proportions, and in such due time,, that I could not forbear conceiving hopes of his being one day a most excellent player. I saw indeed but two things wanting to render his whole action complete; I mean the keeping his head a little lower, and hiding his candle. "I observe that Mr PowELL and the undertakers of the opera had both the same thought, and I think much about the same time, of introducing animals on their several stages, though indeed with very different success. The sparrows and chaffinches at the Hay-Market fly as yet very irregularly over the stage; and instead of perching on the trees, and performing their parts, these young actors either get into the galleries, or put out the can dles; whereas Mr POWELL has so well disciplined his. pig, that in the first scene he and Punch dance a minuet together. I am informed, however, that Mr POWELL resolves to excel his adversaries in their own way; aud introduce larks in his next opera of SUSANNA, or Innocence Betrayed, which will be exhibited next week with a pair of new elders. "The moral of Mr PowELL's drama is violated, I confess, by Punch's national reflections on the French, and King HARRY's laying his leg upon the Queen's lap. in too ludierous. a manner before so great an assembly.. "As to the mechanism and scenery, every thing indeed was uniform and of a piece, and the scenes were managed very dexterously; which calls on me to take notice, that at the Hay-Market the undertakers forgetting to change the side-scenes, we were presented with a prospect of the ocean in the midst of a delightful grove; and though the gentlemen on the stage had very much. contributed to the beauty of the grove, by walking up and down between the trees, I must own I was not a little astonished to see a well dressed young fellow, in a. full-bottomed wig, appear in the midst of the sea, and without any visible concern taking snuff. I shall only observe one thing farther, in which botli dramas agree; which is, that by the squeak of their voices the heroes of each are eunuchs; and as the wit in. both pieces is equal, I must prefer the performance of Mr POWELL, because it is in our own language. R.. I am, &c,” NO. 15.-SATURDAY, MARCH 17. 1710-1711. [BY ADDISON.] Parva leves capiunt animos Light minds are pleas'd with trifles. OVID. ARS AM. i. 159. VANITY OF WOMEN, ERRONEOUS ESTIMATE OF HAPPINESS. WHEN I was in France, I used to gaze with great astonishment at the splendid equipages and party-coloured habits of that fantastic nation. I was one day in particular contemplating a lady that sat in a coach adorned with gilded Cupids, and finely painted with the loves of VENUS and ADONIS. The coach was drawn by six milk-white horses, and loaded behind with the same number of powdered footmen. Just before the lady were a couple of beautiful pages, that were stuck among the harness, and, by their gay dresses and smiling features, looked like the elder brothers of the little boys that were carved and painted in every corner of the coach. The lady was the unfortunate CLEANTHE, who afterwards gave an occasion to a pretty melancholy novel. She had for several years received the addresses of a gentleman, whom after a long and intimate acquaintance she forsook, upon the account of this shining equipage, which had been offered to her by one of great riches, but a crazy constitution. The circumstances in which I saw her were, it seems, the disguises only of a broken heart, and a kind of pageantry to cover distress; for in two months after she was carried to her grave with the same pomp and magnificence; being sent thither partly by the loss of one lover, and partly by the possession of another.. I have often reflected with myself on this unaccountable humour in womankind, of being smitten with every thing that is showy and superficial; and on the numberless evils that befal the sex from this light, fantastical disposition. I myself remember a young lady that was very warmly solicited by a couple of importunate rivals, who, for several months together, did all they could to recommend themselves, by complacency of behaviour, and agreeableness of conversation. At length, when the competition was doubtful, and the lady undetermined in her choice, one of the young lovers very luckily bethought himself of adding a supernumerary lace to his liveries; which had so good an effect, that he married her the very week after. gown The usual conversation of ordinary women very much cherishes this natural weakness of being taken with outside and appearance. Talk of a new married couple, and you immediately hear whether they keep their coach and six, or eat in plate: mention the name of an absent lady, and it is ten to one but you learn something of her and petticoat. A ball is a great help to discourse, and a birthday furnishes conversation for a twelvemonth after. A furbelow of precious stones, a hat buttoned with a diamond, a brocade waistcoat or petticoat, are standing. topics. In short, they consider only the drapery of the species, and never cast away a thought on those ornaments of the mind, that make persons illustrious