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may ex excite mirth, they have embarrassed their definition with the means by which the comic writers attain their end, without considering that the various methods of exhilarating their audience, not being limited by nature, cannot be comprised in precept. Thus, some make comedy a representation of mean, and others of bad men; some think that its essence consists in the unimportance, others in the fictitiousness of the transaction. But any man's reflections will inform him, that every dramatic composition which raises mirth is comic: and that, to raise mirth, it is by no means universally necessary, that the personages should be either mean or corrupt, nor always requisite that the action should be trivial, nor ever, that it should be fictitious.

If the two kinds of dramatic poetry had been defined only by their effects upon the mind, some absurdities might have been prevented, with which the compositions of our greatest poets are disgraced, who, for want of some settled ideas and accurate distinctions, have unhappily confounded tragic with comic sentiments. They seem to have thought, that as the meanness of personages constituted comedy, their greatness was sufficient to form a tragedy; and that nothing was necessary but that they should crowd the scene with monarchs, and generals, and guards; and make them talk, at certain intervals, of the downfall of kingdoms, and the route of armies. They have not considered, that thoughts or incidents, in themselves ridiculous, grow still more grotesque by the solemnity of such characters; that reason and nature are uniform and inflexible; and that what is despicable and absurd, will not, by any association with splendid titles, become rational or great; that the most important affairs, by an intermixture of an unseasonable levity, may be made contemptible; and that the robes of royalty can give no dignity to nonsense or to folly.

"Comedy," says Horace, "sometimes raises her voice; and Tragedy may likewise on proper occasions abate her dignity;" but as the comic personages can only depart from her familiarity of style, when the more violent passions are put in motion, the heroes and queens of tragedy should never descend to trifle, but in the hours of ease, and intermissions of danger. Yet in the tragedy of Don Sebastian, when the King of Portugal is in the hands of his enemy, and having just drawn the lot, by which he is condemned to die, breaks out into a wild boast that his dust shall take possession of Afric, the dialogue proceeds thus between the captive and his con

queror:

Muley Moloch. What shall I do to conquer thee? Seb. Impossible!

Souls know no conquerors.

general to the emperor, who, enforcing his orders for the death of Sebastian, vents his impatience in this abrupt threat.

-No more replies, But see thou dost it; OrTo which Dorax answers,

Choke in that threat: I can say Or as loud. A thousand instances of such impropriety might be produced, were not one scene in Aureng-Zebe sufficient to exemplify it. Indamora, a captive queen, having Aureng-Zebe for her lover, employs Arimant, to whose charge she had been entrusted, and whom she had made sensible of her charms, to carry her message to his rival.

ARIMANT, with a letter in his hand; INDAMORA
Your empire you to tyranny pursue:
Arim. And I the messenger to him from you?
You lay commands both cruel and unjust,
To serve my rival, and betray my trust.
And should not I my own advantage see?
Ind. You first betray'd your trust in loving me:
Serving my love, you may my friendship gain
You know the rest of your pretences vain.
You must, my Arimant, you must be kind:
'Tis in your nature, and your noble mind.

Arim. I'll to the king, and straight my trust resign.
Ind. His trust you may, but you shall never mine
Heaven made you love me for no other end,
But to become my confidant and friend:
And therefore make you judge how ill I write.
As such, I keep no secret from your sight,
Read it, and tell me freely then your mind,
If 'tis indited, as I meant it, kind.
Arim. I ask not Heaven my freedom to restore.
But only for your sake- -I'll read no more.
And yet I must-

Less for my own, than for your sorrow sad

Another line like this, would make me mad.

[Reading

[Reading

Heaven! she goes on-yet more-and yet more kind!
[As reading
Each sentence is a dagger to my mind.
See me this night-

Thank fortune, who did such a friend provide ;
For faithful Arimant shall be your guide.
Not only to be made an instrument,
But pre-engaged without my own consent!
And gives you scope of meriting the more.

[Reading

Ind. Unknown t' engage you still augments my score

Arim. The best of men

Some interest in their actions must confess;
Noue merit, but in hope they may possess:
The fatal paper rather let me tear,
Than, like Bellerophon, my own sentence bear.

