pretty fellows, without censure: but they would either of them blush at being surprised, in showing the least marks of a regard for each other. "I am, SIR, “Your humble servant," &c. T No. 8. THURSDAY, MARCH 21, 1754. O quanta species! cerebrum non habet. PHDR. In outward show so splendid and so vain, I MUST acknowledge the receipt of many letters. containing very lavish encomiums on my works. Among the rest a correspondent, whom I take to be a bookseller, is pleased to compliment me on the goodness of my print and paper; but tells me, that he is very sorry not to see something expressive of my undertaking, in the little cut that I carry in front. It is true, indeed, that my printer and publisher held several consultations on this subject; and I am ashamed to confess, that they had once prevailed on me to suffer a profile of my face to be prefixed to each number. But when it was finished, I was quite mortified to see what a scurvy figure I made in wood: nor could I submit to be hung out, like Broughton, at my own door, or let my face serve, like the canvas before a booth, to call people in to the show. I hope it will not be imputed to envy or malevolence, that I here remark on this part of the production of Mr. Fitz-Adam. When he gave his paper the title of The World, I suppose he meant to intimate his design of describing that part of it who are known to account all other persons nobody, and are therefore emphatically called The World. If this was to be pictured out in the head-piece, a lady at her toilette, a party at whist, or the jovial member of the Dilettanti tapping the World for Champagne, had been the most natural and obvious hieroglyphics. But when we see the portrait of a philosopher poring on the globe, instead of observations on modern life, we might more naturally expect a system of geography, or an attempt towards a discovery of the longitude. The reader will smile perhaps at a criticism of this kind; yet certainly even here propriety should be observed, or at least all absurdities avoided. But this matter being usually left to the printer or bookseller, it is often attended with strange blunders and mis-applications. I have seen a sermon ushered in with the representation of a shepherd and shepherdess sporting on a bank of flowers, with two little cupids smiling over head; while perhaps an epithalamium, or an ode for a birth-day, has been introduced with death's heads and cross marrow-bones. The inhabitants of Grub-street are generally very studious of propriety in this point. Before the half-penny account of a horse-race, we see the jockeys, whipping, spurring, jostling, and the horses straining within sight of the post. The last dying speech, character, and behaviour of the malefactors, presents us with a prospect of the place of execution; and the history of the London Prentice exhibits the figure of a lad standing between two lions, and ramming his hands down their throats. A due regard has been paid to this article, in the several elegies from that quarter on the death of Mr. Pelham. They are encompassed with dismal black lines, and all the sable emblems of death: nor can we doubt, but that an author, who takes such care to express a decent sorrow on the outside of his work, has infused a great deal of the pathetic into the piece itself. These little embellishments were originally designed to please the eye of the reader; as we tempt children to learn their letters by disposing the alphabet into pictures. But in our modern compositions, they are not only ornamental, but useful. An angel or a flower pot, at the beginning and end of every chapter or section, enables the bookseller to spin out a novel, without plot or incident, to a great number of volumes; and by the help of these decorations properly disposed, I have known a little piece swell into a duodecimo, which had scarce matter enough for a sixpenny pamphlet. In this place I might also take notice of the several new improvements in the business of typography. Though it is reckoned ungenteel to write a good hand, yet every one is proud of appearing in a beautiful print; and the productions of a man of quality come from the press in a very neat letter, though perhaps the manuscript is hardly legible. Indeed our modern writers seem to be more solicitous about outward elegance, than the intrinsic merit of their compositions; and on this account it is thought no mean recommendation of their works, to advertise that they are beautifully printed on a fine paper, and entire new letter.' Nor are they only in-. debted to the press for the beauty of the type, but often call in its assistance to explain and enforce the sentiment. When an author is in doubt whether the reader will be able to comprehend his meaning, or, indeed, whether he has any meaning at all, he takes care to sprinkle the sentence with italics; but when he would surprise us with any thing more striking than ordinary, he distinguishes the emphatical words by large staring capitals, which overtop the rest of their fellows, and are intended, like the grenadiers' caps, to give us an idea of something grand and uncommon. These are designed as so many hints, to let the reader know where he is to be particularly affected; and answer the same purpose with the marginal directions in plays, which inform the actor when he is to laugh or cry. This practice is most remarkable in pieces of modern wit and humour; and it may be observed, that where there is the least of these lively qualities, the author is most desirous of substituting these arts in their room; imagining that by a judicious distribution of these enlivening strokes in different parts of it, his work, however dull in itself, will become smart and brilliant. And here I cannot but take notice, that these arts have been employed to very great advantage in the service of the theatres. The writer of the play bills deals out his capitals in so just a proportion, that you may tell the salary of each actor by the size of the letter in which his name is printed. When the present manager of Drury-lane first came upon the stage, a new set of types, two inches long, were cast on purpose to do honour to his extraordinary merit. This, indeed, is so proper, that the severest critics on the drama cannot be offended at this piece of theatrical justice. There is lately sprung up among us a new species of writers, who are most of them persons of the first rank and fashion. At this period, the whole house of commons are turned authors: and we cannot sufficiently admire the propriety of style and sentiment in those elegant addresses, by which they humbly offer themselves as candidates, and beg the favour of your votes and interest. These gentlemen avail themselves greatly of the arts of printing above-mentioned; whether they would raise the merits of their own cause, or throw out invectives on the opposite party. The courtier sets before your eyes in large letters his steady attachment to King George, while his opponent displays in the same manner his zeal for Liberty and the Constitution. This must undoubtedly have a wonderful effect on the electors: and I could almost assure any patriot certain success, who should manifest his regard for Old England, by printing his addresses in the Old English Character. But, in the whole republic of letters, there are none perhaps, who are more obliged to the printer, than the writers of periodical essays. The Spectators, indeed, came into the world without any of the advantages we are possessed of. They were originally published in a very bad print and paper, and were so entirely destitute of all outward ornaments, that, like Terence's virgin, -Ni vis boni In ipsâ inesset formâ, hæc formam exstinguerent. PHOR. ACT. i. sc. 2. 57. Unless the soul of beauty had breathed through the compositions themselves; these disadvantages would have suppressed the least appearances of it.' As it requires no genius to supply a defect of this nature, our modern essays as much excel the Spectators in elegance of form, as perhaps they may be thought to fall short of them in every other respect. But they have this additional advantage, that by the fineness of their paper they are rescued from serving many mean and ignoble purposes, to which they might otherwise be applied. They also form themselves more commodiously into volumes, and |