Havock at a Game of Chess is per|fectly elegant.

Sternitur omne solum buxo atque miserrima caedes Exoritur; confusa inter sese agmina caedunt, Implicitaeque ruunt, albae, nigraeque Phalanges; Sternuntur pedites & corpora quadrupedantum.

The Description of the Queen is also highly beautiful.

At medias inter acies crudescit Amazon. Candida, plena animis, mediisque in millibus ardet.

It is plain, that Mr. Pope in his Account of a Game at Cards in the Rape of the Lock, has imitated this excel|lent Poet in his Manner of exalting inanimate Things, which can never carry with it any Air of Burlesque, be|cause nothing can be ridiculous, but when a free Agency is applied.

But in Burlesque, as in every other Kind of Writing, Truth should be the Foundation, otherwise the Super|structure must fall, like Arisiophanes's Ridicule of Socrates, which is now held in Contempt, as will always be the Case with every Piece of ill-founded Pleasantry; be|cause the Object thus attacked must be always excep|tionable, otherwise it can never be essentially hurt by a false Combination of adventitious Ideas. As there is a strong Propensity in the Generality of People to this Kind of Humour, Tragic Poets, in particular, should be cautious how, by any Passage or Expression, they ex|cite ludicrous Images. If once in the most serious Scene a wrong Association of Ideas be formed, the Mind is apt to attach itself to the Object of its Mirth, and thus a well-imagined Plece may be obstructed. A very elegant Critic observes, that the following Line of Dryden.

A Star light Morning, and an Ev'ning fair.

Has in it nothing improper, and yet, if any one recol|lects that a Star-light Morning is the Language of a

Watchman it may occasion some sprightly Raillery. On this account, in all the different species of Compo|sition the Writer must carefully remember to keep with|in his proper Boundaries, because the least Excursion too far may be highly prejudicial, and give room to small Wits either to point incongruous Circumstances, or to obtrude them upon the Reader's Imagination.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

From my own Apartment, Aug. 24.

THE Account which I gave lately of my In|tentions to abdicate the Office of a public Wri|ter, has been the Occasion of my receiving several Let|ters from sundry Correspondents, who have addressed me in a Stile responsive to their respective Feelings on the Occasion. A great many Coffeehouses express their Satisfaction at the Thoughts of being eased of the weekly Expence of Two-pence, which my Lucubrations cost them; a few of these hospitable Gentry declare themselves sorry for my approaching Silence, the Grays Inn Journal being, as they assure me, the Life of their Coffee-Room. There are many Persons of such cool and serious Understandings, that they cannot approve any Thing but what is strictly and literally true; these, an ingenious Friend of mine calls, Matter of Fact Men, and by one of this Class I am told in very plain Terms, that he's glad I am going to lay down, a Pox on your true Intelligence; there's never any thing of Consequence in it; the grand Mogul may be dead; the Algerines may make Peace; the King of the Romans may be chosen; Dunkirk may be refitted; Theodore King of Corsica be held to Bail, and Mr. Keen may succeed in his Negociations without any body's being the wiser for you. A Person, who in|sorms me that he is perfectly vers'd in the Secret of Authorship, begs of me to recommend him to my Pub|lisher,

that he may carry on the Paper the ensuing Win|ter; but in this Point, I must desire to be excused, as I should not chuse to have my Plan eked out beyond its proper Bounds, and I therefore take this Opportunity to entreat that elegant Writer, who has for some Time past assumed the Name of Ranger, not to lay any of his Foundlings at my Door, when once I shall have made my Bow to the Public. Such a Procedure would be highly illiberal, and I hope I need not say any thing further on this Head. But to the soft, the obliging, the lovely, the courtly, the amiable Clarissa, who calls me, you agreeable Devil, and you pleasant Creature you must go on; what Answer shall I make? The Honour of mak|ing Part every Saturday-morning of a Fair one's Tea-Equipage has certainly very powerful Instigations to per|sist. But the Truth of it is, my Muse and I have been like Man and Wife for some Time past, our Affections are become extremely frigid, and I have had so many Curtain Lectures from her, that I long very earnestly to keep se|parate Beds, to say a civil Thing to her once in a Year, and, like a true modern Husband, to admire every Body's Muse better than my own, even though she be but a bat|tered Drab; and though the World should agree, that my Thalia is not entirely contemptible. On this Account, I am at present suing in the Court of Parnassus for a Di|vorce, and as she has not brought me any Fortune to speak of, I shall not be troubled to allow her a sepa|rate Maintenance. I am aware that malicious Critics will give out, that I was separated causâ frigiditatis; but, the Public is always equitable in its Decisions, and to them I implicitly submit.

CHARLES RANGER.

NUMB. 98.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Aug. 31, 1754.

Quod genus hoc hominum? Quaeve hunc tam barbara Morem Permittit Patria?— VIRG.

_IT is a general Complaint made by my fair Countrywomen, that the Gentlemen, re|gardless of that Respect and Attention which are at all Times due to their Charms, shew a great Averseness to their Company. I fear this Charge cannot be controverted, and am sorry to see the Truth manisested in the constrained Deportment, in ele|gant Address, and uncouth Attempts at Politeness, that almost universally characterize the Youth of this Island.

Certain it is, that a frequent, liberal Intercourse with that more refined Part of our Species, which is happily described by the Appellation of the Beau Sex, so power|fully influences, not only our Manner and Behaviour, but our Way of thinking, that from thence we acquire a certain Delicacy of Sentiment, which extends itself even to the most minute Circumstances of Life. And from hence it is, that our Neighbours, the French, have established throughout Europe that Character of Polite|ness, which we do not chuse to be at the Trouble of emulating, as we find it much more easy to ridicule and laugh at it. My Lord Anglois, while the Profusion, with which he disperses his Guineas, creates Astonishment in the Mechanics of Paris, conscious of a Desiciency in that Ease and elegant Freedom, which he observes in every Man of Education whom he meets, shuns all good Company; and after reluctantly spending three Months between the Hôtel and the several Places of public Diversion, returns to his native Soil, strongly im|pressed

with the most contemptuous Idea of the French, whom, though he has but literally seen, he takes the Liberty to describe as a superficial, volatile Nation, for no other Reason perhaps, than that they are perfectly skilled in the most entertaining, I had almost said, useful Art, that Invention can suggest, which is, to trisle agreeably.

A Frenchman has no more Idea of a Party of Pleasure, without Ladies, than an Englishman can entertain the least Conception of enjoying himself, until they retreat. From those opposite Dispositions it arises, that the first introduces himself with a becoming Unconcern into Company, and Master of that Bienseance, which distin|guishes the Gentleman, and performs all Offices of Life, without the least Embarassment: Whereas nothing is more common among us, than to find Gentlemen of Fa|mily and Fortune, who know nothing of the Fair-Sex, but what they have collected from the most abandoned Part of it, and can scarce reckon a virtuous Family, within the whole Scope of their Acquaintance. It is not unpleasant to observe one of this Class, when Chance or Necessity has brought him into a Room with Ladies of Reputation. An aukward Restraint hangs a|bout him, and he is almost afraid to speak, least he should inadvertently bolt out something, which, tho' extremely suitable to the Dialect of Covent-Garden, would be grosly offensive to those Females, who had not received their Rudiments of Education in that Seminary. The Gloom that hangs over an English Company, while the Ladies remain, and the reciprocal Restraint, that each Sex seems to be upon the other, has been fre|quently a Subject of ludicrous Observations to Foreign|ers; and indeed, the Fair-ones themselves, tho' Natives, and to the Manner born, frequently express Astonishment, what Mysteries the Men can have to celebrate, so oppo|site to those of the Bona Dea, that no Female must be present at the Ceremony. I am not at Liberty to di|vulge

this important Secret, but will, for the Satisfaction of the Ladies, assure them, that they are not of a Nature vastly beyond their Apprehension; nay, on the contrary, may be casily understood, even by a Miss in Hanging-Sleeves, provided she has had the Happiness of a Board|ing-School Education.

At the same Time, that I condemn my Countrymen for separating themselves from those, who have the Art of refining every Joy this World affords, I am sorry to be obliged to observe, that the Ladies themselves do, in some Measure, contribute to this great Evil. The scan|dalcus Practice, so prevalent at present, of giving up their whole Thoughts, as well as Time, to Cards, has made the Company of Women, pardon the Expression, extremely insipid to those, who would willingly consider them as rational Creatures, and do not depend upon su|perior Skill in the Game of Whist for a Subsistance. Is it to be imagined, that a Man, whose Mind is the least raised above the Vulgar, will devote that Time, which he may employ in conversing agreeably either with the Dead or the Living, to those Assemblies, where no Ideas enter beyond the respective Excellencies of Garrick and Barry, and the several possible Cases, so profoundly calculated by the incomparable Mr. Hoyle? Yet from declining these Places, I know many intimate Friends, who have acquired the odious Character of Women-haters, tho' at the same Time, they entertain the highest Esteem for that amiable Sex, and sincerely regret, that the Tyrant Fashion has put it out of their Power to enjoy more of their Company, than a bare View of their Persons, agitated by the various and un|certain Revolutions of Fortune's Wheel.