in themselves and useful to others. When women are thus perpetually dazzling one another's imaginations, and filling their heads with nothing but colours, it is no wonder that they are more attentive to the superficial parts of life than the solid and substantial blessings of it. A girl who has been trained up in this kind of conversation, is in danger of every embroidered coat that comes in her way. A pair of fringed gloves may be her ruin. In a word, lace and ribands, silver and gold galloons, with the like glittering gewgaws, are so many lures to women of weak minds and low educations, and when artificially displayed are able to fetch down the most airy coquette from the wildest of her flights and rambles. True happiness is of a retired nature, and an enemy to pomp and noise: it arises, in the first place, from the enjoyment of one's self; and in the next, from the friendship and conversation of a few select companions: it loves shade and solitude, and naturally haunts groves and foun. tains, fields and meadows: in short, it feels every thing. it wants within itself, and receives no addition from multitudes of witnesses and spectators. On the contrary, false happiness loves to be in a crowd, and to draw the eyes of the world upon her.. She does not receive any satisfaction from the applauses which she gives herself, but from the admiration which she raises in others. She flourishes in courts and palaces, theatres and assemblies, and has no existence but when she is looked upon. AURELIA, though a woman of great quality, delights in the privacy of a country life,, and passes away a great part of her time in her own walks and gardens. Her husband, who is her bosom friend and companion in her. solitudes, has been in love with her ever since he knew her. They both abound with good sense, consummate virtue, and a mutual esteem; and are a perpetual entertainment to one another. Their family is under so regular an e conomy, in its hours of devotion and repast,.employment. and diversion, that it looks like a little commonwealth within itself. They often go into company, that they may return with the greater delight to one another; and sometimes live in town, not to enjoy it so properly as to grow weary of it, that they may renew in themselves the relish of a country life. By this means they are happy. in each other, beloved by their children, adored by their. servants, and are become the envy or rather the delight of all that know them. How different to this is the life of FULVIA! She considers her husband as her steward, and looks upon discretion and good housewifery as little domestic virtues, unbecoming a woman of quality. She thinks life lost in her own family, and fancies herself out of the world when she is not in the ring, the playhouse, or the drawing-room. She lives in a perpetual motion of body and restlessness of thought, and is never easy in any one place when she thinks there is more company in another. The missing of an opera the first night would be more afflicting to her than the death of a child.. She pitics, all the valuable part of her own sex, and calls every wo man of a prudent, modest, retired life, a poor-spirited and unpolished creature. What a mortification would it be to FULVIA if she knew that her setting herself ta view is but exposing herself, and that she grows contemptible by being conspicuous? I cannot conclude my paper without observing that VIR CL has very finely touched upon this female passion for dress and show in the character ofCAMILLA; who, though. she seems to have shaken off all the other weaknesses of her sex, is still described as a woman in this particular. The poet tells us, that after having. made a great slaughter of the enemy,, she unfortunately cast her eye on a Trojan, who wore an embroidered tunic, a beautiful coat of mail, with a mantle of the finest purple, "A. golden bow (says he) hung upon his shoulder; bis garment was buckled with a golden clasp, and his head covered with a helmet of the same shining metal." The Amazon immediately singled out this well-dressed warrior, being seized with a woman's longing for the pretty trappings that he was adorned with: -Totumque incauta per agmen Fæmineo prædæ et spoliorum ardebat amore. EN. xi. 782. This heedless pursuit after these glittering trifles, the poet, by a nice concealed moral, represents to have been the destruction of his female hero. NO. 16.—MONDAY, MARCH 19. 1710-1T. [BY ADDISON.] Quid verum atque decens curo et rogo, et omnis in hoc sum. What right, what true, what fit we justly call, Ca GENERAL, NOT INDIVIDUAL FOLLY AND VICE, THE SPEC I HAVE received a letter, desiring me to be very satirical. upon the little muff that is now in fashion; another informs me of a pair of silver garters buckled below the knee, that have been lately, seen at the Rainbow coffeehouse in Fleet-Street; a third sends me a heavy conplaint against fringed gloves. To be brief, there is scarce an ornament of either sex which one or other of my correspondents has not inveighed aganist with some bitterness, and recommended to my observation. 1mult |
