Her

more fashionable cant of the other. Nothing came | house, or at least to see, as well as be seen. amiss to Dick. His inattention to money matters eyes are always, at first, intently fixed upon the had incensed his father to such a degree, that all persons of the drama, and she lifts them by dethe intercession of friends in his favour was fruit- grees, with enchanting diffidence, upon the specless. The old gentleman was on his death-bed. tators. Her first speech, or at least the first part The whole family, and Dick among the number, of it, is delivered with scarcely any motion of gathered round him. "I leave my second son An- the arm; her hands and her tongue never set out drew," said the expiring miser, "my whole estate, together; but the one prepares us for the other. and desire him to be frugal." Andrew, in a sor- She sometimes begins with a mute eloquent attirowful tone, as is usual on these occasions, "prayed tude; but never goes forward all at once with hands, Heaven to prolong his life and health to enjoy it eyes, head, and voice. This observation, though himself."—"I recommend Simon, my third son, it may appear of no importance, should certainly to the care of his elder brother, and leave him be- be adverted to; nor do I see any one performer side four thousand pounds."—"Ah! father," cried (Garrick only excepted) among us, that is not in Simon (in great affliction to be sure), "may Hea- this particular apt to offend. By this simple beven give you life and health to enjoy it yourself!" ginning, she gives herself a power of rising in the At last, turning to poor Dick, "As for you, you passion of the scene. As she proceeds, every geshave always been a sad dog, you'll never come to ture, every look, acquires new violence, till at last good, you'll never be rich; I'll leave you a shilling transported, she fills the whole vehemence of the to buy a halter."—"Ah! father," cries Dick, with- part, and all the idea of the poet. out any emotion, "may Heaven give you life and Her hands are not alternately stretched out, and health to enjoy it yourself!" This was all the then drawn in again, as with the singing women trouble the loss of fortune gave this thoughtless at Saddler's Wells; they are employed with graceimprudent creature. However, the tenderness of an ful variety, and every moment please with new and uncle recompensed the neglect of a father; and Dick is not only excessively good-humoured, but competently rich.

unexpected eloquence. Add to this, that their motion is generally from the shoulder; she never flourishes her hands while the upper part of her The world, in short, may cry out at a bankrupt arm is motionless, nor has she the ridiculous apwho appears at a ball; at an author, who laughs pearance, as if her elbows were pinned to her hips. at the public which pronounces him a dunce ; at a But of all the cautions to be given to our rising general, who smiles at the reproach of the vulgar; actresses, I would particularly recommend it to or the lady who keeps her good-humour in spite them never to take notice of the audience, upon of scandal; but such is the wisest behaviour they any occasion whatsoever; let the spectators applaud can possibly assume. It is certainly a better way never so loudly, their praises should pass, except to oppose calamity by dissipation, than to take up at the end of the epilogue, with seeming inattenthe arms of reason or resolution to oppose it: by tion. I can never pardon a lady on the stage, who, the first method we forget our miseries, by the last when she draws the admiration of the whole auwe only conceal them from others. By struggling dience, turns about to make them a low courtesy with misfortunes, we are sure to receive some for their applause. Such a figure no longer conwounds in the conflict: the only method to come tinues Belvidera, but at once drops into Mrs. Ciboff victorious, is by running away.

ON OUR THEATRES.

ber. Suppose a sober tradesman, who once a-year takes his shilling's-worth at Drury-Lane, in order to be delighted with the figure of a queen, the queen of Sheba, for instance, or any other queen; this honest man has no other idea of the great but from MADEMOISELLE CLAROIN, a celebrated actress their superior pride and impertinence; suppose at Paris, seems to me the most perfect female figure such a man placed among the spectators, the first I have ever seen upon any stage. Not perhaps figure that appears on the stage is the queen herthat nature has been more liberal of personal beauty self, courtesying and cringing to all the company: to her, than some to be seen upon our theatres at how can he fancy her the haughty favourite of King home. There are actresses here who have as much Solomon the wise, who appears actually more subof what connoisseurs call statuary grace, by which missive than the wife of his bosom? We are all 1s meant elegance unconnected with motion, as tradesmen of a nicer relish in this respect, and such but they all fall infinitely short of her, when conduct must disgust every spectator, who loves to the soul comes to give expression to the limbs, and have the illusion of nature strong upon him. animates every feature. Yet, while I recommend to our actresses a skilful Her first appearance is excessively engaging; attention to gesture, I would not have them study she never comes in staring round upon the com- it in the looking-glass. This, without some prepany, as if she intended to count the benefits of the caution, will render their action formal; by too

