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his throne. Homer afterwards defcribes Vulcan as pouring down a storm of fire upon the river Xanthus, and Minerva as throwing a rock at Mars; who, he tells us, covered seven acres in his fall. As Homer has introduced into his battle of the gods every thing that is great and terrible in nature, Milton has filled his fight of good and bad angels with all the like circumstances of horror. The thout of armies, the rattling of brazen chariots, the hurling of rocks and mountains, the earthquake, the fire, the thunder, are all of them employed to lift up the reader's imagination, and give him a fuitable idea of fo great an action. With what art has the poet reprefented the whole body of the earth trembling, even before it was created!

All heaven

Notwithstanding the Meffiah appears cloathed with fo much terror and majefty, the poet has still found means to make his readers conceive an idea of him, beyond what he himself is able to defcribe.

Yet half his ftrength he put not forth, but check'd

His thunder in mid volley; for he meant Not to destroy, but root them out of heaven.

In a word, Milton's genius, which was fo great in itfelf, and fo ftrengthened by all the helps of learning, ap pears in this book every way equal to his fubject, which was the moft fublime that could enter into the thoughts of a poet. As he knew all the arts of affecting the mind, he knew it was neceffary to give it certain resting-places

Refounded, and had earth been then, all earth and opportunities of recovering itfelf Had to her centre fhook

In how fublime and just a manner does he afterwards defcribe the whole heaven fhaking under the wheels of the Meffiah's chariot, with that exception to the throne of God!

-Under his burning wheels The ftedfaft Empyrean fhook throughout, All but the throne itself of God

from time to time: he has therefore with great addrefs interfperfed feveral speeches, reflections, fimilitudes, and the like reliefs, to diverfify his narration, and eafe the attention of the reader, that he might come fresh to his great action, and by fuch a contraft of ideas, have a more lively taste of the nobler parts of his defcription

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N° CCCXXXIV. MONDAY, MARCH 24.

-VOLUISTI, IN SUO GENERE, UNUMQUEMQUE NOSTRUM QUASI QUEN DAM ESSE ROSCIUM, DIXISTIQUE NON TAM EA QUÆ RECTA ESSENT PROBARI, QUAM QUE PRAVA SUNT FASTIDIIS ADHÆRESCERE.

CICERO DE GESTU.

YOU WOULD HAVE EACH OF US BE A KIND OF ROSCIUS IN HIS WAY; AND YOU HAVE SAID, THAT MEN ARE NOT SO MUCH PLEASED WITH WHAT IS RIGHT, AS DISGUSTED AT WHAT IS WRONG.

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IT is very natural to take for our

whole lives a light impreffion of a thing, which at first fell into contempt with us for want of confideration. The real ufe of a certain qualification (which the wifer part of mankind look upon as at belt an indifferent thing, and generally a frivolous circumftance) fhews the ill confequence of fuch prepoffeffions. What I mean, is the art, fkill, accomplishment, or whatever you will call it, of dancing. I knew a gentleman of great abilities, who bewailed the want of this part of his education to the end of a very honourable life. He obferved

that there was not occafion for the com mon ufe of great talents; that they are but feldom in demand; and that these very great talents were often rendered useless to a man for want of finall attainments. A good mien (a becoming motion, gefture and afpect) is natural to fome men; but even these would be highly more graceful in their carriage, if what they do from the force of nature were confirmed and heightened from the force of reaton. To one who has not at all confidered it, to mention the force of reaton on fuch a fubject, will appear fantastical; but when have a little attended to it, an affembly

you

affembly of men will have quite another view: and they will tell you, it is evident from plain and infallible rules, why this man with thofe beautiful features and well-fashioned perfon, is not fo agreeable as he who fits by him without any of thofe advantages. When we read we do it without any exerted act of memory that prefents the fhape of the letters; but habit makes us do it mechanically, without ftaying, like children, to recollect and join those letters. A man who has not had the regard of his gesture in any part of his education, will find himself unable to act with freedom before new company, as a child that is but now learning would be to read without hesitation. It is for the advancement of the pleasure we receive in being agreeable to each other in ordinary life, that one would wish dancing were generally understood as conducive as it really is to a proper deportment in matters that appear the mott remote from it. A man of learning and fenfe is diftinguished from others as he is fuch, though he never runs upon points too difficult for the reft of the world; in like manner the reaching out of the arm, and the most ordinary motion, discovers whether a man ever learnt to know what is the true harmony and compofure of his limbs and countenance. Whoever has feen Booth, in the character of Pyrrhus, march to his throne to receive Oreftes, is convinced that majestic and great conceptions are expreffed in the very ftep; but perhaps, though no other man could perform that incident as well as he does, he himself would do it with a yet greater elevation, were he a dancer. This is fo dangerous a fubject to treat with gravity, that I fhall not at prefent enter into it any further; but the author of the following letter has treated it in the effay he speaks of in fuch a manner, that I am beholden to him for a refolution, that I will never hereafter think meanly of any thing, until I have heard what they who have another opinion of it have to fay in it's defence.

