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The Augustan Reprint Society, Series Four: No. 1, May, 1948
THE THEATRE
SIR JOHN FALSTAFFE
1720
With an Introduction by John Loftis
GENERAL EDITORS
RICHARD C. BOYS, University of Michigan
EDWARD NILES HOOKER, University of California, Los Angeles
H.T. SWEDENBERG, JR., University of California, Los Angeles
ASSISTANT EDITOR
W. EARL BRITTON, University of Michigan
ADVISORY EDITORS
EMMETT L. AVERY, State College of Washington
BENJAMIN BOYCE, University of Nebraska
LOUIS I. BREDVOLD, University of Michigan
CLEANTH BROOKS, Yale University
JAMES L. CLIFFORD, Columbia University
ARTHUR FRIEDMAN, University of Chicago
SAMUEL H. MONK, University of Minnesota
ERNEST MOSSNER, University of Texas
JAMES SUTHERLAND, Queen Mary College, London
Lithoprinted from copy supplied by author
by
Edwards Brothers, Inc.
Ann Arbor, Michigan, U.S.A.
1948
INTRODUCTION
_The Theatre_, by "Sir John Falstaffe", is according to its author a
continuation of Richard Steele's periodical of the same name. Shortly after
Steele brought his paper to a close on April 5, 1720, the anonymous author
who called himself "Falstaffe" appropriated his title; or if we prefer
Falstaffe's own account of the matter, he was bequeathed the title upon the
decease of Steele's "Sir John Edgar". At any rate, the new series of
_Theatres_ was begun on April 9, 1720, and continued to appear twice a week
for eleven numbers until May 14. On Tuesdays and Saturdays Falstaffe
entertained the town with a pleasant essay in the tradition established by
_The Tatler_.
But the paper of April 9, the first of the new _Theatres_, was only
nominally the first of a series; Falstaffe, who numbered the paper
"sixteen", had already written fifteen papers called _The Anti-Theatre_ in
answer to Steele's _Theatre_. The demise of Steele's periodical merely
afforded him an opportunity of changing his title; his naturally became
inappropriate when Steele's paper was discontinued and the shorter title
was probably thought to be more attractive to readers. Falstaffe made no
attempt to pass his papers off as the work of his famous rival, to gain
popularity for them through the reputation of Steele. Indeed, the
antagonism which existed between the two men would have made such an act of
deception an unlikely one.
Steele's _The Theatre_, his last periodical, had been written for a
controversial purpose; by his own admission he wrote it to arouse support
for himself in a dispute in which he was engaged with the Lord Chamberlain,
the Duke of Newcastle. Steele, who by the authority of a Royal Patent was
governor of the Company of Comedians acting in Drury Lane, insisted that
his authority in the theatre was not respected by the Lord Chamberlain, the
officer of the Royal Household traditionally charged with supervision of
theatrical matters. Newcastle intervened in the internal affairs of Drury
Lane and, when Steele protested, expelled him from the theatre. Steele
could do nothing but submit, though he retaliated with a series of bitter
attacks on the Duke in _The Theatre_.
Newcastle found defenders, of whom one of the strongest was Falstaffe, who
wrote in direct opposition to Steele's "Sir John Edgar", openly attempting
to provoke that knight to a journalistic contest. But Edgar gave scant
attention to his essays, though they were vigorously written and presented
strong arguments in defense of the Lord Chamberlain's intervention in Drury
Lane affairs. Steele acknowledged the first number of _The Anti-Theatre_
(it appeared on February 15, 1720) in the fourteenth number of his own
paper, praising Falstaffe for his promise not to "intrude upon the private
concerns of life" in the debate which was to follow, but thereafter he all
but ignored his new rival. With the exception of a brief allusion in _The
Theatre_, No. 17 (an allusion which Falstaffe was quick to take up), Steele
made no more references to the other periodical. For a time Falstaffe
continued to answer the arguments Steele advanced in protest against the
Lord Chamberlain's action, but finding that he was unable to provoke a
response, he gave up the debate. After his ninth number of March 14, he had
little more to say about Steele or Drury Lane.
Falstaffe, however, did not stop writing when he ceased defending
Newcastle's action. _The Anti-Theatre_ continued to come out twice a week
until the fifteenth number appeared on Monday, April 4. And in that paper
there was no indication that the periodical was to end or was to be changed
in any way. But on the day after, April 5, Steele issued _The Theatre_, No.
28, signed with his own name, which he announced would be the last in the
series. As no more _Anti-Theatres_ were known to have appeared after the
fifteenth, it has generally been assumed (though as we now know,
erroneously) that Falstaffe took his cue from Edgar and abandoned his own
series.
But there has long been some reason to believe that Falstaffe did not cease
writing completely after the fifteenth _Anti-Theatre_. Though nothing was
known of his later work, a newspaper advertisement of his _The Theatre_ was
noted. But lacking any more definite information, scholars have doubted
the existence of the periodical. A volume in the Folger Shakespeare
Library, however, removes the doubt. There, bound with a complete set of
the original _Theatre_ by Sir John Edgar, are the ten numbers of the later
_Theatre_ which are reproduced here. These papers include the entire run of
Falstaffe's "continuation" with the exception of one number, the
nineteenth, which has apparently been lost. So far as is known, the copies
in the Folger are unique.