Besides what I have already mentioned, another Ob|stacle, extremely pernicious to Society, proceeds from the excessive Officiousness of the female World in cut|ing out Matches. Mr. Pope has observed, that every Women is at Heart a Rake, and I believe it is not less

true, though I fear the Assertion will be much more offensive to the Virgins of Britain, that every Woman is a Fortune-hunter. This Character is deservedly infamous in the male Part of the Creation, and we detest the Man, though of an exceeding good Family in Ireland, who, aided by the Friendship and Confidence of his Taylor, makes a pompous Display of the Breadth of his Shoul|ders, and the Firmness of his Calves; but conceive no Indignation against the lovely Nymph, who undresses herself, in the same View, with the most seducing Art, and generously, much too generously, for her own In|terest! exhibits every Charm the happy Man will be possessed of, who takes her to his Posom. The Idea of entrapping somebody mixes so intimately with the ge|neral Cast of Thought in Women, that they can never divest themselves of it, and if a Gentleman pays that Compliment to their Beauty, which female Pride would never Pardon, if he had omitted, they immediately flatter themselves, that he must have a Design of Mar|riage. This Notion once conceived, a Convocation of Aunts, old Maids, discreet Friends, prudent Neigh|bours, &c. is assembled, when every Circumstance must be discussed.—Miss intimates—

He is very par|ticular to me—what can he mean?—He looked at me all the Time he was here—Sure he'll propose soon—Then did you remark, Aunt Betty, when we talked of Marriage, what he said?—He certainly means to have me

—The Result of this Consulta|tion is, that Miss must carry it with a proper Reserve, in order to compel the imaginary Lover to declare him|self, who, if he be a Man of Experience in the Subtleties of Women, instantly sees through the flimsy Artifice, and discontinues his Visits. I submit to the Candor of every female Reader, whether I have here drawn an ideal Picture.—Can these angelic Beings reasonably expect then, that a Man will chuse to visit them, under the disagreeable alternative of behaving continually

with a ceremonious Distance, or running the Risk of being driven to the Necessity of an aukward Explana|tion?—No; while narrow Sentiments of this Kind prevail, it will be impossible to introduce a truly social Converse between the Sexes, which must be effected, on the Part of the Ladies, by an undesigning decent Freedom, the inseparable Companion of real Virtue. —Let them assert their own Dignity, and manifest a Consciousness, that they were not created merely to be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 umental in the Continuation of the Species, but are endowed with intellectual Faculties, that qualify them for the sweet Joys of Society. Let them at length so far undeceive themselves, as to think, that a Man may like their Company, admire their Virtues, nay, even their personal Charms, and cherish the warmest Friend|ship for them, without any Intention of addressing them on the Score of Love; let them but offer this Vio|lence to the natural Vanity of their Sex, and I will undertake to promise, that they will not long have Reason to complain of being neglected.—Men of S••••se will then seek their Company, and, what I hope may make some Impression on a semale Mind, will then think of them as Partners for Life.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Extract of a Letter, dated Crown Coffee-house, Bedford-Row, Aug. 26.

THE Gentlemen here are greatly concerned at the Thoughts of losing you, both on Account of the Pleasure they will be deprived of by the Discontinuance of your Paper, and of the perpetual Impertinence they will be subject to from Mr. Shortcough, who, since you first gave him a Touch of your Pen, has been restrained, by his Fears of another Lashing, within some Sort of Bounds; but since you have declared your Intentions of relinquishing your Paper, he has transgressed all De|cency,

and is every Instant committing Cutrages against Good-breeding and Manners. Since you first mentioned him, he has never troubled us at making a Bet when the Odds are in his Favour, with saying,

Come, I've a Guinea in my Pocket, which my Wife knows no|thing of.

—But he is now returned to his Vomit: Pride and Meanness are surprizingly blended in him, and these two opposite Qualities disclose themselves daily by a vain Ambition of being thought rich, and a Poverty of Spirit in doing the lowest Actions. Though a Pack of Cards will not at any Ale-house fetch more than a Groat, Mr. Shortcough will slily slip one into his Pocket. He incessantly offers Bets, but never makes any unless he meets with a Pigeon, that gives him the Advantage of Four-pence in the Shilling. It is common, by way of shewing him off, to give him a Shilling to lay Half a Guinea, and chuse his Side; and when he has five Love, he has made an even Bet with a Gentleman, who offered it to him in Derision. In his Conversation he is elegant beyond Description, and his Phrases are greatly above any Passage in Swift's polite Conversation.

You Son of a B—h;—you Dog;—you Rascal;— you hubble bubble-pated Puppy;—hang yourself, and drown your Bastards;—Oh! my God, quoth Nanny Sayer, what a Whore am I!—Fatal FOUR, all the World O'ER;—you, Mr. Quibus, you may kiss my—Nominativo; Quibus, Quobus, Quod|bus; and so forth.

With this Sort of Literature does he infest the Company the whole Evening, and it is ushered in with a stentorial Voice enough to crack the Ceiling.—His Age protects him from the Correction of the Arm, but surely cannot exempt him from the coercive Power of a Satyrist. Pray, Mr. Ranger, pick such a Rod out of this Bundle as may hercaster be hung up here in terrorem, and you'll oblige, &c.

Preparing for the Press, PROPOSALS for PRINTING by SUBSCRIPTION,

The History of the Grub street Society, in Imitation of Sprat's History of the Royal Society; in which strict Justice will be done to the Characters of those eminent Personages, who have been worthy Members of that Academy, and due Regard will also be paid to the pre|sent Race of Geniusses who do Honour to that august Bo|dy. Likewise the Booksellers, who publish Works of Defamation for the above Authors will be considered as Grubb-street Publishers, and be accordingly treated with all due Honour.

NUMB. 99.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Sept. 7, 1754.

Quis expedivit Psitaco suum KAIPE, ••••••asque do••••it nostra verba conari? PERSEUS.

The Proceedings on the Commission of Oyer and Terminer and Goal Delivery, held at the Court of Censorial Enquiry for the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of London and Westminster, &c.

_ON Wednesday Morning last, between the Hours of Nine and Ten, the Commission was opened, and the Jury, consisting of the following Persons was Impannelled.

The JURY.

• ...Geerge Truewit, John Classic.
• ...William Tasteful, George Manly.
• ...Richard Candid, Jonathan Truetafte.
• ...Martin Solid, William Telltruth.
• ...John Impartial, Henry Mellefont,
• ...David Meanwell, Abraham Clearsight.

William Purl,—Walter Wormwood,—Abraham Scurvygrass,—Robert Mum alias Threethreads,— Oliver Tatoo,—Alexander M'Gregor, and John Boba|dil were Indicted, for that they, without having the Love of Truth before their Eyes, but urged on by the Instigations of their Malice and Appetite, have pre|sumed to pass their Decision, in a Pamphlet entitled the Monthly Review, upon all Performances in Literature, ever studious to recommend their own native Dullness, or indeed, the Dullness of any other Person, provided he or his Bookseller condescend to make Interest with them, decrying at the same Time all Works that have the least Ray of Genius, according as they happen to dislike the Author's Face, or that of the Bookseller who may have purchased the Copy, &c.

Being all severally asked, they pleaded Not Guilty; then the Attorney General of the Court opened the Pro|secution with the following Speech.

Gentlemen of the Jury,

The several Misdemeanors of the Psendo-Critics, who now stand at the Bar of this honourable Court, are of as glaring a Die as ever came under the Cognizance of a Seat of Judicature, intended to be supplemental to the Laws of the Land. It is observed by Mr. Pope,

— Less dangerous is th'Offence To tire our Patience, than mislead our Sense.

Now I appeal to the impartial Opinion of every Rea|der, who has thought it worth his while to turn over the Leaves of the Monthly Review, whether more malicious, false, and ill-grounded Criticisms were ever sent Abroad into the World, since the Days of Zoilus, down to the present Aera of these notable Reviewers? I am per|suaded, Gentlemen of the Jury, that a more gross Im|position was never offer'd to the Republick of Letters, than for a Bookseller, whose Sign is justly emblematical of his Authors, viz. the Dunciad, to take upon him to dictate to the Public in a Work, conducted by obscure

Hirelings, Country Schoolmasters, &c. Certain it is that a critical Performance, under the Direction of Gen|tlemen, and Scholars, written with Taste, Impartiality, and Erudition might be highly serviceable to the Cause of Literature. A Man, for Instance, who should give such an Account of Works of Taste, as Pere Brumoy has of the Greek Dramatic Poets, would deserve to be cherished by the Public, and the Bookseller, who should publish such a Performance would acquire Honour and Reputation in his Business. But as Matters have been managed by the Reviewers, it is manifest that the whole is a mere Job, eternally swelled out with dull Extracts from dull Authors, calculated to serve the Purposes of a few Publishers, and to misguide the Public Taste. The frequent Abuses of the Liturgy, the Arguments for abo|lishing the Athanasian Creed, and the scandalous Treat|ment of many Clergymen of the Church of England, are strong Indications of the Hand of a Fanatic; and the idle Strictures of natural History, Fossils, Minerals, &c. are infallible Marks of a certain exploded Herbalist, who has reduced himself to the lamentable Situation de|scribed by a great Genius, when he says there is not a more miserable Figure than a Man who has wrote himself down. It is therefore submitted to the common Sense of Mankind, whether it is not the highest Presumption in a Set of Hirelings to impose on the Judgment of their unfortunate Readers by a gross Misrepresentation of all Compositions, according as they are directed by a Spirit of Malevolence or Partiality; to usurp the Seat of Cri|ticism without declaring who and what they are, without producing their Credentials, to shew the World by what Authority they act, and without previously giving un|deniable Proofs of their own Ability and Taste, according to the Statute of Mr. Pope,

Let such teach others, who themselves excel, And censure freely, who have written well.

That not one of the Authors of the Review have writ|ten well, will appear in their Works, if they are any where to be found. I shall now proceed to examine the Witnesses, and make no doubt but the Gentlemen of the Jury will find a Verdict against the Writers of Calumny and Detraction.

Moll Redfist, sworn.

Q.

Do you know the Prisoners at the Bar?

A.

Yes, I know them all very well.

Q.

How came you to know them very well?

A.

They came to do Journey-work where I was at Service.

Q.

What Sort of Journey work?

A.

They were all locked up in a Garret, writing all Day long, and I used to carry them up their Water|gruel; and they often complained there was not Butter enough in it.

Cross-Examined.

Can you take upon you Mistress,— you know you're upon your Oath—I say can you swear to their Persons?—

A.

I can.

Cross Examined.

What Butter did you put in their Water Gruel?

A.

It was Cambridge Butter, and I know them all. He in the blue Silk, his Name is Bobadil, he used to make Love to me, and told me he got Seven Shillings every Saturday by writing the Inspector, and that he un|derstood Oysters and Cockle Shells better than any body, and that he was a fine Man.

Cross-Examined.

Do you know what he used to write?

A.

They used to call it, the Monthly Review. —

Call John Heel Tap.

Heel Tap

sworn.

I am a Cobler, an't please ye, and I wrote a Letter to the People of England—and I would be glad to thrive—and so I went to the Reviewers to bid 'em give me a good Word—

Q.

Where did you find them?

A.

At Work in a Garret, an't please ye, and I asked for a Motto.

Q.

Did they give you one?

A.

He in the blue Silk, an't please ye, desired me to take As in Praesenti, and said it was out of Virgil—but I had learnt as far as that when I was at School, and so I did not take it, but they promised me a good Word.

Q.

Did you give 'em any Thing for it?

A.

I gave 'em a Crown an't please you, because I would be glad to thrive.—

Call Edmund Groundivy.

Council.

Edmund Groundivy.—You are admitted an Evidence—Declare to the Court what you know of the Monthly Review.

Groundivy.