MR. SPECTATOR,

SINCE there are fcarce any of the

arts and fciences that have not been recommended to the world by the pens of fome of the profeffors, mafters, or lovers of them, whereby the usefulness, excellence, and benefit arifing from

them, both as to the fpeculative and practical part, have been made public, to the great advantage and improvement of fuch arts and fciences; why should dancing, an art celebrated by the ancients in fo extraordinary a manner, be totally neglected by the moderns, and left deftitute of any pen to recommend it's various excellencies and fubftantial merit to mankind?

The low ebb to which dancing is now fallen, is altogether owing to this filence. The art is efteemed only as an amusing trifle; it lies altogether uncultivated, and is unhappily fallen under the imputation of illiterate and mechanic and as Terence, in one of his prologues, complains of the rope-dancers drawing all the spectators from his play, fo may we well fay, that capering and tumbling is now preferred to, and fupplies the place of juft and regular danc ing on our theatres. It is therefore, in my opinion, high time that fome one fhould come to it's affiftance, and relieve it from the many grofs and growing errors that have crept into it, and overcaft it's real beauties; and to fet dancing in it's true light, would fhew the use fulness and elegancy of it, with the pleafure and inftruction produced from it: and alfo lay down fome fundamental rules, that might fo tend to the improvement of it's profeffors, and information of the fpectators, that the first might be the better enabled to perform, and the latter rendered more capable of judging, what is (if there be any thing) valuable in this art.

To encourage, therefore, fome ingenious pen capable of fo generous an undertaking, and in fome meafure to relieve dancing from the difadvantages it at prefent lies under, I, who teach to dance, have attempted a small treatise as an effay towards an hiftory of dancing; in which I have enquired into it's antiquity, original, and use, and fhewn what efteem the ancients had for it: I have likewife confidered the nature and perfection of all it's feveral parts, and how beneficial and delightful it is, both as a qualification and an exercise; and endeavoured to answer all objections that have been maliciously raised against it. I have proceeded to give an account of the particular dances of the Greeks and Romans, whether religious, warlike, or civil; and taken particular notice of that part of dancing relating to

the

the ancient stage, and in which the pantomimes had fo great a fhare; nor have I been wanting in giving an hiftorical account of fome particular mafters excellent in that furprising art. After which I have advanced fome obfervations on the modern dancing, both as to the ftage, and that part of it, fo abfolutely neceffary for the qualification of gentlemen and ladies; and have concluded with some fhort remarks on the origin and progrefs of the character by which dances are writ down, and communicated to one master from another. If fome great genius after this would arife, and advance this art to that perfection it seems capable of receiving, what might not be expected from it? For if we confider the origin of arts and sciences, we shall find that fome of them took rife from beginnings fo mean and unpromifing, that it is very wonderful to think that ever fuch furprising structures should have been raised upon fuch ordinary foundations. But what cannot a great genius effect? Who would have thought that the clangorous noife of a fmith's hammer fhould have given the first rife to mufic? Yet Macrobius in his fecond book relates that Pythagoras, in paffing by a fmith's fhop, found that the founds proceeding from the hammers were either more grave or acute, according to the different weights of the hammers. The philofopher, to improve this hint, fufpends different weights by ftrings of the fame bignefs, and found in like manner that the founds anfwered to the weights. This being difcovered, he finds out thofe numbers

which produced founds that were confonants: as, that two ftrings of the fame fubftance and tenfion, the one being double the length of the other, gave that interval which is called diapafon, or an eighth; the fame was alfo effected from two ftrings of the fame length and fize, the one having four times the tenfion of the other. By thefe steps, from fo mean a beginning, did this great man reduce, what was only before noife, to one of the most delightful sciences, by marrying it to the mathematics; and by that means caufed it to be one of the most abstract and demonftrative of sciences. Who knows therefore but motion, whether decorous or representative, may not (as it seems highly probable it may) be taken into confideration by fome perfon capable of reducing it into a regular science, though not fo demonftrative as that proceeding from founds, yet fufficient to entitle it to a place among the magnified arts?

