before. I the recovery of those things which we knew | walking in St. James's park, I heard somebody at a distance hemming after me; and who should it be but my old neighbour the uphol sterer? I saw he was reduced to extreme poverty, by certain shabby superfluities in his dress: for, notwithstanding that it was a very sultry day for the time of the year, he wore a loose great coat and a muff, with a long campaign In pursuance of this scheme, Virgil gives us a view of several souls, who, to prepare themselves for living upon earth, flock about the banks of the river Lethe, and swill themselves with the waters of oblivion. The same scheme gives him an opportunity of making a noble compliment to his country-wig out of curl, to which he had added the orna. men, where Anchises is represented taking a survey of the long train of heroes that are to descend from him, and giving his son Encas an account of all the glories of his race. From my own Apartment, April 5. ment of a pair of black garters buckled under This extraordinary dialogue was no sooner ended, but he began to launch out into a long THERE lived some years since, within my dissertation upon the affairs of the North; and neighbourhood, a very grave person, an uphol- after having spent some time on them, he told sterer, who seemed a man of more than ordi- me, he was in a great perplexity how to renary application to business. He was a very concile the Supplement with the English Post, early riser, and was often abroad two or three and had been just now examining what the hours before any of his neighbours. He had a other papers say upon the same subject. The particular carefulness in the knitting of his Daily Courant,' says he, has these words. brows, and a kind of impatience in all his mo- "We have advices from very good hands, that tions, that plainly discovered he was always in- a certain prince has some matters of great imtent on matters of importance. Upon my in-portance under consideration." This is very quiry into his life and conversation, I found him mysterious: but the Post-boy leaves us more in to be the greatest newsmonger in our quarter: the dark; for he tells us, "That there are private that he rose before day to read the Post-man; intimations of measures taken by a certain and that he would take two or three turns to the prince, which time will bring to light." Now other end of the town before his neighbours the Post-man,' says he, who uses to be very were up, to see if there were any Dutch mails clear, refers to the same news in these words: come in. He had a wife and several children;"The late conduct of a certain prince affords but was much more inquisitive to know what passed in Poland than in his own family, and was in greater pain and anxiety of mind for king Augustus's welfare than that of his nearest relations. He looked extremely thin in a dearth of news, and never enjoyed himself in a westerly wind. This indefatigable kind of life was the ruin of his shop; for, about the time that his favourite prince left the crown of Poland, he broke and disappeared. This man and his affairs had been long out of my mind, until about three days ago, as I was Mr. Arne, an upholsterer in Covent Garden, was, it is said, the original of the politician exposed in this paper. He was the father of Dr. Thomas Augustine Arne, an eminent musician, and a dramatic writer, who died in 1775. great matter of speculation." This certain We were now got to the upper end of the Mall, where were three or four very odd fellows sitting together upon the bench. These I found were all of them politicians, who used to sun themselves in that place every day about dinner-time. Observing them to be curiosities in their kind, and my friend's acquaintance, I sat down among them. The chief politician of the bench was a great asserter of paradoxes. He told us, with a sceming concern, that, by some news he had lately read from Muscovy, it appeared to him that there was a storm gathering in the Black-sea, which might in time do hurt to the naval forces of this nation. To this he added, that for his part, he could not wish to see the Turk driven out of Europe, which he believed could not but be prejudicial to our woollen manufacture.' He then told us, that he looked upon those extraordinary revolutions which had lately happened in those parts of the world, to have risen chiefly from two persons who were not much talked of; and those,' says he, are prince Menzikoff, and the dutchess of Mirandola.' He backed his assertions with so many broken hints, and such a show of depth and wisdom, that we gave our selves up to his opinions. The discourse at length fell upon a point which seldom escapes a knot of true-born Englishmen, whether, in case of a religious war, the Protestants would not be too strong for the Papists? This we unanimously determined on the Protestant side. One who sat on my right hand, and, as I found by his discourse, had been in the West Indies, assured us, 'that it would be a very easy matter for the Protestants to beat the pope at sea; and added, 'that whenever such a war does break out, it must turn to the good of the Leeward Islands.' Upon this, one who sat at the end of the bench, and, as I afterwards found, was the geographer of the company, said, 'that in case the Papists should drive the Protestants from these parts of Europe, when the worst came to the worst, it would be impossible to beat them out of Norway and