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The Pict stood before him in the utmost confusion with the prettiest smirk imaginable on the finished side of her face, pale as ashes on the other. Honeycomb seized all her galley-pots and washes, and carried off his handkerchief full of brushes, scraps of Spanish wool, and phials of unguents. The lady went into the country: the lover was cured.

Such is the shout, the long applauding note,
At Quin's high plume, or Oldfield's petticoat:
Or when from court a birth-day suit bestow'd
Sinks the lost actor in the tawdry load.
Booth entershark! the universal peal!-
But has he spoken-Not a syllable
What shook the stage, and made the people stare?
Cato's long wig, flowr'd gown, and lacker'd chair.
Pope.

ARISTOTLE has observed, that ordinary writers in tragedy endeavour to raise terror and pity in their audience, not by proper sentiments and expressions, but by the dresses and decorations of the stage. There It is certain no faith ought to be kept is something of this kind very ridiculous in with cheats, and an oath made to a Pict is the English theatre. When the author has of itself void. I would therefore exhort all a mind to terrify us, it thunders; when he the British ladies to single them out, nor do would make us melancholy, the stage is, I know any but Lindamira who should be darkened. But among all our tragic arti-/ exempt from discovery; for her own comfices, I am the most offended at those which! plexion is so delicate that she ought to be are made use of to inspire us with magnifi- | allowed the covering it with paint, as a cent ideas of the persons that speak. The punishment for choosing to be the worst ordinary method of making a hero, is to piece of art extant, instead of the master-clap a huge plume of feathers upon his piece of nature. As for my part, who have head, which rises so very high, that there no expectations from women, and consider is often a greater length from his chin to them only as they are part of the species, I the top of his head, than to the sole of his do not half so much fear offending a beauty foot. One would believe, that we thought a as a woman of sense; I shall therefore pro- great man and a tall man the same thing. duce several faces which have been in pub-who is forced to hold his neck extremely This very much embarrasses the actor, lic these many years, and never appeared. It will be a very pretty entertainment in the stiff and steady all the while he speaks; and playhouse, (when I have abolished this cus- notwithstanding any anxieties which he tom) to see so many ladies, when they first lay it down, incog. in their own faces. In the mean time, as a pattern for improving their charms, let the sex study the agreeable Statira. Her features are enmy own part, when I see a man utterlivened with the cheerfulness of her mind, ing his complaints under such a mountain and good humour gives an alacrity to her of feathers, I am apt to look upon him raeyes. She is graceful without affecting anther as an unfortunate lunatic than a disair, and unconcerned without appearing careless. Her having no manner of art in her mind, makes her want none in her

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pretends for his mistress, his country, or his friends, one may see by his action, that his greatest care and concern is to keep the plume of feathers from falling off his head.

For

tressed hero. As these superfluous orna-
ments upon the head make a great man, a
princess generally receives her grandeur
from those additional incumbrances that fall
into her tail; I mean the broad sweeping
train that follows her in all her motions,
and finds constant employment for a boy
who stands behind her to open and spread
it to advantage. I do not know how others
are affected at this sight, but I must con-
fess, my eyes are wholly taken up with the
page's part; and as for the queen, I am not
SO attentive to any thing she speaks, as to
the right adjusting of her train, lest it should
chance to trip up her heels, or incommode
her, as she walks to and fro upon the stage.
It is, in my opinion, a very odd spectacle,
to see a queen venting her passion in a dis-
ordered motion, and a little boy taking care
all the while that they do not ruffle the tail
of her gown.
The parts that the two per-
sons act on the stage at the same time are
very different. The princess is afraid lest
she should incur the displeasure of the king
her father, or lose the hero her lover,
whilst her attendant is only concerned lest
she should entangle her feet in her petticoat.

We are told, that an ancient tragic poet, to move the pity of his audience for his exiled kings and distressed heroes, used to

No. 43.]

THE SPECTATOR.

A good poet will give the reader a more make the actors represent them in dresses and clothes that were thread-bare and de- lively idea of an army or a battle in a de/cayed. This artifice for moving pity, seems scription, than if he actually saw them as ill-contrived as that we have been speak-drawn up in squadrons and battalions, or ing of, to inspire us with a great idea of the persons introduced upon the stage. In short, would have our conceptions raised by the dignity of thought and sublimity of expression, rather than by a train of robes or a plume of feathers.

engaged in the confusion of a fight. Our
minds should be opened to great concep-
tions, and inflamed with glorious sentiments
by what the actor speaks more than by
what he appears. Can all the trappings
or equipage of a king or hero, give Brutus
half that pomp and majesty which he re-
ceives from a few lines in Shakspeare?

