a novel heroine, though described without a fault, yet, if drawn out of nature, may be a very unfit model for imitation. The novel which, of all others, is formed upon the most studied plan of morality, is Clarissa, and few young women, I believe, are put under restriction by their parents or others from gratifying their curiosity with a perusal of this author: guided by the best intentions, and conscious that the moral of his book is fundamentally good, he has taken all possible pains to weave into his story incidents of such a tragical and affecting nature as are calculated to make a strong and lasting impression on the youthful heart. The unmerited sufferings of an innocent and beautiful young lady, who is made a model of patience and purity; the unnatural obduracy of her parents; the infernal arts of the wretch who violates her, and the sad catastrophe of her death, are incidents in this affecting story better conceived than executed: failing in this most essential point, as a picture of human nature, I must regard the novel of Clarissa as one of the books which a prudent parent will put under interdiction; for I think I can say from observation that there are more artificial pedantic characters assumed by sentimental Misses, in the vain desire of being thought Clarissa Harlowes, than from any other source of imitation whatsoever: I suspect that it has given food to the idle passion for those eternal scribblings which pass between one female friend and another, and tend to no good point of education. I have a young lady in my eye, who made her will, wrote an inscription for the plate of her own coffin, and forswore all mankind at the age of sixteen. As to the characters of Lovelace, of the heroine herself, and the heroine's parents, I take them all to be beings of another world. What Clarissa is made to do, and what she is allowed to omit, are equally out of the regions of nature. Fathers and mothers who may oppose the inclinations of their daughters are not likely to profit from the examples in this story, nor will those daughters be disposed to think the worse of their own rights, or the better of their parents, for the black and odious colours In which these unnatural characters are painted. It will avail little to say that Clarissa's miseries are derivable from the false step of her elopement, when it is evident that elopement became necessary to avoid compulsion. To speak with more precision my opinion in the case, I think Clarissa dangerous only to such young persons whose characters are yet to be formed, and who, from natural susceptibility, may be prone to imitation, and likely to be turned aside into errors of affectation. In such hands, I think a book so addressed to the passions and wire-drawn into such prolixity is not calculated to form either natural manners or natural style; nor would I have them learn of Clarissa to write long pedantic letters "on their bended knees, and beg to kiss the hem of their ever honoured Mamma's garment," any more than I would wish them to spurn the addresses of a worthy lover, with the pert insult of a Miss Howe. The natural temper and talents of our children should point out to our observation and judgment the particular mode in which they ought to be trained: the little tales told them in infancy, and the books to be put into their hands in a forwarder age, are concerns highly worth attending to. Few female hearts in early youth can bear being softened by pathetic and affecting stories without prejudice. Young people are all imitation; and when a girl assumes the pathos of Clarissa without experiencing the same afflictions, or being put to the same trials, the result will be a most insufferable affectation and pedantry. Whatever errors there may be in our present system of education, they are not the errors of neglect; on the contrary, perhaps, they will be found to consist in over diligence and too great solicitude for accomplishment; the distribution of a young lady's hours is an analysis of all the arts and sciences; she shall be a philosopher in the morning, a painter at noon, and a musician at night; she shall sing without a voice, play without an ear, and draw without a talent. A variety of masters distract the attention and overwhelm the genius; and thus an indiscriminate zeal in the parent stops the cultivation and improvement of those particular branches to which the talents of the child may more immediately be adapted. But if parents who thus press the education of their children fall into mistakes from too great anxiety, their neglect is without excuse who, immersed in dissipation, delegate to a hireling the most sacred and most natural of all duties: to these unprofitable and inconsiderate beings I shall not speak in plain prose, but will desire them to give the following little poem a perusal : Dorinda and her spouse were joined, Fine clothes, fine diamonds, and fine lace, In decent time, by Hunter's art, The wished-for heir Dorinda bore; A girl came next: she'd done her part, Dorinda bred no more. Now education's care employs Dorinda's brain--but ah! the curse, THOUGH I do not like paradoxes, and can readily acknowledge the respect due to general opinions, yet I am bold to aver to the face of all those fine gentlemen who, if they think as they act, will laugh me to scorn for the notion, that marriage is a measure of some consequence. I do not mean to say that it is necessary, in the choice of a wife, that she should be of any particular stature or complexion, brown or fair, tall or short; neither do I think a man of family need absolutely to insist upon as many clear descents as would satisfy a German Court, before he quarters arms with a lady; nor do I article for fortune, or connection, or any other worldly recommendation as