Now, Mr. Spectator, as you have declared yourself visitor of dancingfchools, and this being an undertaking which more immediately refpects them, I think myself indifpenfably obliged, before I proceed to the publication of this my effay, to ask your advice, and hold it abfolutely neceffary to have your approbation; and in order to recommend my treatise to the perusal of the parents of fuch as learn to dance, as well as to the young ladies, to whom, as visitor, you ought to be guardian. I am, Sir, your most humble servant, SALOP, MARCH 10, 1711.

T

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N° CCCXXXV. TUESDAY, MARCH 25.

RESPICERE EXEMPLAR VITÆ MORUMQUE JURERO
DOCTUM IMITATOREM, ET VERAS HING DUCERE VOCES.

THESE ARE THE LIKEST COPIES, WHICH ARE DRAWN
FROM THE ORIGINAL OF HUMAN LIFE.

HOR.

ROSCOMMON.

the Committee, which I fhould not have gone to neither, had not I been told before-hand, that it was a good

Y friend Sir Roger de Coverley, when we last met together at the club, told me that he had a great mind to fee the new tragedy with me, affur-Church-of-England comedy. He ing me, at the fame time, that he had not been at a play these twenty years. ! The laft I saw,' faid Sir Roger,

was

then proceeded to enquire of me who this diftreffed mother was; and upon hearing that he was Hector's widow, he told

me

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me that her husband was a brave man, and that when he was a fchool-boy he had read his life at the end of the dictionary. My friend afked me, in the next place, if there would not be fome danger in coming home late, in cafe the Mohocs fhould be abroad. 'I affure you,' fays he, I thought I had fallen into their hands laft night; for I obferved two or three lufty black men that followed me half way up Fleet • Street, and mended their pace behind me, in proportion as I put on to get away from them. You must know,' continued the knight with a fimile, I fancied they had a mind to hunt me; for I remember an honeft gentleman in my neighbourhood, who was ferved fuch a trick in King Charles the Second's time, for which reafon he has · not ventured himfelf in town ever fince. I might have fhewn them very good fport, had this been their defign; for as I am an old fox-hunter, I fhould have turned and dodged, and have played them a thousand tricks they had never feen in their lives before. Sir Roger added, that if thefe gentlemen had any fuch intention, they "did not fucceed very well in it: for I

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threw them out," fays he, at the end of Norfolk Street, where I doubled the corner and got shelter in my lodgings before they could imagine what was become of me. However,' fays the knight, if Captain Sentry will make one with us to-morrow night, and you will both of you call upon me about four o'clock, that we may be at the house before it is full, I will have my own coach in readiness to • attend you, for John tells me he has got the fore-wheels mended.'

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The Captain, who did not fail to meet me there at the appointed hour, bid Sir Roger fear nothing, for that he had put on the fame fword which he made ufe of at the battle of Steenkirk. Sir Roger's fervants, and among the reft my old friend the butler, had, I found, provided themselves with good oaken plants, to attend their mafter upon this occafion. When we had placed him in his coach, with myself at his left-hand, the captain before him, and his butler at the head of his footmen in the rear, we convoyed him in fafety to the play-houfe, where after having marched up the entry in good order, the captain and I went in with

him, and feated him betwixt us in the pit. As foon as the house was full, ftood up and looked about him with and the candles lighted, my old friend with humanity naturally feels in itself, that pleasure, which a mind feasoned at the fight of a multitude of people who seem pleased with one another, and par take of the fame common entertainment. old man ftood up in the middle of the I could not but fancy to myself, as the pit, that he made a very proper center to a tragic audience. ing of Pyrrhus, the knight told me that Upon the enterhe did not believe the King of France himself had a better strut. I was indeed very attentive to my old friend's remarks, because I looked upon them as a piece of natural criticifm, and was well pleased to hear him, at the conclufion of almost every scene, telling play would end. One while he appeared me that he could not imagine how the much concerned for Andromache; and a little while after as much for Hermione; and was extremely puzzled to think what would become of Pyrrhus.