C.

Hæ tibi erunt artes; pacisque imponere morem,
Parcere subjectis, et debellare superbos.
Virg. Æn. vi. 853.

Another mechanical method of making great men, and adding dignity to kings and queens, is to accompany them with halberds and battle-axes. Two or three shifters of scenes, with the two candle-snuffers, make No. 43.] Thursday, April 19, 1711. up a complete body of guards upon the English stage; and by the addition of a few porters dressed in red coats, can represent above a dozen legions. I have sometimes seen a couple of armies drawn up together upon the stage, when the poet has been disposed to do honour to his generals. It is impossible for the reader's imagination to multiply twenty men into such prodigious multitudes, or to fancy that two or three hundred thousand soldiers are fighting in a room of forty or fifty yards in compass. Incidents of such a nature should be told, not represented.

Non tamen intus
Digna geri promes in scenam: multaque tolles
Ex oculis, quæ mox narret facundia præsens.'
Hor. Ars Poet, ver. 182.
'Yet there are things improper for a scene,
Which men of judgment only will relate.'

Roscommon.

I should, therefore, in this particular, recommend to my countrymen the example of the French stage, where the kings and I queens always appear unattended, and leave their guards behind the scenes. should likewise be glad if we imitated the French in banishing from our stage the noise of drums, trumpets, and huzzas; which is sometimes so very great, that when there is a battle in the Haymarket theatre, one may hear it as far as Charing

cross.

I have here only touched upon those particulars which are made use of to raise and aggrandize the persons of a tragedy; and shall show, in another paper, the several expedients which are practised by authors of a vulgar genius to move terror, pity, or admiration, in their hearers.

Be these thy arts, to bid contention cease,
Chain up stern war, and give the nations peace;
O'er subject lands extend thy gentle sway,
And teach with iron rod the haughty to obey.

THERE are crowds of men whose great misfortune it is that they were not bound to mechanic arts or trades; it being absolutely necessary for them to be led by some contínual task or employment. These are such as we commonly call dull fellows; persons, who for want of something to do, out of a certain vacancy of thought, rather than curiosity, are ever meddling with things for which they are unfit. I cannot give you a notion of them better, than by presenting you with a letter from a gentleman, who belongs to a society of this order of men, residing at Oxford.

'Oxford, April 13, 1711, 4 o'clock in the morning.

'SIR,-In some of your late speculations, I find some sketches towards a history of clubs; but you seem to me to show them in somewhat too ludicrous a light. I have well weighed that matter, and think, that the most important negociations may best therefore, for the good of mankind (which be carried on in such assemblies. I shall, I trust you and I are equally concerned for) propose an institution of that nature for example sake.

'I must confess that the design and transactions of too many clubs are trifling, and Those I will give you up. or public weal. manifestly of no consequence to the nation The tailor and the painter often contri- But you must do me then the justice to own, bute to the success of a tragedy more than that nothing can be more useful or laudathe poet. Scenes affect ordinary minds as ble, than the scheme we go upon. To much as speeches; and our actors are very avoid nicknames and witticisms, we call sensible, that a well-dressed play has some- ourselves the Hebdomadal Meeting. Our times brought them as full audiences as a president continues for a year at least, and well-written one. The Italians have a very sometimes four or five; we are all grave, good phrase to express this art of imposing serious, designing men, in our way: we The take care the constitution receives no harm upon the spectators by appearances; they think it our duty, as far as in us lies, to call it theFourberia della scena.'

knavery or trickish part of the drama.' But-Ne quid detrimenti res capiat publica.however the show and outside of the tragedy To censure doctrines or facts, persons or may work upon the vulgar, the more un- things, which we do not like; to settle the abroad, where and in what manner we see derstanding part of the audience immedi-nation at home, and carry on the war ately see through it, and despise it.

fit. If other people are not of our opinion, | to their inquiries, which dull fellows do not we cannot help that. It were better they make for information, but for exercise. I were. Moreover, we now and then con- do not know but this may be a very good descend to direct, in some measure, the little affairs of our own university.