Greenland, provided the northern crowns hold together, and the czar of Muscovy stand neuter.' He further told us, for our comfort, that there were vast tracts of lands about the pole, inhabited neither by Protestants nor Papists, and of greater extent than all the Roman catholic dominions in Europe.' From my own Apartment, April 7. WE have already described out of Homer the voyage of Ulysses to the infernal shades, with the several adventures that attended it. If we look into the beautiful romance published not many years since by the archbishop of Cambray, we may see the son of Ulysses bound on the same expedition, and after the same manner making his discoveries among the regions of the dead. The story of Telemachus is formed altogether in the spirit of Homer, and will give an unlearned reader a notion of that great poet's manner of writing, more than any translation of him can possibly do. As it was written for the instruction of a young prince who may one day sit upon the throne of France, the author took care to suit the several parts of his story, and particularly the description we are now ontering upon, to the character and quality of his pupil. For which reason, he insists very much on the misery of bad, and the happiness of good kings, in the account he hath given of punishments and rewards in the other world. We may however observe, notwithstanding the endeavours of this great and learned author, to copy after the style and sentiments of Homer, that there is a certain tincture of Christianity running through the whole relation. The prelate in several places mixes himself with the poct; so that his future state puts me in mind of Michael Angelo's 'Last Judgment;' where Charon and his boat are represented as bearing a part in the dreadful solemnitics of that great day. When we had fully discussed this point, my friend the upholsterer began to exert himself Telemachus, after having passed through the upon the present negotiations of peace; in which dark avenues of Death in the retinue of Merhe deposed princes, settled the bounds of king-cury, who every day delivers up a certain tale of doms, and balanced the power of Europe, with great justice and impartiality. I at length took my leave of the company, and was going away; but had not gone thirty yards, before the upholster hemmed again after me. Upon his advancing towards me with a whisper, I expected to hear some secret piece of news, which he had not thought fit to communicate to the bench; but instead of that, he desired me in my ear to lend him half-a-crown. In compassion to so needy a statesman, and to dissipate the confusion I found he was in, I told him, if he pleased, I would give him five shillings, to receive five pounds of him when the great Turk was driven out of Constantinople;' which he very readily accepted, but not before he had laid down to me the impossibility of such an event, as the affairs of Europe now stand. ghosts to the ferryman of Styx, is admitted to the infernal bark. Among the companions of his voyage is the shade of Nabopharzan, a king of Babylon, and tyrant of all the East. Among the ceremonies and pomps of his funeral there were four slaves sacrificed, according to the custom of the country, in order to attend him among the shades. The author, having described this tyrant in the most odious colours of pride, insolence, and cruelty, tells us, that his four slaves, instead of serving him after death, were perpetually insulting him with reproaches and affronts for his past usage; that they spurned him as he lay upon the ground, and forced him to show his face, which he would fain have covered, as lying under all the confusion of guilt and infamy; and in short, that they kept him bound in a chain, in order to drag him be fore the tribunal of the dead. Telemachus, upon looking out of the bark, sees all the strand covered with an innumerable multitude of shades, who, upon his jumping ashore, immediately vanished. He then pursues his course to the palace of Pluto, who is described as seated on his throne in terrible majesty, with Proserpine by his side. At the foot and the odours of a thousand different plants. of his throne was the pale hideous spectre, who, These groves are represented as rising among by the ghastliness of his visage, and the nature a great many flowery meadows, and watered of the apparitions that surround him, discovers with streams that diffuse a perpetual freshness, himself to be Death. His attendants are, Melan- in the midst of an eternal day, and a nevercholy, Distrust, Revenge, Hatred, Avarice, Des-fading spring. This, says the author, was the pair, Ambition, Envy, Impiety, with frightful habitation of those good princes who were Dreams, and waking Cares, which are all drawn very naturally in proper actions and postures. The author, with great beauty, places near his frightful dreams an assembly of phantoms, which are often employed to terrify the living, by appearing in the shape and likeness of the dead. friends of the gods, and parents of the people. Among these, Telemachus converses with the shade of one of his ancestors, who makes a most agreeable relation of the joys of Elysium, and the nature of its inhabitants. The residence of Sesostris among these happy shades, with his character and present employment, is drawn in a very lively manner, and with a great elevation of thought." The description of that pure and gentle light, which overflows these