I was one of the Gang, and did the Montaly-List—Every one had his Share allotted him. Oliver Tattoo wrote the Republican Principles; M'Gre|gor abused the Church of England, called for a Refor|mation of the Liturgy, and was for abolishing the Atha|nosian Creed. It was he that abused the Clergy of the Church of England, and called some of them Enthusiasts, &c. M'Gregor also explained Latin Sentences to the rest, and Mr. Eobadil dabbled in natural History, and the Belles Lettres.

Q.

Does any body direct you when to praise or dis|praise?

A.

If the Bookseller lives in Pater-noster-Row, or has any Connection with the Publisher, and happens to have bought the Copy, we are sure to praise; we have a ge|neral List of Things to be abused, hung up in the Gar|ret, and we always go according to that for Abuse.

Q.

Do you remember the List?

A.

I remember some of it. It begun thus,

To be Abused,

Mr. Smart, whenever he publishes.

The Author of the Grays-Inn-Journal, whenever he publishes.

The Author of Barbarossa.

All Writers in Favour of the Church of England.

The Liturgy, the Athanasian Creed, &c.

Paul Whitchead, Esq whenever he publishes a spirited and manly Satyr; and, in short, true Genius and Taste whenever they appear.

Here the Prosecution rested; the Counsel for the Prisoners produced a Commission from Grub-street, but it was over ruled by the Court, who told them, that no Grub-street Commission could authorize a Re|bellion against Candor, Taste, and Truth. They then offered an Extract of a Letter from Oxford, but, upon strict Enquiry, the said Letter was found to be a Forgery, no Individual of that Learned Body being capable of holding an Intercourse with obscure, hackney Scribblers, who deal out Malice and Invective by the Sheet. Whereupon the Council against the Prosecu|tion, declared, they had nothing further to offer in Fa|vour of their Clients, and the Judge proceeded to give his Charge to the Jury, declaring the Monthly Review to be an Insult on the Understandings of all the good Peo|ple of Great-Britain, calculated to serve the Purposes of Booksellers, and gratify the Resentment of bad Au|thors, who, as Mr. Pope observes, are generally bad Men.

He declared the arbitrary Proceeding of the Pri|soners at the Bar to be very like the Declaration of a Personage in Moliere's Play, called Les Femmes Scavantes, who says, very pleasantly,

By our own Laws we will be the sole Judges of Composition; by our Laws every Thing in Prose and Verse shall be sub|mitted to us; no one shall be allowed Wit, except ourselves and our Friends; we will make it our Business to find fault and detract, till at length we shall find ourselves the only People capable of fine Writing.

Nous serous par nos loix les Juges des ouvrages; Par nos loix, Prose & Vers, tout nous sera soumis; Nul n'aura de l'esprit, bors nous & nos amis.

Nous chercherons par tout à trouver à redire; Et ne verrons que nous qui sachent bien ecrire.

And it was therefore recommended to the Jury to bring in a Verdict for the Prosecution, which they accordingly did, without withdrawing from the Court. In Conse|quence of which, Sentence was pronounced as follows.

You William Purl,—Walter Wormwood,— Abraham Scurvygrass,—Robert Mum alias Threethreads, —Oliver Tattoo,—Alexander M'Gregor, and John Bobadil, are to go back to the Goal from whence ye came; there you are to be locked up from the use of Pen, Ink, and Paper, for the Space of three Years, during which Time, you are to be placed in the Pil|lory on the first Day of every Month (unless it should fall on a Sunday) for the Space of two Hours; after which you are to be whipped through Grub-street, and so the Lord have Mercy on your Souls!

Purl, Wormwood, and M'Gregor petitioned to be hanged, in Imitation of one Tutchin celebrated in the Dunciad, but they were told, that like him they should be siagrant from the Scourge below; Bobadil, pleaded his Belly, but it being upon Record that he had used the same Plea once before, it was rejected; where|upon he seemed to be hardened in Malevolence, and declared he would, as soon as an Opportunity offered, write a CRITICAL REVIEW * 37.1, for which he is un|doubtedly very well qualified, as he has been an Enemy to every Thing praise-worthy for a long Time past, and has dealt more in anonymous Scandal, and other sinister Artifices than any other Scribbler of the present Age.

Adjourned to Wednesday the 18th.

NUMB. 100.

GRAY's-INN, Saturday, Sept. 14, 1754.

Naturaliter audita visis laudamus libentius; & praesentia Invidiâ, praeterita veneratione prosequimur: & his non Obrui, illis instrui credimus. VELL. PATERCULUS. Lib. 2.

_THERE is not a more favourite, or a more trite Subject, of Declamation, than the Degeneracy of the Times. Each Indivi|dual of Society, charitably judging himself excepted from the general Reproach, assumes a Privi|lege to inveigh against the Vices of the Age, and the total Decline from those Virtues, which immortalized the exalted Characters of Antiquity, and enabled the Ancestors of the present Race of Englishmen, to deliver down to Posterity a Constitution, which still renders them the Envy of the World.

This splenetic Humour of decrying the Moderns, is become so universal, that all Ranks and Orders of Men, seem more or less infected by it. The Divine patheti|cally bewails the shameful Neglect of Religion. The Patriot laments, that Venality and Corruption have irretrievably extinguished the genuine Spirit of Liberty. The Philosopher sighs, that Enthusiasm and Supersti|tion should have usurped the Throne of free Enquiry, and debased the intellectual Faculties The Fair com|plain, that the dissolute Inclinations of the Men compel them to drag out an uncomfortable Life in Celibacy; while the Men, in their Turn, pour out the most bitter Invectives against the Extravagance and Dissipation of the other Sex, which, they would have the World be|lieve, are risen to such an Excess, that the Word Ma|trimony

carries with it the Idea of Bankruptcy and Ruin. Nay so far has the Influence of this Infatuation reached, that it is become very common for even Stock|jobbers to assert,

that Things are not now, as they have been—nothing is to be done now—the Prokerage in and out runs away with all the Profit; whereas, in King William's Time, when the Govern|ment was distressed for Money, and necessitated to give six per Cent. upon a Loan, great Strokes were to be made.

In order, therefore, to shew the Unreasonableness, as well as Disingenuity, of this epidemic Dissatisfaction with the Age, in which I had the Happiness to be born, I shall endeavour to demonstrate, and, I flatter myself, I shall be able to do it, beyond all Possibility of Doubt, that the now exining Inhabitants of Great-Britain, so far from being inferior to their illustrious Predecessors, do at this Day surpass the Ancients in all the admired Virtues and Qualifications, which the most enthusiastic Idolizer of Antiquity shall be able to point out.

In the first Place, Socrates, Plato, Cicero, and some few others of remote Antiquity, are frequently cele|brated for that amazing Strength of Mind, which enabled them to detect the Impostures of the Religion, established in the Country where they were born, and empowered them to break through the Impediments, which Superstition and Priestcrast had placed in the Avenues to Truth. But surely the insignificant Number of Instances, that ancient History furnishes, of those truly-philosophic Characters, however, respectable the Names may be, will little deserve our Attention, when we consider how infinitely the present Age eclipses their Claim of Superiority, in this Respect. Is there a Gentleman at this Day, any Way conversant in polite Life, who does not entertain the greatest Contempt for the Prejudices, or Faith (as it is vulgarly called.) in which he was educated? Are not the Coffee-houses

about Temple-Bar, nay, even in the City, so many Seminaries, where our Youth discuss the most important Questions of Philosophy, and explode the Errors im|posed on Mankind for so many Centuries? Nor is this Knowledge, as among the Ancients, the Result of te|dious Enquiry and Meditation, but entirely intuitive, being most eminent in those, who are almost totally void of the least Acquisition in any Branch of Litera|ture, and indebted to Nature alone for their astonishing Discoveries.

The Advocate for Antiquity will, perhaps, thunder out an Eulogium on the exalted Virtue and Patriotism of Cato, Brutus, and several other illustrious Romans, who, prodigal of Life, disdained to survive the Liber|ties of their Country. But certainly there can be no room to run a Parallel, the Advantage is so obviously on the Side of the Moderns. Those ingenious Histo|rians, the Daily News-Writers, in every Page of their Works afford us Examples of the noblest Disregard of Death. The Roman voluntarily quits the World, be|cause he could not bear to be a Witness of the Slavery of his Country; but, the Englishman puts a Period to his Existence, because the Fogs of November depress his Spirits, and he scorns to be compelled to live longer, than Life continues agreeable. How noble is this Spirit of Freedom! which is not confined to People of Birth and Education, but extends itself to the lowest Mechanics, insomuch, that my Lord is not more ready to discharge a Pistol through his Brain, than his Barber. In short, the Point is so extremely clear, that it would be quite superfluous to labour at the Proof of it, and I may venture to assert, that no Nation, of which Hi|story has preserved the least Record, has any Preten|sion, to dispute the Glory of Suicide with England.

I am aware, that great Stress may be laid upon the literary Merit of the Ancients, and expect to hear the Names of Aristotle, Longinus and Quintilian thrown

out, with an exulting Air of Triumph. Far be it from me, to attempt to derogate from the long established Fame of those great Men. Undoubtedly, they were very good Critics for the Times, in which they lived; but with all due Respect to those celebrated Geniusses, we may take the Liberty to suppose, that the Art of Criticism must be now much better understood, than it possibly could be in their Days, as it is much more uni|versally studied. Attorneys Clerks, Mercers 'Appren|tices, and Merchants Book-keepers in this Year 1754, credite posteri are thoroughly qualified to pronounce, in the most decisive Manner, upon the Merit of all literary Compositions, particularly dramatic Poetry, the noblest Province of polite Learning; not to mention, that we have found out the Absurdity, and shook off the re|straint, of those Fetters, which the Stagyrite would rivet on us, and transferred them to our Gallic Neigh|bours, a Nation inured to, and patient of, Slavery.

Should any discontented, or disappointed Politician, after poring over Livy, insinuate, that Mankind are not now, as they were in the Times of the Roman Re|public, when private Considerations always gave Way to the publick Good, I would only desire such a phleg|matic Murmurer to look through the Kingdom, and ob|serve what a Number of Gentlemen have impaired their Estates, and destroyed the Tranquillity and Happiness of their Families, in order to procure a Seat in the Re|presentative-Assembly of the Nation: undoubtedly with no other View, but that they might be watchful over the Liberties of their Country.

Some mercantile Cynic, dissatisfied with an unruly Son, who finds more Charms within the Regions of Covent-Garden, than the Counting-House, will perhaps pay little Regard to what I have hitherto advanced, and exclaim,

that the Spirit of Industry is quite lost, and People of this Age regard nothing but Pleasure.

