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of listeners with the project of an opera, which he told us had not cost him above two or three mornings in the contrivance, and which he was ready to put in execution, Polo he might find his account in it. e said that he had observed the great trouble and inconvenience which ladies were at, in travelling up and down to the several shows that are exhibited in different quarters of the town. The dancing monkeys are in one place; the puppetshow in another; the opera in a third; not to mention the lions, that are almost a whole day’s journey from the politer part of the town. By this means people of figure are forced to lose half the winter, after their coming to town, before they have seen all the strange sights about it. In order to remedy this great inconvenience, our projector drew out of his pocket the scheme of an opera, entitled “The Expedition of Alexander the Great;’ in which he had disposed all the remarkable shows about town, among the scenes and decorations of his piece. The thought, he confessed, was not originally his own, but that he had taken the hint of it from several performances which he had seen upon our stage: in one of which there was a rareeshow; in another a ladder-dance; and in others a posture-man, a moving picture, with many curiosities of the like nature. This Expedition of Alexander opens with his consulting the oracle at Delphos, in which the dumb conjuror, who has been visited by so many persons, of quality of late years, is to be introduced as telling his fortune. At the same time Clinch of Barnet is represented in another corner of the temple, as ringing the bells of Delphos, for joy of his arrival. The tent of Darius is to e peopled by the ingenious Mrs. Salmon, where Alexander is to fall in love with a {. of wax-work that represents the eautiful Statina. When Alexander comes into that country, in which Quintus Curtius tells us the dogs were so exceeding fierce, that they would not loose their hold, though they were cut to pieces limb by limb, and that they would hang upon their prey by their teeth when they had nothing but a mouth left, there is to be a scene of Hockley-in-the-Hole, in which is to be represented all the diversions of that place, the bull-baiting only excepted, which cannot possibly be exhibited in the theatre, by reason of the lowness of the roof. The several woods in Asia, which Alexander must be supposed to pass through, will give the audience a sight of monkeys dancing upon ropes, with many other pleasantries of that ludicrous species. At the same time, if there chance to be any strange animals in town, whether birds or beasts, they may be either let loose among the woods, or driven across the stage by some of the country people of Asia. In the last great battle, Pinkethman is to personate King Porus upon an

elephant, and is to be encountered by Powell, representing Alexander the Great, upon a dromedary, which nevertheless r., Powell is desired to call by the name of Bucephalus. Upon the close of this great decisive battle, when the two kings are thoroughly reconciled, to show the mutual so and good correspondence that reigns between them, they both of them go together to a puppet-show, in which the ingenious Mr. Powell, junior, may have an opportunity of displaying his whole art of machinery, for the diversion of the two monarchs. Some at the table urged, that a puppet-show was not a suitable entertainment for Alexander the Great; and that it might be introduced more properly, if we suppose the conqueror touched upon that part of India which is said to be inhabited by the pygmies. But this objection was looked upon as frivolous, and the proposal immediately overruled. Our projector further added, that after the reconciliation of these two kings, they might invite one another to dinner, .either of them entertain his guest with the German artist, Mr. Pinkethman’s heathen gods, or any of the like diversions, which shall then chance to be in vogue. This project was received, with very great applause by the whole table. . Upon which the undertaker told us, that he had not yet communicated to us above half his design; for that Alexander being a Greek, it was his intention that the whole opera should be acted in that language, which was a tongue he was sure would wonderfully please the ladies, especially when it was a little raised and rounded by the Ionic dialect; and could not but be acceptable to the whole audience, because there are fewer of them who understand Greek than Italian. The only difficulty that remained was how to get performers, unless we could persuade some gentlemen of the universities to learn to sing, in order to qualify themselves for the stage; but this objection soon vanished, when the projector informedus that the Greeks were at present the only musicians in the Turkish empire, and that it would be very easy for our factory at Smyrna to furnish us every year with a colony of musicians, by the o of the Turkey fleet; besides, says he, if we want any single voice for o lower part in the opera, Lawrence can learn to speak Greek, as well as he does Italian, in a fortnight’s time. he projector having thus settled matters to the good-liking of all that heard him, he left his seat at the table, and planted himself before the fire, where I had unluckily taken my stand for the convenience of overhearing what he said. Whether he had observed me to be more attentive than ordinary, I cannot tell, but he had not stood by me above a quarter of a minute, but he turned short upon me on a sudden, and catching me by a button of

