the description we are now entering upon, to the character and quality of his pupil. Fot 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. should drive the Protestants from these parts | the several parts of his story, and particularly 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 tracks of lands about the pole, inhabited neither by Protestants nor Papists, and of greater extent than all the Roman-catholic dominions in Europe.' When we had fully discussed this point, my friend the upholsterer began to exert himself upon the present negotiations of peace; in which he deposed princes, settled the bounds of kingdoms, 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 vards, before the upholsterer 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 halfa-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 ac cepted, but not before he had laid down to me the impossibility of such an event, as the affairs of Europe now stand. This paper I design for the particular benefit of those worthy citizens who live more in a coffee-house than in their shops, and whose thoughts are so taken up with the affairs of the allies, that they forget their customers. 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 poet; 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 solemnities of that great day. Telemachus, after having passed through the dark avenues of Death in the retinue of Mercury, who every day delivers up a certain tale of 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 before 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 of his throne was the pale hideous spectre, who, by the ghastliness of his visage, and the nature of the apparitions that surround him, From my own Apartment, April 7. WE haye 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 pub-discovers himself to be Death. His attendants lished 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 are, Melancholy, Distrust, Revenge, Hatred, Avarice, Despair, Ambition, Envy, Impiety, with frightful 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. 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 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. 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 as have often hurt the reputation of the innocent, by passing a rash judgement on their actions, without knowing the occasion of them. These crimes, says he, are more severely punished after death, because they generally meet with impunity upon earth. Telemachus, after having taken a survey The rays of the sun, says he, are darkness in of several other wretches in the same circum- comparison with this light, which rather destances, arrives at that region of torments in serves the name of glory, than that of light. which wicked kings are punished. There are It pierces the thickest bodies in the same very fine strokes of imagination in the descrip- manner as the sun-beams pass through crystal. tion which he gives of this unhappy multitude. It strengthens the sight instead of dazzling it; He tells us, that on one side of them there and nourishes, in the most inward recesses of stood a revengeful fury, thundering in their the mind, a perpetual serenity that is not to ears incessant repetitions of all the crimes they be expressed. It enters and incorporates itself had committed upon earth, with the aggrava- with the very substance of the soul: the spirits tions of ambition, vanity, hardness of heart, of the blessed feel it in all their senses, and in and all those secret affections of mind that all their perceptions. It produces a certain enter into the composition of a tyrant. At the source of peace and joy that arises in them, for same time, she holds up to them a large mirror, ever running through all the faculties, and rein which every one sees himself represented in freshing all the desires of the soul. External the natural horror and deformity of his cha-pleasures and delights, with all their charms racter. On the other side of them stands an- and allurements, are regarded with the utmost other fury, that, with an insulting derision, indifference and neglect by these happy spirits, repeats to them all the praises that their flat-who have this great principle of pleasure within terers 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. 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 suggestions 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 o mortality. They extinguish in us both the fear and envy of human grandeur. Insolence shrinks its head, power disappears; pain, po verty, 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. 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 never to be exhausted, leads us into a pleasing scene of groves, filled with the melody of birds, and the odours of a thousand different plants. These groves are represented as rising among a great many flowery meadows, and watered with streams that diffuse a perpetual freshness, in the midst of an eternal day, and a neverfading spring. This, says the author, was the habitation of those good princes who were friends of the gods, and parents of the people. No. 157.] Tuesday, April 11, 1710. Among these, Telemachus converses with the shade of one of his ancestors, who makes a most Facile est inventis addere.-- From my own Apartment, April 10. 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 ad promised to give some of his female ac quaintance a sight of Mr. Bickerstaff. Upon Dearing 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 general laugh, which I always look upon as a necessary flourish in the opening of a female consort. They then struck up together, and played a whole hour upon two grounds; viz. the Trial and the Opera. I could not but observe, that several of their notes were more soft, and several more sharp, than any that I ever heard in a male consort; though I must confess, there was not 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 seen 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 The Trial of Dr. Sacheverell,' was a principal topic of conversation at the time here referred to. 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. Flute so much in the compass of its notes, as The Flagelet therefore doth not differ from the 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 consort, that, with a great many skittish notes, affected squeaks, and studied inconsistencies, distinguished herself from the rest of the company. She did not speak a word during the whole Trial; but I thought she would never have done upon the Opera. One while she would break out upon, That hideous king!' then upon The charming black-moor!' then, 6 O that dear lion!' then would hum over two or three notes; then run to the window to see what coach was coming. 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. her voice, which were often attended with suThe gravity of her censures, and composure of percilious casts of the eye, and a seeming contempt for the lightness of the conversation, put me in mind of that ancient, serious, ma, tron-like instrument, the Virginal. 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 boarding. school girls fall likewise under this denomi I must not pass over in silence a Lancashire nation. 