Ind. You may; but 'twill not be your best advice
Twill only give me pains of writing twice.
You know you must obey me, soon or late:
Why should you vainly struggle with your fate?
Arim. I thank thee, Heaven! thou hast been wondrous
kind!

Why am I thus to slavery design'd,
And yet am cheated with a free born mind,
Or make thy orders with my reason suit,
Or let me live by sense, a glorious brute.
You frown, and I obey with speed, before

[She frowns.

M. Mol. I'll show thee for a monster through my Afric. That dreadful sentence comes, See me no more.

Seb. No, thou canst only show me for a man:

Afric is stor❜d with monsters; man's a prodigy

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In this scene, every circumstance concurs to turn tragedy to farce. The wild absurdity of the expedient; the contemptible subjection of the lover; the folly of obliging him to read the letter only because it ought to have been concealed from him; the frequent interruptions of amorous impatience; the faint expostulations of a volun tary slave; the imperious haughtiness of a tyrant without power; the deep reflection of the yielding rebel upon fate and free-will; and his wise wish to lose his reason as soon as he finds himself about to do what he cannot persuade his rea

son to approve, are surely sufficient to awakened up whenever the enemy was in motion. Anthe most torpid risibility.

There is scarce a tragedy of the last century which has not debased its most important incidents and polluted its most serious interlocutions, with buffoonery and meanness: but though perhaps it cannot be pretended that the present age has added much to the force and efficacy of the drama, it has at least been able to escape many faults, which either ignorance had overlooked, or indulgence had licensed. The latter tragedies indeed have faults of another kind, perhaps more destructive to delight, though less open to censure. The perpetual tumour of phrase with which every thought is now expressed by every personage, the paucity of adventures, which regularity admits, and the unvaried equality of flowing dialogue, has taken away from our present writers almost all that dominion over the passions which was the boast of their predecessors. Yet they may at least claim this commendation, that they avoid gross faults, and that if they cannot often move terror or pity, they are always careful not to provoke laughter.

No. 126.] SATURDAY, June 1, 1751.

VET. AUCT.

-Nihil est aliud magnum quam multa minuta.
Sands form the mountain, moments make the year.

TO THE RAMBLER.

YOUNG.

other wondered that any man should think himself disgraced by a precipitate retreat from a dog; for there was always a possibility that a dog might be mad; and that surely, though there was no danger but of being bit by a fierce animal, there was more wisdom in flight than contest. By all these declarations another was encouraged to confess, that if he had been admitted to the honour of paying his addresses to Tranquilla, he should have been likely to incur the same censure; for, among all the animals upon which nature has impressed deformity and horror, there is none whom he durst not encounter rather than a beetle.

Thus, Sir, though cowardice is universally defined too close and anxious an attention to personal safety, there will be found scarcely any fear, however excessive in its degree, or unreasonable in its object, which will be allowed to characterise a coward. Fear is a passion which every man feels so frequently predominant in his own breast, that he is unwilling to hear it censured with great asperity; and, perhaps, if we confess the truth, the same restraint which would hinder a man from declaiming against the frauds of any employment among those who profess it, should withhold him from treating fear with con tempt among human beings.

Yet since fortitude is one of those virtues which the condition of our nature makes hourly necessary, I think you cannot better direct your admonitions than against superfluous and panic terrors. Fear is implanted in us as a preservative SIR, from evil; but its duty, like that of other passions is AMONG other topics of conversation which your not to overbear reason, but to assist it; nor should papers supply, I was lately engaged in a discus-it be suffered to tyrannize in the imagination, to sion of the character given by Tranquilla of her raise phantoms of horror, or beset life with super lover Venustulus, whom, notwithstanding the se- numerary distresses. verity of his mistress, the greater number seemed To be always afraid of losing life is, indeed, inclined to acquit of unmanly or culpable ti-scarely to enjoy a life that can deserve the care midity.

of preservation. He that once indulges idle fears will never be at rest. Our present state admits only of a kind of negative security; we must conclude ourselves safe when we see no danger, or none inadequate to our powers of opposition. Death indeed continually hovers about us, but hovers commonly unseen, unless we sharpen our sight by useless curiosity.

