of his rival, the human hound, in another entertain

ment.

"Thus I have brought my Hercules through his twelve capital enterprises; though I purpose to touch upon some other of the Grecian hero's achievements. I shall make him kill Cacus the three headed robber, and shall carry him to Mount Caucasus to untie Prometheus, whose liver was continually preyed upon by a vulture. This last mentioned incident I cannot pass over, as I am resolved that my vulture shall vie, in bulk, beauty, and docility, with the so much applauded stupendous Ostrich and towards the end I doubt not but I shall be able to triumph over the Sorcerer's great gelding by the exhibition of my Centaur Nessus, who is to carry off the little woman that weighs no more than twenty-three pounds, in the character of Deianira; a burthen great enough for the ostler who is to play the brute half of my Centaur, as his back must be bent horizontally, in order to fix his head against the rump of the man-half.

"The whole piece will conclude with Harlequin in a bloody shirt, skipping, writhing, and rolling, and at length expiring, to the irregular motions of the fiddle-stick: though if any of the fire offices will insure the house, he shall mount the kindred pile, and be burned to ashes in the presence of the whole audience.

"Intrigue is the soul of these dumb shows, as well as of the more senseless farces: Omphale therefore, or Deianira, must serve for my Columbine; and I can so far wrest the fable to my own purpose as to suppose that these dangers were encountered by Harlequin for their sakes. Eristheus, the persecutor of Hercules, will be properly characterized by Pantaloon, and the servant whose business it is, as Homer says, "to shake the regions of the gods with laughter," shall be the wonderful little Norfolkman,

as in all books of chivalry you never read of a giant but you are told of a dwarf. The fellow with Stentorian lungs, who can break glasses and shatter window panes with the loudness of his vociferation, has engaged in that one scene, where Hercules laments the loss of his Hylas, to make the whole house ring again with his bawling; and the wonderful man who talks in his belly, and can fling his voice into any part of a room, has promised to answer him in the character of Echo.

"I cannot conclude without informing you that I have made an uncommon provision for the necessary embellishments of singing and dancing. Grim Pluto, you know, the black peruked monarch, must bellow in bass, and the attendant devils cut capers in flame coloured stockings, as usual; but as Juno cherished an immortal hatred to our hero, she shall descend in a chariot drawn by peacocks, and thrill forth her rage; Deianira too shall vent her amorous sighs to soft airs: the Amazons with their gilt leather breastplates and helmets, their tin-pointed spears and looking glass shields, shall give you the Pyrrhic dance to a preamble on the kettledrums; and at Omphale's court, after Hercules has resigned his club to celebrate her triumph, I shall introduce a grand dance of distaffs in emulation of the witches' dance of broomsticks. Nothing of this kind shall be omitted, that may heighten either the grandeur or beauty of my entertainment: I shall therefore, I hope, find a place somewhere in this piece, as I cannot now have the wire dancer to bring on my dancing bears.

No. 4. SATURDAY, NOV. 18, 1752.

Ficta voluptatis causá sint proxima veris.

HOR.

Fictions to please should wear the face of truth.

Rosc.

No species of writing affords so general entertainment as the relation of events; but all relations of events do not entertain in the same degree.

It is always necessary that facts should appear to be produced in a regular and connected series, that they should follow in a quick succession, and yet that they should be delivered with discriminating circumstances. If they have not a necessary and apparent connexion, the ideas which they excite obliterate each other, and the mind is tantalized with an imperfect glimpse of innumerable objects that just appear and vanish; if they are too minutely related, they become tiresome; and if divested of all their circumstances, insipid; for who that reads in a table of chronology or an index that a city was swallowed up by an earthquake, or a kingdom depopulated by a pestilence, finds either his attention engaged, or his curiosity gratified?

Those narratives are most pleasing which not only excite and gratify curiosity, but engage the passions.

History is a relation of the most natural and important events: history therefore gratifies curiosity, but it does not often excite either terror or pity; the mind feels not that tenderness for a falling state which it feels for an injured beauty; nor is it so much alarmed at the migration of barbarians who mark their way with desolation, and fill the world with violence and rapine, as at the fury of a husband,

who, deceived into jealousy by false appearances, stabs a faithful and affectionate wife, kneeling at his feet, and pleading to be heard.

Voyages and travels have nearly the same excellences and the same defects: no passion is strongly excited except wonder; or if we feel any emotion at the danger of the traveller, it is transient and languid, because his character is not rendered sufficiently important; he is rarely discovered to have any excellences but daring curiosity; he is never the object of admiration, and seldom of esteem.

Biography would always engage the passions if it could sufficiently gratify curiosity: but there have been few among the whole human species whose lives would furnish a single adventure; I mean such a complication of circumstances as hold the mind in an anxious yet pleasing suspense, and gradually unfold in the production of some unforeseen and important event; much less such a series of facts as will perpetually vary the scene, and gratify the fancy with new views of life.

But nature is now exhausted; all her wonders have been accumulated, every recess has been explored, deserts have been traversed, Alps climbed, and the secrets of the deep disclosed; time has been compelled to restore the empires and the heroes of antiquity; all have passed in review; yet fancy requires new gratifications, and curiosity is still unsatisfied.

The resources of art yet remain: the simple beauties of nature, if they cannot be multiplied, may be compounded, and an infinite variety produced, in which by the union of different graces both may be heightened, and the coalition of different powers may produce a proportionate effect.

The epic poem at once gratifies curiosity and moves the passions; the events are various and im

portant; but it is not the fate of a nation, but of the hero in which they terminate, and whatever concerns the hero engages the passions; the dignity of his character, his merit, and his importance, compel us to follow him with reverence and solicitude, to tremble when he is in danger, to weep when he suffers, and to burn when he is wronged; with these vicissitudes of passion every heart attends Ulysses in his wanderings, and Achilles to the field.

be con

Upon this occasion the old romance may sidered as a kind of epic, since it was intended to produce the same effect upon the mind nearly by the

same means.

In both these species of writing, truth is apparently violated: but though the events are not always produced by probable means, yet the pleasure arising from the story is not much lessened; for fancy is still captivated with variety, and passion has scarce leisure to reflect that she is agitated with the fate of imaginary beings, and interested in events that never happened.

The novel, though it bears a nearer resemblance to truth, has yet less power of entertainment; for it is confined within the narrower bounds of probability, the number of incidents is necessarily diminished, and if it deceives us more, it surprises us less. The distress is indeed frequently tender, but the narrative often stands still; the lovers compliment each other in tedious letters and set speeches; trivial circumstances are enumerated with a minute exactness, and the reader is wearied with languid descriptions and impertinent declamations.

But the most extravagant, and yet perhaps the most generally pleasing of all literary performances, are those in which supernatural events are every moment produced by Genii and Fairies: such are the Arabian Nights' Entertainment, the Tales of the