— But the Injudice of this Censure would evidently appear

to this narrow-minded Citizen, if, the next Time he went to the Pit at Drury-Lane with his Wife and Daugh|ters on a Saturday, he would take the Trouble to make Enquiry, concerning the most gay and brilliant Per|sonages in the Boxes. He could then be informed, that they are Gentlemen, by Way of Eminence, distin|guished by the Appellation of Knights of Industry, who, without any visible Means of Subsistence, enjoy all the Pleasures of this Metropolis, in the most elegant Man|ner, and run into Expences, which few Men of real Fortune can support.

Let us now turn our View to the amiable Sex, and enter into a Comparison between the Females of an|cient Times and the present Ladies of Great Britain. In what an honourable Light will our Country-Women appear? In vain shall the Pedant, who derives his Knowledge solely from Books, harangue upon the con|jugal Attachment of Roman Matrons, while we can mention numberless British Wives, who, at this Day, with unexampled Unanimity, go Hand in Hand with their Husbands, in pursuit of the grand Business of Life; mean GAMING; which Mr. Pope, in his usual emphatic Manner, calls the Nation's last great Trade. Nor should the Candor and Disinterestedness of the Vir|gins of this Island want that Encomium, which Justice cannot refuse. Plutarch insorms us, that Lycurgus or|dered the Spartan Nymphs to appear at the public Exercises, in Garments, made with artificial Openings, in different Parts, in order that the Lacedaemonian Youth might be captivated, by a seemingly accidental Disco|very of their Charms. But our Fair ones, disdaining so disingenuous a Proceeding, and scorning to take Advantage of the Illusion of Imagination, which, in|flamed by a transient Glympse, is apt to form enthu|siastic Ideas of hidden Beauty, shew Things as they really are, and by making a generous Display of all their Charms, leave no room to their future Husbands, to

complain, that they were deceived in their Expecta|tions.

These Examples, which I have brought in support of the Proposition, I undertook to prove, will sufficiently evince to every impartial Mind, that the pretended Pre|eminence of Greece and Rome over Britain, has no other Foundation, than Prepossession and Envy; and all un|prejudiced Readers must acquiesce in the Truth of the Observation, made, with great Insight into human Na|ture, by the elegant Historian, from whom I have taken the Motto of this Paper—We are naturally more ready to do Justice to what we hear of than to what we see; cotemporary Merit excites our Envy, but that of an|cient Times our Veneration: We do not think curselves eclipsed by the latter, but consider the former as a re|proachful ••ession to us.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

Court of Censorial Enquiry, Wednesday Sept. 11.

PUrsuant to Adjournment the Court met this Day, when William Quibble was Indicted, for that he, without having the Fear of the God of Wit before his Eyes, the Bedford Coffee-house did enter, and then and there several Puns did make to the great Annoyance of the Company, &c.

The Cause was opened by Counfellor Truewit, who urged, that Punning is the meanest Exercise of the human Faculties; that though Bohours has established it for a Rule that the most brilliant Thought, must upon Exa|mination lose its Lustre, unless Truth be the Foundation of it, the Persons, who have contracted this Imbecillity of Mind, depend always upon some false Turn to re|commend themselves, and that therefore a Propensity to Punning is not only a Sign of the most flimsy Intellec|tuals, but also an Affront to the Understanding of every Person to whom it is offered.

Isaac Solid.

I was setting at the Bedford Coffee-house, and I enquired what Time of the Day it might be, and the Prisoner at the Bar answered me, that his Pastime was spoiled.

William Sensible.

I was at the Bedford Coffee-house at the same Time, and he was making his Brags that he had been in a Field-bed with a young Lady, whose Brother was present, and, being called to an Account about it, he then said, he meant it only in Joke; that he happened to lie down in Marybone Fields when she was walking there, and so was in a Field-bed.

William Ashley.

I am a Shoemaker, and the Prisoner at the Bar desired me to let him have a neat Pump—I neglected the Business of my other Customers, and when I brought it Home on Saturday Night, he told me, he meant a Water-pump, and offered me for my Trouble a Draft upon Aldgate-pump, and then fell a Laughing at me.

Prisoner's Defence.

I look upon a good Pun to be an agreeable Effort of the Mind, but, if it should appear to the Jury that I am guilty of any Transgression, I hope this piriful Bench will take my Case into Consideration.

GUILTY.

Then the Judge ordered him to perform a Quarantine before he offered to enter into Society again, and during the Time of his Penance, he was commanded to study Mr. Locke's Chapter upon Judgment, which it was hoped might serve to give him a due Sense of his Error, and a Relish for something more solid than the frivolous Amusement he had hitherto addicted himself to. Adjourned.

NUMB. 101.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Sept. 21, 1754.

Si Veteres ita miratur laudatquè,— Ut nihil anteferat, nihil illis comparet; errat. HOR.

To CHARLES RANGER, Esq

SIR,

_I Cannot but very much approve that Spirit of Patriotism, which seems to have inspired the Essay of last Saturday. The Generality of Mankind are slavishly attached to esta|blished Prejudices, and it must be a strong and manly Genius, that will dare to examine received Opinions, and boldly assert the Truth against popular Sentiments and vulgar Error. This, Mr. Ranger, you have per|formed very eminently in your last Paper; and as I en|tirely coincide with your Way of thinking, I beg Leave to address this Letter to you, as a Supplement to what you have there advanced.

I must avow that I entirely agree with you, that the Moderns have in every thing greatly exceeded the ad|mired Ancients. If the latter boast their Plato, we have our Lord Shaftsbury; and if the Death of Cato is justly stiled by the Poet, Catonis nobile Letum, because he would not survive the Loss of Liberty, is it not much more heroic in a modern Cobler to dispatch himself, for on other Reason but that he does not like the Weather, or in a Nobleman to cut his Throat, because he has lost the odd Trick at Whist? In addition to this, it must be con|sidered that few Instances of this Sort of Fortitude are ecorded among the Romans; whereas I am credibly in|formed

by a very sensible Man, and one of the Coroner's Inquest, that there does not pass by a single Day, without his being called to Turvey the glorious Reliques of a self-devoted Taylor, Shoemaker, &c. The same Person assures me at the same Time, that not a tenth Part of those exalted Minds have the due Honours paid to their Memory by the public News papers, but are permitted to remove themselves from human Life in the same Si|lence, as if they had quietly pass'd through Nature to Eternity, and never dared to fly in the Face of their Maker. But to set this Matter in the clearest Point of View, I shall here draw up a Catalogue of whatever may seem to give the Ancients a Claim to our Preference, contrasted with a List of modern Improvements, upon a fair Inspection of which, I flatter myself, the Laurel, will by every impartial Reader be adjudged to the present Age.

Ancient Catalogue.

• 1 Aristotle.
• 2 Hippocrates.
• 3 Socrates.
• 4 Tully.
• 5 Cato Uticensis.
• 6 Epictetus's Morals.
• 7 The Stoics, the Sceptics, the Peripatetics, the Acedemics, the Epicu|reans, &c. &c.
• 8 Dionysius Halicarnassensis. Longinus, Quintilian.
• 9 A Secession of the Ro|mana Plebs.
• 10 The Eleusinian Myste|ries.
• 11 Balnea Romana.
• 12 The Olympick Games.
• 13 Plato's Symposion.
• 14 Senatus Populusque Ro|manus.

Modern Catalogue

• 1 Doctor Hill.
• 2 Doctor Rock.
• 3 Whitfield.
• 4 Orator Henley.
• 5 Englishmen that hang and drown themselves.
• 6 Theo. Cibber's Disserta|tions.
• 7 The Theists, Man|devillians, Muggleto|nians, Hutchinsonians, the Robin Hood So|ciety, &c.
• 8 The Authors of the Monthly Review.
• 9 An English Mob.
• 10 Free Masonry.
• 11 The Covent Garden Bagnios.
• 12 Newmarket Races.
• 13 The Club at White's.
• 14 O! the Roast Beef of Old England.

Without adding any supernumerary Articles, I think, it is marifest from the above State of the Case, that the Moderns can easily balance the Scale with the so much celebrated Ancients. But the Matter does not rest here, Mr. Ranger; I am convinced we can throw in several Circumstances which will greatly entitle us to the Pre-eminence. As for instance, I do not find that they had an Atheist among them; and surely the Character of an Atheist must in the Eyes of all Men of Sense, do very great Honour to the present Age, the Tenets of his Phi|losophy being entirely new, and such as were not disco|ver'd by Plato, Tully, Socrates, or any of the ancient Philo|sophers: That happy Discovery being reserved for the pre|sent Age, so much enlightened, as a great Genius says, in all true Philosophy. Add to this, what has been al|ready urged on a similar Occasion, the Ancients were totally ignorant of the Laws of England, and, I believe, it cannot be denied, but the common Law of England is by many Degrees preferable to the Laws of Solon, or any other Legislator, as it is founded upon the sure Basis of common Sense, intelligible to the meanest Capacity, without much Study, and full as easy in the Practice as in the Theory. I must acknowledge that I have read in Livy and Sallust some random Accounts of the Contempt the Candidates had in Rome for Money upon all Elections for the Consulship, the Tribuneship, &c. this Proce|dure among them was stiled by the ill-natured by the Name of Ambitus, and by the rigid among the Moderns Bribery and Corruption; but, to divest Things of odi|ous Appellations, the public and benevolent Spirit of our Countrymen at a general Election cannot be parallelled any where in the Roman Page. The Ancients occasi|onally

make a Murmur concerning a Matter which they call nequissima faenora, but it will need no Force of Argu|ment to prove, that Usury has attained to a greater De|gree of Profusion among the Moderns. How many young Heirs are ruined with us before they come to Years of Discretion? Not to mention that they had not the faintest Idea of the Stocks, Jonathan's Coffee-House, Change Alley, the South-Sea-House, the India-House, Res|counters, Directors, Brokers, &c. That the Romans were a very exponsive People, is very well known to Mr. Ran|ger, and every one who has dipped into Vertot's Revolu|tions, or the famous Montesquieu's Causes of the Declen|sion of the Roman Empire; notwithstanding this, I have the Pleasure to congratulate my Countrymen on our owing so many Millions of Money; and I persuade my|self, every one of my Readers will allow, that the na|tional Debt gives us a very great Advantage over the Ancients. I am not ignorant that Sallust mentions pub|licè Egestatem, privatim Opulentiam, public Penury and private Opulence. But, Sir, I appeal to you whether we have not both these more glaringly than appears any where in the Roman History. Tho' I should be sorry to be guided by a national Partiality in this Matter, yet I cannot but think our national Debt is as remarkable a Thing as I ever read of in History; and as to private Wealth the infinite Sums of Money laid out in arti|ficial Falls of Water, artificial Canals, and indeed in artificial Wine, &c. most evidently evince our Superio|rity. Moreover, I apprehend, the Ancients were en|tire Strangers to Routs and Drums; not to mention two or three Hundred Card-Tables in one House. I do not think that they seem to have the faintest Idea of an E. O. Table, of reversing, of forcing, of finessing, of seesawing, and the many elegant Turns in the Game of Whist. Picquet, Brag, Backgammon, Cribbidge, are not even mentioned in the slightest manner, and, I flatter my|self I may say, without the Danger of a Controversy, that

the Discoveries made by Mr. Hoyle in the Doctrine of Chances, by far exceed their deepest Researches in the Mathematicks.