Verily, Mr. Spectator, we are much offended at the act for importing French wines. A bottle or two of good solid edifying port at honest George's, made a night cheerful, and threw off reserve. But this plaguy French claret will not only cost us more money, but do us less good. Had we been aware of it before it had gone too far, I must tell you, we would have petitioned to be heard upon that subject. But let that pass.

'I must let you know likewise, good sir, that we look upon a certain northern prince's march, in conjunction with infidels, to be palpably against our good-will and liking; and, for all monsieur Palmquist, a most dangerous innovation: and we are by no means yet sure, that some people are not at the bottom of it. At least my own private letters leave room for a politician, well versed in matters of this nature, to suspect as much, as a penetrating friend of mine tells me.

"We think we have at least done the business with the malcontents in Hungary, and shall clap up a peace there.

'What the neutrality army is to do, or what the army in Flanders, and what two or three other princes, is not yet fully determined among us; and we wait impatiently for the coming in of the next Dyer, who you must know is our authentic intelligence, our Aristotle in politics. And, indeed, it is but fit there should be some dernier resort, the absolute decider of all controversies.

'We were lately informed that the gallant trained-bands had patrolled all night long about the streets of London. We indeed could not imagine any occasion for it, we guessed not a tittle on it aforehand, we were in nothing of the secret; and that city tradesmen, or their apprentices, should do duty or work through the holidays, we thought absolutely impossible. But Dyer being positive in it, and some letters from other people, who had talked with some who had it from those who should know, giving some countenance to it, the chairman reported from the committee appointed to examine into that affair, that it was possible there might be something in it. I have much more to say to you, but my two good friends and neighbours, Dominic and Slyboots, are just come in, and the coffee is ready. I am, in the meantime, Mr. Spectator, your admirer and humble servant,

'ABRAHAM FROTH.'

You may observe the turn of their minds tends only to novelty, and not satisfaction in any thing. It would be disappointment to them, to come to certainty in any thing, for that would gravel them, and put an end

way of accounting for what we frequently see, to wit, that dull fellows prove very good men of business. Business relieves them from their own natural heaviness, by furnishing them with what to do; whereas business to mercurial men, is an interruption from their real existence and happiness. Though the dull part of mankind are harmless in their amusements, it were to be wished they had no vacant time, because they usually undertake something that makes their wants conspicuous, by their manner of supplying them. You shall seldom find a dull fellow of good education, but if he happens to have any leisure upon his hands, will turn his head to one of those two amusements for all fools of eminence, politics or poetry. The former of these arts is the study of all dull people in general; but when dulness is lodged in a person of a quick animal life, it generally exerts itself in poetry. One might here mention a few military writers, who give great entertainment to the age, by reason that the stupidity of their heads is quickened by the alacrity of their hearts. This constitution in a dull fellow, gives vigour to nonsense, and makes the puddle boil, which would otherwise stagnate. The British Prince, that celebrated poem, which was written in the reign of King Charles the Second, and deservedly called by the wits of that age incomparable, was the effect of such a happy genius as we are speaking of. From among many other distichs no less to be quoted on this account, I cannot but recite the two following lines:

A painted vest Prince Voltager had on, Which from a naked Pict his grandsire won."* Here, if the poet had not been vivacious, as well as stupid, he could not, in the warmth and hurry of nonsense, have been capable of forgetting that neither Prince Voltager, nor his grandfather, could strip a naked man of his doublet; but a fool of a colder constitution would have stayed to have flayed the Pict, and made buff of his skin, for the wearing of the conqueror.

To bring these observations to some use

Absurd as these lines are, they found an apologist

in the late Edward King, esq. who, in his Munimenta Antiqua, after alluding to the practice of tattooing being prevalent amongst the Britons, Picts, and other northern nations, continues-"The figures thus marked, however, were as indelible as they were honourable; and they were even badges of their chieftains; insomuch that it is not quite impossible to make sense of those lines, so elegantly censured in the Spectator, for their burlesque nonsense:

A painted vest Prince Voltager had on, Which from a naked Pict his grandsire won.' For amongst a people, such as the ancient Britons, who were so barbarous that, like the Scythians, they deemed the skulls of their enemies an ornament to their horsetrappings, it is not absolutely impossible to suppose that Wolf, might be worn as a trophy!"

the skin of a poor painted Pict, as well as the skin of a

Munimenta Antiqua, vol. i. p. 186.

ful purpose of life, what I would propose should be, that we imitated those wise nations wherein every man learns some handicraft-work.-Would it not employ a beau, prettily enough, if, instead of eternally playing with a snuff-box, he spent some part of his time in making one? Such a method as this would very much conduce to the public emolument, by making every man living good for something; for there would then be no one member of human society, but would have some little pretension for some degree in it; like him who came to Will's coffee-house, upon the merit of having writ a posy of a ring. R.

