know perhaps just so much of it as not to wish for a more intimate familiarity with its fashions, will think this same bargain for life a bargain of some

consequence.

The court of Catherine of Medicis, but more particularly that of Anne of Austria, brought the characters of women into much greater consequence and display, than had before been allowed to them: the female genius called forth from its obscurity soon assumed its natural prerogatives: a woman's wit was found the finest engine to cut the knot of intricacy, or if possible to disentangle it: the ladies in that famous regency were no less fitted to direct a council than to adorn a court: the enlightened state of present times, and the refinement of modern manners, have happily discovered, that in the proper intercourse of the sexes are centred all the charms of society: it seems as if a new world had been found out within the limits of the old one: associated as we now are, we are left without excuse when we mistake their characters, or betray them into unsuitable connexions by disguising our own: every unmarried man has time enough to look about him, and opportunities enough for the fullest information: it can be nothing therefore but the misguiding impulse of some sordid and unworthy passion, that can be the moving cause of so many unhappy matches. I will never believe, in the corruption of the present times, though there are as many bills of divorce as bills of inclosure, but that the husband, I will not say in every, but in almost every case, is in the first fault. It were an easy thing to point out a thousand particulars amongst the reigning habits of high life, which seem as if invented by the very demon of seduction, for his own infernal purposes: there is not one of all these habits which a wise man can fail to despise, or an honest man neglect to re

form; no plan so easy as the prevention of them; no system so absurd, so undignified, so destructive of all the pleasures of life, as the system of dissipa

tion.

Look at a man of this sort! He has not even the credit of being a voluptuary; there is not one feature of pleasure in his face: all is languor, nonchalance or ennui. (I help out my description with French, for, thank Heaven! we have yet no words in our language to express it.) The travels of such a man in the purlieus only of St. James's-street and Pall-Mall would suffice to have carried him round the ругаmids of Egypt; he might have visited the ruins of Herculaneum in half the number of paces that he spends in sauntering up to Rotten-row he posts from town to country, as if the fate of Europe depended on his dispatch; he reconnoitres the heels of some favourite hunter, and returns with the same expedition to town; you would think that life or death depended on his speed, and you would not be much out in the guess, for he has just killed so much time, and perhaps a post-horse or two into the bargain. Are we to suppose there is no emulation in the ladies?

Is it not possible to employ the revenue of a great estate in a more agreeable manner? For I am now speaking of riches in no other light, but as the means of procuring pleasures to their owner. May not every hour of life present some new or agreeable occupation to a man who is possessed of a large fortune and knows how to use it? I need not point out the endless source of delightful employment, which a well-projected system of improvement must furnish to the man of landed property: this nation abounds in artists of all descriptions; gardening, planting, architecture, music, painting, the whole circle of arts are open to his use and service;

wherever his taste or humour points, there are professors in every department of the highest talents: he may seat himself in a paradise of his own creating, and collect a society to participate with him worthy the enjoyment of it: the capital might then be his visiting and not his abiding-place; his dearest friend and the companion of his happiest hours might be his wife; the duties of a parent might open fresh sources of delight, and I, who profess myself to be an Observer, and a friend of mankind, might contemplate his happiness, and cry out with the vanity of an author-There is one convert to my system!

Vivite concordes, et nostrum discite munus!--CLAUDIAN.

NUMBER XXIX.

AMONGST the various orders and ranks of men in civilized society, some are entitled to our respect for the dignity and utility of their profession; but as there are many more than merely natural wants to be provided for in a state of high refinement, other arts and occupations will occur, which though not so highly to be respected for their utility, will yet be valued and caressed for the pleasures they bestow. In this light there is perhaps no one order of men who contribute more largely to the pleasing and moral amusements of the age, than our actors. As I mean to devote this paper to their use and service, I shall begin it with a short passage extracted from Mr. Dow's History of Hindostan.

6

During all these transactions the gates of Delhi were kept shut. Famine began to rage every day

more and more; but the Shaw was deaf to the miseries of mankind. The public spirit of Tucki, a famous actor, deserves to be recorded upon this occasion. He exhibited a play before Nadir Shaw, with which that monarch was so well pleased, that he commanded Tucki to ask, and what he wished should be done for him. Tucki fell upon his face, and said, "O king, command the gates to be opened, that the poor may not perish!" His request was granted, and half the city poured into the country; and the place was supplied in a few days with plenty of provisions.'

Though it is not every actor's lot to save a city, yet it is his province to drive an enemy out of it, almost as formidable as famine.

There is such a combination of natural gifts requisite to the formation of a complete actor, that it is more a case of wonder how so many good ones are to be found, than why so few instances of excellence can be produced. Every thing that results from nature alone, lies out of the province of instruction, and no rules that I know of will serve to give a fine form, a fine voice, or even those fine feelings, which are amongst the first properties of an actor. These, in fact, are the tools and materials of his trade, and these neither his own industry nor any man's assistance can bestow. But the right use and application of them is another question, and there he must look for his directions from education, industry, and judgment.

A classical education, if it be not insisted on as indispensable to a great actor, is yet so advantageous to him in every branch of his art, that it is a most happy circumstance in their lot, who can avail themselves of it.

Be this as it may, it behoves him in the very first place to be thoroughly versed in all the chief drama

tic writers of his own country. Of all these Shakspeare is so out of sight the principal, that for distinction sake I will confine myself to him only. This author therefore must be studied in the most critical and scrutinizing manner; not by parts, but in the whole; for it is the veriest folly in any young student for the stage to read by character, or attach himself to any one predominant part, in which he aims at a display, until he has possest himself in the completest manner of the whole drama, in which he is to stand. Every movement of the author's mind should be unravelled; all those small but delicate incidents, which serve to announce or discriminate a leading character, every thing said to him, or of him, as well as by him, are to be carefully gathered up; for Shakspeare in particular paints so very close to nature, and with such marking touches, that he gives the very look an actor ought to wear, he is on his scene.

when

When an actor has done this, he will find his understanding so enlightened by the task, and his mind possest with such a passion for what is natural, that he will scorn the sorry practice of tricks, and that vain study of setting himself off by this or that preconcerted attitude, in which some handicraftmen, who were more like tumblers than tragedians, have in times past disgraced their profession; in short, if he studies his author he will have no need to study his looking-glass: let him feel and he will be sure to express; nature, that gave him limbs and organs of speech, will be sure to give him action, and he need not measure the board he is to fall upon, as if he was to make his exit down a trap.

There is one thing in particular I would wish him to avoid, which is, a repugnance against appearing in characters of an unamiable sort (the ladies will observe I address myself to both sexes throughout);