To give the Argument another turn; the Beauty, the Elegance and Manners of our British Ladies give a sur|prizing Lustre to the present Age. Horace informs us,

Matronae praeter faciem nil cernere possis, Caetera, ni Catia est, demissâ veste tegentis.

A Matron never shews any Part of her Person except her Face, they being all studious, unless it be Catia, to cover the rest of their amiable bodies with a Garment. Catia it seems then is a singular Instance; but how different is the Conduct of the Matrons of the modern Times? They have all happily emerged from the Ruff of Queen Bess, and their chief Endeavour is to display all their Charms to full View. Had this Fashion prevailed a|mong the ancient Ladies, I conceive, a naked Venus would not have been so great a Rarity. Indeed in Eng|land some Remains of this false Modesty prevailed not very long since, in consequence of which Mr. Pope has finely said,

If Queensbury to strip there's no compelling, 'Tis from a Handmaid we must take an Helen.

But happily future Painters will not be reduced to such Difficulties, as the modern Ladies are daily stripping as fast as they can, and the visible Approaches of the amia|ble Sex to a general Nakedness cannot fail to give a Lustre to my fair Countrywomen beyond all Greek and Roman Fame. The Tendency to undressing is so strong at present, that I make no doubt but the Time will come in a Period not far distant, when Miss in her Teens will cry out,

Lard, Mamma, I have been reading the World or the Gray's-Inn Journal, but they are so full of hard cramp Words, I can't think what to make of 'em—Pray, Mamma, what can they mean by Stays?

—Really Child, says Mamma, I can't say for certain,

but if one may conjecture, I should imagine, that in those Days the Women wore something about their Bo|dies as high from the Waist up as the Pit of their Sto|mach

.—

He! he! he! Mamma what a ridiculous Fashion that must be! What has a Woman a fine Skin for but to shew it? or if she has not a fine Skin, what has she Paint for but to make a fine Skin? And then Mamma, what could the Petticoat be?

—

Why Child, it looks as if in those Days they wore a Cover|ing for their Limbs down from the Waist as low as the Ankle.

—

He! he! he! says Miss, what has a Woman Legs for but to shew 'em? And then Mamma, I sup|pose by Crown-whist that the People in those Days were so penurious, and so pitiful, and so careful as only to play for Crowns?

—

Yes, Child, says Mamma, that is pretty plain, and keeping Sundays was then made a Crime, and three Hundred Card-Tables was then counted a Thing of Consequence

—

Well, Mam|ma, I am as glad as any thing I was not born in those grave, formal Times.

This, or something not unlike it, will most assuredly be the Language of the rising Generation, and if Improve|ments are made in other Branches, such as the national Debt, Atheism, &c. I persuade myself, that whatever the Admirers of the Antients may urge at present, our Superiority will then be incontestible.

Pleased with the Prospect of this happy Period, I will here lay down my Pen, and subscribe myself Mr. Ranger's

Most Obedient and very Humble Servant, A MODERN PHILOSOPHER.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

INSTEAD of giving any Articles from different Quarters of the Town this Day, I shall be guilty of an Anachronism, which I persuade myself the Reader will excuse, as it is to introduce the following elegant Copy of Verses, written by Mr. Garrick, on one of the first poetic Geniusses of this Age entering into Orders.

Upon Mr. MASON's taking Orders.

TO Holdernesse, the Muses three Of Painting, Music, Poetry, To him, their long lov'd Patron, Friend, In grievous Pet this Letter send—

Give ear, my Lord, while we complain, Our Sex to you ne'er sigh'd in vain. 'Tis said—A Youth by you befriended, Whom to your Smiles we recommended; Seduc'd by you, abjures our Charms, And flies for ever from our Arms! Could Darcy, whom we lov'd, caress'd, In whose Protection we were blest, Could he, to whom our Sire imparts That Secret rare to taste our Arts, Could he, ungrateful, and unkind! From us estrange our Mason's Mind? Could he, who serves and loves the Nation, So little weigh it's Reputation, As in this Scarcity of Merit, To damp with Grace poetic Spirit? But be assur'd your Scheme is vain— He must, he shall be ours again: Nor Crape nor Lawn shall quench his Fires, We'll sill his Breast with new Desires! In vain you plead his Ordination, His Cassock, Gown, and grave Vocation,

Whate'er he now has sworn, he swore, With stronger Zeal to us before: He pass'd our Forms of Consecration, His Lips receiv'd our Inspiration; To him were all our Rites reveal'd, From him no Myst'ry was conceal'd— Each kindred Pow'r obey'd our Call, And grac'd the solemn Festival! The Loves forsook their Cyprian Bow'rs, And round his Temples, wreath'd their Flow'rs: The Graces danc'd their mystic Maze, Our Father struck him with his Rays; And all our Sisters one by one, Gave him full Draughts of Helicon! Thus bound our Servant at the Shrine, * 39.1 Ordain'd he was, and made Divine!

NUMB. 102.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Sept. 28, 1754.

Lausus Equum domitor. VIRG.

_IT is observed by Horace, that in a long Work an Author may very lawfully indulge him|self with a Nap; on this Account I shall make no Apology for having been occa|sionally caught nodding; on the contrary, I shall make an Account of the various Occurrences, I lately met with in my Sleep, the Subject of this Day's Paper.

I dreamt, that, being on board a Merchantman, upon a Voyage, which indispensible Business obliged me to make, we were drove by Distress of Weather far to the Southward in the Great Pacific Ocean, and that, in the Night-Time, we were suddenly thrown on the Shore of an Island totally unknown to the Ship's Crew. While

they were, next Morning, all Hands at Work to get off the Ship, I adventured farther up into the Country, and had not journeyed far, when I perceived myself to be in the Land of the Houyhnhnms, mentioned by Capt. Gul|liver, in his Travels, and in a little Time me|thought I met with the same Master Houyhnhnm with whom that accurate Traveller so long conversed. As he had before seen one of my Species I was freed from the disagreeable Circumstances of being stared at, and shew|ed about, in the Manner we do a tall Man or a short Woman in England. The Master Houynhnhnm immedi|ately took me into a private Apartment, and began to question me concerning the State of Europe, and that of Great Britain in particular. He asked me whether the same Vices were still in fashion among us, and more especially whether that List of Enormities, which Gul|liver had mentioned to him were still continued in Prac|tice; such as Robbing, Stealing, Cheating, Pimping, For|swearing, Flattering, Suborning, Forging, Gaming, Lying, Fauning, Hectoring, Voting, Scribbling, Star-gazing, Poi|soning, Whoreing, Canting, Libelling, Freethinking, and the like. I told him they flourished with as much, if not more Vigour, than ever, and that two of them, viz. Gaming and Libelling encreased and gathered Strength every Day; that there are several in the Metropolis of Great-Britain who professedly live by them; that in order to carry on the former, viz. Gaming, with Ala|crity, there are several Societies formed, where they meet with a Design upon one another's Pockets, which was introductory of another Crime, not mentioned by Gulliver, viz. Suicide; this I took some Pains to ex|plain, and then he fetched a deep Groan at the Pride and Arrogance of human Nature. I added, that the Female Yahoos amongst us were all turned absolute Gamesters, and kept Routs, Drums, Hurricanes, &c. for the Purposes of Play. I remember I had a very sensible Pleasure in calling the fair Gamesters by the

Name of Female Yahoos, because I really think that Term very aptly appropriated to them, when they re|linquish their native Delicacy, and become a Prey to all the tormenting Passions of Gaming. I further informed the Master Houyhnhnm, that Libelling is now in greater Vogue than ever, and that a Society was formed for that Purpose by a Set of Scribblers, who call themselves Critical and Monthly Reviewers, and from their obscure Haunts attack the Reputation of every Man; whom they dislike for no Motive, except that strong Antipathy which Dullness and Malice always have to Genius and a fair Fame. The worthy Houyhnhnm here fetched a second Groan, hurt by a Reflection on the Baseness of human Nature: He then enquired about his former Ac|quaintance, Capt. Gulliver, and said he looked upon him to be exempt from all the mean fordid Vices of his Species. Whereupon I informed him, that Gulliver was only that celebrated Person's travelling Name; that in Europe he was known by the immortal Name of Doctor Swift; as I am particularly fond of the Writings of that great Genius, and never travel without them, I informed the Houyhnhnm, that I had his Works in my Chest, and if he would per|mit me to return to the Ship, I would have the Honour of presenting them to him. This Proposal was per|fectly agreeable, and in a little Space of Time I came back with that elegant Edition of Swift's Works lately publish'd by Mr. Hawksworth. In a few Days he read over the best Part of his Works, and was delighted with most of them, but more particularly with the faithful Account of the Conversation he formerly had with him, which, he said, was set down without the least Devia|tion from Truth. He added, that the Account prefixed by Mr. Hawksworth, of the Author's Life was an ad|mirable Composition.

I observe, said he, that my old Acquaintance Gulliver, or Swift, was at once an Instance of the Dignity and the Imbecillity of human Nature; and the Writer of his Life, I am persuaded,

must have both a clear Head and a good Heart, be|cause his Stile is properly concise, and always clear, strong and harmonious, and it is with a very percepti|ble Regret that he speaks of the Infirmities of his Au|thor; he seems tenderly to fling them into Shades, to soften away every thing unamiable, and to place his good Qualities in the most glaring Light.

Finding the worthy Houyhnhnm to be very much pleased with this Performance of Mr. Hawksworth, I made him a Present of the Adventurer in four Volumes, which he received with a seeming Avidity, and chancing to light upon the Eastern Story of Carazan, the Merchant of Bagdat, he confessed himself delighted with the Moral which it in|culcates, and amazed at his Warmth and Sublimity of Imagination.