The continuation of _The Theatre_ bears little trace of the controversial
bitterness present in Steele's paper of that name or in some of the early
numbers of _The Anti-Theatre_. Except in the mock will in No. 16, there is
no reference to Steele's dispute with Newcastle in the entire series. Nor,
in spite of the title, is there any discussion of theatrical matters. As a
source of information about the stage, it is virtually without value. But
if it be accepted as merely another of the gracefully written series of
literary essays which were so abundant in the early eighteenth century, its
value and charm are apparent. The unidentified author was an accomplished
scholar, and he wrote on a variety of subjects which have not lost their
appeal. The interest aroused by the essays is perhaps inseparable from our
historical interest in the life and manners of the time, but it is none the
less genuine. Perhaps nowhere more than in the personal essays about
subjects of contemporary importance--of which these are examples--is there
a more pleasing record of the social and intellectual life of a period.
Of the ten essays reproduced here, probably the first (No. 16) is the only
one which contains allusions which will not be generally understood by
scholars. In this paper, in the account of the death of Sir John Edgar and
in the transcript of Edgar's will, there are references to Steele's dispute
with Newcastle over the control of Drury Lane Theatre. Falstaffe
facetiously recalls several points which were debated in the journalistic
war provoked by Steele's loss of his governorship, but in themselves the
points are of too little significance to merit explanation.
The several allusions to the South Sea Bubble in these essays will be
easily recognized. In Nos. 21, 22, and 26, Falstaffe considers the
absurdities engendered by the Bubble (as he had previously in _The
Anti-Theatre_, Nos. 10, 11, 12, and 14), exhibiting a healthy distrust of
the fever of stock-jobbing then at its height. Though less extreme than
Steele in his criticism of the South Sea Company, Falstaffe shows himself
to have understood several months in advance of the crash the fundamental
unsoundness of the wave of speculation produced by the company's policies.
The essay on duelling (No. 17) was probably suggested to Falstaffe by a
bill then pending in Parliament to make the practice unlawful. No other of
his essays resembles more closely those of his predecessor, Steele, who
during a lifetime of writing carried on a personal campaign to arouse
opposition to duelling. In Steele's own _Theatre_, there are two essays
devoted to the subject (Nos. 19 and 26).
One of the most interesting of Falstaffe's papers is his twenty-fourth: his
discussion of the recently published memoirs of the deaf and dumb
fortuneteller, Duncan Campbell, memoirs which we know to have been written
by Daniel Defoe. And from Falstaffe's conspicuous reference to _Robinson
Crusoe_ in the paper, it seems evident that he also knew the identity of
the author. What we have then is, in effect, a contemporary review of
Defoe's book. Maintaining an air of seriousness, Falstaffe examines the
extravagant assertions made so confidently by Defoe, ironically suggesting
the implausibility and absurdity of some of them. Falstaffe's
matter-of-fact comments are well adapted to exposing the incredibility of
the similarly matter-of-fact narrative of Defoe.
Who Sir John Falstaffe was we do not know. No clue to his identity has been
discovered. But from the essays themselves we learn something of his tastes
and predilections. A strong interest in classical antiquity is apparent in
numerous allusions to ancient history and mythology, allusions particularly
plentiful in _The Anti-Theatre_; an intelligent reverence for the writings
of Shakespeare may be observed in a series of admiring references; and
from his repeated remarks about Spain and Spanish literature, both in _The
Anti-Theatre_ and in _The Theatre_, we may probably conclude that he had
some special knowledge of that country and its literature. But all of this
can be but speculation. We know nothing positively about Falstaffe except
that he wrote a series of engaging essays.
Falstaffe's _Theatre_ is reproduced, with permission, from the papers in
the Folger Shakespeare Library.
John Loftis
Princeton University
Numb. XVI
THE
THEATRE.
By Sir _JOHN FALSTAFFE_.
_To be Continued every_ Tuesday _and_ Saturday.
Price Two-pence.
_I am Myself, but call me What you please._
South. in Oroon.
Saturday, _April 9. 1720._
Men, that like myself, set up for being Wits, and dictating to the World in
a censorial Way, should like Oracles endeavour to be barely heard, but
never have it distinguish'd from whence the Voice comes. _Faith_ and
_Reputation_ have ever been built on _Doubt_ and _Mystery_, and sometimes
the Art of being _unintelligible_ does not a little advance the Credit of a
Writer. There are many Reasons why we, who take upon Us the Task of Diurnal
or Weekly Lucubrations, should be like the River _Nilus_, sending abroad
fertile Streams to every Quarter, and still keeping our Heads undiscover'd.
But why should I be compell'd to give Reasons for every thing? _Were
Reasons as plenty as Blackberries_, as my worthy Ancestor was wont to say,
_I would not give a Reason upon Compulsion_.
I have confess'd to the World I am a _Knight_ (nor am I asham'd to own it,
tho' 'tis a Condescension as Knighthood goes;) and my Name is _John
Falstaffe_; must they have too a Tree of my Pedigree, and a Direction to my
Lodgings? 'Tis ill-Manners to pluck the Masque off, when we would not be
known: besides that, Curiosity has lost Men many a Blessing, and plung'd
the Discoverers into signal Calamities; as witness _Oedipus_, and the
Oracle, _Lot's_ Wife, _Orpheus_ and _Eurydice_, and several other _true_
and _ancient_ Histories, which I have something else to do than think of at
present.