One of the company remarked, that prudence ought to be distinguished from fear; and that if Venustulus was afraid of nocturnal adventures, no man who considered how much every avenue of the town was infested with robbers could think him blameable; for why should life be hazarded without prospect of honour or advantage? Another was of opinion, that a brave man might be There is always a point at which caution, howafraid of crossing the river in the calmest wea-ever solicitous, must limit its preservatives, bether, and declared that, for his part, while there were coaches and a bridge, he would never be seen tottering in a wooden case, out of which he might be thrown by any irregular agitation, or which might be overset by accident or negligence, or by the force of a sudden gust, or the rush of a larger vessel. It was his custom, he said, to keep the security of day-light, and dry ground; for it was a maxim with him, that no wise man ever perished by water, or was lost in the dark. The next was humbly of opinion, that if Tranquilla had seen, like him, the cattle run roaring about the meadows in the hot months, she would not have thought meanly of her lover for not venturing his safety among them. His neighbour then told us, that for his part he was not ashamed to confess, that he could not see a rat, though it was dead, without paipitation; that he had been driven six times out of his lodgings either by rats or mice; and that he always had a bed in the closet for his servant, whom he call

cause one terror often counteracts another. I once knew one of the speculatists of cowardice, whose reigning disturbance was the dread of house-breakers. His inquiries were for nine years employed upon the best method of barring a window, or a door; and many an hour has he spent in establishing the preference of a bolt to a lock. He had at last, by the daily superaddition of new expedients, contrived a door which could never be forced; for one bar was secured by another with such intricacy of subordination that he was himself not always able to disengage them in the proper method. He was happy in this fortification, till being asked how he would escape if he was threatened by fire, he discovered, that, with all his care and expense, he had only been assisting his own destruction. He then immediately tore off his bolts, and now leaves at night his outer door half-locked, that he may not by his own folly perish in the flames.

There is one species of terror which those who

are unwilling to suffer the reproach of cowardice | you do not seem equally attentive to the ladies, have wisely dignified with the name of antipathy. with endeavouring to discourage them from any A man who talks with intrepidity of the monsters laudable pursuit. But however either he or you of the wilderness while they are out of sight, will may excite our curiosity, you have not yet inreadily confess his antipathy to a mole, a weazel, formed us how it may be gratified. The world or a frog. He has indeed no dread of harm from seems to have formed a universal conspiracy an insect or a worm, but his antipathy turns him against our understandings; our questions are pale whenever they approach him. He believes supposed not to expect answers, our arguments that a boat will transport him with as much safety are confuted with a jest, and we are treated like as his neighbours, but he cannot conquer his an- beings who transgress the limits of our nature tipathy to the water. Thus he goes on without whenever we aspire to seriousness or improveany reproach from his own reflections, and every ment. day multiplies antipathies, till he becomes contemptible to others, and burdensome to himself. It is indeed certain, that impressions of dread may sometimes be unluckily made by objects not in themselves justly formidable; but when fear is discovered to be groundless, it is to be eradicated like other false opinions, and antipathies are generally superable by a single effort. He that has been taught to shudder at a mouse, if he can persuade himself to risk one encounter, will find his own superiority, and exchange his terrors for the pride of conquest.

SIR,

I am, Sir, &c.

THRASO.

As you profess to extend your regard to the minuteness of decency, as well as to the dignity of science, I cannot forbear to lay before you a mode of persecution by which I have been exiled to taverns and coffee-houses, and deterred from entering the doors of my friends.

Among the ladies who please themselves with splendid furniture, or elegant entertainment, it is a practice very common to ask every guest how he likes the carved work of the cornice, or the figures of the tapestry; the china at the table, or the plate on the side-board; and on all occasions to inquire his opinion of their judgment and their choice. Melania has laid her new watch in the window nineteen times, that she may desire me to look upon it. Calista has an art of dropping her snuff-box by drawing out her handkerchief, that when I pick it up I may admire it; and Fulgentia has conducted me by mistake into the wrong room, at every visit I have paid since her picture was put into a new frame.

