they never fail of obtaining the approbation of the galleries, must be extremely offensive to the politeness of the boxes. The indelicacies I mean are, the frequent and significant wrigglings of Harlequin's tail, and the affront that Pierot is apt to put upon the modesty of Columbine, by sometimes supposing, in his searches for her lover, that she has hid him under her petticoats. That such a supposition would be allowable in comedy, I am very ready to own; the celebrated Mrs. Behn having given us in reality what is here only supposed. In a play of that delicate lady's, the wife, to conceal the gallant from her husband, not only hides him under her petticoats, but, as Trulla did by Hudibras, straddles over him, and, holding her husband in discourse, walks backwards with her lover to the door; where, with a genteel love-kick, she dismisses him from his hiding-place. But that the chaste Columbine should be suspected of such an indelicacy, or that Pierot should be so audacious as to attempt the examination of premises so sacred, is a solecism in Pantomime. Another impurity that gives me almost equal offence is Harlequin's tapping the neck or bosom of his mistress, and then kissing his fingers. I am apprehensive that his behaviour is a little bordering upon wantonness; which, in the character of Harlequin, who is a foreigner, and a fine gentleman, and every thing agreeable, is as absurd as it is immodest.

When these reformations can be brought about, every body must allow that a Pantomime will be a most rational and instructive entertainment; and it is to be hoped that none but principal performers will be suffered to have a part in it. How pleased will the town be this winter to read in one of the articles of news in the Public Advertiser, We hear that at each of the theatres royal there is an entire

new Pantomime now in rehearsal, and the principal parts are to be performed by Mr. Garrick, Mr. Woodward, Mr. Mossop, Mrs. Cibber, and Mrs. Pritchard, at Drury-Lane: and at Covent-Garden, by Mr. Quin, Mr. Lun, Mr. Barry, Miss Nossiter, &c.' It is not

to be doubted that a Pantomime so acted would run through a whole season to the politest as well as most crowded audiences. Indeed, I have often wondered at the good-humour of the town, that they can bear to see night after night so elegant an entertainment with only one performer in it of real reputation.

It was very well observed by a person of quality, That if Mr. Addison, Doctor Swift, and Mr. Pope were alive, and were unitedly to write a Pantomime every winter, provided Mr. Garrick and Mrs. Cibber were to do the principal parts, he verily believed there would not be a hundred people at any one rout in town, except it was of a Sunday.' If it be from no other consideration than this, I am for having Pantomimes exhibited to the best advantage: and though we have no such Wits among us as his lordship was pleased to name, we are reckoned to have as good Carpenters as any age has produced; and I take it, that the most striking beauties of pantomimical composition are to be ascribed to the Carpenter, more than to the Wit.

I am, sir,

Your constant reader and most humble servant,

S. W.

No. 44. THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1753.

SIR,

TO MR. FITZ-ADAM.

A JUSTLY-admired poet of our own times, speaking in reference to his art, tells us, that

True wit is nature to advantage dress'd,

What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd.

The same, it is presumed, may be said of almost every kind of writing. Europe is at present so much enlightened, that it is hardly possible to strike out a single notion absolutely new, or which has never been touched upon by somebody before us. Religion, philosophy, and morality in particular, have been so thoroughly canvassed, that such as would treat upon those subjects now have scarce any thing left them, but to set some beaten thought in a different light, and, like a skilful cook, endeavour to make the fare of yesterday palatable again to-day, by a various dressing. If it can be got down and digested, there are always hopes of its conveying some nourishment; and whether it be taken for turtle or venison, pheasant or moor-game, beef or mutton, is not a farthing's matter, so it be relished by the guests. Whether I am possessed of any part of this skill, must be left to the decision of each person's taste. All I dare engage for is, that no unwholesome ingredient shall enter into my composition; and if, on the one hand, it should be insipid, on the other, it shall be as harmless as a bit of dry bread.

But to my subject. The comparison of man's life to a journey, and the conclusions usually drawn from

thence, are not the less true for being trite and common. When we reflect, that to be excessively anxious for the wealth, honours, and pleasures of this transitory world, is just as ridiculous as it would be to torment ourselves because our accommodations at an inn (which we are to quit the next morning) are not sufficiently sumptuous, the aptness of the allusion stares us in the face: the assent is extorted while the mind dwells upon it: and people of every persuasion, however they may disagree in other propositions, concur in this, as in a self-evident axiom.

Yet herein do we resemble the case of him, who is said in scripture to behold his figure in a glass, but straight forgetteth what manner of man he was; and, as if a fatality hung over us, our memories are still found worst, in the matter that concerns us most; namely, in the acquisition of tranquillity, that summum bonum on this side the grave. A heathen could tell us, that this inestimable treasure lies at our feet; but that we giddily stumble over it, in the pursuit of bubbles. On these we bestow all our strenuous exertions; the other has only indolent wishes.

But if we are candidates in earnest for this temporal felicity, and which at the same time leads by the smoothest road to the celestial, the first step should be to discover what that is, which opposes and excludes it and as it is utterly impossible that two contraries should peaceably inhabit the same breast, let us resolve to drive out the aggressor.

That perturbations of every kind are capital enemies to tranquillity, speaks itself: but it may require some scrutiny to discern that the common parent from whence most of these proceed is pride. I say, most of these; for if want, pain, fear, and intemperance be excepted, it is presumed that few obstacles to serenity can be imagined, which are not fairly deducible from this single vice.

The inimitable Mr. Addison, in one of his Spectators, mentions guilt and atheism, as the only warrantable precluders of cheerfulness; nor is it here intended to controvert his superior judgment: this being merely an essay to prove that Pride is the great source from whence almost every other species of guilt flows. And as for atheism, it may, I think, without much torturing the argument, be placed to the same account.

But let us first try the truth of this proposition, upon actual or practical vices, as distinguished from speculative errors; and thence discover to what degree they may be said to hold of this lady paramount; consequently, how far we are indebted to her for the miseries which fill the world with complaints.

Sickness, pain, fear, want, and intemperance, have already been excepted, as productive of disorders in the soul, which derive not immediately from this origin at least, it can hardly with propriety be said, that a person is proud of a disease, of cowardice, or of indigence; though it has been observed, that some have had the preposterous folly to glory in being lewd, a drunkard, or a glutton.

Whether human nature be capable of bearing up with cheerfulness and indolence against these evils (from what cause soever arising) is a question foreign to the present business, which is to excite every thinking person strictly to examine the catalogue of vices, one by one; and then to ask his own heart what resemblance they bear to the prolific parent here assigned them; and it is presumed, that nothing more is necessary than the holding up the progeny to view, in order to ascertain their descent.

It may be gathered from the most authentic testimony, that her first-born was Ambition; brought to light in the days of your namesake Adam, and ever since, whether clad in a red coat, and armed with a