indispensable; satisfied only, if it will be granted to me, that the parties ought not to unite without some mutual explanation, some previous understanding of each other's temper, and some reasonable ground of belief that the contract they are about to enter into for life is likely to hold good to the end of the term for which it is made. I am not so ignorant of the world as not to know how many specious reasons may be given on the other side of the question; and, being sensible I have a hard point to drive, I am willing to conciliate my opponents by all reasonable concessions. Lord Faro married to pay off a mortgage that encumbered his estate, and to discharge certain debts of honour that encumbered his mind still more his match, therefore, was a match of principle; and though a run of bad luck defeated his good intentions towards his creditors, and though the vulgar manners of his lady smelt so strong of the city that she became insupportable, yet all the world allowed that the measure was judicious, justifiable, and, in his lordship's situation, indispensable.. . Lady Bab Spectre married Colonel Spectre. because he haunted her in all assemblies, was for ever at her back in the Opera-house, glided into the church when she was at her devotions, and declared in all companies that he was determined to have her. Lady Bab married to be revenged of him; nobody denied but she took the right method, and all the world allowed that she had her revenge; the colonel is literally a spectre at this moment. Sir Harry Bluster and Miss Hornet were first cousins, and, though brought up together in the same house like brother and sister, squabbled and fought like a dog and cat; Sir Harry's face bore the marks of her nails, and Miss's head-dress was the frequent victim of his fury this young pair made a match in the laudable expectation of a better agreement after wedlock all the world applauded their motives, and the event fully answered their expectation -for they parted by consent. Old Lady Lucy Lumbago was told by a fortune-teller that she should die a maid: when she was at least sixty years in advance towards fulfilling the prediction, she drew a piece of wedding cake through a bride's gold ring, and dreamed of her own footman; she married him the next week to thwart the destinies; the footman went off with her strong box, and left her behind to complete the prophecy. indulge it: the happy knot was tied; Jack flew with lips of ardour to his lovely Cleopatra; the faithless eyebrow deserted from the naked forehead of its owner, and (O sad exchange!) took post upon Jack's chin. These, and many more than these, may be called cases in point, and brought to prove that matrimony is a mere whim, a caprice of the moment, and, by people who know the world, treated with suitable indifference; but still I must hope that such of my readers, at least, who do not know the world, or know perhaps just so much of it as not to wish for a more intimate familiarity with its fashions, will think this same bargain for life, a bargain of some consequence. The court of Catherine of Medicis, but more particularly that of Anne of Austria, brought the characters of women into much greater consequence and display than had before been allowed to them; the female genius, called forth from its obscurity, soon assumed its natural prerogatives: a woman's wit was found the finest engine to cut the knot of intricacy, or, if possible, to disentangle it: the ladies in that famous regency were no less fitted to direct a council than to adorn a court; the enlightened state of present times and the refinement of modern manners have happily discovered that in the proper intercourse of the sexes are centred all the charms of society; it seems as if a new world had been found out within the limits of the old one: associated as we now are, we are left without excuse when we mistake their characters or betray them into unsuitable connexion by disguising our own: every unmarried man has time enough to look about him, and opportunities enough for the fullest information: Lord Calomel had a plentiful estate and a very scanty constitution, but he had two reasons for marrying, which all the world gave him credit for; the first was to get an heir, which he want-it can be nothing, therefore, but the misguiding ed, and the second was to get rid of a mistress he was tired of: he made his choice of Miss Frolic, and every body allowed the odds were in his favour for an heir: the lady brought him a fullgrown boy, at five months' end; his lordship drove his wife out of his house, and reinstated his mistress. Jack Fanciful had a blind side towards a fine eyebrow. It was his humour, and he had a right to please himself: Signora Falsetta struck an arrow to his heart from a pair of fulldrawn bows, that would have done honour to Cleopatra herself, whose stage representative the Signora then was: Jack made overtures of a certain sort, which her majesty repulsed with the dignity that became her; in short, the virtue of Cleopatra was impregnable, or, at least, it was plain she was not every body's Cleopatra. What could Jack do? It was impossible to give up the eyebrows, and it was no less impossible to have them upon any terms but terms of honJack married her: it was his humour, and all the world allowed he was in the right to our. impulse of some sordid and unworthy passion that can be the moving cause of so many unhappy matches. I will never believe, in the corruption of the present times, though there are as many bills of divorce as bills of enclosure, but that the husband, I will not say in every, but in almost every case, is in the first fault. It were an easy thing to point out a thousand particulars amongst the reigning habits of high life, which seem as if invented