When Sir Roger faw Andromache's obftinate refufal to her lover's importunities, he whispered me in the ear, him; to which he added, with a more that he was fure the would never have than ordinary vehemence—' You can

not imagine, Sir, what it is to have threatening afterwards to leave her, the to do with a widow.' Upon Pyrrhus's knight fhook his head and muttered to part dwelt fo much upon my friend's himself Ay, do if you can.' This imagination, that at the close of the third act, as I was thinking of fomething elfe, he whifpered me in the earThefe widows, Sir, are the most perverfe creatures in the world. But pray,' fays he, 6 you that are a critic, is the play according to your dramatic rules, as you call them? Should your 'people in tragedy always talk to be

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understood? Why, there is not a 'fingle fentence in this play that I do not know the meaning of."

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The fourth act very luckily begun before I had time to give the old gentleknight, fitting down with great fatifman an answer: Well,' fays the faction, I fuppose we are now to fee

Hector's ghoft. He then renewed fell a praifing the widow. He made, his attention, and, from time to time, indeed, a little mistake as to one of her

pages?

pages, whom, at his first entering, he took for Aftyanax; but quickly fet himfelf right in that particular, though, at the fame time, he owned he should have been very glad to have feen the little boy, who, fays he, muft needs be a fine child by the account that is given of him. Upon Hermione's going off with a menace to Pyrrhus, the audience gave a loud clap, to which Sir Roger added On my word, a notable young baggage!'

As there was a very remarkable filence and ftillnefs in the audience during the whole action, it was natural for them to take the opportunity of the intervals between the acts, to exprefs their opinion of the players and of their respective parts. Sir Roger hearing a clufter of them praise Oreftes, ftruck in with them, and told them, that he thought his friend Pylades was a very fenfible man; as they were afterwards applauding Pyrrhus, Sir Roger put in a lecond time: And let me tell you,' fays he, though he speaks but little, I like the old fellow in whiskers as ' well as any of them.' Captain Sentry seeing two or three wags, who fat near us, lean with an attentive ear towards

6

Sir Roger, and fearing left they fhould finoke the knight, plucked him by the elbow, and whifpered fomething in his ear, that lafted till the opening of the fifth act. The knight was wonderfully attentive to the account which Orefte's gives of Pyrrhus's death, and at the conclufion of it, told me it was fuch a bloody piece of work, that he was glad it was not done upon the ftage. Seeing afterwards Oreftes in his raving fit, he grew more than ordinary ferious, and took occafion to moralize (in his way) upon an evil conscience, adding, that Oreftes, in his madness, looked as if he faw fomething.

As we were the first that came into the house, fo we were the last that went out of it; being refolved to have a clear paffage for our old friend, whom we did not care to venture among the juftling of the crowd. Sir Roger went out fully fatisfied with his entertainment, and we guarded him to his lodging in the fame manner that we brought him to the play-houfe; being highly pleased, for my own part, not only with the performance of the excellent piece which had been prefented, but with the fatiffaction which it had given the old man. L

N° CCCXXXVI. WEDNESDAY, MARCH 26.

CLAMENT PERIISSE PUDOREM

CUNCTI PENE PATRES: EA CUM REPREHENDERE CONER,
QUE GRAVIS ESOPUS, QUÆ DOCTUS ROSCIUS EGIT:
VEL QUIA NIL RECTUM, NISI QUOD PLACUIT SIBI, DUCUNT;
VEL QUIA TURPE PUTANT PARERE MINORIBUS, ET QUÆ
IMBERBES DIDICERE, SENES PERDENDA FATERI.

IMITATED.

HOR. EP. I. L. 2. v. 80.

ONE TRAGIC SENTENCE IF I DARE DERIDE,
WHICH BETTERTON'S GRAVE ACTION DIGNIFY'D,
OR WELL-MOUTH'D BOOTH WITH EMPHASIS PROCLAIMS,
(THO' BUT, PERHAPS, A MUSTER-ROLL OF NAMES)
HOW WILL OUR FATHERS RISE UP IN A RAGE,
AND SWEAR, ALL SHAME IS LOST IN GEORGE'S AGE!
YOU'D THINK NO FOOLS DISGRAC'D THE FORMER REIGN,
DID NOT SOME GRAVE EXAMPLES YET REMAIN,
WHO SCORN A LAD SHOULD TEACH HIS FATHER SKILL,
AND, HAVING ONCE BEEN WRONG, WILL BE SO STILL.

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