she;

great an intimacy with this, they become stiff and for to seem to have it, is the only way to have more. affected. People seldom improve when they have Ovid finely compares a man of broken fortune to no other model but themselves to copy after. I re- a falling column; the lower it sinks, the greater member to have known a notable performer of the weight it is obliged to sustain. Thus, when a other sex, who made great use of this flattering man has no occasion to borrow, he finds numbers monitor, and yet was one of the stiffest figures I willing to lend him. Should he ask his friend to ever saw. I am told his apartment was hung round lend him a hundred pounds, it is possible, from with looking-glasses, that he might see his person the largeness of his demand, he may find credit for twenty times reflected upon entering the room; and twenty; but should he humbly only sue for a trifle, I will make bold to say, he saw twenty very ugly it is two to one whether he might be trusted for fellows whenever he did so. twopence. A certain young fellow at George's, whenever he had occasion to ask his friend for a guinea, used to prelude his request as if he wanted two hundred, and talked so familiarly of large sums, that none could ever think he wanted a small one. The same gentleman, whenever he wanted credit for a new suit from his tailor, always made a proposal in laced clothes; for he found by experience, that if he appeared shabby on these occasions, Mr. Lynch had taken an oath against trusting; or, what was every bit as bad, his foreman was out of the way, and would not be at home these two days.

THE BEE, No. III.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 20, 1759.

ON THE USE OF LANGUAGE.

THE manner in which most writers begin their treatises on the use of language, is generally thus: Language has been granted to man, in order to There can be no inducement to reveal our wants, discover his wants and necessities, so as to have except to find pity, and by this means relief; but them relieved by society. Whatever we desire, before a poor man opens his mind in such circumwhatever we wish, it is but to clothe those desires or stances, he should first consider whether he is conwishes in words, in order to fruition; the principal tented to lose the esteem of the person he solicits, use of language, therefore," say they, "is to ex- and whether he is willing to give up friendshiponly press our wants, so as to receive a speedy redress." to excite compassion. Pity and friendship are pasSuch an account as this may serve to satisfy sions incompatible with each other, and it is imgrammarians and rhetoricians well enough, but possible that both can reside in any breast for men who know the world maintain very contrary the smallest space, without impairing each other. maxims; they hold, and I think with some show of Friendship is made up of esteem and pleasure; reason, that he who best knows how to conceal his pity is composed of sorrow and contempt; the mind necessity and desires, is the most likely person to may for some time fluctuate between them, but find redress; and that the true use of speech is not it never can entertain both together. so much to express our wants, as to conceal them. Yet, let it not be thought that I would exclude When we reflect on the manner in which man- pity from the human mind. There are scarcely kind generally confer their favours, we shall find, any who are not, in some degree, possessed of this that they who seem to want them least, are the pleasing softness; but it is at best but a short-lived very persons who most liberally share them. There passion, and seldom affords distress more than is something so attractive in riches, that the large transitory assistance: with some it scarcely lasts heap generally collects from the smaller; and the from the first impulse till the hand can be put into poor find as much pleasure in increasing the enor- the pocket; with others it may continue for twice mous mass, as the miser, who owns it, sees happi- that space, and on some extraordinary sensibility I ness in its increase. Nor is there any thing in this have seen it operate for half an hour. But, howrepugnant to the laws of true morality. Seneca ever, last as it will, it generally produces but beghimself allows, that in conferring benefits, the pre-garly effects: and where, from this motive, we give sent should always be suited to the dignity of the a halfpenny, from others we give always pounds. receiver. Thus the rich receive large presents, In great distress, we sometimes, it is true, feel the and are thanked for accepting them. Men of influence of tenderness strongly; when the same middling stations are obliged to be content with distress solicits a second time, we then feel with presents something less; while the beggar, who diminished sensibility, but, like the repetition of an may be truly said to want indeed, is well paid if a echo, every new impulse becomes weaker, till at farthing rewards his warmest solicitations.

last our sensations lose every mixture of sorrow, and degenerate into downright contempt.