The Houyhnhnm observed, when I presented the above Books to him, that I dropt a Paper, and in some Con|fusion hastily snatched it up. This Paper was no other than Mr. Pons's List of the Horses that run at New-mar|ket, which I was desirous to conceal from him, but be|ing urged to show it, he laughed at the Whimsicalness of the Conceit, as he supposed it to be, and he wondered Mr. Pons would say the Thing which was not. I assur'd him of the Veracity of the Account, and told him, however, incredible it might appear, that Jockeys rid Horses, or Houyhnhnms, at full speed for Wagers in many other Places in England, and that even the first Noble|men would frequently ride their own Horses, and appear at a great Meeting no better than Jockeys and Grooms. To convince him further of the great Perfection we have attained in the Management of Horses, I produced to him A New System of Horsemanship from the French of Monsieur Bourgela••, By Richard Berenger, Esq He at first laughed at the Impracticability of the Scheme, but upon my assur|ing him, that the whole was sounded on the justest Ob|servation, he immediately sent for another Houyhnhnm, and ordered me to mount him, in order to shew him the

Efficacy of the Rules. In vain I endeavoured to decline it by Apologies for my own Want of Dexterity; to en|courage me he bid the Houyhnhnm not do me a Mischief, and I was obliged to vault into the Saddle, where I fixed myself upon the Twist, with a proper Grasp or Hold, and that too without employing any Strength, but trusting entirely to the Balance of my Body. I employed a quick and feeling Hand, and then made him advance, go back, turn to the right and lest according to my own Will and Pleasure. The Master Houyhnhnm, was surprized to see me have so absolute a Command; the Volte, the Demivolte, the Gallop, the several Passades, the Terre-a-Terre, the Mezair, the Curvet, &c. were Matters of Astonish|ment to him, and when I alighted the Houyhnhnm, which I rode, declared that several Times, his Pride being picqued, he attempted to fling me, but that by a quick Turn of the Wrist, he found his Power totally taken away from him. The Master again carried me into his Apart|ment, and after expressing a due Degree of Astonish|ment,

Surely, said he, the Person who can thus, in so elegant and perspicuous a Manner, put together a System of Rules for subduing the noble Race of Houy|hnhnms, must make great Attainments, whenever he turns his Thoughts to other Matters.

I answered, that his Conjecture was perfectly just; that the Author had published that Performance because Riding is his fa|vourite Excercise, and that it is to be hoped he will some Day handle other Topics, with that Taste and De|licacy with which this Composition shews he can treat ordinary Things.—

No Doubt, says the Huyhnhnm, when he thus touches on what it seems in England, is but the common Business of Life, but he must display great Elegance, when he discusses Matters of more Re|finement. I own I should be glad to converse with him, tho' I consider him as a kind of Enemy, and I hope he is a seafaring Man, that I may have some Chance of seeing him here one time or other.

Up|on

hearing the Author was designed by Birth, Genius, and Education to shine in another Sphere, he de|clar'd himself sorry, and in Compliance with my Re|quest, gave me Leave to return to the Ship, which was by this Time got off the Shore. I therefore kissed his Hoof, which he raised for me, as he formerly did to Gulliver, and after desiring his Compliments to the Edi|tor of Swift's Works, and the Author of the System of Horsemanship, he dismissed me with a serious Admonition to avoid the Meannesses and the several fordid Vices of hu|man Nature. Whereupon I took my final Leave, and re|turned to my Companions. We sailed with a prosperous Wind, and, meeting but few Accidents in our Voyage, in a short Time, arrived at Gravesend. My Joy at finding myself once more in Old England was so great, that I expressed myself in the Language of the Country I came from, and awakened out of my Sleep crying out HOUYHNHNM.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

From my own Apartment, Sept. 28, 1754.

AS this is the last Opportunity I shall have of give|ing Articles of true Intelligence, I have de|termined to give the Precedence in this Day's Paper, to a succinct Account of the Proceedings at a Court of censorial Enquiry against the Author of this Paper. I flatter myself, that by these Means the Exceptions which may have been taken to these little Compositions, will be stated in a fair Light, and the Writer's Conduct throughout his Undertaking, put beyond the Reach of Calumny or Detraction.

Court of Censorial Enquiry, Wednesday, Sept. 26.

This Day CHARLES RANGER, Esq appeared at the Bar of this Court, upon an Indictment found against him, for that he wantonly and indiscreetly from Time to

Time in his Gray's-Inn Journal made too free with Cha|racters which had not offended him, to the great Unea|siness of the Persons so attacked, and against the Statute recorded by Horace, Sublato jure nocendi, &c.

Ranger objected to several who were summoned to be on the Jury, offering various Reasons as Occasion requir|ed, such as Dulness, Ignorance, Prejudice, &c. At length this Point being adjusted, the Cause was opened by Counsellor Fester, who spared neither Elocution nor Elo|quence to inflame the Mind of the Court, and the Gen|tlemen impanelled against the Prisoner at the Bar. Ma|ny Instances, he insisted, could be pointed out of personal Resentment, and Malice prepense, &c. After which, several Passages of Ranger's Writings were read in Court, and several Witnesses appeared to enforce the Charge exhibited against him.—Among these were Quinbus Flestrin, from the Bedford Coffee House; Bob Nankeen, Nat Pigtail, Harry Lappel, Jack Oakstick, Jem|my Scratch, from the City; Mr. Mac Gregor, Mr. Broad|brim, Mr. Shallow, &c. from the Robinhood Society; Mons. Bourguignon, Mons. Languedoc, Mons. Bernard; Mons. Soup meagre; &c. from Tom's in Cornhill, and Slaughter's in St. Martin's Lane; Moses Aminadab, Selim Levi, Rubens Shylock, &c. from Dukes-Place; and some others from various Parts of the Town; all these de|posed, that the Prisoner had indulged himself in frequent Strokes of Pleasantry upon them, and they therefore hoped the Jury would bring in a Verdict accordingly.

Prisoner's Defence.

May it please this honourable Court, and you Gentlemen of the Jury.

The Imputation of wantonly making free with Characters that had not given any personal Offence, is a Point I must speak a few Words to, be|cause I think it a very fallacious Argument, and

if it be supposed to carry any Weight, it may be suffici|ent to tie up the Hands of every Satyrist. It is not ne|cessary, that a ridiculous Character should tread upon an Author's Toe, or offend him in some other Manner; without that, he is free Game for every Sportsman of the Qui'l; and that this is Mr. POPE'S Opinion appears from the following Lines;

And must no Egg in Japhet's Face be thrown, Because the Deed he forg'd was not my own?

I must farther declare before this honourable Court, that I never saw one of these Gentlemen, who have appeared against me, in my Life.—Their Faces, their Persons, their Characters, are to me perfectly unknown: and therefore I presume, it may be fairly inferred, that I never meant to give the least Annoyance to any one in particular—They were all Personages of my own Creati|on, and something like them I imagined might exist in Nature, and therefore I fansied I had a Right to lash or banter any Vice or Folly under imaginary Names, with|out intending a personal Application in any one Instance. Having said thus much, I think it unnecessary in so plain a Cafe to take up the Time of the Court, to whose equitable Decisions I implicitly resign myself.

Hereupon the Jury withdrew, and in a few Minutes brought in their Verdict NOT GUILTY, to the great Sa|tisfaction of Ranger and his Friends, and the Disappoint|ment of the Group of Witnesses mentioned above. The Lord Chief Justice of the Court then broke his Staff, de|clared his Commission to be annulled, and the censorial Court was finally dismissed.

NUMB. 103.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday, Oct. 5, 1756.

Frange miser Calamos, vigilataque praelia dele, Qui facis in parvâ sublimia carmina cellâ; Ut dignus venias hederis, & imagine macrâ. JUV.

Nec lusisse pudet, sed non incidere ludum. HOR.

_A SPIRIT of Enterprize administers to the Heart, in which its Pulsations are felt, the strongest and most glowing Pleasures our Constitutions can admit; Doubts and Fears may arise, but they are soon quenched by sanguine Hope; Success hovers over the young Schemist's Head; Fame stands in a Corner of the Picture, which fond Fancy has framed, blowing her immortal Trumpet, and Happiness and gay Serenity dart in sprightly Vibrations through his Soul. Happy, were the golden dream ne|ver to evaporate! But Clouds arise that blot the intel|lectual Radiance, and as soon as the Beams of Imagi|nation are diminished, the Passions, like Flowers at the Setting Sun, immediately are contracted, the Spirits, that expanded every Nerve, sink in their Channels, sub|side into Languor, and Satiety takes Possession of the Mind. I remember, to have met with a Story of a prime Minister to Pyrrhus, who seems to have had a shrewd Turn of Humour. When the King happened, in the full Rapture of Expedition, and his Imagination dilated with Ideas of future Conquest, to expatiate at large upon the various Incidents of his growing Enterprize:

Pray Sir, (says he) what does all this tend to? Why, cries the Monarch, I shall add the neighbouring Na|tions to my Dominions.—Well! and what then, pray? Why then I shall declare War against the adjacent

States.—And what then, Sir? I shall proceed in my Conquests, and the next Province shall receive my Yoke.—And what then, Sir? Why their Neigh|bours shall also pay Tribute — This is very well, my Liege, and what next?—Thus I shall gradually ex|tend my Victories till I become Master of the Globe. —And what then?—Then—why,—then I'll sit down and crack a Bottle with my Friends— And pray, Sir, why not do so now?

This Passage has always appeared to me to carry with it a very fine Stroke of Satyr, and I am inclinable to think, that if the greatest Hero of Antiquity, were to make up the Account of his Happiness, he would find it not one Jot more than is here implied.