my coat, attacked me very abruptly after the following manner. “Besides, Sir, I have heard of a very extraordinary genius for music that lives in Switzerland, who has so strong a spring in his fingers, that he can make the board of an organ sound like a drum, and if I could but procure a subscription of about ten thousand pounds every winter, I would undertake to fetch him over, and oblige him by articles to set every thing that should be sung upon the English stage.” After this he looked full in my face, expecting I would make an answer, when, by good luck, a gentleman that had entered the coffee-house since the #. applied himself to me, hearin im, talk of his Swiss compositions, crie out in a kind of laugh, ‘Is our music then to receive further improvements from Switzerland!” This alarmed the projector, who immediately let go my button, and turned about to answer him. I took the opportunity of the diversion which seemed to be made in favour of me, and laying down my penny

upon the bar, retired with some precipe tion. No. 32.] Friday, Ahril 6, 1711.

Nil illi larva aut tragicis opus esse cothurnis. Hor. Lib. 1. Sat. v. 64.

He wants no tragic vizor to increase His natural deformity of face.

THE late discourse concerning the statutes of the Ugly club, having been so well received at Oxford, that contrary to the strict rules of the society, they have been so partial as to take my own testimonial, and admit me into that select body; I could not restrain the vanity of publishing to the world the honour which is done me. It is no small satisfaction that I have given occasion for the President’s showing both his invention and reading to such advantage as my correspondent reports he did: but it is not to be doubted there were many very proper, hums and pauses in his harangué, which lose their ugliness in the narration, and which my correspondent (begging his pardon) has no very good talent at representing. I very much approve of the contempt the society has of beauty. Nothing o to be laudable in a man, in which his will is not concerned; therefore our society can follow nature, and where she has o fit, as it were, to mock herself, we can do so too, and be merry upon the ocCaSiOn.

*MR. SPECTAtoR,-Your making public the late trouble I gave you, you will find to have been the occasion of this. Who should I meet at the coffee-house door the other night, but my old friend Mr. President! I saw somewhat had pleased him; and as soon as he had cast his eye upon me, “Oho, doctor, rare news from London,” says he; “the Spectator has made honourable mention of the club (man,) and published to the

world his sincere desire to be a member, with a recommendatory description of his phiz; and though our constitution has made no particular provision for short faces, yet his being an extraordinary case, I believe we shall find a hole for him to creep in at; for I assure you he is not against the canon; and if his sides are as compact as his joles, he need not disguise himself to make one of us.” I presently called for the paper, to see how you i. in print; and after we had o: ourselves awhile upon the pleasant image of our proselyte, Mr. President told me I should be his stranger at the next night's club; where we were no sooner come, and pipes brought, but Mr. President began a harangue upon your introduction to my epistle, setting forth with no less volubility of speech, than strength of reason, “That a speculation of this nature was what had been long and much wanted; and that he doubted not but it would be of inestimable value to the public, in reconcilin

