its Circumstances with Facility and Delight. But I am ftill in Doubt, whether many Writers, who come nearer to our own Times, have much mended the Matter. What with their Plots, and Double-Plots, and Counter-Plots, and Under-Plots, the Mind is as much perplexed to piece out the Story, as to put together the disjointed Parts of our ancient Drama. The Comedies of Congreve have, in my Mind, as little to boast of Accuracy in their Conftruction, as the Plays of Shakespeare; nay, perhaps, it might be proved that, amidst the moft open Violation of the leffer critical Unities, one Point is more fteadily perfued, one Character more uniformly fhewn, and one grand Purpose of the Fable more evidently accomplifhed in the Production of Shakespeare than of Congreve. Thefe Fables (it may be further objected) founded on romantick Novels, are unpardonably wild and extravagant in their Circumftances, and exhibit too little even of the Manners of the Age in which they were written. The Plays too are in themselves a Kind of heterogeneous Compofition; fcarce any of them being, ftrictly speaking, a Tragedy, Comedy, or even Tragi-Comedy, but rather an indigefted Jumble of every Species thrown together. Thefe This Charge must be confeffed to be true: But upon Examination it will, perhaps, be found of less Confequence than is generally imagined. Dramatick Tales, for fo we may beft ftile fuch Plays, have often occafioned much Pleasure to the Reader and Spectator, which could not poffibly have been conveyed to them by any other Vehicle. Many an interefting Story, which, from the Diversity of its Circumftances, cannot be regularly reduced either to Tragedy or Comedy, yet abounds with Character, and contains feveral affecting Situations: And why fuch a Story fhould lofe its Force, dramatically related and affifted by Reprefentation, when it pleases, pleafes, under the colder Form of a Novel, is difficult to conceive. Experience has proved the Effect of such Fictions on our Minds; and convinced us, that the 'Theatre is not that barren Ground, wherein the Plants of Imagination will not flourish. The Tempeft, the Midfummer Night's Dream, the Merchant of Venice, As you like it, Twelfth Night, the Faithful Shepherdess of Fletcher, (with a much longer Lift that might be added from Shakespeare, Beaumont and Fletcher, and their Cotemporaries, or immediate Succeffors) have most of them, within all our Memories, been ranked among the most popular Entertainments of the Stage. Yet none of these can be denominated Tragedy, Comedy, or Tragi-Comedy. The Play Bills, I have observed, cautioufly ftile them Plays: And Plays indeed they are, truly fuch, if it be the End of Plays to delight and inftruct, to captivate at once the Ear, the Eye, and the Mind, by Situations forcibly conceived, and Characters truly delineated. There is one Circumftance in Dramatick Poetry, which, I think, the chaftifed Notions of our modern Criticks do not permit them fufficiently to confider. Dramatic Nature is of a more large and liberal Quality than they are willing to allow. It does not confift merely in the Representation of real Characters, Characters acknowledged to abound in common Life; but may be extended also to the Exhibition of imaginary Beings. To create, is to be a Poet indeed; to draw down Beings from another Sphere, and endue them with fuitable Paffions, Affections, Difpofitions, allotting them at the fame Time proper Employment; to body forth, by the Powers of Imagination, the Forms of Things unknown, and to give to airy Nothing a local Habitation and a Name, furely requires a Genius for the Drama equal, if not fuperior, to the Delineation of Perfonages, in the ordinary Course of Nature. Shake Shakespeare, in particular, is univerfally acknowledged never to have foared fo far above the Reach of all other Writers, as in those Instances, where he seems purposely to have tranfgreffed the Laws of Criticism. He appears to have difdained to put his free Soul into Circumfcription and Confine, which denied his extraordinary Talents their full Play, nor gave Scope to the Boundlesness of his Imagination. His Witches, Ghofts, Fairies, and other imaginary Beings, fcattered through his Plays, are fo many glaring Violations of the common Table of Dramatick Laws. What then shall we fay? Shall we confefs their Force and Power over the