by the very demon of seduction for his own infernal purposes: there is not one of all these habits which a wise man can fail to despise, or an honest man neglect to reform; no plan so easy as the prevention of them; no system so absurd, so undignified, so destructive of all the pleasures of life, as the system of dissipation. Look at a man of this sort! He has not even the credit of being a voluptuary: there is not one feature of pleasure in his face; all is languor, nonchalance or ennui. (I help out my description with French; for, thank Heaven! we have yet no words in our language to express it.) As The travels of such a man in the purlieus only | light there is perhaps no one order of men who of St. James's Street and Pall Mall would suf- contribute more largely to the pleasing and mofice to have carried him round the pyramids of ral amusements of the age than our actors. Egypt; he might have visited the ruins of Her- I mean to devote this paper to their use and culaneum in half the number of paces that he service, I shall begin it with a short passage spends in sauntering up to Rotten Row: he extracted from Mr. Dow's History of Hindosposts from town to country as if the fate of tan :Europe depended on his despatch; he reconnoitres the heels of some favourite hunter, and returns with the same expedition to town; you would think that life or death depended on his speed, and you would not be much out in the guess; for he has just killed so much time, and perhaps a post-horse or two into the bargain. Are we to suppose there is no emulation in the ladies? Is it not possible to employ the revenue of a great estate in a more agreeable manner? for I am now speaking of riches in no other light but as the means of procuring pleasures to their owner. May not every hour of life present some new or agreeable occupation to a man who is possessed of a large fortune and knows how to use it? I need not point out the endless source of delightful employment which a well projected system of improvement must furnish to the man of landed property: this nation abounds in artists of all descriptions; gardening, planting, architecture, music, painting, the whole circle of arts are open to his use and service; wherever his taste or humour points, there are professors in every department of the highest talents: he may seat himself in a paradise of his own creating, and collect a society to participate with him worthy the enjoyment of it the capital might then be his visiting and not his abiding place; his dearest friend and the companion of his happiest hours might be his wife; the duties of a parent might open fresh sources of delight, and I, who profess myself to be an Observer, and a friend of mankind, might contemplate his happiness, and cry out with the vanity of an author-" There is one convert to my system!" Vivite concordes, et nostrum discite munus ! CLAUDIAN. ་་་་་་་་་་་་་་་་་ NUMBER XXIX. AMONGST the various orders and ranks of men in civilized society, some are entitled to our respect for the dignity and utility of their profession; but as there are many more than merely natural wants to be provided for in a state of high refinement, other arts and occupations will occur, which, though not so highly to be respected for their utility, will yet be valued and caressed for the pleasures they bestow. In this "During all these transactions the gates of Delhi were kept shut. Famine began to rage every day more and more; but the Shaw was deaf to the miseries of mankind. The public spirit of Tucki, a famous actor, deserves to be recorded upon this occasion. He exhibited a play before Nadir Shaw, with which that monarch was so well pleased that he commanded Tucki to ask, and what he wished should be done for him. Tucki fell upon his face, and said, "O king, command the gates to be opered, that the poor may not perish! His request was granted, and half the city poured into the country; and the place was supplied in a few days with plenty of provisions." Though it is not every actor's lot to save a city, yet it is his province to drive an enemy out of it, almost as formidable as famine. There is such a combination of natural gifts requisite to the formation of a complete actor that it is more a case of wonder how so many good ones are to be found than why so few instances of excellence can be produced. Every thing that results from nature alone lies out of the province of instruction, and no rules that I know of will serve to give a fine form, a fine voice, or even those fine feelings which are amongst the first properties of an actor. These, in fact, are the tools and materials of his trade, and these neither his own industry nor any man's assistance can bestow. But the right use and application of them is another question, and there he must look for his directions from education, industry, and judgment. A classical education, if it be not insisted on as indispensable to a great actor, is yet so advantageous to him in every branch of his art that it is a most happy circumstance in their lot who can avail themselves of it. Be this as it may, it behoves him in the very first place to be thoroughly versed in all the chief dramatic writers of his own country. Of all these Shakspeare is so out of sight the principal that, for distinction sake, I will confine myself to him only. This author, therefore, must be studied in the most critical and scrutinizing manner, not by parts, but in the whole; for it is the veriest folly in any young student for the stage to read by character, or attach himself to any one predominant part in which he aims at a display, until he has possessed himself in the completest manner of the whole drama in which he is to stand. Every movement of the author's mind should be unravelled; all