Chapter I: Part 1

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.

There is a small _Island_ on the Coast of _Denmark_, in which there are five Towns; the Lord of this Place was very poor, rather because he coveted much, than that he wanted any Thing. God has afflicted the Inhabitants with a general Inclination in them all to be _Projectors_, so that the Land seemed to be infested with as many Monsters as there were Men: So prodigious was the natural Proneness to projecting in that Country, that the very sucking Babes cried out _Project_, before they could say _Papa_ or _Mamma_; the whole island was a confused Chaos, for Man and Wife, Father and Son, Neighbour and Neighbor, were ever jangling about their Projects, and they were as intoxicated with them as if they had been drunk with Wine. The Lord of this Place ordered a general Examination of all _Projects_. Legions of _Projectors_ assembled before his Palace with Skrips and Scrolls of Paper stuck in their Girdles, run through their Button-holes, and peeping through their Pockets. The Lord having made known his Wants, demanded their Assistance; and they all at once laying hold of their Papers, and crowding till they had almost stifled one another, in an Instant heap'd up four Tables with their Memoirs. The first Paper he cast his Eyes on was, _How to raise an unmeasurable Treasure by Subscription of all that Men are worth, and yet inrich them by taking it away. The first Part_, quoth the Lord, _of taking from all Men, I like; but as to the second, which is to inrich them by taking it away, I am dubious of, yet let them look to that_. He looked over a Multitude of others. In the mean Time the Projectors quarrelled, each approving his own Scheme, and condemning the rest; and they grew so Scurrilous, they called one another _Sons of Projectors_ instead of _Sons of Whores_. The Lord commanded Peace, and being tempted with their Offers, receiv'd and allow'd several of their Proposals: Whereupon they all swore they would stand by him in all Extremities. A few Days after, the Lord's Servants came out, and cried the Palace was on Fire in three several Places, and the Wind blew high. The Lord was in a great Consternation; the Projectors gathered about him, bid him sit still, and be easy, and they would set all to Rights in a Moment; Upon which they fell to Work, and laid their Hands on all they found in the House, casting every Thing of Value out at the Windows; others with Sledges threw down a Tower; others cried the Fire would cease, as soon as it had Vent, and fell to unroofing the House; and so destroy'd the whole Structure they were called to save. None endeavoured to extinguish the Fire; they were all busy in confounding every Thing they could grasp. At length the Smoak decreased, and the Lord, going out, perceived that the common People had master'd the Fire, while the Projectors had demolished his Palace, and destroyed his Furniture: Incens'd and raging at this Sight, he cried out, _Rogues, you are worse than the Fire, and so are all your Projects; it were better I had been burnt, than to have given Ear to your destructive Counsels. You overturn a whole House, least a Corner of it should fall; you feed a Prince with his own Limbs, and pretend to maintain him, when he is devouring himself. Villains, justly did the Fire come to burn me, for suffering you to live; but, when it perceived me in the Power of Projectors, it ceased, concluding I was already consumed. Fire is the most merciful of Projectors, for Water quenches it; but you increase in spight of all the Elements_. Princes may be poor; but when they once have to do with Projectors, they cease to be Princes, to avoid being poor.

* * * * *

Printed for W. BOREHAM, at the _Angel_ in _Pater-Noster-Row_, where Advertisements and Letters from Correspondents are taken in.

Numb. XXII

THE

THEATRE.

By Sir _JOHN FALSTAFFE_.

_To be Continued every_ Tuesday _and_ Saturday.

Price Two-pence.

_Quos_ Jupiter _vult perdere, dementat prius._

Saturday, _April 30. 1720._

It is common with Authors of my Rank to give themselves Airs of Consequence, when they assume a Right of correcting, or reforming, the Vices, or Follies of the Age. The late Sir _John Edgar_, of obscure Memory, pretended to define a Sort of Men whom he called _wrong-headed_, and has told two or three Stories by Way of Examples, from whence he wou'd have you think, that a Slip of Memory, is an Error in Judgment; as you may see in his Instance of the Foot Soldier, who robbed the Gentleman, and forgetting that he had put the Things into his own Pockets, afterwards changed Coats with the Gentleman, and by that Means put him again in Possession of whatever he before had robbed him. Without any Malice to Sir _John's_ Remaines, I shall beg Leave to observe, that the Term _wrong-headed_ more properly belongs to him, who has an ill Turn of thinking, and judging, than to him who commits a careless Oversight, which is common to Men of the best Parts. My Reason for introducing this, is, from some Reflections that I have made on the Subject of my last Paper; by which it appears to me that there are Multitudes of this Sort of People in the World, pursuing Fortune in a very giddy Way. I suppose it will be thought ridiculous, to call him _wrong-headed_, who by any Artifice shall improve his Estate; yet when the Misfortunes of others, and those by much the greater Number, and a Decay of Trade are put in Ballance against that Artifice, I doubt this Charge must be somewhere, tho' I am not cunning enough to tell where. As I see but little Company, and retire for my Ease and the Improvement of my Studies; I was deeply ingaged in Thought the other Night upon this Topick, and in made such a strong Impression upon me, that it produced a very odd Dream. As it is the Weakness of Women, and old Men, to be fond of telling their Dreams to their Friends, I hope my Readers will excuse me this Infirmity of my Age.