I hope, Mr. Rambler, you will inform them, that no man should be denied the privilege of silence, or tortured to false declarations; and that though ladies may justly claim to be exempt from rudeness, they have no right to force unwilling civilities. To please is a laudable and elegant ambition, and is properly rewarded with honest praise; but to seize applause by violence, and call out for commendation without knowing, or caring to know, whether it be given from conviction, is a species of tyranny by which modesty is oppressed, and sincerity corrupted. The tribute of admiration thus exacted by impudence and importunity, differs from the respect paid to silent merit, as the plunder of a pirate from the merchant's profit.

SIR,

I am, &c.

MISOCOLAX.

YOUR great predecessor, the Spectator, endeavoured to diffuse among his female readers a deare of knowledge; nor can I charge you, though

I inquired yesterday of a gentleman eminent for astronomical skill, what made the day long in summer, and short in winter; and was told that nature protracted the days in summer, lest ladies should want time to walk in the park; and the nights in winter, lest they should not have hours sufficient to spend at the card-table.

I hope you do not doubt but I heard such information with just contempt, and I desire you to discover to this great master of ridicule, that I was far from wanting any intelligence which he could have given me. I asked the question with no other intention than to set him free from the necessity of silence, and gave him an opportunity of mingling on equal terms with a polite assembly, from which however uneasy, he could not then escape, by a kind introduction of the only subject on which I believed him able to speak with propriety. I am, &c. GENEROSA.

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Succeeding years thy early fame destroy; Thou, who began'st a man, wilt end a boy. POLITIAN, a name eminent among the restorers of polite literature, when he published a collection of epigrams, prefixed to many of them the year of his age at which they were composed. He might design by this information, either to boast the early maturity of his genius, or to conciliate indulgence to the puerility of his performances. But, whatever was his intent, it is remarked by Scaliger, he very little promoted his own reputation, because he fell below the promise which his first productions had given, and in the latter part of his life seldom equalled the sallies of his youth.

It is not uncommon for those who, at their first entrance into the world, were distinguished for attainments or abilities, to disappoint the hopes which they had raised, and to end in neglect and obscurity that life which they began in celebrity and honour. To the long catalogue of the inconveniences of old age, which moral and satirical writers have so copiously displayed, may be often added the loss of fame.

The advance of the human mind towards any object of laudable pursuit, may be compared to the progress of a body driven by a blow. It moves for a time with great velocity and vigour, but the force of the first impulse is perpetually decreasing, and, though it should encounter no obstacle capable of quelling it by a sudden stop, the resistance of the medium through which it

passes, and the latent inequalities of the smooth-enemy and a rival; and must struggle with the est surface, will, in a short time, by continued opposition of the daring, and elude the strataretardation, wholly overpower it. Some hin- gems of the timorous, must quicken the frigid drances will be found in every road of life, but he and soften the obdurate, must reclaim perversethat fixes his eyes upon any thing at a distance, ness and inform stupidity. necessarily loses sight of all that fills up the intermediate space, and therefore sets forward with alacrity and confidence, nor suspects a thousand obstacles by which he afterwards finds his passage embarrassed and obstructed. Some are indeed stopped at once in their career by a sudden shock of calamity, or diverted to a different direction by the cross impulse of some violent passion; but far the greater part languish by slow degrees, deviate at first into slight obliquities, and themselves scarcely perceive at what time their ardour forsook them, or when they lost sight of their original design.

Weariness and negligence are perpetually prevailing by silent encroachments, assisted by different causes, and not observed till they cannot, without great difficulty, be opposed. Labour necessarily requires pauses of ease and relaxation, and the deliciousness of ease commonly makes us unwilling to return to labour. We, perhaps, prevail upon ourselves to renew our attempts, but eagerly listen to every argument for frequent interpositions of amusement; for, when indolence has once entered upon the mind, it can scarcely be dispossessed but by such efforts as very few are willing to exert.

It is the fate of industry to be equally endangered by miscarriage and success, by confidence and despondency. He that engages in a great undertaking, with a false opinion of its facility, or too high conceptions of his own strength, is easily discouraged by the first hindrance of his advances, because he had promised himself an equal and perpetual progression, without impediment or disturbance; when unexpected interruptions break in upon him, he is in the state of a man surprised by a tempest, where he purposed only to bask in the calm, or sport in the shallows.

