her voice, and to disappear at a time when her beauty was in the height of its bloom. This lady entered so thoroughly into the great characters she acted, that when she had finished her part, she could not think of retrenching her equipage, but would appear in her own lodgings with the same magnificence that she did upon the stage. This greatness of soul had reduced that unhappy princess to an involuntary retirement, where she now passes her time among the woods and forests, thinking on the crowns and sceptres she has lost, and often humming over in her solitude, • I was born of royal race, Yet must wander in disgrace,' &c. But, for fear of being over-heard, and her quality known, she usually sings it in Italian, • Nacqui al regno, nacqui al trono ; E par sono I venturata pastorella 9.' Since I have touched upon this subject, I shall communicate to my reader part of a letter I have received from an ingenious friend at Amsterdam, where there is a very noble theatre; though the manner of furnishing it with actors is something peculiar to that Mrs. Tofts, a mere Englishwoman, who in the part of Camilla, was courted by Nicolini in Italian, without understanding one syllable each other said, or sung; and, on the other hand, Valentini courting amorously, in the same language, a Dutchwoman that committed murder on our good old English with as little understanding as a parrot.' See N° 115. and Mrs. Toft's letter from Venice. Spect. No 443. 9 Camilla, an opera, by Owen M'Swiney. 4to. 1706. VOL. I. L place, and gives us occasion to admire both the politeness and frugality of the people. My friends have kept me here a week longer than ordinary, to see one of their plays, which was performed last night with great applause. The actors are all of them tradesmen; who, after their day's work is over, earn about a guilder a-night by personating kings and generals. The hero of the tragedy I saw was a journeyman taylor, and his first minister of state a coffee-man. The empress made me think of Parthenope in the Rehearsal; for her mother keeps an alehouse in the suburbs of Amsterdam. When the tragedy was over, they entertained us with a short farce, in which the cobler did his part to a miracle; but, upon inquiry, I found he had really been working at his own trade, and representing on the stage what he acted every day in his shop. The profits of the theatre maintain an hospital; for as here they do not think the profession of an actor the only trade that a man ought to exercise; so they will not allow any body to grow rich in a profession that, in their opinion, so little conduces to the good of the commonwealth. If I am not mistaken, your playhouses in England have done the same thing; for, unless I am misinformed, the hospital at Dulwich was erected and endowed by Mr. Alleyn1, a player: and it is also said, a famous she tragedian "has settled her estate, after her death, for the maintenance of decayed wits, who are to be taken in as soon as they grow dull, at whatever time of their life that shall happen.' 10 Edward Alleyn, in 1614, founded an hospital at Dulwich in Surrey, called The College of God's Gift, with a revenue which is estimated at 7001. per annum. It is thought probable that Mrs. Barry was the person here meant. * Mr. Cave Underhill, the famous comedian in the reigns of king Charles II. king James II. king William and queen Mary, and her present majesty queen Anne; but now not able to perform so often as heretofore in the playhouse, and having had losses to the value of near 25007. is to have the tragedy of Hamlet acted for his benefit, on Friday the 3d of June next, at the Theatre-royal in Drurylane, in which he is to perform his original part, the Gravedigger 12. ADDISON AND STEELE. N° 21. SATURDAY, MAY 28, 1709. Quicquid agunt homines nostri est farrago libelli. JUV. Sat. i. 85, 86. Whatever good is done, whatever ill- White's Chocolate-house, May 26. A GENTLEMAN has writ to me out of the country a very civil letter, and said things which I suppress with great violence to my vanity. There are many terms in my narratives which he complains want explaining; and has therefore desired that, for the benefit of my country readers, I would let him know what I mean by a gentleman, a pretty fellow, a toast, a coquet, a critic, a wit,' and all other appellations of those now in the gayer world, who are in possession of these several characters; together with an account 12 Steele befriended this player in a manner that did honour to his heart. of those who unfortunately pretend to them. I shall begin with him we usually call a gentleman, or man of conversation. It is generally thought, that warmth of imagination, quick relish of pleasure, and a manner of becoming it, are the most essential qualities for forming this sort of man. But any one that is much in company will observe, that the height of good breeding is shewn rather in never giving offence, than in doing obliging things. Thus he that never shocks you, though he is seldom entertaining, is more likely to keep your favour, than he who often entertains, and sometimes displeases you. The most necessary talent therefore in a man of conversation, which is what we ordinarily intend by a fine gentleman, is a good judgment. He that has this in perfection, is master of his companion, without letting him see it; and has the same advantage over men of any other qualifications whatsoever, as one that can see would have over a blind man of ten times his strength. This is what makes Sophronius the darling of all who converse with him, and the most powerful with his acquaintance of any man in town. By the light of this faculty he acts with great ease and freedom among the men of pleasure, and acquits himself with skill and dispatch among the men of business. All which he performs with such success, that, with as much discretion in life as any man ever had, he neither is, nor appears, cunning. But as he does a good office, if ever he does it, with readiness and alacrity; so he denies what he does not care to engage in, in a manner that convinces you that you ought not to have asked it. His judgment is so good and unerring, and accompanied with so cheerful a spirit, that his conversation is a continual feast, at which he helps some, and is helped by others, in such a manner, that the equality of society is perfectly kept up, and every man obliges as much as he is obliged: for it is the greatest and justest skill in a man of superior understanding, to know how to be on a level with his companions. This sweet disposition runs through all the actions of Sophronius, and makes his company desired by women, without being envied by men. Sophronius would be as just as he is, if there were no law; and would be as discreet as he is, if there were no such thing as calumny '. In imitation of this agreeable being, is made that animal we call a pretty fellow; who, being just able to find out, that what makes Sophronius acceptable is a natural behaviour, in order to the same reputation, makes his own an artificial one. Jack Dimple is his perfect mimic, whereby he is, of course, the most unlike him of all men living. Sophronius just now passed into the inner room directly forward: Jack comes as fast after as he can for the right and left looking-glass, in which he had but just approved himself by a nod at each, and marched on. He will meditate within for half an hour until he thinks he is not careless enough in his air, and come back to the mirror to recollect his forgetfulness. Will's Coffee-house, May 27. THIS night was acted the comedy called The Fox'; but I wonder the modern writers do not use their interest in the house to suppress such representations. This character of Sophronius is actually a picture of Steele's own mind and manners. 2 By Ben Jonson. It was first acted in 1605, and print ed in 4to. the same year. |