It was an Opinion growing apace in the Town, that Sir _John Edgar_ and I
were one and the same Man: but from what Tract or Circumstance this Notion
sprung, I can neither learn nor guess. I mounted the Stage as the
Adversary, and he accepted my Challenge: upon which I attack'd him with
such Weapons as Men of Learning commonly use against one another, yet he
declin'd the Combat. I was by This in Generosity compell'd to desist from
pursuing him, yet every now and then I took upon me to reprimand him, when
I observ'd him too free in the Use of certain Figures in Rhetorick, which
are the common Dialect of a Part of the Town famous for _good Fish_ and
_Female Orators_. Thus he continued his Course of Writing, sometimes very
obscure, sometimes too plain: according as either Vapours, or Spleen, or
Love, or Resentment, or _French_ Wine predominated; which I, by my Skill in
Natural Philosophy observing, thought it advisable to leave him to himself,
till the Court of Chancery should appoint him a proper Guardian. I cannot
deny, but that we shook Hands behind the Curtain, and have been very good
Friends for these eight Papers last, have been merry without any Gall, he
regarding me as a Gentleman Philosopher, and I looking upon him as an
inoffensive Humorist.
I confess that it contributes much to my Peace of Soul, that we were
reconcil'd before his Departure from this Stage of Business and of Life.
The Reader will hereby understand that Sir _John_ is dead: It is for this
Reason that I appear in his Dress, that I assume his _Habit de Guerre_, for
Sir John chose me, from among all Men living, to be his sole Executor. The
Printer had no _black Letter_ by him, otherwise this Paper (as in Decency
it ought) should have appear'd in Mourning: however I shall use as much
Ceremony as the Time will allow; and, as _Hob_ did in the Farce by the Man
that hang'd himself, _I take up his Cloak, and am chief Mourner_.
We never can do the Memory of a Great Man more Justice, than by being
particular in his Conduct and Behaviour at the Point of Death. Sir _John_,
tho' a Wit, took no Pains to shew it at his latest Hour, that is, he did
not dye like one of those _prophane_ Wits, who bid the Curtains be drawn,
and said _the Farce of Life was ended_. This is making our Warfare too
slight and ludicrous: He departed with more Grace, and, like the memorable
Type of his Prudence, _Don Quixote de la Mancha_, where he perceiv'd his
Sand was running out, he repented the Extravagance of his
_Knight-Errantry_, and ingenuously confess'd his _Family Name_. He seem'd
entirely dispos'd to dye in his Wits, and no doubt, did so: tho' by
Intervals, 'tis thought he was a little delirious, talk'd of taking Coach
to _Fishmongers_ Hall, broke into imperfect Sentences about _Annuities_ and
_South-Sea_, and mutter'd something to himself of making Dividends of _Ten
per Cent_ at least _six times a Year_.
If Sir _John_ appear'd by all the Actions of his Life a Friend to Mankind,
he certainly did so in a great Measure at his Death, by the charitable
Disposition of what he died possess'd. I have given an Abridgment of his
Will, that the World may see he left his Legacies only where they were
truly wanted: Neither Favour nor Prejudice had any Influence over him in
his last Minutes, but he had nothing more at Heart than the Necessities of
his Legatees.
'_In Nomini Domini_, Amen. I _John Edgar_, &c. _Knight_, being sound in
Body, but imperfect of Mind and Memory, do make this my last Will, &c.
'_Item_, As to such personal Estate which I have the good Fortune to leave
behind me, I give and dispose thereof, as follows: And, best, I give and
bequeath all and singular my _Projects_ to the Society of _Stockjobbers_,
Share and Share alike, because I am sure they will be never the better for
them.
'_Item_, I give and bequeath all my Right, Property and Share in the
_transparent Bee-hive_ to my indulgent Friend and Patron, his Grace the
Duke of ----, because he has taken such a particular Fancy to it.
'_Item_, I give and bequeath the full _Profit_ of all those _Plays_ which I
have _Intentions of writing_, if it shall happen that I live to the Poor of
the Parish in which I shall dye: desiring it may be distributed by my
Executor, and _not come into the Hands of the_ Church-wardens.
'_Item_, I give and bequeath my _Goosequilt_, with which I demolish'd
_Dunkirk_, to such Person as shall appear most strenuous for the Delivery
of _Port Mahon_ and _Gibraltar_ to the _Spaniards_.
'And as to such _Qualifications_ wherewith I am endow'd, which have always
serv'd me in the Nature of _personal Estate_, I dispose thereof as follows;
First, I give and bequeath my _Politicks_ to the Directors of the _Academy_
of _Musick_, my _Religion_ to the Bishop of B----, my _Eloquence_ to the
most distrest Author in _Grubstreet_, who writes the _full Accounts_ of
_Murthers & Rapes_, and _Fires_, and my _Obscurity_ to somebody that is
inclin'd to turn _Casuist in Divinity_.
'_Item_, I give my _Beauty_ to Mr. _Dennis_, because he had a Mind to steal
it from me while I was alive.
'_Item_, I give my _Wits_ to my Friends at _Button's_, my _Good Manners_ to
the _Deputy Governors_ of _Drury Lane_ Theatre; and my _Charity_ to the
_married_ and _unmarried Ladies_ of the said Theatre; and lest Disputes
should arise about the Distribution thereof, it being too little for them
All, my Desire is, that they be determin'd in their Shares by Lot.