But among all the various Adventurers who must feel this Truth, there is no Set of Quixotes who experience it more powerfully than the Race of Authors. What Happiness does not the periodical Writer enjoy in the first dawning of a new Plan?—In Proportion as one Idea awakens a new Train of pleasing Images, and the Design opens to his View, what Sensations unfelt be|fore? What Chearfulness, what Fancy, what luxuriant Wit? And when a Sheet, yet wet, is sent him from the Press for his Inspection, how his Heart bounds to see himself in print!—the Fineness of the Paper!— How it pleases him! The Elegance of the Type! —How its Symmetry strikes the Eye! The Correct|ness of the Compositor!—How just and how exact! —Flushed with these Ideas the Imagination expands itself, and in the Fulness of Self-Admiration, he ad|dresses himself in the Words of Hamlet—"What a Piece of Work is Man! How noble in Reason! How infinite in Faculties!"—And yet pass but a few Hours, and how changed is every Trace of Reflection! The Critics gather round him, and, like the Harpies in the third Aeneid, they break in upon his Meal, and like them too, they denounce Penury and Famine. The

Learned meet his work by Chance; they speak of it, but not with sufficient Warmth, because Men of Sense never admire, and only approve. He ther runs up and down among the Pamphlet Shops; in many they have not heard of it; he calls for it in Coffee-Houses, "Sir, we don't take it in"—In Places where it is used, he sees it twisted into a thousand different Shapes, the Paper and Print neglected, and the Stile unregarded; the Waiters throw it among the common Lumber, and Gentlemen keep Snuff in it. These, and many other Indignities arise to mortify an Author's Pride; and be|sides all this, the Novelty of the Performance will wear off with him, as well as his Readers, and even Fame, supposing the good natured World allow him his full Portion, will thrill by degrees with feebler Impulse to his Heart-Strings, and in the Conclusion, I believe, he will find, that, Hero like, he cannot drink his Bottle with greater Pleasure than when he first set out.

Add to this, that there is a Concurrence of Circum|stances, which never sail to render the Profession of an Author more uneasy than any other Station in Life.

The courtly Roman Satyrist has attacked, with all the elegant Touches of his delicate Raillery, that prevailing Spirit of Uneasiness, which renders People discontented with their own Situation in Life, and envious of the apparent Felicity of their Neighbours; but in the Lift of Male-Contents, which he has produced, I have of|ten wondered, that he has not thought proper to enrol the Race that write. The Occasion of this might pos|sibly be, that Authors have more solid Reasons than any other Class of Beings, to repine and murmur at their Occupation, and to wish that Fate had assigned them an Employment, in which they might partake more of the Ease and the Enjoyments of Life.

And indeed, considering the great Disproportion of Intenseness between the Labours of the Mind, and those of the Body, I do not know whether Juvenal's Advice

to be an Auctioneer rather than a Poet, is not entirely eligible; for it is certain, that those nice Faculties of Perception, of which the literary Enthusiast is possessed, as they are the Inlets of our most refined intellectual Pleasures, so they are also, from the Quickness and De|licacy of their Feeling, susceptible of the most acute Degrees of Pain, and in the same Proportion that they administer to Happiness, they may also improve and sharpen the Edge of Misery; in like Manner as the String, from which the skilful Artist elicits a de|lightful Strain of Music, is also capable of returning the disagreeable Sounds of jarring Discord.

Of this Truth, I believe every Writer is convinced, who is actuated by an honest Ambition to acquit himself with Honour in his Calling; for I by no Means intend to speak at present of those vain Scribblers, who are for ever happy in their own Self Admiration, and who are intirely Strangers to the Agitations of Mind, attendant on a Genius, studious of correcting and polishing his Piece. In fine Writing, there are so many intricate Points, which demand Attention, that it must be with the utmost Solicit de the Task is ever accomplished. Justness of Conception, and Truth in every Turn of Wit are indispensible Requisites; nothing can excuse the Want of Delicacy of Sentiment; the Sallies of Imagi|nation, and the frolic Gambols of Invention must be restrained by Severity of Judgment, and all must be expressed with Perspicu••ty and Strength of Diction. Besides this, a proper Arrangement of Periods, follow|ing one another with graceful Variety, must unite the whole into Harmony, as the Painters express themselves, when they give the last finishing Hand to their colouring, and throw that general Glow upon their Piece, which at the first Glance strikes the intelligent Spectator. But the Truth of it is, the Traces of a Mind, which can think with Cl••arness and Vigour upon any Subject, and pursue a Series of Ideas, one emerging from another,

and tending gradually to form an intire whole, are so seldom discovered, that there is Reason to think it an Accomplishment unattainable, without the most assiduous Efforts of Study, and many Moments of Care and Anxiety.

An honest and fair Fame is among the Instigations, which incite an Author to undergo all this mental Fa|tigue; but even that very Inducement is of so unstable a Nature, the Acquisition of it so uncertain, and the Te|nure so precarious, that I believe, what at first looked so inviting to the Imagination, becomes at length the Writer's greatest Torment. Add to this, the great Hardship of pleasing that Multiplicity of Appetites, with which Mankind abound, and the still greater Dif|ficulty, which every Man of Genius experiences, to please his own private Taste. Mr. Pope tells us, in the general Preface to his Works, that he never wrote up to his own Ideas of Poetry; and Boileau, who is second to no Man for sound Sense and Judgment, observes, that an Author of Elevation in his Conceptions, is conti|nually discontented with his Performances, is pleasing to all the World, except himself, and, while his Wit is every where admired, that, for his own inward Quiet, he sincerely wishes he had never dipt his Pen in Ink.

Mais un Esprit sublime, en vain veut s'elever Ace Dégré par fait qu'il tache de trouver; Et toûjours mécontent de ce qu'il vient de faire, Il plait à tout le Monde, et ne sauroit se plaire; Et tel dont en tous Lieux Chacun vante Esprit, Voudroit; pour son Repos, n'avoir jamais ecrit.

I have been led into this Tract of Thought by a Re|view of my own Sensations, ever since I undertook the anxious Character of a public Writer, which I have now sustained for the Space of two Years, and ha|ving swelled these Essays to a sufficient Number, I pur|pose next Saturday finally to take Leave of my Rea|ders. In doing this, I must own, that I perform a kind

of Self-denial, as I shall then break off an habitual In|tercourse with the Public, from which I have occasionally deduced a very sensible Pleasure, as I have experienced that these Papers, such as they are, have, from Time to Time, conduced to the Entertainment of the Town. On this Account I shall abdicate with Reluctance; but the Line, which I have quoted in my Motto from Horace, has for a long Time stared me in the Face.

The Shame does not lie,

says he,

in playing the Fool, but in not discontinuing it,

in the Justice of which Sentiment I acquiesce, and, as becomes me, conform to the Precept.

TRUE INTELLIGENCE.

The Effects of CHARLES RANGER, Esq to be sold by Auction at Mr. Langford's in the Great Piazza Covent Garden, being a complete List of all such Houshold Furni|ture, Books and valuable Pieces, as the said RANGER, determined to leave off Trade, thinks proper to leave be|hind him; the whole very proper for any Adventurer, who has a Mind to set up for himself.

HOUSEHOLD FURNITURE.

In the Bed Chamber.

• A Very good Flock-bed, with Tape tied Curtains,
• A Poker, with the Head left.
• A Grate, with three Legs.
• Two Chairs, one of them warranted sound.
• A Pair of Bellows, wants the Muzzle.

In the Study.

• A Tea-cup, with Ink in it.
• A Common Place-Book.
• A Gradus ad Parnassum, for Mottos.
• One Volume of the Spectator.
• ...

• Two Leaves of an Elegy, written in a Country Church-Yard.
• And all the Grays-Inn-Journals.

In the Dining-Room.

• A Bureau, with nothing in it.
• A Peck of Sea-coals in the Bottom of the Cupboard.
• Six Chairs, two of them with four Legs.
• One Table, the Flap broke.

Collection of valuable Pieces.

• Honour and Honesty, an Antique.
• A Scene at White's, a Night-piece.
• The national Debt discharged, by a Flemish Master.
• Exchange-Alley, by a Dutchman.
• A Deist in a Fever, with a Clergyman at his Elbow, war|ranted original.
• Ditto, dying by Moonlight.
• A Miser's Feast, in Water-colours.
• A celebrated Beauty, enamelled.
• The Day of Judgment, a chiaro oscuro.
• A true Patriot, very scarce.
• The Creation, in Mosaic Work.
• A Coquette, a Kitcat.
• Vice and Virtue, in black and white.
• A General Election, from an original in the Possession of an eminent Statesman.
• Eternity, a Perspective.
• A Party at Hazard, in black and white from the Life.
• Selim's Vision, a Chinese Piece.
• Friendship, an Allegorical Piece.

With many other Curiosities, too numerous to insert. The whole to be viewed until the Day of Sale, and Catalogues given Gratis.

NUMB. 104.

GRAY'S-INN, Saturday Oct. 12, 1754.

Hic labor extremus, longarum hoec meta viarum; Coeticuit, factoquè hic tandem fine quievit. VIRG.

_AS I am now arrived to the conclusive Essay of the Gray's Inn Journal, the Mask must be dropped; and the assumed Character of the Gay Charles Ranger must at length dwindle into that of the real Author, who begs Leave this Day to address his Readers in his own Name.

I remember the Introductory Paper to this Undertak|ing embarrassed my Imagination, more than any succes|sive Composition; as coming into Company is sometimes attended with uneasy Flutterings, which are afterwards effaced by Habit. As I am also desirous of going off with as good a Grace as possible, I cannot but be a little solicitous about the Manner of my Exit. In the social Intercourse of Life, I know as little Ceremony should be used, as the Nature of all Things will admit; but the periodical Writer, cannot withdraw, without mak|ing his Bow to the Public.

Two different Forms of writing have offered them|selves to me upon this Occasion. The first has been prac|tised by several Gentlemen of the Quill, and consists in a declamatory Stile against that degeneracy of Taste, which has too fatally prevailed in the present Declension of Literature. In Addition to this, I might indulge myself in a Vein of Invective against the general Dis|position to Gaming, and many other unavailing Amuse|ments, which have called off the Attention of the better Sort of People from all literary Productions. I might further expatiate in a Strain of Raillery on the Fair, and might urge, that Woman is very justly defined by the

Greek Pholosopher, "An Animal delighting in Finery," and that it is not in the Power of the best Writers of the Age, to attract the Attention of that wandering Sex, who are evermore entertained with the Chit-chat, which issues from their own pretty red Lips, than with a Perusal of a Composition, calculated to retrench their Follies, to regulate their Fancy, to improve their Intel|lectuals, and to encourage them to the Acquisition of those mental Beauties, such as Sweetness of Temper, Affability, and good Sense, which will be always sure to confer upon them the most permanent Embellishments, and will prove the best Wash for the Complexion, and an infallible Preservative against the Encroachments made upon the Tincture of the Skin, by Envy, Malice, Tea, Scandal, and painful Watchings at a Gaming-Table. After this I might pompously declare, that I now decline taking any further Trouble with those incorrigible An|gels; that I consign them entirely to their Hair-Cutters, their Dancing Masters, and, what is still worse, to their own ungoverned fantastic Appetites. But this Form of Composition is inconsistent with my present Purpose, as I should be glad to lay down the Pen in the good Graces of all my Readers.