It is no wonder that when the prospect of reward has vanished, the zeal of enterprise should cease; for who would persevere to cultivate the soil which he has, after long labour, discovered to be barren? He who hath pleased himself with anticipated praises, and expected that he should meet in every place with patronage or friendship, will soon remit his vigour, when he finds that, from those who desire to be considered as his admirers, nothing can be hoped but cold civility, and that many refuse to own his excellence, lest they should be too justly expected to reward it.

A man thus cut off from the prospect of that port to which his address and fortitude had been employed to steer him, often abandons himself to chance and to the wind, and glides carelessly and idle down the current of life, without resolu tion to make another effort, till he is swallowed up by the gulf of mortality.

Others are betrayed to the same desertion of themselves by a contrary fallacy. It was said of Hannibal, that he wanted nothing to the completion of his martial virtues, but that when he had gained a victory he should know how to use it. The folly of desisting too soon from successful labours, and the haste of enjoying advantages before they are secured, are often fatal to men of impetuous desire, to men whose consciousness of uncommon powers fills them with presumption, and who, having borne opposition down before them, and left emulation panting behind, are early persuaded to imagine that they have reached the heights of perfection, and that now, being no longer in danger from competitors, they may pass the rest of their days in the enjoyment of their acquisitions, in contemplation of their own superiority, and in attention to their own praises, and look unconcerned from their eminence upon the toils and contentions of meaner beings.

It is not only common to find the difficulty of an enterprise greater, but the profit less, than hope had pictured it. Youth enters the world It is not sufficiently considered in the hour of with very happy prejudices in her own favour. exultation, that all human excellence is comparaShe imagines herself not only certain of accom- tive; that no man performs much but in proplishing every adventure, but of obtaining those portion to what others accomplish, or to the time rewards which the accomplishment may deserve. and opportunities which have been allowed him; She is not easily persuaded to believe that the and that he who stops at any point of excellence force of merit can be resisted by obstinacy and is every day sinking in estimation, because his avarice, or its lustre darkened by envy and ma-improvement grows continually more incommenlignity. She has not yet learned that the most evident claims to praise or preferment may be rejected by malice against conviction, or by indolence without examination; that they may be sometimes defeated by artifices, and sometimes overborne by clamour; that, in the mingled numbers of mankind, many need no other provocation to enmity than that they find themselves excelled; that others have ceased their curiosity, and considered every man who fills the mouth of report with a new name, as an intruder upon their retreat, and disturber of their repose; that some are engaged in complications of interest which they imagine endangered by every innovation; that many yield themselves up implicitly to every report which hatred disseminates or folly scatters; and that whoever aspires to the notice of the public, has in almost every man an

surate to his life. Yet, as no man willingly quits opinions favourable to himself, they who have once been justly celebrated, imagine that they still have the same pretensions to regard, and seldom perceive the diminution of their character while there is time to recover it. Nothing then remains but murmurs and remorse; for if the spendthrift's poverty be embittered by the reflec tion that he once was rich, how must the idler's obscurity be clouded by remembering that he once had lustre!

These errors all arise from an original mistake of the true motives of action. He that never extends his view beyond the praises or rewards of men, will be dejected by neglect and envy, or infatuated by honours and applause. But the consideration that life is only deposited in his hands to be employed in obedience to a Master

who will regard his endeavours, not his success, would have preserved him from trivial elations and discouragements, and enabled him to proceed with constancy and cheerfulness, neither enervated by commendation, nor intimidated by

censure.

No. 128.] SATURDAY, JUNE 8, 1751.

Αἰὼν δ' ἀσφαλὴς

Οὐκ ἐγένετ', ουτ' Αἰακίδα παρὰ Πηλεῖ; -
Οὔτε παρ' ἀντιθέω

Κάδμω· λέγονταί γε μὲν βρότων
Ὄλβον ὑπέρτατον δι

Σχεῖν.

For not the brave, or wise, or great,
E'er yet had happiness complete;
Nor Peleus, grandson of the sky,
Nor Cadmus scaped the shafts of pain,
Though favour'd by the Powers on high,

With every bliss that man can gain.

PINDAR.