'And I make and appoint Sir _John Falstaffe_, Knight, my full and whole
Executor, and residuary Legatee, desiring him to continue my Paper of the
_Theatre_, but after his own Stile and Method; and desiring likewise that
the Sum of Forty Shillings may be given to the Boys of the _Charity School_
of St. _Martin_ in the Fields, to write me an _Elegy_ any Time within
_Eighteen_ Years after my Decease.'
He left several other Legacies to the Theatrical _Viceroys_, whose Interest
he had always so much at Heart, such as, his _Humility_, his _Learning_ and
_Judgment_ in _Dramatick Poetry_; but these being Things _which they always
lived without_, and which we are assur'd, _they will never claim_, we
thought it needless to insert them.
* * * * *
Printed for W. BOREHAM, at the _Angel_ in _Pater-Noster-Row_, where
Advertisements and Letters from Correspondents are taken in.
Numb. XVII.
THE
THEATRE.
By Sir _JOHN FALSTAFFE_.
_To be Continued every_ Tuesday _and_ Saturday.
--_Animasque in vulnere ponunt._
Virg.
Tuesday, _April 12. 1720._
The Incident of a late _Prize_ fought at one of our Theatres, has given me
some Occasion to amuse myself with the Rise, and Antiquity of _Duelling_;
and to enquire what Considerations have given it such Credit, as to make it
practicable as well in all Countries, as in all Times. Religion and Civil
Policy have ever declar'd against the Custom of receiving _Challenges_, and
deny that any Man has a Right, by a Tryal at _Sharps_, to destroy his
Fellow-Creature. History, 'tis true; both sacred and prophane, is full of
Instances of these sort of Combats: but very few are recorded to have
happen'd between Friends, none on the light and idle Misconstruction of
Words, which has set most of our modern _Tilters_ at Work. The _Athenians_
made it penal by a Law so much as to call a Man a _Murtherer_: and the
Detestation of Antiquity is so plain to this inhuman Kind of Proceeding,
that when _Eteocles_ and _Polynices_ had kill'd each other upon the
important Quarrel of disputed Empire, the Government order'd the
Challenger's Body to be thrown out as a Prey to the Dogs and Birds, and
made it Death for any one to sprinkle Dust over it, or give it the least
honorary Marks of Interment.
The _Duelling_ so much in Fashion for a few late Centuries is so scandalous
to _Christianity_ and _common Understanding_, and grounded upon none of
those specious Occasions which at first made it warrantable, that it is
high Time the Wisdom of Commonwealths should interpose to discountenance
and abrogate a pernicious Liberty, whose Source springs alone from Folly
and Intemperance. Sir _Walter Raleigh_ has very wisely observ'd in his
_History_ of the _World_, that _the acting of a private Combat, for a
private Respect, and most commonly a frivolous One, is not an Action of
Virtue, because it is contrary to the Law of God, and of all Christian
Kings: neither is it difficult, because even and equal in Persons and Arms:
neither for a publick Good, but tending to the contrary, because the Loss
or Mutilation of an able Man, is also a Loss to the Commonweal_.
Yet vile and immoral as this Custom is, it has so far prevail'd as to make
way for a _Science_, and is pretended, like Dancing, to be taught By _Rule_
and _Book_. The Advertisements, which are of great Instruction to curious
Readers, inform us, that a late Baronet had employ'd his Pen in laying down
the _solid_ Art of _Fighting_ both on _Foot_ and _Horseback_: by reading of
which Treatise any Person might in a short time attain to the Practice of
it, either for the Defence of Life upon a just Occasion, or Preservation of
Honour, in any accidental Scuffle or Quarrel. That is, if I may have
Permission, without being challeng'd, to divest the Title of its Pomp, this
solid Art would soon put one in a Capacity of killing one's Man, and
standing a fair Chance of bequeathing one's Cloaths and Neck to the
Hangman. It is observable, that Mr. _Bysshe_, in his Collection of
agreeable and sublime Thoughts, for the Imitation of future Poets, when he
comes to the Topick of _Honour_, ingeniously refers his Readers to the Word
_Butcher_; tacitly implying that the Thoughts upon both Heads have a
_Coherence_, as the Terms themselves are _synonomous_. In short, your
Practitioners in Duelling are so barbarous in their Nature; that their
whole Study is picking up Occasions to be engaged in a Quarrel. They are a
sort of _Quixots_, whose heads are so full of mischievous Chivalry, that
they will mistake the _Sails_ of a _Wind-mill_ for the _Arms_ of a _Gyant_;
and it is fifty to one, if the most innocent Motions, Looks, or Smiles, are
not, by their Prepossessions, construed Airs of Defiance, Offence, or
Ridicule. There is a Passage in _Hamlet_, which never fails of raising
Laughter in the Audience; 'tis where the Clowns are preparing a Grave for
_Ophelia_, and descanting on the Unreasonableness of her being buried in
Christian Burial, _who willfully sought her own Salvation. Will you ha' the
Truth or on't?_ says one of them wisely, _if this had not been a
Gentlewoman, she should have been buried out of_ Christian Burial. _Why
there though say'st it_; replies his Fellow, _and the more is the Pity that
great Folk should have Countenance in this World to drown, or hang
themselves more than us poor Folk_. The Application is so easy, that I
shall leave it for everyone to make it for himself.