The second Method of Address which occurred to me, was that used by the excellent and humorous Author of the Tale of a Tub. After his Example, I have been tempt|ed to return Thanks, in the most solemn Manner, to his Majesty's most honourable Privy-Council, to the Lords spiritual and temporal, to the honourable the House of Commons, to the Gentlemen of the Royal Society, to the Worshipful the Board of Aldermen, to the Club at White's, to the Cricies at the Bedford, to the Con|no'sseurs at Sam's, to the Society of Grub-strect, and, in short, to all Degrees and Ranks of People, for the just and favourable Reception they have been pleased to af|ford to the most delectable, humorous, and instructive Lucubrations, that we have publish'd in this our Gray's Inn

Journal, which has been the Delight of the choice Spirits of the Age, the Terror of all Offenders against Decency and Good-Manners, and which has ascertained to the Author an immortal Reputation;

Jamquè opus exegi quod nec Jovis ira, nec ignes, Nec poterit serrum, nec edax abolere vetustas.

But having considered this Matter with sufficient Delibe|ration, I have judged it eligible to decline both the Spe|cies of Writing above exhibited. The Truth of it is, as on the one Hand I am not so self-sufficient as to arro|gate to myself any extraordinary Pride from the Degree of Success I have met with; so on the other, I do not think I can reasonably find any Fault with the Disposi|tion of the Public to the present Writer. I have all a|long steered between the two Extremes of partial popu|lar Applause, and a general Neglect; and I have there|fore no colourable Pretence to express the least Degree of Discontent at Parting, nor vain-gloriously to exult at the Applause, which has been occasionally allowed to me.

I am too sensible, that a small Portion of Fame can be attributed to the Productions of a young Author, hur|ried down the Stream of Dissipation, interrupted by Avo|cations of a thousand Sorts, seldom enabled to write at Leisure, frequently obliged to dismiss the uncorrected Sheet to the Press, rarely happy enough to have written up even to his own Taste, and often checked in his Ca|reer by the Timidity of an Adventurer, who was always diffident of his own Abilities, and was sensible how far so young a Writer must be from those strong Powers of Mind, which, when matured by Age and Application, animate and embolden Genius, give Authority to Criti|cism, add Strength to Compositions of a graver Cast, and inspire an Author with a due Degree of Confidence

in his Decisions, upon all Occurrences in human Life, as likewise upon all Topics of Taste and Erudition.

Though unattended with these Advantages, it is, however, some kind of Satisfaction, that I have been able to procure myself an Audience once a Week for two Years together, from perhaps several Thousands in Great Bri|tain; and, on this Occasion, I cannot help taking to my|self a secret Pleasure from the Reflection, that I have given a kind of Weekly Memorial of my Existence, and force Sort of Proof, that my Time has not been thrown 〈…〉〈…〉 in a Manner totally unavailing. Salust has a very fine Sentiment, which has made a very deep Im|pression on me. Verum enimvero is demum mihi vivere, & frui animâ videtur, qui aliquo negotio intentus, praeclari sacinoris aut artis honae famam quaerit.

He may be said to live, says that excellent Writer, and to enjoy the Functions of his Soul, who, engaged in a laudable Occupation, endeavours to distinguish himself by some splendid Action, or by the Acquisition of Fame in some liberal Art.

That I have in the last Way made myself conspicuous, I cannot persuade myself in my most most sanguine Moments; but I shall always enjoy the pleasure easure of a well meant Endeavour, and, when I look back to the Commencement of this Undertaking, and revieiew the Means, by which I have kept my Paper alive, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 will not be so prudish as to conceal a Degree of Self-Approbation.

The Plan, on which I have wrote, however f••••ble the Execution of it may be, I am inclined to believe is not void of Merit. In the Essay, there was room for all Lands of fine Writing, and in the News, there was am|•••••• room to entertain the Fancy with Touches of Hu|••••••r upon the various Occurrences of human Life. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 this Scheme has not been better cultivated in all 〈◊〉〈◊〉 arts, must be imputed to my having wrote singly 〈…〉〈…〉; and this Consideration will, I hope, ren|•••••• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Inaccuracies more excusable.

When I say, that I have wrote alone, I do not mean that I never received any Assistance. On the contrary, I think it incumbent on me to acknowledge, that a par|ticular Friend, who must be nameless, has furnished me occasionally with several humorous Paragraphs of News, written with a Delicacy of Humour peculiar to himself; and, I will add, that I never withdrew from his Conversation, without some Hint for the Entertain|ment of my Readers. To this Gentleman I am in|debted for a Letter from an Englishman in Paris, No. 14; for a Scene at-Jonathan's Coffee-House, No. 19; for an Essay on I heatrical Parties, No. 31; for an Essay on the modern Fashion of visiting, No. 34; for a second Scene at Jonathan's, No. 57; and for the Essays in 98 and 100. That I have not received more from him, I have often thought it both a Loss to the Gray's-Inn Journal and the Public; as he possesses an elegant Facility on every Subject, I sincerely wish that I had been able to prevail upon him, against his natural Indolence, to afford me a great deal more of his Assistance.

A Paper upon what may be called Imitation in Wri|ting, and an Essay towards the fixing the Standard of modern Criticism, together with some occasional Strokes of Humour in the true Intelligence, were the Contribu|tions of another ingenious Gentleman, whose Friend|ship, I am convinced, would have inclined him to do something toward raising the Estimation of this Paper much higher, had not Avocations of more Consequence to himself and the Public, demanded the Exertion of his excellent Abilities in another Way.

I must take this Opportunity to thank the Author of a Letter, occasioned by my Criticism on King Lear, which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in the Warmth of Friendship, and, in my Opi|tion, was written also in the Warmth of Genius. An ingerious Essay on Physiognomy was also a Present from the Author of Phil••••lea; the Letter, No. 12, upon a 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 the Ladies Teeth, is a Jeu d'Esprit by a

Gentleman of a very elegant and lively Fancy. And now and then, in the News there are either Articles sent by unknown Hands, or Paragraphs raised upon their Hints. But of these the Number is extremely small; for every Thing else Ranger himself must stand account|able.

I have now, I think, faithfully mentioned all the Assistance I received in the Course of this Paper, and upon this Appearance of Matters, I believe, it will be sound very short of the Advantages enjoyed by some of my Brother Writers. I have not had the Happiness of being puff'd in any of our common News Papers, or in that entertaining and truly useful Work, as Mr. Griffiths calls the Monthly Review. I have never been able to en|tertain the Town with the Writings of People of Fashion, nor to lay before them an Essay written by a Person of Honour; I could never boast the Friendship of the Nobility, nor has any Lord sent me a Paper, and upon Publication bought up a thousand Copies, to shew me how well his own Performances sell. I must, how|ever, own, that I have always exerted my utmost Abilities, and have put every thing out of hand with as much Care as the Nature of periodical Productions, the Author's Spirits, and other Circumstances would permit. I have ever had as great a Respect for the Public, as Tully pro|fesses for a Roman Assembly, and I agree with him when he says, nihil huc nisi perfectum ingenio, elaboratum in|dustriâ afferri opportere. At the same Time, I hope, it will be considered, what Mr. Pope observes with great Propriety, that the Public should not expect that an Au|thor's whole Time should be spent in polishing and re|touching for their Pleasures.

Besides, why may not a Person rather chuse an Air of bold Negligence, than the obscure Diligence of Pedants, and Writers of affected Phraseology? For my Part, I have always thought an easy Stile more eligible than a pompous Diction, lifted up by Metaphor, amplisied

by Epithet, and dignisied by too frequent Insertions of the Latin Idiom. I am therefore inclined to flatter my|self, that my Expression has been natural and unambi|tious; and that my Arrangement has been grammatically just, unperplexed and clear, and that upon all Occa|sions I have written with some Degree of Purity.

Upon the whole, if I cannot boast of having pro|duced edifying Strains of Morality, Dissertations of uncontrovertible Criticism, and Papers of exquisite Mirth and Humour, I hope, at least the whole Plan has been conducted with a strict Regard to Decency, and without any Offence against Virtue or good Manners. To this Circumstance, I believe it in a great Measure owing, that I have been so savourably received by the Town; but be the Cause, what it may, I shall always retain a grateful Sense of their Indulgence, and in what|ever Way, hereafter I may endeavour to entertain them, I shall think they have a Demand upon me for the most vigorous Exertion of my Abilities, and, let my Success|be as it will, I at least hope I shall have Judgment enough not entirely to mistake my Talents.

Having avowed these Sentiments I shall conclude without any studied flourish of Period, and I remain with great Respect to all my Readers in particular, and to the Public in general,

Their most obliged, and most obedient Servant, ARTHUR MURPHY

Tavistock-row, Oct. 21, 1754.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 4.1

  The Person here intended, is Mons. CERVETTI who has been a standing Joke with the Upper Gallery, for a long Time past, on Account of the Length of his Nose; but, as I am i••••••••med, that no Feature of his Mind is out of Proportion, unless it be that his good Qualities are extraordinary, I take this Opportunity to mention that it is cruel to render him uneasy in the Business, in which he is eminent, and by which he must get a Livelihood.
• * 5.1

  The Word ADJECTIVE was wrote as it is always pronounced by the Person who brought in this Bill, ADJUTANT.

  Mr, — be sure never to lay your Emphersis on the ADJUTANT.
• * 6.1

  Vide the Letter prefixed to his Orphan of China.
• * 10.1

  Since the Time, when the above Essay was wrote, Mr. Smith, a Pupil of Mr. Handell's, has displayed a noble Genius for musical Composition, and the Success, which his Opera, called the Fairies, met with on Drury-Lane Stage, at once gives lustre to his Merit, and is a Proof of the public Taste.
• * 10.2

  Mr. Gathric.
• † 19.1

  Mr. Quin. who has retreated from the Stage, to enjoy o••ium ••um dignitate at Bath.
• * 19.2

  Vide the Prologue to the new Tragedy of Virginia.
• * 37.1

  A notable Performance with this Title, has been lately published by Mr. Baldwin in Pater-Noster-Row, in which may be seen in|fallible Traces of that egregious Author, the Hero of the Hilliod.
• * 39.1

  The Ordination and Divinity mentioned in the above Line has been, since this Prediction, eminently displayed in four Odes, to Memory, Independency, Melancholy, and on the Fate of Tyranny.