combat was over, when the lion was to be looked upon as dead, according to the received rules of the drama. Besides, this is what is practised every day in Westminster-Hall, where nothing is more usual than to see a couple of lawyers, who have been tearing each other to pieces in the court, embracing one another as soon as they are out ofit.

I would not be thought, in any part of this relation, to reflect upon signior Nicolini, who, in acting this part, only complies with the wretched taste of his audience; he knows very well, that the lion has many more admirers than himself; as they say of the famous equestrian statue on the Pont-Neuf at Paris, that more people go to see the horse, than the king who sits upon it. On the contrary, it gives me a just indignation to see a person whose action gives new majesty to kings, resolution to heroes, and softness to lovers, thus sinking from the greatness of his behaviour, and degraded into the character of the London prentice. I have often wished, that our tragedians would copy after this great master in action. Could they make the same use of their arms and legs, and inform their faces with as significant looks and passions, how glorious would an English tragedy appear with that action which is capable of giving a dignity to the forced thoughts, cold conceits and unnatural expressions of an Italian opera? In the mean time, I have related this combat of the lion, to show what are at present the reigning entertainments of the politer part of great-Britain.

Audiences have often been reproached by writers for the coarseness of their taste; but our present grievance does not seem to be the want of a good taste, but of common sense.

C.

No. 14. FRIDAY, MARCH 16. By Steele.

-Teque his, infelix, exue monstris.

OVID.

Wretch that thou art! put off this monstrous shape.

I was reflecting this morning upon the spirit and humour of the public diversions five and twenty years ago, and those of the present time; and lamented to myself, that though in those days they neglected their morality, they kept up their good sense; but that the beau monde, at present, is only grown more childish, not more innocent, than the former. While I was in this train of thought, an odd fellow, whose face I have often seen at the play-house, gave me the following letter with these words, Sir, the lion presents his humble service to you, and desired me to give this into your own hands.

6

From my Den in the Hay-Market, March 15.

'I have read all your papers, and have stifled my resentment against your reflections upon operas, till that of this day, wherein you plainly insinuate, that signior Nicolini and myself have a correspondence more friendly than is consistent with the valour of his character, or the fierceness of mine. I desire you would, for your own sake, forbear such intimations for the future; and must say it is a great piece of ill-nature in you, to show so great an esteem for a foreigner, and to discourage a lion that is your own countryman.

'I take notice of your fable of the lion and man, (No. 11.) but am so equally concerned in that mat

ter, that I shall not be offended to whichsoever of the animals the superiority is given. You have misrepresented me, in saying that I am a country gentleman, who act only for my diversion; whereas had I still the same woods to range in which I once had when I was a fox-hunter, I should not resign my manhood for a maintenance; and assure you, as low as my circumstances are at present, I am so much a man of honour, that I would scorn to be any beast for bread but a lion. Yours, &c.'

I had no sooner ended this, than one of my landlady's children brought me in several others, with some of which I shall make up my present paper, they all having a tendency to the same subject, viz. the elegance of our present diversions.

SIR,

'Covent-Garden, March 18. 'I have been for twenty years under-sexton of this parish of St. Paul's, Covent-Garden, and have not missed tolling in to prayers six times in all those years; which office I have performed to my great satisfaction till this fortnight last past, during which time I find my congregation take the warning of my bell, morning and evening, to go to a puppet-show, set forth by one Powell, under the Piazzas. By this means I have not only lost my two customers whom I used to place for sixpence apiece over-against Mrs. Rachael Eyebright; but Mrs. Rachael herself is gone thither also. There now appear among us none but a few ordinary people, who come to church only to say their prayers, so that I have no work worth speaking of but on Sundays. I have placed my son at the Piazzas to acquaint the ladies that the bell rings

for church, and that it stands on the other side of the garden; but they only laugh at the child.

'I desire that you would lay this before all the world, that I may not be made such a tool for the future, and that Punchinello may choose hours less canonical. As things are now, Mr. Powell has a full congregation, while we have a very thin house; which if you can remedy, you will very much oblige, Sir, Yours, &c.'

The following epistle I find is from the undertaker of the masquerade.

C SIR,

'I have observed the rules of my masque (No. 8.) so carefully (in not inquiring into persons,) that I can not tell whether you were one of the company or not last Tuesday; but if you were not, and still design to come, I desire you would, for your own entertainment, please to admonish the town, that all persons, indifferently are not fit for this sort of diversion. I could wish, sir, you could make them understand, that it is a kind of acting, to go in masquerade, and a man should be able to say or do things proper for the dress in which he appears. We have now and then rakes in the habit of Roman senators, and grave politicians in the dress of rakes. The misfortune of the thing is that people dress themselves in what they have a mind to be, and not what they are fit for. There is not a girl in the town, but let her have her will in going to a masque, and she shall dress as a shepherdess. But let me beg of them to read the Arcadia, or some other good romance, before they appear in any such character at my house. The last day we presented, every body was so rashly habited, that when they

came to speak to each other, a nymph with a crook had not a word to say but in the pert style of a pit bawdry; and a man in the habit of a philosopher was speechless, till an occasion offered of expressing himself in the refuse of the tiringrooms. We had a judge that danced a minuet, with a quaker for his partner, while half a dozen harlequins stood by as spectators. A Turk drank me off two bottles of wine, and a Jew ate me up half a ham of bacon. If I can bring my design to bear, and make the masquers preserve their characters in my assemblies, I hope you will allow there is a foundation laid for more elegant and improving gallantries, than any the town at present affords; and consequently, that you will give your approbation to the endeavours of, Sir,

Your most obedient humble servant.'

I am very glad the following epistle obliges me to mention Mr. Powell a second time in the same paper; for indeed there can not be too great encouragement given to his skill in motions, provided he is under proper restrictions.

SIR,

"The opera at the Hay-Market, and that under the little Piazza in Covent-Garden, being at present the two leading diversions of the town, and Mr. Powell professing in his advertisements to set up Whittington and his Cat, against Rinaldo and Armida, my curiosity led me the beginning of last week to view both these performances, and make my observations upon them.

First, therefore, I can not but observe that Mr. Powell wisely forbearing to give his company a bill of fare beforehand, every scene is new and un