Every man who has seen the world, and has had his ups and downs in life, as the expression Jack Spindle and I were old acquaintance; but is, must have frequently experienced the truth of he's gone. Jack was bred in a counting-house, this doctrine, and must know, that to have much, and his father dying just as he was out of his time.

left him a handsome fortune, and many friends to ance from love, which he could not have from advise with. The restraint in which he had been friendship. Miss Jenny Dismal had a fortune in brought up had thrown a gloom upon his temper, her own hands, and she had already made all the which some regarded as a habitual prudence, and advances that her sex's modesty would permit. from such considerations, he had every day re- He made his proposal, therefore, with confidence, peated offers of friendship. Those who had mo- but soon perceived, "No bankrupt ever found the ney were ready to offer him their assistance that fair one kind." Miss Jenny and Master Billy way; and they who had daughters, frequently in Galloon were lately fallen deeply in love with each the warmth of affection advised him to marry. Jack, other, and the whole neighbourhood thought it however, was in good circumstances; he wanted would soon be a match. neither money, friends, nor a wife, and therefore modestly declined their proposals.

Every day now began to strip Jack of his former finery; his clothes flew piece by piece to the Some errors in the management of his affairs, pawnbrokers; and he seemed at length equipped and several losses in trade, soon brought Jack to a in the genuine mourning of antiquity. But still different way of thinking; and he at last thought it he thought himself secure from starving; the numhis best way to let his friends know, that their offers berless invitations he had received to dine, even were at length acceptable. His first address was, after his losses, were yet unanswered; he was, therefore, to a scrivener, who had formerly made him therefore, now resolved to accept of a dinner befrequent offers of money and friendship, at a time when, perhaps, he knew those offers would have been refused.

cause he wanted one; and in this manner he actually lived among his friends a whole week without being openly affronted. The last place I saw Jack, therefore, thought he might use his old poor Jack was at the Rev. Dr. Gosling's. He friend without any ceremony; and, as a man con- had, as he fancied, just nicked the time, for he fident of not being refused, requested the use of a came in as the cloth was laying. He took a chair hundred guineas for a few days, as he just then without being desired, and talked for some time had an occasion for money. "And pray, Mr. without being attended to. He assured the comSpindle," replied the scrivener, "do you want all pany, that nothing procured so good an appetite as this money?"-"Want it, sir," says the other, "if a walk to White-Conduit-House, where he had I did not want it, I should not have asked it."- been that morning. He looked at the table-cloth, "I am sorry for that," says the friend; "for those and praised the figure of the damask, talked of a who want money when they come to borrow, will feast where he had been the day before, but that want money when they should come to pay. To the venison was overdone. All this, however, prosay the truth, Mr. Spindle, money is money now-cured the poor creature no invitation, and he was a-days. I believe it is all sunk in the bottom of the not yet sufficiently hardened to stay without being sea, for my part; and he that has got a little, is a asked; wherefore, finding the gentleman of the fool if he does not keep what he has got." house insensible to all his fetches, he thought pro

Not quite disconcerted by this refusal, our ad-per, at last, to retire, and mend his appetite by a venturer was resolved to apply to another, whom walk in the Park. he knew to be the very best friend he had in the You then, O ye beggars of my acquaintance, world. The gentleman whom he now addressed, whether in rags or lace; whether in Kent-street or received his proposal with all the affability that the Mall; whether at Smyrna or St. Giles's; might could be expected from generous friendship.-"Let I advise you as a friend, never seem in want of the me see, you want a hundred guineas; and pray, favour which you solicit. Apply to every passion dear Jack, would not fifty answer?"-"If you but pity for redress. You may find relief from have but fifty to spare, sir, I must be contented." vanity, from self-interest, or from avarice, but sel-"Fifty to spare! I do not say that, for I believe dom from compassion. The very eloquence of a I have but twenty about me."-"Then I must poor man is disgusting; and that mouth which is borrow the other thirty from some other friend." opened even for flattery, is seldom expected to close -"And pray," replied the friend, "would it not without a petition.