happy regions, and clothes the spirits of these virtuous persons, hath something in it of that enthusiasm which this author was accused of by his enemies in the church of Rome; but, however it may look in religion, it makes a very beautiful figure in poetry. The young hero, in the next place, takes a survey of the different kinds of criminals, that lay in torture among clouds of sulphur, and torrents of fire. The first of these were such as had been guilty of impieties which every one hath a horror for: to which is added a catalogue of such offenders that scarce appear to be faulty in the eyes of the vulgar. Among these, says the author, are malicious critics, that have endeavoured to cast a blemish upon the perfections of others; with whom he likewise places such The rays of the sun, says he, are darkness in as have often hurt the reputation of the inno- comparison with this light, which rather decent, by passing a rash judgment on their ac serves the name of glory, than that of light. tions, without knowing the occasion of them. It pierces the thickest bodies in the same manThese crimes, says he, are more severely pun-ner as the sunbeams pass through crystal. It ished after death, because they generally meet strengthens the sight instead of dazzling it; and with impunity upon earth. nourishes, in the most inward recesses of the Telemachus, after having taken a survey of mind, a perpetual serenity that is not to be exseveral other wretches in the same circumstan-pressed. It enters and incorporates itself with ces, arrives at that region of torments in which the very substance of the soul: the spirits of wicked kings are punished. There are very the blessed feel it in all their senses, and in all fine strokes of imagination in the description their perceptions. It produces a certain source which he gives of this unhappy multitude. He of peace and joy that arises in them, for ever tells us, that on one side of them there stood a running through all the faculties, and refreshrevengeful fury, thundering in their ears inces-ing all the desires of the soul. External pleasant repetitions of all the crimes they had com-sures and delights, with all their charms and mitted upon earth, with the aggravations of am- allurements, are regarded with the utmost inbition, vanity, hardness of heart, and all those secret affections of mind that enter into the composition of a tyrant. At the same time, she holds up to them a large mirror, in which every one sees himself represented in the natural horror and deformity of his character. On the other side of them stands another fury, that, with an insulting derision, repeats to them all the praises that their flatterers had bestowed upon them while they sat upon their respective thrones. She too, says the author, presents a mirror before their eyes, in which every one sees himself adorned with all those beauties and perfections, in which they had been drawn by the vanity of their own hearts, and the flattery of others. To punish them for the wantonness of the cruelty which they formerly exercised, they are now delivered up to be treated according to the fancy and caprice of several slaves, who have here an opportunity of tyrannizing in their turns. The author, having given us a description of these ghastly spectres, who, says he, are always calling upon Death, and are placed under the distillation of that burning vengeance which falls upon them drop by drop, and is ncver to be exhausted, leads us into a pleasing scene of groves, filled with the melody of birds, difference and neglect by these happy spirits, who have this great principle of pleasure within them, drawing the whole mind to itself, calling off their attention from the most delightful objects, and giving them all the transports of inebriation, without the confusion and the folly of it. I have here only mentioned some mastertouches of this admirable piece, because the original itself is understood by the greater part of my readers. I must confess, I take a particular delight in these prospects of futurity, whether grounded upon the probable sugges tions of a fine imagination, or the more severe conclusions of philosophy; as a man loves to hear all the discoveries or conjectures relating to a foreign country which he is, at some time, to inhabit. Prospects of this nature lighten the burden of any present evil, and refresh us under the worst and lowest circumstances of mortality. They extinguish in us both the fear and envy of human grandeur. Insolence shrinks its head, power disappears; pain, poverty, and death fly before them. In short, the mind that is habituated to the lively sense of a hereafter, can hope for what is the most terrifying to the generality of mankind, and rejoice in what is the most afflicting. 