No.44.] Friday, April 20, 1711.

Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cearments? Why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again? What may this mean?
That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous ?

I do not therefore find fault with the artifices above mentioned, when they are introduced with skill, and accompanied by proportionable sentiment and expressions in the writing.

For the moving of pity, our principle machine is the handkerchief: and indeed in our common tragedies, we should not know very often that the persons are in distress by any thing they say, if they did not from time to time apply their handkerchiefs to their eyes. Far be it from me to think of banishing this instrument of sorrow from Hor. Ars Poet. ver. 153. the stage; I know a tragedy could not subsist without it: all that I would contend for, is to keep it from being misapplied. In a word, I would have the actor's tongue sympathize with his eyes.

Tu quid ego, et populus mecum desideret, audi.

Now hear what every auditor expects.

Roscommon.

AMONG the several artifices which are put in practice by the poets to fill the minds of an audience with terror, the first place A disconsolate mother, with a child in is due to thunder and lightning, which her hand, has frequently drawn compassion are often made use of at the descending from the audience, and has therefore gained of a god, or the rising of a ghost, at the a place in several tragedies. A modern vanishing of a devil, or at the death of a writer, that observed how this had took in tyrant. I have known a bell introduced other plays, being resolved to double the into several tragedies with good effect; and distress, and melt his audience twice as have seen the whole assembly in a very much as those before him had done, great alarm all the while it has been ring- brought a princess upon the stage with a ing. But there is nothing which delights little boy in one hand, and a girl in the and terrifies our English theatre so much other. This too had a very good effect. A as a ghost, especially when he appears in third poet being resolved to outwrite all his a bloody shirt. A spectre has very often predecessors, a few years ago introduced saved a play, though he has done nothing three children with great success: and, as I but stalked across the stage, or rose through am informed, a young gentleman, who is a cleft of it, and sunk again without speak-fully determined to break the most obduing one word. There may be a proper rate hearts, has a tragedy by him, where the season for these several terrors; and when they only come in as aids and assistances to the poet, they are not only to be excused, but to be applauded. Thus the sounding of the clock in Venice Preserved, makes the hearts of the whole audience quake; and conveys a stronger terror to the mind than it is possible for words to do. The appearance of the ghost in Hamlet is a master-piece in its kind, and wrought up with all the circumstances that can create either attention or horror. The mind of the reader is wonderfully prepared for his reception by the discourses that precede it. His dumb behaviour at his first entrance, strikes the imagination very strongly; but every time he enters, he is still more terrifying. Who can read the speech with which young Hamlet accosts him, without trembling.

Hor. Look, my lord, it comes!

Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd;
Bring with thee airs from heav'n, or blasts from hell;
Be thy intents wicked or charitable;
Thou com'st in such a questionable shape
That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, Father, Royal Dane.-Oh! answer me.
Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell

first person that appears upon the stage is an afflicted widow in her mourning weeds, with half a dozen fatherless children attending her, like those that usually hang about the figure of Charity. Thus several incidents that are beautiful in a good writer, become ridiculous by falling into the hands of a bad one.

But among all our methods of moving pity or terror, there is none so absurd and barbarous, and what more exposes us to the contempt and ridicule of our neighbours, than that dreadful butchering of one another, which is very frequent upon the English stage. To delight in seeing men stabbed, poisoned, racked, or impaled, is certainly the sign of a cruel temper: and as this is often practised before the British audience, several French critics, who think these are grateful spectacles to us, take occasion from them to represent us a people that delight in blood. It is indeed very odd to see our stage strewed with carcases in the last scenes of a tragedy; and to observe in the wardrobe of the playhouse several daggers, poniards, wheels, bowls for poison, and many other instruments of

'Nec pueros coram populo Medea trucidet.'
Ars Poct. ver. 185.
'Let not Medea draw her murd'ring knife,
And spill her children's blood upon the stage.'
Roscommon.