be the best way to borrow the whole money from If then you would ward off the gripe of poverty, that other friend, and then one note will serve for pretend to be a stranger to her, and she will at least all, you know? Lord, Mr. Spindle, make no cereuse you with ceremony. Hear not my advice, but mony with me at any time; you know I'm your that of Offellus. If you be caught dining upon a friend, when you choose a bit of dinner or so. halfpenny porringer of peas soup and potatoes, You, Tom, see the gentleman down. You won't praise the wholesomeness of your frugal repast. forget to dine with us now and then? Your very You may observe, that Dr. Cheyne has prescribed humble servant," peas broth for the gravel; hint that you are not one Distressed, but not discouraged at this treat- of those who are always making a god of your belly. ment, he was at last resolved to find that assist-If you are obliged to wear a flimsy stuff in the

midst of winter, be the first to remark that stuffs in all Alexandria understood so perfectly as she all are very much worn at Paris. If there be found the difficulties of these two philosophers. some irreparable defects in any part of your equi- But not their systems alone, but those of every page, which can not be concealed by all the arts other sect were quite familiar to her; and to this of sitting cross-legged, coaxing, or darning, say, knowledge she added that of polite learning, and that neither you nor Sampson Gideon were ever the art of oratory. All the learning which it was very fond of dress. Or if you be a philosopher, possible for the human mind to contain, being joinhint that Plato and Seneca are the tailors you ed to a most enchanting eloquence, rendered this choose to employ; assure the company, that men lady the wonder not only of the populace, who ought to be content with a bare covering, since easily admire, but of philosophers themselves, who what is now so much the pride of some, was for- are seldom fond of admiration. merly our shame. Horace will give you a Latin sentence fit for the occasion,

Toga defendere frigus,

Quamvis crassa, queat.

The city of Alexandria was every day crowded with strangers, who came from all parts of Greece and Asia to see and hear her. As for the charms of her person, they might not probably have been mentioned, did she not join to a beauty the most In short, however caught, do not give up, but as- striking, a virtue that might repress the most ascribe to the frugality of your disposition, what suming; and though in the whole capital, famed others might be apt to attribute to the narrowness for charms, there was not one who could equal her of your circumstances, and appear rather to be a in beauty; though in a city, the resort of all the miser than a beggar. To be poor, and to seem learning then existing in the world, there was not poor, is a certain method never to rise. Pride in one who could equal her in knowledge; yet, with the great is hateful, in the wise it is ridiculous; such accomplishments, Hypasia was the most beggarly pride is the only sort of vanity I can ex-modest of her sex. Her reputation for virtue was

cuse.

THE HISTORY OF HYPASIA.

not less than her virtues; and though in a city divided between two factions, though visited by the wits and the philosophers of the age, calumny never dared to suspect her morals, or attempt her character. Both the Christians and the Heathens who have transmitted her history and her misfortunes, MAN, when secluded from society, is not a more have but one voice, when they speak of her beauty, solitary being than the woman who leaves the du- her knowledge, and her virtue. Nay, so much ties of her own sex to invade the privileges of ours. harmony reigns in their accounts of this prodigy of She seems, in such circumstances, like one in ban-perfection, that, in spite of the opposition of their ishment; she appears like a neutral being between faith, we should never have been able to judge of the sexes; and, though she may have the admira- what religion was Hypasia, were we not informed, tion of both, she finds true happiness from neither. from other circumstances, that she was a heathen. Of all the ladies of antiquity I have read of, none Providence had taken so much pains in forming was ever more justly celebrated than the beautiful her, that we are almost induced to complain of its Hypasia, the daughter of Leon, the philosopher. not having endeavoured to make her a Christian; This most accomplished of women was born at but from this complaint we are deterred by a thouAlexandria, in the reign of Theodosius the young-sand contrary observations, which lead us to rever Nature was never more lavish of its gifts than ence its inscrutable mysteries.

er.

it had been to her, endued as she was with the This great reputation of which she so justly was most exalted understanding, and the happiest turn possessed, was at last, however, the occasion of her to science. Education completed what nature had ruin. begun, and made her the prodigy not only of her The person who then possessed the patriarchate age, but the glory of her sex. of Alexandria, was equally remarkable for his From her father she learned geometry and as- violence, cruelty, and pride. Conducted by an illtronomy; she collected from the conversation and grounded zeal for the Christian religion, or, perschools of the other philosophers, for which Alex- haps, desirous of augmenting his authority in the andria was at that time famous, the principles of city, he had long meditated the banishment of the the rest of the sciences. Jews. A difference arising between them and the What can not be conquered by natural penetra-Christians with respect to some public games, seemtion, and a passion for study? The boundless ed to him a proper juncture for putting his ambiknowledge which, at that period of time, was re- tious designs into execution. He found no difficulquired to form the character of a philosopher, no ty in exciting the people, naturally disposed to reway discouraged her; she delivered herself up to volt. The prefect, who at that time commanded the study of Aristotle and Plato, and soon not one the city, interposed on this occasion, and thought