6 I must here observe, that the Hautboy is the most perfect of the Flute-species, which, with all the sweetness of the sound, hath a great strength and variety of notes; though at the same time I must observe, that the Hautboy in one sex is as scarce as the Harpsichord in the othen. By the side of the Flute there sat a Flagelet; for so I must call a certain young lady, who, fancying herself a wit, despised the music of the Flute as low and insipid, and would be entertaining the company with tart ill-natured observations, pert fancies, and little turns, which she imagined to be full of life and spirit. The Flagelet therefore doth not differ from the Flute so much in the compass of its notes, as in the shrillness and sharpness of the sound. We must however take notice, that the Flagelets among their own sex are more valued and esteemed than the Flutes. There chanced to be a Coquette in the con I was last night in an assembly of very fine women. How I came among them is of no great importance to the reader. I shall only let him know, that I was betrayed into so good company by the device of an old friend, who had promised to give some of his female acquaintance a sight of Mr. Bickerstaff. Upon hearing my name mentioned, a lady who sat by me, told me, they had brought together a female consort for my entertainment. You must know,' says she, that we all of us look upon ourselves to be musical instruments, though we do not yet know of what kind; which we hope to learn from you, if you will give us leave to play before you.' This was followed by a gen-sort, that, with a great many skittish notes, aferal laugh, which I always look upon as a nefected squeaks, and studied inconsistencies, discessary flourish in the opening of a female continguished herself from the rest of the company. sort. They then struck up together, and played She did not speak a word during the whole a whole hour upon two grounds; viz. the Trial Trial; but I thought she would never have done and the Opera. I could not but observe, that upon the Opera. One while she would break several of their notes were more soft, and several out upon, That hideous king!' then upon 'The more sharp, than any that I ever heard in a charming black-moor!' then, O that dear lion!' male consort; though I must confess, there was then would hum over two or three notes; then run to the window to see what coach was comnot any regard to time, nor any of those rests and pauses which are frequent in the harmony of the other sex: besides that the music was generally full, and no particular instrument permitted to play long by itself. I seemed so very well pleased with what every one said, and smiled with so much complaisance at all their pretty fancies, that though I did not put one word into their discourse, I have the vanity to think, they looked upon me as very agreeable company. I then told them, 'that if I were to draw the picture of so many charming musicians, it should be like one I had scen of the muses, with their several instruments in their hands;' upon which the lady Kettle-drum tossed back her head, and cried, 'A very pretty simile! The consort again revived; in which, with nods, smiles, and approbations, I bore the part rather of one who beats the time, than of a performer. I was no sooner retired to my lodgings, but I ran over in my thoughts the several characters of this fair assembly; which I shall give some account of, because they are various in their kind, and may each of them stand as a sample of a whole species. The person who pleased me most was a Flute, an instrument, that, without any great compass, hath something exquisitely sweet and soft in its sound: it lulls and soothes the ear, and fills it with such a gentle kind of melody, as keeps the mind awake without startling it, and raises a most agreeable passion between transport and indolence. In short, the music of the Flute is the conversation of a mild and amiable woman, that has nothing in it very elevated, nor, at the same time, any thing mean or trivial. ing. The Coquette, therefore, I must distinguish by that musical instrument which is commonly known by the name of a Kit, that is more jiggish than the fiddle itself, and never sounds but to dance. The fourth person who bore a part in the conversation was a Prude, who stuck to the Trial, and was silent upon the whole Opera. The gravity of her censures, and composure of her voice, which were often attended with supercilious casts of the eye, and a seeming contempt for the lightness of the conversation, put me in mind of that ancient, serious, matron-like instrument, the Virginal. I must not pass over in silence a Lancashire Hornpipe, by which I would signify a young country lady, who, with a great deal of mirth and innocence, diverted the company very agreeably; and, if I am not mistaken, by that time the wildness of her notes is a little softened, and the redundancy of her music restrained by conversation and good company, will be improved into one of the most amiable Flutes about the town. Your Romps and boardingschool girls fall likewise under this denomination. On the right hand of the Hornpipe sat a Welsh-Harp, an instrument which very much delights in the tunes of old historical ballads, and in celebrating the renowned actions and exploits of ancient British heroes. By this instrument I therefore would describe a certain lady, who is one of those female historians that upon all occasions enters into pedigrees and descents, and finds herself related, by some offshoot or other, to almost every great family in England: for which reason, she jars and is out The Trial of Dr. Sacheverell,' was a principal topic of tune very often in conversation, for the comof conversation at the time here referred to. pany's want of due attention and respect to her. But the most sonorous part of our consort was | he, 'I betook myself to a Welsh-harp, who rea She-drum, or, as the vulgar call it, a Kettle-jected me with contempt, after having found drum, who accompanied her discourse with mo- that my great-grandmother was a brewer's tions of the body, tosses of the head, and