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 | further success. I must confess, says my friend, exploits of ancient British heroes. By this in- I have often considered her with a great deal strument I therefore would describe a certain of admiration; and I find her pleasure is so lady, who is one of those female historians much in this first step of an amour, that her that upon all occasions enters into pedigrees life will pass away in dream, solitude, and soand descents, and finds herself related, by liloquy, until her decay of charms makes her some offshoot or other, to almost every great snatch at the worst man that ever pretended family in England: for which reason, she jars to her. In the next place, says my friend 'I and is out of tune very often in conversation, fell in love with a Kit, who led me such a dance for the company's want of due attention and through all the varieties of a familiar, cold, respect to her. fond, and indifferent behaviour, that the world began to grow censorious, though without any cause; for which reason, to recover our reputations, we parted by consent. To mend my hand, says he, I made my next application to a Virginal, who gave me great encouragement, after her cautious manner, until some malicious companion told her of my long passion for the Kit, which made her turn me off as a scandalous fellow. At length, in despair,' says he, 'I betook myself to a Welsh-harp, who rejected me with contempt, after having found that my But the most sonorous part of our consort was a She-drum, or, as the vulgar call it, a Kettle-drum, who accompanied her discourse with motions of the body, tosses of the head, and brandishes of the fan. Her music was 'oud, 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 nightin-great-grandmother was a brewer's daughter.' gales, 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 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 Householdscolds, and in your Castanets or impertinent Tittle-tattles, who have no other variety in their discourse but that of talking slower or faster. 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 herself very much like a gentlewoman. His third mistress was a Dulcimer, who, he found, took great delight in sighing and languishing, but would go no farther than the preface of matrimony; that she would never let a lover have any more of her than her heart, which after having won, he was forced to leave her, as despairing of any 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 consi- 3. Harpsichord and Hautboy. 9. Passing-Bell and Virginal. No. 158.] Thursday, April 13, 1710. Ter. Faciunt næ intelligendo, ut nihil intelligant. While they pretend to know more than others, they know nothing in reality. From my own Apartment, April 12. TOM FOLIO is a broker in learning, employed to get together good editions, and stock the libraries of great men. There is not a sale of books begins until Tom Folio is seen at the door. There is not an auction where his name is not heard, and that too in the very nick of time, in the critical moment, before the last decisive stroke of the hammer. There is not a subscription goes forward in which Tom is not privy to the first rough draught of the proposals; nor a catalogue printed, that doth not come to him wet from the press. He is a universal scholar, so far as the title page of all authors: knows the manuscripts in which they were discovered, the editions through which they have passed, with the praises or censures which they have received from the several members of the learned world. He has a greater esteem for Aldus and Elzevir, than for Virgil and Horace. If you talk of Herodotus, he breaks out into a panegyric upon Harry Stephens. He thinks he gives you an account of an author, when he tells you the subject he treats of, the name of the editor, and the year in which it was printed. Or, if you draw him into further particulars, he cries up the goodness of the paper, extols the diligence of the corrector, and is transported with the beauty of the letter. This he looks upon to be sound learning, and substantial criticism. As for those who talk of the fineness of style, and the justness of thought, or describe the brightness of any particular passages; nay, though they themselves write in the genius and spirit of the author they admire; Tom looks upon them as men of superficial learning, and flashy parts. I had yesterday morning a visit from this learned idiot, for that is the light in which I consider every pedant, when I discovered in him some little touches of the coxcomb, which I had not before observed. Being very full of the figure which he makes in the republic of letters, and wonderfully satisfied with his great stock of knowledge, he gave me broad intimations, that he did not believe in all points as his forefathers had done. He then communicated to me a thought of a certain author upon a passage of Virgil's account of the dead, which I made the subject of a late paper. This thought hath taken very much among men of Tom's pitch and understanding, though universally exploded by all that know how to construe Virgil, or have any relish of antiquity. Not to trouble my reader with it, I found upon the whole, that Tom did not believe a future state of rewards and punishments, because Eneas, at his leaving the empire of the dead, passed through the gate of ivory, and not through that of horn. Knowing that Tom had not sense enough to give up an opinion which he had once received, that I might avoid wrangling, I told him,' that Virgil possibly had his oversights as well as another author.' 'Ah! Mr. Bickerstaff,' says he, 'you would have another opinion of him, if you would read him in Daniel Heinsius's edition. I have perused him myself several times in that edition,' continued he; and after the strictest and most malicious examination, could find but two faults in him; one of them is in the Æneids, where there are two commas instead of a parenthesis; and another in the third Georgic, where you may find a semicolon turned upside down.' Perhaps,' said I,' these were not Virgil's faults, but those of the transcriber.' I do not design it,' says Tom,' as a reflection on Virgil; on the contrary, I know that all the manuscripts declaim against such a punctuation. Oh! Mr. Bickerstaff,' says he, what would a man give to see one simile of Virgil writ in his own hand?' I asked him which was the simile he meant; but was answered, any simile in Virgil. He then told me all the secret history in the commonwealth of learning; of modern pieces that had the names of ancient authors annexed to them; of all the books that were now writing or printing in the several parts of Europe; of many amendments which are made, and not yet published; and a thousand other particulars, which I would not have my memory burdened with for a Vatican. At length being fully persuaded that I thoroughly admired him, and looked upon him as a prodigy of learning, he took his leave. I know several of Tom's class, who are professed admirers of Tasso, without understanding a word of Italian: and one in particular, that carries a Pastor Fido in his pocket, in which, I am sure, he is acquainted with no other beauty but the clearness of the character. There is another kind of pedant, who, with all Tom Folio's impertinences, hath greater superstructures and embellishments of Greek and Latin; and is still more insupportable than the other, in the same degree as he is more learned. Of this kind very often are editors, commentators, interpreters, scholiasts, and critics; and, in short, all men of deep learning without common sense. These persons set a greater value on themselves for having found out the meaning of a passage in Greek, than upon the author for having written it; nay, will allow the passage itself not to have any beauty in it, at the same time that they would be considered as the greatest men of the age, for having interpreted it. They will look with contempt on the most beautiful poems that have been composed by any of their contemporaries; but will lock themselves up in their studies for a twelvemonth together, to correct, publish, and expound such trifles of antiquity, as a modern author would be contemned for. Men of the strictest morals, severest lives, and the gravest professions, will write volumes upon an idle sonnet, that is originally in Greek or Latin; give editions of the most immoral authors; and spin out whole pages upon the |