THE writers who have undertaken the task of reconciling mankind to their present state, and relieving the discontent produced by the various distribution of terrestrial advantages, frequently remind us that we judge too hastily of good and evil; that we view only the superficies of life, and determine of the whole by a very small part; and that in the condition of men it frequently happens, that grief and anxiety lie hid under the golden robes of prosperity, and the gloom of calamity is cheered by secret radiations of hope and comfort; as in the works of nature the bog is sometimes covered with flowers, and the mine concealed in the barren crags.

rate. An event which spreads distraction over half the commercial world, assembles the trading companies in councils and committees, and shakes the nerves of a thousand stockjobbers, is read by the landlord and the farmer with frigid indifference. An affair of love, which fills the young breast with incessant alternations of hope and fear, and steals away the night and day from every other pleasure or employment, is regarded by them whose passions time has extinguished, an amusement, which can properly raise neither joy nor sorrow, and, though it may be suffered to fill the vacuity of an idle moment, should always give way to prudence or interest.

as

He that never had any other desire than to fill a chest with money, or to add another manor to his estate, who never grieved but at a bad mortgage, or entered a company but to make a bargain, would be astonished to hear of beings known among the polite and gay by the denomination of wits. How would he gape with curiosity, or grin with contempt, at the mention of beings who have no wish but to speak what was never spoken before; who, if they happen to inherit wealth, often exhaust their patrimonies in treating those who will hear them talk; and, if they are poor, neglect opportunities of improving their fortunes, for the pleasure of making others laugh! How slowly would he believe that there are men who would rather lose a legacy than the reputation of a distich; who think it less disgrace to want money than repartee; whom the vexation of having been foiled in a contest of raillery is sometimes sufficient to deprive of sleep; and who would esteem it a lighter evil to miss a profitable bargain by some accidental delay, than not None but those who have learned the art of to have thought of a smart reply till the time of subjecting their senses as well as reason to hy-producing it was past! How little would he suspothetical systems, can be persuaded by the most pect that this child of idleness and frolic enters specious rhetorician that the lots of life are every assembly with a beating bosom, like a liti equal; yet it cannot be denied that every one gant on the day of decision, and revolves the prohas his peculiar pleasures and vexations, and ex-bability of applause with the anxiety of a conspiternal accidents operate variously upon different minds, and that no man can exactly judge from his own sensations, what another would feel in the same circumstances.

rator, whose fate depends upon the next night; that at the hour of retirement he carries home, under a show of airy negligence, a heart lacerated with envy, or depressed with disappointment; If the general disposition of things be esti- and immures himself in his closet, that he may dismated by the representation which every one encumber his memory at leisure, review the promakes of his own estate, the world must be con-gress of the day, state with accuracy his loss or sidered as the abode of sorrow and misery; for gain of reputation, and examine the causes of his how few can forbear to relate their troubles and failure or success? distresses? If we judge by the account which may be obtained of every man's fortune from others, it may be concluded, that we all are placed in an elysian region, overspread with the luxuriance of plenty, and fanned by the breezes of felicity; since scarcely any complaint is ut-in perpetual quiet, and feasted with unmingled tered without censure from those that hear it, and almost all are allowed to have obtained a provision at least adequate to their virtue or their understanding, to possess either more than they deserve, or more than they enjoy.

We are either born with such dissimilitude of temper and inclination, or receive so many of our ideas and opinions from the state of life in which we are engaged, that the griefs and cares of one part of mankind seem to the other hypocrisy, folly, and affectation. Every class of society has its cant of lamentation, which is understood or regarded by none but themselves; | and every part of life has its uneasiness, which those who do not feel them will not commise

Yet more remote from common conceptions are the numerous and restless anxieties, by which female happiness is particularly disturbed. A solitary philosopher would imagine ladies born with an exemption from care and sorrow lulled

pleasure; for, what can interrupt the content of those, upon whom one age has laboured after another to confer honours, and accumulate immunities; those to whom rudeness is infamy, and insult is cowardice; whose eye commands the brave, and whose smile softens the severe; whom the sailor travels to adorn, the soldier bleeds to defend, and the poet wears out life to celebrate; who claim tribute from every art and science, and for whom all who approach them endeavour to multiply delights, without requiring from them any return but willingness to be pleased?

Surely among these favourites of nature, thus unacquainted with toil and danger, felicity must

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