those small but delicate incidents which serve to an nounce or discriminate a leading character, every thing said to him, or of him, as well as by him, are to be carefully gathered up; for Shakspeare, in particular, paints so very close to nature, and with such marking touches that he gives the very look an actor ought to wear when he is on his scene. When an actor has done this, he will find his understanding so enlightened by the task, and his mind possessed with such a passion for what is natural, that he will scorn the sorry practice of tricks, and that vain study of setting himself off by this or that preconcerted attitude in which some handicraft men, who were more like tumblers than tragedians, have in times past disgraced their profession: in short, if he studies his author he will have no need to study his looking-glass: let him feel, and he will be sure to express: nature, that gave him limbs and organs of speech, will be sure to give him action, and he need not measure the board he is to fall upon, as if he was to make his exit down a trap. There is one thing in particular I would wish him to avoid, which is a repugnance against appearing in characters of an unamiable sort (the ladies will observe I address myself to both sexes throughout :) it is a narrow notion to suppose that there can be any adhesion either of vice or virtue to the real character; or that revenge, cruelty, perfidiousness, or cowardice can be transposed into a man's nature, because he professionally represents these evil qualities. If I had not determined against particularizing any person in this paper, I should here quote the example of an actor, whose untimely death every friend of the drama must deplore, and whose good sense I might appeal to in confirmation of my advice. he must oppose to these attacks of extravagant applause or illiberal defamation; for gentlemen of wit and pleasantry find so much amusement in sporting with the feelings of actors that they will write; and there is a figure called hyperbole much in fashion amongst them, the excellent property of which figure is that it cuts both ways-virtus ejus ex diverso par augendi atque minuendi. Now although the hyperbole is a figure of freedom, and has certain privileges that go beyond credibility, yet I have the authority of Quinctilian to say that it has bounds, on the outside of truth, I confess, but still within reason:Quamvis enim est omnis hyperbole ultra fidem; non tamen esse debet ultra modum.—An actor, therefore, will do wisely to put no faith in such a double-tongued figure, nor form any acquaintance with those who are in the daily use of it. If he would have better authority for the advice I give him, let him turn to his books, and he will not find a writer of eminence, either ancient or modern, that will not tell him slander is a tax on merit. I shall instance only one of each, because I will not burden him with quotations. The first of these is Tacitus, a writer of unquestionable authority, and one who has left as good receipts for wholesome judgment in all worldly affairs as any man whatever his maxim, indeed, is short, for he makes no waste of words on any occasion. Speaking of certain libellous publications, he observes-Spreta exolescunt; si irascare, agnita videntur; which may be thus rendered:-Contempt disarms abuse; resent, and you adopt it. The other which I shall adduce is the judicious and amiable Mr. Addison, who is rather more diffusive on the subject, but concludes his opinion with this recommendation of the prescription above-mentioned-" That it his own innocence, and without which it is impossible for a man of any merit or figure to live at peace with himself, in a country that abounds with wit and liberty." (SPECT. No. 355.) Of this, above all things, every actor may as-is a piece of fortitude, which every man owes to sure himself, that there is no calling or profession in life that can less endure the distractions of intemperance and dissipation. A knowledge of the world, no doubt, is necessary to him, and he must therefore take his share in society, but there is no other introduction into the best company but by meriting a place in it; and as for vulgar fellowships and connections, where a man is to act the "pleasant fellow" and set the table in a roar, if he has not the spirit and discretion to decline them, he will soon find his professional talents sacrificed to his convivial ones; if he does not reserve all his exertions for his art, nature must sink under double duty, and the most that he can obtain in return will be pity. An eminent actor should resolve to fortify himself against the many personal attacks which, in the present times, he is to expect from friends as well as foes: by the former I mean those friends whose ill-judged applauses are as dangerous to his repose as calumny itself. That proper sense of himself which holds a middle place between diffidence and arrogance is what When I have said this, I am free to own, that it is an act of aggravated cruelty to attack a man whose profession lays him so continually at mercy, and who has fewer defences than other men to resort to. An actor has a claim upon the public for their protection, whose servant he is; and he ought to be dear to every man, in particular, whose heart he has dilated with benevolence or lightened with festivity: if we are grateful to the surgeon who assuages the pain of a festering sore or draws even a thorn from our flesh, should we not remember him with kindness who heals our heart of its inquietude, and cheers those hours with gayety and innocence which we might else have devoted to gloominess or guilt? If an actor has these claims upon the world at large, what ought he not to expect from the poet in particular? The poet's arms should be |