death. Murders and executions are always | before he would despatch him, and by ortransacted behind the scenes in the French dering him to retire into that part of the theatre; which in general is very agree- palace where he had slain his father, able to the manners of a polite and civilized whose murder he would revenge in the people: but as there are no exceptions to very same place where it was committed. this rule on the French stage, it leads them By this means the poet observes that deinto absurdities almost as ridiculous as that cency, which Horace afterwards establishwhich falls under our present censure. Ied by a rule, of forbearing to commit parremember in the famous play of Corneille, ricides or unnatural murders before the written upon the subject of the Horatii audience. and Curiatii; the fierce young hero who had overcome the Curiatii one after another, (instead of being congratulated by his sister for his victory, being upbraided by her for having slain her lover) in the height of his passion and resentment kills her. If The French have, therefore, refined too any thing could extenuate so brutal an ac- much upon Horace's rule, who never detion, it would be the doing of it on a sudden, signed to banish all kinds of death from the before the sentiments of nature, reason, or stage: but only such as had too much hormanhood could take place in him. How-ror in them, and which would have a better ever, to avoid public bloodshed, as soon as effect upon the audience when transacted his passion is wrought to its height, he behind the scenes. I would therefore refollows his sister to the whole length of the commend to my countrymen the practice of stage, and forbears killing her till they are the ancient poets, who were very sparing of both withdrawn behind the scenes. I must their public executions, and rather chose to confess, had he murdered her before the perform them behind the scenes, if it could audience, the indecency might have been be done with as great an effect upon the augreater; but as it is, it appears very unna-dience. At the same time I must observe, tural, and looks like killing in cold blood. To give my opinion upon this case, the fact ought not to have been represented, but to have been told, if there was any occasion

for it.

It may not be unacceptable to the reader to see how Sophocles has conducted a tragedy under the like delicate circumstances. Orestes was in the same condition with Hamlet in Shakspeare, his mother having murdered his father, and taken possession of his kingdom in conspiracy with her adulterer. That young prince, therefore, being determined to revenge his father's death upon those who filled his throne, conveys himself by a beautiful stratagem into his mother's apartment, with a resolution to kill her. But because such a spectacle would have been too shocking to the audience, this dreadful resolution is executed behind the

that though the devoted persons of the
tragedy were seldom slain before the au-
dience, which has generally something ridi-
culous in it, their bodies were often pro-
duced after their death, which has always
in it something melancholy or terrifying;
so that the killing on the stage does not
seem to have been avoided only as an inde-
cency, but also as an improbability.

'Nec pueros coram populo Medea trucidet;
Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus;
Ant in avem Progne vertatur, Cadmus in anguem,
Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulis odi.'
Hor. Ars Poet-

'Medea must not draw her murd'ring knife,
Nor Atreus there his horrid feast prepare:
Cadmus and Progne's metamorphoses,
(She to a swallow turn'd, he to a snake ;)
And whatsoever contradicts my sense,

I hate to see, and never can believe.'-Roscommon.

I have now gone through the several of by the ignorant poets to supply the place dramatic inventions which are made use of tragedy, and by the skilful to improve

jected, and the rest to be used with caution. It would be an endless task to consider comedy in the same light, and to mention the innumerable shifts that small lock in a short coat, and Norris in a long wits put in practice to raise a laugh. Bulone, seldom fail of this effect. In ordinary comedies, a broad and a narrow brimmed hat are different characters. Sometimes

scenes: the mother is heard calling out to her son for mercy; and the son answering her, that she showed no mercy to his father; after which she shrieks out she is it; some of which I could wish entirely rewounded, and by what follows we find that she is slain. I do not remember that in any of our plays there are speeches made behind the scenes, though there are other instances of this nature to be met with in those of the ancients: and I believe my reader will agree with me, that there is something infinitely more affecting in this dreadful dialogue between the mother and her son behind the scenes, than could have been in any thing transacted before the audience. Órestes immediately after meets the usurper at the entrance of his palace; and by a very happy thought of the poet avoids killing him before the audience, by telling him that he should live some time in his present bitterness of soul

A

the wit of the scene lies in a shoulder belt, lover running about the stage, with his and sometimes in a pair of whiskers. head peeping out of a barrel, was thought a very good jest in King Charles the Second's time; and invented by one of the

*The comedy of The Comical Revenge, or Love in a Tub, by Sir George Etheridge.

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