even of bodies and souls; in composing an

quieting the minds of men under all corporal redundancies, deficiencies, and irregularities whatsoever; and making every one sit down content in his own carcass, though it were not perhaps so mathematically put together as he could wish.” And again, “How that for want of a due consideration of what you first advance, viz. That our faces are not of our own choosing, people had been transported beyond, all good breeding, and hurried themselves into unaccountable and fatal extravagancies; as how many impartial looking-glasses had been censured and calumniated, nay, and sometimes shivered into ten thousand splinters, only for a fair representation of the truth? #. many head-strings and garters had been made accessary, and actually forfeited, only because folks must needs quarrel with their own shadows? And who,” continues he, “but is deeply sensible, that one great source of the uneasiness and misery of human life, especially amongst those of distinction, arises from nothing in the world else, but too severe a contemplation of an indefeasible contexture of our external parts, or certain natural and invincible dispositions to be fat or lean? when a little more of Mr. Spectator's philosophy would take off all this. In the mean time let them observe, that there is not one of their grievances of this sort, but perhaps, in some ages of the world, has been highly in vogue, and may be so again; nay, in some country or other, ten to one, is so at this day. My Lady Ample is the most miserable woman in the world, purely of her own making. . She even grudges herself meat and drink, for fear she should thrive by them; and is constantly crying out, “In a quarter of a year more I shall be quite out of all manner of shape!” Now the lady’s misfortune seems to be only this, that she is planted in a wrong soil; for go but to the other side of the water, it is a jest at Haerlem to talk of a shape under eighteen stone. These wise traders regulate their beauties as they do their butter, by the pound; and Miss Cross, when she first arrived in the Low Countries, was not computed to be so handsome as Madam Van Brisket by near half a ton. On the other hand, there is *Squire Lath, a proper gentleman of fifteen hundred pounds per annum, as well as of an unblamable life and conversation; yet would I not be the squire for half his estate; for if it was as much more, he would freely part with it all for a pair of legs to his mind. Whereas in the reign of our first Edward, of glorious memory, nothing more modish than a brace of your fine taper supporters; and his majesty, without an inch of calf, managed affairs in peace or war as laudably as the bravest and most politic of his ancestors; and was as terrible to his neighbours under the royal name of Longshanks, as Coeur de Lion to the Saracens before him. If we look further back into history, we shall find that Alexander the Great wore his head a little over the left shoulder, and then not a soul stirred out till he had adjusted his neck-bone; the whole nobility addressed the prince and each other obliquely, and all matters of importance were concerted and carried on in the Macedonian court, with their polls on one side. For about the first century, nothing made more noise in the world than Roman noses, and then not a word of them till they revived again in “. ht.* Nor is it so very long since Richard the Third set up half the backs of the nation; and high shoulders, as well as high noses, were the top of the fashion. But to come to ourselves, gentlemen, though I find by my quinquennial observations, that we shall never get ladies enough to make a party in our own country, yet might we meet with better success among some of our allies. And what think you if our board sat for a Dutch piece? Truly I am of opinion, that as odd as we appear in flesh and blood, we should be no such strange things in mezzotinto. But this project may rest till our number is complete; and this being our election night, give me leave to propose Mr. Spectator. You see his inclinations, and perhaps we may not have his fellow.”

*I found most of them (as is usual in all such cases) were prepared; but one of the seniors (whom by the by Mr. President had taken all this pains to bring over) sat still, and cocking his chin, which seemed only to be levelled at his nose, very gravely declared, “That in case he ho sufficient knowledge of you, no man should have been more willing to have served you; but that he, for his part, had always had regard to his own conscience, as well as other people's merit; and he did not know but that you might be a handsome fellow; for as for

* Dryden in his plates to his translation of Virgil, caused AEneas to be represented with a Roman nose, in compliment to King William III

}. own certificate, it was every body's usiness to speak for themselves.” Mr. President immediately retorted, “A handsome fellow! why he is a wit, Sir, and you know the proverb:” and to ease the old gentleman of his scruples, cried, “That for matter of merit it was all one, you might wear a mask.” This threw him into a pause, and he looked desirous of three days to consider on it; but Mr. President improved the thought, and followed him up with an old story, “That wits were privileged to wear what masks they pleased in all ages; and that a vizard had been the constant crown of their labours, which was generally presented them by the hand of some satyr, and sometimes of Apollo himself.” for the truth of which he appealed to the frontispiece of several books, and particularly to the English Juvenal, to which he referred him; and only added, “That such authors were the Larvati, or Larva donati of the ancients.” This cleared up all, and in the conclusion you were chose probationer; and Mr. President put round your health as such, protesting, “That though indeed he talked of a vizard, he did not believe all the while you had any more occasion for it than the cat-a-mountain;” so that all you have to do now is to pay your fees, which are here very reasonable, if you are not imposed upon; and you may style yourself Informis Societatis Socius; which I am desired to acquaint you with; and upon the same I beg you to accept of the congratulation of, Sir, ‘Your obliged humble servant, • Oxford, March 21.” • A. C.” R.

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The graces with their zones unloos'd;
The nymphs their beauties all expos'd;
From every spring, and every plain;
Thy pow'rful, hot, and winged boy;
And youth, that's dull without thy joy;
And Mercury compose thy train.