Next to my first Wish, that _Duelling_ were totally restrain'd, methinks, I
could be glad that our young hot _Bravo's_ would not be altogether
_brutal_, but quarrel mathematically, and with some Discretion. I would
recommend the Caution, which _Shakespear_ has prescrib'd by an Example, of
offering and accepting a Challenge. In one of his Plays, there is an
hereditary Quarrel betwixt two Families, and the Servants on each Side are
so zealous in their Masters Cause, that they never meet without a Desire of
fighting, yet are shy of giving the Occasion of Combat. The transcribing a
short Passage will give the best Idea of their Conduct.
Samp. _I will bite my Thumb at them, which is a Disgrace to them
if they bear it._
Abra. _Do you bite your Thumb at Us, Sir?_
Samp. _I do bite my Thumb, Sir._
Abra. _Do you bite your Thumb at Us, Sir?_
Samp. _Is the Law on our Side, if I say, Ay?_
Greg. _No._
Samp. _No, Sir; I do not bite my Thumb at you, Sir; but I bite my
Thumb, Sir._
The most beneficial Things to a Commonwealth will have some of its Members
who will think them a Grievance. I have just now receiv'd the following
Letter from a _Fencing-Master_, who is very apprehensive of Business
falling off, if the _Act_ against _Duelling_ should take place.
"Sir,
"As you are both a Knight and a Gentleman (which now-a-days don't
always meet in one Man) I will make bold to Expostulate with you
upon a Bill depending in the House of Commons, I mean that
against _Duelling_. Every good Subject has a right of dissenting
to any Bill propos'd, either by petition, or Pamphlet, before it
passes into a Law; and this concerns the Honour of all Orders of
Men from the Prince to the private Gentleman. I make free to tell
you in a Word, if this passes, there's an End of _good Manhood_
in the King's Dominions. How must all the Important Quarrels,
which happen in Life, among men of Honour, be decided? Must a
heedless sawcy Coxcomb frown, or tread upon a Gentleman's Toes
with Impunity? No, I suppose, the great Cause of Honour must be
determined by the womanish Revenge of Scolding; and when two
Peers or Gentlemen have had some manly Difference, they must
chuse their _Seconds_ from _Billingsgate_ or the _Bar_--Consider,
Sir, how many brave Gentleman have comfortably kept good Company,
and had their Reckoning always paid, only by shewing a _broad
Blade_, and cherishing a fierce Pair of _Whiskers_. Good Manners
must certainly die with Chivalry; for what keeps all the pert
Puppies about Town in Awe, but the Fear of being call'd to
Account? Don't you know that there are a Set of impertinent
Wretches, who are always disturbing publick Assemblies with Riots
and Quarrels, only upon a presumption of being hinder'd from
fighting, by the Crowd? There will be no end of such Grievances,
if this Law takes Place. Besides, Sir, I hope it will be
consider'd, what will become of us Brothers of the Blade; the Art
we profess will grow of no Use to Mankind; and, of Consequence,
we shall be expos'd to Poverty and Disgrace. Consider, Sir, how
many bright Qualifications must go to the finishing one of us; we
require Parts as elegant, generous, and manly, as any Profession
whatsoever; therefore, I hope, that some publick Spirit in the
House of Commons, who is a Lover of his Country, and a Friend to
Arts and Sciences, will start up and distinguish himself against
this Bill. You know that our Profession is justly call'd the
Noble _Science_ of _Defence_, and makes a considerable Branch of
the _Mathematicks_; if the Ignorant should gain this Point
against us, they won't stop here; no doubt, their Design is to
attack all Arts and Sciences, and beat them one by one quite out
of the Nation; the _Assault_, 'tis true, seems only made against
us; but wise Men foresee that all Learning is in Danger. Our
Adversaries are upon the _Longe_ with their Swords just at our
Breasts, I desire therefore your Advice and Assistance, in what
_Guard_ we must stand to _parry_ this fatal _Thrust_. Yours,
"FLANKANADE."
* * * * *
Printed for W. BOREHAM, at the _Angel_ in _Pater-Noster-Row_, where
Advertisements and Letters from Correspondents are taken in.
Numb. XVIII.
THE
THEATRE.
By Sir _JOHN FALSTAFFE_.
_To be Continued every_ Tuesday _and_ Saturday.
Price Two-pence.
_Totum hominem Deus adsumit, quia totus ab ipsô est;
Et totum redimit quem sumpserat, omne reducens
Quicquid homo est, istud Tumulis, ast istud Abyssô._
Prudent.
[Greek: Phthenxomai hois themis osti, thuras d' epithesthe
bebêlois.]
Orpheus.
Saturday, _April 16. 1720._
The Person, who confines himself to the Task of writing a Paper of
Entertainment, is not thereby obliged to be continually ludicrous in his
Composition, or to expect that his Readers should always be upon the broad
Grin. The _rational_, as well as _risible_, Faculties are to be exercised;
and if I think fit to be too precisely serious to Day, my good-natur'd
Customers will give me an Indulgence, and believe that I will make it up to
them with Mirth on _Tuesday_.