bran. daughter.' dishes of the fan. Her music was loud, bold, and masculine. Every thump she gave alarmed the company, and very often set somebody or other in it a-blushing. The last I shall mention was a certain romantic instrument called a Dulcimer, who talked of nothing but shady woods, flowery meadows, purling streams, larks and nightingales, with all the beauties of the spring, and the pleasures of a country life. This instrument hath a fine melancholy sweetness in it, and goes very well with the Flute. I found by the sequel of my friend's discourse, that he had never aspired to a Hautboy; that he had been exasperated by a Flagelet; and that, to this very day, he pines away for a Flute. Upon the whole, having thoroughly considered how absolutely necessary it is that two instruments, which are to play together for life, should be exactly tuned, and go in perfect consort with each other; I would propose matches between the music of both sexes, according to the following Table of Marriage :' 1. Drum and Kettle-drum. 3. Harpsichord and Hautboy. 6. Trumpet and Welsh-Harp. I think most of the conversable part of womankind may be found under one of the foregoing divisions; but it must be confessed, that the generality of that sex, notwithstanding they have naturally a great genius for being talkative, are not mistresses of more than one note; with which, however, by frequent repetition, they make a greater sound than those who are possessed of the whole Gamut; as may be observed in your Larums or Household-scolds, and in your Castanets or impertinent Tittle-tattles, cient friendship and acquaintance with Mr. Betwho have no other variety in their discourse butterton, and great estcem for his merit, summons that of talking slower or faster. 9. Passing-Bell and Virginal. 'Mr. Bickerstaff, in consideration of his an all his disciples, whether dead or living, mad or tame, Toasts, Smarts, Dappers, Pretty-fellows, musicians or scrapers, to make their appear. ance at the playhouse in the Hay-market on Thursday next, when there will be a play acted for the benefit of the said Betterton.' No. 158.] Thursday, April 13, 1710. Faciunt næ intelligendo, ut nihil intelligant. Ter. While they pretend to know more than others, they know nothing in reality. Upon communicating this scheme of music to an old friend of mine, who was formerly a man of gallantry, and a rover, he told me, that he believed he had been in love with every instrument in my consort. The first that smit him was a Hornpipe, who lived near his father's house in the country; but upon his failing to meet her at an assize, according to appointment, she cast him off. His next passion was for a Kettle-drum, whom he fell in love with at a play; but when he became acquainted with her, not finding the softness of her sex in her conversation, he grew cool to her; though at the same time he could not deny but that she behaved From my own Apartment, April 12. herself very much like a gentlewoman. His TOM FOLIO is a broker in learning, employed third mistress was a Dulcimer, who, he found, to get together good editions, and stock the took great delight in sighing and languishing, libraries of great men. There is not a sale of but would go no farther than the preface of ma- books begins until Tom Folio is seen at the trimony; so that she would never let a lover door. There is not an auction where his name have any more of her than her heart, which is not heard, and that too in the very nick of after having won, he was forced to leave her, as time, in the critical moment, before the last despairing of any further success. I must con- decisive stroke of the hammer. There is not a fess, says my friend, I have often considered subscription goes forward in which Tom is not her with a great deal of admiration; and I find privy to the first rough draught of the proposals; her pleasure is so much in this first step of an nor a catalogue printed, that doth not come to amour, that her life will pass away in dream, him wet from the press. He is a universal solitude, and soliloquy, until her decay of charms scholar, so far as the title page of all authors: makes her snatch at the worst man that ever knows the manuscripts in which they were dis pretended to her. In the next place,' says my covered, 'the editions through which they have friend, 'I fell in love with a Kit, who led me such passed, with the praises or censures which they a dance through all the varieties of a familiar, have received from the several members of the cold, fond, and indifferent behaviour, that the learned world. He has a greater esteem for world began to grow censorious, though without Aldus and Elzevir, than for Virgil and Horace. any cause; for which reason, to recover our If you talk of Herodotus, he breaks out into a reputations, we parted by consent. To mend panegyric upon Harry Stephens. He thinks he my hand, says he, I made my next application gives you an account of an author, when he to a Virginal, who gave me great encourage-tells you the subject he treats of, the name of ment, after her cautious manner, until some the editor, and the year in which it was printed. malicious companion told her of my long passion Or, if you draw him into further particulars, he for the Kit, which made her turn me off as a cries up the goodness of the paper, extols the scandalous fellow. At length, in despair,' says I diligence of the corrector, and is transported 1 |