it just to put one of the chief creatures of the patri- | returning from a visit, at her own door, seized her arch to the torture, in order to discover the first as she was going in, and dragged her to one of the promoter of the conspiracy. The patriarch, en- churches called Cesarea, where, stripping her in a raged at the injustice he thought offered to his most inhuman manner, they exercised the most incharacter and dignity, and piqued at the protection human cruelties upon her, cut her into pieces, and which was offered to the Jews, sent for the chiefs burnt her remains to ashes. Such was the end of of the synagogue, and enjoined them to renounce Hypasia, the glory of her own sex, and the astontheir designs, upon pain of incurring his highest ishment of ours.

displeasure.

ON JUSTICE AND GENEROSITY.

The Jews, far from fearing his menaces, excited new tumults, in which several citizens had the misfortune to fall. The patriarch could no longer contain: at the head of a numerous body of Christians, LYSIPPUS is a man whose greatness of soul the he flew to the synagogues, which he demolished, whole world admires. His generosity is such, that and drove the Jews from a city, of which they had it prevents a demand, and saves the receiver the been possessed since the times of Alexander the trouble and the confusion of a request. His liberGreat. It may be easily imagined, that the pre-ality also does not oblige more by its greatness than =fect could not behold, without pain, his jurisdiction by his inimitable grace in giving. Sometimes he thus insulted, and the city deprived of a number of even distributes his bounties to strangers, and has its most industrious inhabitants. been known to do good offices to those who professed themselves his enemies. All the world are unanimous in the praise of his generosity: there is only one sort of people who complain of his con

The affair was therefore brought before the emperor. The patriarch complained of the excesses of the Jews, and the prefect of the outrages of the patriarch. At this very juncture, five hundred duct-Lysippus does not pay his debts. monks of mount Nitria, imagining the life of their It is no difficult matter to account for a conduct chief to be in danger, and that their religion was so seemingly incompatible with itself. There is threatened in his fall, flew into the city with ungovernable rage, attacked the prefect in the streets, and, not content with loading him with reproaches, wounded him in several places.

The citizens had, by this time, notice of the fury of the monks; they, therefore, assembled in a body, put the monks to flight, seized on him who had been found throwing a stone, and delivered him to the prefect, who caused him to be put to death without further delay.

greatness in being generous, and there is only simple justice in satisfying his creditors. Generosity is the part of a soul raised above the vulgar. There is in it something of what we admire in heroes, and praise with a degree of rapture. Justice, on the contrary, is a mere mechanic virtue, fit only for tradesmen, and what is practised by every broker in Change Alley.

below.

In paying his debts, a man barely does his duty, and it is an action attended with no sort of glory. The patriarch immediately ordered the dead Should Lysippus satisfy his creditors, who would body, which had been exposed to view, to be taken be at the pains of telling it to the world? Generosidown, procured for it all the pomp and rites of ty is a virtue of a very different complexion. It burial, and went even so far as himself to pronounce is raised above duty, and from its elevation attracts the funeral oration, in which he classed a seditious the attention, and the praises, of us little mortals monk among the martyrs. This conduct was by no means generally approved of; the most moder- In this manner do men generally reason upon ate even among the Christians perceived and blamed justice and generosity. The first is despised, his indiscretion; but he was now too far advanced though a virtue essential to the good of society; to retire. He had made several overtures towards a and the other attracts our esteem, which too frereconciliation with the prefect, which not succeed- quently proceeds from an impetuosity of temper, ing, he bore all those an implacable hatred whom he rather directed by vanity than reason. Lysippus imagined to have any hand in traversing his de- is told that his banker asks a debt of forty pounds, signs; but Hypasia was particularly destined to and that a distressed acquaintance petitions for the ruin. She could not find pardon, as she was known same sum. He gives it without hesitating to the to have a most refined friendship for the prefect; latter; for he demands as a favour what the former wherefore the populace were incited against her. requires as a debt. Peter, a reader of the principal church, one of those Mankind in general are not sufficiently acquaintvile slaves by which men in power are too frequent-ed with the import of the word justice: it is comly attended, wretches ever ready to commit any monly believed to consist only in a performance of crime which they hope may render them agreeable those duties to which the laws of society can oblige to their employer; this fellow, I say, attended by a us. This I allow is sometimes the import of the crowd of villains, waited for Hypasia, as she was word, and in this sense justice is distinguished