As I devoted the spare Hours of yesterday to Meditation, I could not help
reflecting, what little Notion we have at this Time of _Prodigies_ and
_Phenomena_, that are not in the common Course of Nature. We are grown
_Epicureans_ in our Principles, and force our selves to believe, that it is
Fear, Superstition, or Ignorance, to fancy that Providence sends the World
a Warning in extraordinary Appearances: We buoy our selves up, that we only
want such a Portion of Philosophy to account for what startles the
Grossness of Sense, and to know that such Appearances must have their Cause
in Nature, tho' we cannot readily determine where to fix it. This brings to
my Mind, when _Glendour_ was boasting in the Play, that at his Nativity the
Heavens were full of fiery Shapes, and the Foundation of the Earth shook
like a Coward; _Hotspur_ reply'd humourously, _Why so it would have done at
the same Season, if your Mother's Cat had but kitten'd, tho' your self had
never been born_.
If we are to think so slightly of these uncommon Accidents, since the
Fashion of the Times will call them so, I would fain be resolved in one
Point, how it comes to pass, that the Birth and Death of so many eminent
Persons, and of Consequence to the World, have been mark'd and usher'd in
with such a Pomp of Prodigies. The same great Poet, whom I but now quoted,
observes finely, that,
_When Beggars die, there are no Comets seen:
The Heav'ns themselves blaze forth the Death of Princes._
The whole Concurrence of Historians, even of the most undoubted Authority,
have struck in, and espoused this Opinion. They are not all Fools and
superstitious Dotards, nor tied by any Obligations to record a Set of
Miracles, which in their own private Thoughts they counted absurd, and
laugh'd at. Every Pen, that has touch'd the Circumstance of _Julius
Cæsar's_ Death, has consented to relate the Strange Things, which both
foresaw and foretold his Assassination. _Shakespear_ has communicated these
Terrors to his Audience with the utmost Art: The Night is attended with
Thunder and Lightning; and _Cæsar_ comes forth in his Night-gown,
reflecting on the Unquietness of the Season, and ordering the Priests to do
present Sacrifice: _Calphurnia_ immediately follows him; and the
Undauntedness of his Spirit, attack'd by the Tenderness of his Wife's
Tears, gives an Occasion for the following Recital.
Cæsar, _I never stood on Ceremonies;
Yet now they fright me: There is one within,
Besides the Things that we have heard and seen,
Recounts most horrid Sights seen by the Watch.
A Lioness hath whelped in the Streets;
And Graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their Dead:
Fierce fiery Warriours fight upon the Clouds,
(In Ranks and Squadrons, and right Forms of War)
Which drizzled Blood upon the_ Capitol.
_The Noise of Battle hurried in the Air,
Horses did neigh, and dying Men did groan,
And Ghosts did shriek, and squeal about the Streets.
O_ Cæsar! _These Things are beyond all Use,
And I do fear them_.
The Poet, tho' he has adorned this Description by his Art, has been careful
to collect its Substance from the Historians. Every Particular is preserved
to us by the _Heathen_ Writers; and not a _Heathen_, that we know of, did
ever dispute the Truth of it. The Love and Esteem which the Generality bore
to the Person of _Cæsar_, the Reverence which they paid to the Dignity of
his Character, and the important Services which he had done the
Commonwealth, contributed not only to convince them of these Prodigies, but
to make some effort, that the Gods had received him into their Number.
The Use, which I intended from this Subject, is, that as _Christians_, who
have more invaluable Obligations to remember, we should suffer our Faith
and Gratitude to extend as least as far as the _Pagans_ did. There was a
dread Time (for the Commemoration whereof a Day is annually set a-part)
_when the Sun was eclipsed, and Darkness was over all the Land; when the
Vail of the Temple was rent asunder from the Top to the Bottom; when the
Earth quaked, and Rocks were split; when the Graves were opened, and the
Bodies of Saints, which slept in Death, arose and walked_. Let _Atheists_
alone, and _Freethinkers_ disbelieve the Terrors of that Hour. 'Twas fit
that Nature should feel such Convulsions, when the Lord of Life suffered
such Indignities.
I almost fear least my Readers should suspect that I am usurping the
Province of the Pulpit, and therefore I shall continue this Discourse in
the Words of a Poet, who will ever be esteemed in the _English_ Tongue.
When _Adam_ is doom'd to be turn'd out of Paradise, _Milton_ has by a happy
Machinery supposed, that the Angel _Michael_ is dispatched down to
pronounce the Sentence, and mitigate it by shewing _Adam_ in Vision, what
should happen to his Posterity. Amongst the rest, the _Incarnation_ is
shadowed out; and the Angel tells him, that the _Messiah_ shall spring from
_his_ Loins, and make a Satisfaction for the Punishment, which _he_ by his
Transgression had earned on himself and his Race.
_For this he shall live hated, be blasphem'd,
Seis'd on by Force, judg'd, and to Death condemn'd,
A shameful and accurst, nail'd to the Cross
By his own Nation, slain for bringing Life;
But to the Cross He nails thy Enemies
The Law that is against thee, and the sins
Of all Mankind, with him there crucified,
Never to hurt them more, who rightly trust
In this his Satisfaction: So he dies,
But soon revives; Death over him no Power
Shall long usurp: e'er the third dawning Light
Return, the Stars of Morron shall see him rise
Out of his Grave, fresh as the dawning Light,
The Ransom paid, which Man from Death redeems._
I cannot better conclude the Triumph of this Promise, than by the Speech,
in which _Adam_ expresses his Joy and Wonder at these glad Tidings.