A FRIEND of mine has two daughters, whom I will call Laetitia and Daphne; the former is one of the greatest beauties of the age in which she lives, the latter no way remarkable for any charms in her person. Upon this one circumstance of their outward form, the good, and ill of their life seems to turn. Lactitia has not, from her very childhood, heard any thing else but commendations of her features and complexion, by which means she is no other than nature made her, a very beautiful outside. The consciousness of her charms has rendered her insupportably vain and insolent towards all who have to do with her. Daphne, who was almost twenty before one civil thing had been said to her, found her

self obliged to acquire some accomplish

Creech.

ments to make up for the want of those attractions which she saw in her sister. Poor Daphne was seldom submitted to in a debate wherein she was concerned; her discourse had nothing to recommend it but the good sense of it, and she was always under a necessity to have very well considered what she was to say before she uttered it; while Laetitia was listened to with partiality, and approbation sat in the countenances of those she conversed with, before she communicated what she had to say. These causes have produced suitable effects, and Laetitia is as insipid a companion as Daphne is an agreeable one. Laetitia, confident of favour, has studied no arts to please; Daphne, despairing of any inclination towards her person, has depended wholly on her merit. Laetitia has always something in her air that is sullen, grave, and disconsolate. Daphne has a countenance that appears cheerful, open, and unconcerned. A young gentleman saw Lietitia this winter at a play, and became her captive. His fortune was such, that he wanted very little introduction to speak his sentiments to her father. The lover was admitted with the utmost freedom into the family, where a constrained behaviour, severe looks, and distant civilities, were the highest favours he could obtain of Lætitia; while Daphne used him with the good humour, familiarity, and innocence of a sister: insomuch that he would often say to her, “Dear Daphne, wert thou but as handsome as Laetitia.” She received such language with that ingenuous and pleasing mirth, which is natural to a woman without design. He still sighed in vain for Laetitia, but found certain relief in the agreeable conversation of Daphne. At length, heartily tired with the o impertinence of Laetitia, and charmed with the repeated instances of fo he had observed in Daphne, e one day told the latter, that he had something to say to her he hoped she would be pleased with—‘Faith, Daphne,” continued he, “I am in love with thee, and despise thy sister sincerely.” The manner of his declaring himself, gave his mistress occasion for a very hearty laughter. “Nay,” says he, “I knew you would laugh at me, but I will ask your father.” He did so; the father received his intelligence with no less

}. than surprise, and was very o he eauty,

ad now no care left but for his which he thought he could carry to market at his leisure. § do not know any thing that has pleased me so much a great while, as this conquest of my friend Daphne's. All her acquaintance congratulate her upon her chance-medley, and laugh at that premeditating murderer her sister. As it is an argument of a light mind, to think the worse of ourselves for the imperfections of our persons, it is equally below us to value ourselves upon the advantages of them. The female world seem to be almost incor

which reason I shall recommend the following extract out of a friend’s letter to the professed beauties, who are a people almost as unsufferable as the professed wits. “Monsieur St. Evremond has concluded one of his essays with affirming, that the last sighs of a handsome woman are not so much for the loss of her life, as of her beauty. Perhaps this raillery is pursued too far, yet it is turned upon a very obvious remark, that woman's strongest passion is for her own beauty, and that she values it as her favourite distinction. From hence it is that all arts, which pretend to improve or preserve it, meet with so general a reception among the sex. To say nothing of many false helps and contraband wares of beauty, which are daily vended in this great mart, there is not a maiden gentlewoman of a good family, in any county of South Britain, who has not heard of the virtues of May-dew, or is unfurnished with some receipt or other in favour of her complexion; and I have known a physician of learning and sense, after eight years study in the university, and a course of travels into most countries of Europe, owe the first raising of his fortune to a cosmetic wash. ‘This has given me occasion to consider how so universal a disposition in womankind, which springs from a laudable mo– tive, the desire of pleasing, and proceeds upon an opinion, not altogether groundless, that nature may be helped by art, may be turned to their advantage. And, methinks, it would be an acceptable service to take them out of the hands of quacks and pretenders, and to prevent their imposing upon themselves, by discovering to them the true secret and art of improving beauty. “In order to do this, before I touch upon it directly, it will be necessary to lay down a few preliminary maxims, viz. ‘That no woman can be handsome by the force of features alone, any more than she can be witty only by the help of speech. ‘That pride destroys all symmetry and grace, and affectation is a more terrible enemy to fine faces than the small-pox. ‘That no woman is capable of being beautiful, who is not incapable of being false. “And, That what would be odious in a friend, is deformity in a mistress. “From these few principles, thus laid down, it will be easy to prove, that the true art of assisting beauty consists in embellishing the whole person by the proper ornaments of virtuous and commendable qualities. By this help alone it is, that those who are the favourite work of nature, or, as Mr. Dryden expresses it, the porcelain clay of human kind, become animated, and are in a capacity of exerting their charms; and those who seem to have been neglected by her, like models wrought in haste, are capable in a great measure of finishing