Soul, fhall we allow them to be Beauties of the moft exquifite Kind, and yet infift on their being expunged? And why? except it be to reduce the Flights of an exalted Genius, by fixing the Standard of Excellence on the Practice of inferior Writers, who wanted Parts to execute fuch great Defigns; or to accommodate them to the narrow Ideas of fmall Criticks, who want Souls large enough to comprehend them? Our old Writers thought no Perfonage whatever, unworthy a Place in the Drama, to which they could annex what may be called a Seity; that is, to which they could allet Manners and Employment peculiar to itself. The fevereft of the Antients cannot be more eminent for the constant Preservation of Uniformity of Character, than Shakespeare; and ShakeSpeare, in no Inftance, fupports his Characters with more Exactneis, than in the Conduct of his ideal Beings. The Ghost in Hamlet is a fhining Proof of this Excellence. But, in Confequence of the Custom of tracing the Events of a Play minutely from a Novel, the Authors were sometimes led to represent a mere human Creature in Circumftances not quite confonant to Nature, of a Difpofition rather wild and extravagant, and in both Cafes more especially repugnant to mo dern dern Ideas. This indeed required particular Indulgence from the Spectator, but it was an Indulgence, which feldom miffed of being amply repaid. Let the Writer but onee be allowed, as a neceffary Datum, the Poffibility of any Character's being placed in fuch a Situation, or poffeft of fo peculiar a Turn of Mind, the Behaviour of the Character is perfectly natural. Shakespeare, though the Child of Fancy, feldom or never dreft up a common Mortal in any other than the modest Dress of Nature: But many fhining Characters in the Plays of Beaumont and Fletcher are not fo well grounded on the Principles of the human Heart; and yet, as they were fupported with Spirit, they were received with Applaufe. Shylock's Contract, with the Penalty of the Pound of Flefh, though not Shakespeare's own Fiction, is perhaps rather improbable; at leaft it would not be regarded as a happy Dramatick Incident in a modern Play; and yet, having once taken it for granted, how beautifully, nay, how naturally, is the Character fuftained!-Even this Objection therefore, of a Deviation from Nature, great as it may feem, will be found to be a Plea infufficient to excufe the total Exclufion of our antient Dramatifts from the Theatre. Shakespeare, you will readily allow, poffeft Beauties more than neceffary to redeem his Faults; Beauties, that excite our Admiration, and obliterate his Errors. True. But did no Portion of that divine Spirit fall to the Share of our other old Writers? And can their Works be fuppreffed, or concealed, without Injuftice to their Merit? One of the best and most pleasing Plays in Maffinger, and which, we are told, was originally received with general Approbation, is called, The Picture. The Fiction, whence it takes its Title, and on which the Story of the Play is grounded, may be collected from the following fhort Scene. Mathias, a Gentleman of Bohemia, having taken an affecting Leave of 'of his Wife Sophia, with a Resolution of ferving in the King of Hungary's Army against the Turks, is left alone on the Stage, and the Play goes on, as follows: [nourish Math. I am ftrangely troubled: Yet why should I A Fury here, and with imagin'd Food?. Having no real Grounds on which to raise A Building of Sufpicion fhe ever was, Or can be false hereafter? I in this But foolishly inquire the Knowledge of A future Sorrow, which, if I find out, My prefent Ignorance were a cheap Purchase, Though with my Lofs of Being. I have already Dealt with a Friend of mine, a general Scholar, One deeply read in Nature's hidden Secrets, And (though with much Unwillingness) have won To do as much as Art can to refolve me [him My Fate that follows-To my Wish he's come. Enter Baptifta. Julio Baptifta, now I may affirm Your Promise and Performance walk together; And therefore, without Circumftance, to the Point, Inftruct me what I am. Bapt. I could wish you had Made Trial of my Love fome other Way. Proportion your Defire to any Mean, I do pronounce you happy: I have found, Free and untainted. Math. Good. Bapt. In Reason therefore You fhould fix here, and make no farther Search Of what may fall hereafter. Math: O Baptifta! |