_'O Goodness infinite! Goodness immense,
That all this Good of Evil shall produce,
And Evil turn to Good; more wonderful
Than that, which by Creation first brought forth
Light out of Darkness! Full of doubt I stand,
Whether I should repent me now of Sin
By me done and committed, or rejoice
Much more, that much more Good thereof shall spring._
* * * * *
Printed for W. BOREHAM, at the _Angel_ in _Pater-Noster-Row_, where
Advertisements and Letters from Correspondents are taken in.
Numb. XX.
THE
THEATRE.
By Sir _JOHN FALSTAFFE_.
_To be Continued every_ Tuesday _and_ Saturday.
Price Two-pence.
_Tristius baud illis monstrum, nec sævior ulla
Pestis, & ira Deum_, Stygiis _sese extulit oris._
Virg.
Saturday, _April 23. 1720._
It is very odd to consider, yet very frequently to be remark'd, that tho'
we have all so many Passions and Appetites pushing for the Government of
us, and every one of us has a Portion of Reason, that, if permitted, would
regulate our Conduct: yet we are obstinate not to be directed by that
Reason, and give the Rein and Regulation of our Actions over to the
Passions and Appetites of other People. This is putting our selves upon the
Foot of _Epicurus's_ Deities, who were too indolent to look after the World
themselves, and left the Task of Providence to Chance and Second Causes.
I grant, it is very necessary that our Misconduct should be assisted, and
set right by wiser Judgment; but the Danger is, and especially among the
Female Sex, into what Hands this Power of Direction is committed. The Trust
of Friendship is so often betrayed, and the Duty of the Office postponed to
private Interest, that it is a Question whether we are not safer, while we
give a Loose to our own extravagant Excursions. The Institution of
_Douegnas_, or Governesses in _Spain_, we do not doubt, was a Design well
befitting the Caution of that wise and reserved Nation; but the Corruption
of the Persons intrusted, soon brought them into so much Disreputation,
that they became the Objects of hatred and Scandal.
Don _Francisco de Quevedo_, in his general Satires, has set these Vermin in
such a Light, as gives a shrewd Suspicion of their having been mischievous
in his own Family. He dreams that he is got within the Confines of Death,
and, among the other visionary Figures presented, he is encountred by an
old _Governante_. _How's this_! says he, in a great Amazement, _Have ye any
of those Cattle in this Country? Let the Inhabitants pray heartily for
Peace then; and all little enough to keep them quiet_. In short, he makes
the old Gentlewoman acquaint him, that she had been Eight Hundred Years in
Hell, upon a Design to erect an Order of the _Governantes_; but the Right
Worshipful _Satanic_ Commissioners were not as yet come to any Resolution
upon the Point: For, they said, if your _Governantes_ should come once to
settle there, there would be no Occasion for any other Tormentors, and the
Devils themselves would be but so many _Jacks out of Office_. _I have
been_, says she, _too in_ Purgatory _upon the same Project, but there so
soon as ever they set Eyes upon me, all the Souls cried out unanimously_,
Libera nos, Domine. _And as for_ Heaven, _That's no Place for Quarrels,
Slanders, Disquiets, Heart-burnings, and consequently none for_ Me.
These are the _Douegna's_ which the Suspicions of the _Spaniards_ at first
intended as Spies upon the Conduct of their Wives and Daughters. We have a
Species of _Governantes_ among us in _England_, who being admitted into a
Familiarity in Families, by Policy improve it into Friendship: this
Friendship lets them into a Degree of Trust, which they are diligent to
turn into the best Advantage; and having always little servile Ends of
their own to obtain, their surest Step is to sow Dissention, and strengthen
their own Interest, by alienating the Affections of the Wife from her
Husband; whose _Bread_ they are eating at the same Time, that they are
undermining his _Quiet_ in the nearest Concerns of Life.
Making a Visit the other Day to my Friend _Gellius_, who happened to be
abroad, I found the Partner of his Bosom _Clarissa_, and her eternal
Companion _Drusilla_, all in Tears. I was not received with that open
Familiarity, which was used to be shewn me; and I observed something in
them of that kind of Reserve, which is common with People who are under
some great Affliction. I at first apprehended, that some fatal Accident had
happen'd to the Person or Circumstances of my Friend; but, upon Inquiry, I
was set easy as to these Fears, tho' they would give me no Hint, by which I
might guess at the Cause of their Disquietude. Finding them in a
Disposition so unapt for Mirth, I took my Leave; judging, it could be no
worse than some little domestick Misunderstanding, occasion'd, perhaps, by
a disagreeable Command on the Side of the Husband, or some Contradiction on
the Side of the Wife. But my Man, who is very intimate with all the
Servants, has since let me into the Secret. It seems, there is a strange
Union of Souls between these two Ladies; from what Affinity of Disposition,
or mysterious Impulse, is a Secret only known to Nature and themselves.
They love and hate alike; their Sympathies and Antipathies are the same;
and all Joys are tasteless to the One, without the Company and
Participation of the Other. Their Affection is of that tender, that
delicate Nature, that the smallest Jealousie, the least Unkindness blasts
it. It happen'd one Day, that _Clarissa_ was more than commonly civil to
her Husband: There was something past between them, that look'd like
Fondness, and this in the Presence of _Drusilla_: Who can express the
Passions that struggled in the Female Rival's Soul? Despair, Rage,
Jealousie, and Anguish at once possess'd her; and it was now Time to retire
to Sleep; the Lady with her Husband withdrew to Bed, and the jealous Friend
likewise committed her self to her Pillow, tho' not to Rest. Her Soul was
busied with the bitter Reflexion of what had past, and what further
Endearments might be practis'd. Unable to compose her self, she resolves to
rise, and pretends Sickness: _Clarissa_ is disturbed from the Embraces of
her Husband; nor is suffer'd to go back to the Bed of Wedlock, till she has
promis'd her disgusted Friend, by a forc'd Indifference to restrain the
Liberties of the inamour'd _Gellius_.