rigibly gone astray in this particular; for

what she has left imperfect,

“It is, methinks, a low and degrading idea of that sex, which was created to refine the joys, and soften the cares of humanity, by the most agreeable participation, to consider them merely as objects of sight. This is abridging them of their natural extent of power, to put them upon a level with their pictures at Kneller's. How much nobler is the contemplation of beauty, heightened by virtue, and commanding our esteem and love, whilst it draws our cbservation! How faint and spiritless are the charms of a coquette, when compared with the real loveliness of Sophronia’s innocence, piety, good-humour, and truth; virtues which add a new softness to her sex, and even beautify her beauty! That agreeableness which must otherwise have appeared no longer in the modest virgin, is now preserved in the tender mother, the dent friend, and the faithful wife. Cors artfully spread upon canvass may entertain the eye, but not affect the heart; and she who takes no care to add to the natural graces of her person any excelling qualities, may be allowed still to amuse, as a picture, but not to triumph as a beauty. “When Adam is introduced by Milton, describing Eve in Paradise, and relating to the angel the impressions he felt upon seeing her at her first creation, he does not represent her like a Grecian Venus, by her shape or features, but by the lustre of her mind which shone in them, and gave them their power of charming: * Grace was in all her steps, heav'n in her eye, In all her gestures dignity and love!” “Without this irradiating power, the dest fair-one ought to know, whatever r glass may tell her to the contrary, that her most perfect features are uninformed and dead. “I cannot better close this moral, than by a short epitaph written by Ben Jonson with a spirit which nothing could inspire but such an object as I have been describing. *Underneath this stone doth lie As much virtue as could die;

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divisions, not only of this great city, but of the whole kingdom. My readers too have the satisfaction to find that there is no rank or degrees among them who have not their representative in this club, and that there is always somebody present who will take care of their respective interests, that nothing may be written or published to the prejudice or infringement of their just rights and privileges. last night sat very late in company with this select body of friends, who entertained me with several remarks which they and others had made upon these my speculations, as also with the various success which they had met with among their several ranks and degrees of readers. Will Honeycomb told me, in the softest manner he could that there were some ladies (but for your comfort, says Will, they are not those of the most wit) that were offended at the liberties I had taken with the opera and the puppet-show; that some of them were likewise very much surprised, that I should think such serious points as the dress and equipage of persons of quality, proper subjects for raillery. He was going on when Sir Andrew Freeport took him up short, and told him that the papers he hinted at, had done great good in the city, and that all their wives and daughters were the better for them; and further added, that the whole city thought themselves very much obliged to me for declarin . generous intentions to scourge vice and folly as they appear in a multitude, without condescending to be a publisher of particular intrigues and cuck: oldoms. “In short,” says Sir Andrew, “if you avoid that foolish boat. road of falling upon aldermen and citizens, and emplo your pen upon the vanity and luxury o courts, your paper must needs be of general use. Upon this my friend the Templar told Sir Andrew, that he wondered to hear a man of his sense talk after that manner; that the city had always been the province for satire, and that the wits of King Charles’s time jested wo nothing else during his whole reign. e then showed, by the example of Horace, Juvenal, Boiléau, and the best writers of every age, that the follies of the stage and court had never been accounted too sacred for ridicule, how great soever the persons might be that patronized them. “But after all,” says he, ‘I think your raillery has made too great an excursion, in attacking several persons of the inns of court; and I do not believe you can show me any precedent for your behaviour in that particular.” My good friend, Sir Roger de Coverly, who had said nothing all this while, began his speech with a Pish! and told us, that he wondered to see so many men of sense, so very serious upon fooleries. ‘Let our good friend,” says he, “attack every one that deserves it; I would only advise you,

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