tion by Ambrose Philips of Racine's
"Andromaque." This play seems heavy enough if we bother to read it
now, but it had a thousand charms for theatre-goers in the days when
Mr. Philips frequented Button's coffee-house and there hung up a cane
which he threatened to use upon the body of the great Mr. Pope.[A]
Addison, whom tradition credits with writing the entertaining
epilogue, took all manner of interest in the tragedy, and the
_Spectator_ treated it to an advance notice which we degenerates might
term an unblushing "boom."

[Footnote A: Pope had ventured to sneer at Philips' "Pastorals."]

"The players, who know I am very much their friend," says the
_Spectator_[A] "take all opportunities to express a gratitude to me
for being so. They could not have a better occasion of obliging me,
than one which they lately took hold of. They desired my friend Will
Honeycomb to bring me the reading of a new tragedy; it is called 'The
Distressed Mother.' I must confess, though some days are passed since
I enjoyed that entertainment, the passions of the several characters
dwell strongly upon my imagination; and I congratulate the age, that
they are at last to see truth and human life represented in the
incidents which concern heroes and heroines. The style of the play
is such as becomes those of the first education, and the sentiments
worthy those of the highest figure. It was a most exquisite pleasure
to me, to observe real tears drop from the eyes of those who had long
made it their profession to dissemble affliction; and the player, who
read, frequently threw down the book, until he had given vent to
the humanity which rose in him at some irresistible touches of the
imagined sorrow."

[Footnote A: _Spectator_, No. 290, February 1, 1711-12. This essay has
been credited to Steele.]

This picture of woe would hardly suit the theories of those
hard-hearted players who believe that the true artist is never
"carried away," or affected by the pathos of his part. Surely, the
scene is ridiculous rather than imposing, and one is tempted to
suggest, albeit with bated breath, that the _Spectator_ was indulging
in a bit of good-natured exaggeration. Exaggeration did we say? The
modern newspaper writer, who is always glad, when off duty, to call
things by their plain names, would brand the notice of the "Distressed
Mother" as a bare-faced puff. And who could quarrel with his
scepticism? Actors are not in the habit of weeping over the readi