The learned Times, I find, were not unacquainted with these _Female
Intimacies_: And by the Names they affix'd to the Persons practising them,
which I shall forbear to mention, 'tis plain they put none of the best
Constructions on their Familiarities.
_Plato_, I remember, offers at a Reason in Nature for such Conversations.
He tells us, that at first Mankind were made with _Two_ Heads, _Four_ Arms,
_Four_ Legs, and so every Way double: that of these, there were _three_
Sorts; some, double Men; some, double Women; and some Hermaphrodites.
_Jupiter_, upon an Offence committed, split them all into _Two's_; from
whence arises in Mankind that Desire of a Companion, as his other half to
perfect his Being. The Consequence of this Division was, that they, who in
their original State were _double Men_, are still fond of the _Ganymede's_
with smooth Chins; and they, who were at first _double Women_, are at this
Day enamoured of their own Sex, and _Platonicks_ as to any Commerce with
Ours.
I have heard so much to the Disadvantage of these _Inamorata's_, that I
consider a Man, who is link'd to such a Wife, in the State of the _Lover_
and his _Two Mistresses_ in the _Fable_. The one, who was a little turned
in Years, pulled out all his _black_ Hairs, to make him look nearer to her
Standing: and the other, who was in her Bloom, pick'd out all the _grey_
ones, that the World might not suspect she had an Old Man; 'till between
them, they made him as bald as Father _Time_ himself.
I shall conclude with the Story of an unfortunate Gentleman, who had
suffer'd heavily in this Way, and went abroad to avoid his Slavery. As he
was travelling from _Madrid_ to _Valladolid_, he found himself belated, and
wanted to take up his Night's Quarters in some middle Place. He was
informed, the nearest Way would bring him to a small Village, call'd
_Douegnas_; which with us would be the Village of _Governesses_. _But is
there no other Place_, said he, _within some reasonable Distance, either
short of, or beyond it_? They told him, No, unless it were at a _Gallows_.
_Nay, there shall be my Quarters then_, said he, _I am resolved; for a
Thousand_ Gibbets _are not so bad to me as One_ Douegna.
* * * * *
Printed for W. BOREHAM, at the _Angel_ in _Pater-Noster-Row_, where
Advertisements and Letters from Correspondents are taken in.
Numb. XXI.
THE
THEATRE.
By Sir _JOHN FALSTAFFE_.
_To be Continued every_ Tuesday _and_ Saturday.
Price Two-pence.
[Greek: Kronidês phrenas exeleto Zeus].
Homer.
Tuesday, _April 26. 1720._
The Writer who attempts either to divert, or instruct the Town, has,
perhaps, a worse Chance of succeeding now, than in any Age before. The
Conversation of the World is changed, Gaiety and Mirth are banished from
Society, and the buisy Affair of Avarice has taken up the Thoughts of every
Company; if a Man in a Coffee-House takes up a _News-Paper_, the first
Thing he turns to is the Price of the _Stocks_; if he looks over the
_Advertisements_, it is in Quest of some new _Project_; when he has
finished his Enquiry, and mixes in Conversation, you hear him expatiate
upon the Advantage of some favourite Project, or curse his Stars for
missing the lucky Moment of buying as he intended at the Rise of the
South-Sea. Another complains of the Roguery of some Broker or Director,
whom he intrusted; this I have heard canvass'd over and over, with so many
Aggravations of Meanness and Knavery against each other, that, I confess, I
shall never see a poor Malefactor go to suffer Death for robbing another of
ten Pounds upon the High-Way, but I shall look with Compassion on his
Condition, and perhaps reflect secretly upon the Partiality of publick
Justice. I know so many little infamous Frauds, so many Breaches of Honour,
and Friendship, in the Conduct of these Persons, that I should think it a
Piece of Justice to expose them, could I imagine it would bring them to
Shame or Amendment; but I shall leave them to work their Way to _Wealth_
and _Contempt_, which I presume they will be very well contented with; nor
envy any Man the Merit of his Poverty and good Nature. But I cannot forbear
admiring the Nature of Projects, and by what furious Impulse Mankind is
carried into them: No Person asks the Question, whether they be for the
Good of the Nation; for, it seems to me, that no Man cares, provided he
gets by them himself.
We use our Country like our Step-Mother, we have no natural Affection for
her, we are Foreigners to her Blood, and when we have sucked her dry, we
make no Returns of Gratitude in her Necessities, but turn her loose to
shift for her self; I think this the Case, if you consider the Condition of
a rising Project, which every Man that's concerned in, intends to get out
of, and declares he will not trust too long.
I have very little Capacity, or Inclination, to argue upon this Subject;
and being a little indolent withal, I shall take the Liberty of
entertaining to Day with a Story, that lies ready at my elbow; and which I
declare before-hand, has no significant Meaning in it, that I know of: If
the Sagacity of my Readers can make more of it than my self, in God's Name,
let them please themselves with the Application.