« السابقةمتابعة »
power to move, which constitutes the perfection of dramatick poetry. This reasoning is so specious, that it is received as true even by those who in daily experience feel it to be false. The interchanges of mingled scenes feldom fail to produce the intended vicissitudes of passion. Fiction cannot move so much, but that the attention may be easily transferred; and though it must be allowed that pleasing melancholy be sometimes interrupted by unwelcome levity, yet let it be considered likewise, that melancholy is often not pleasing, and that the disturbance of one man may
be be relief of another; that different auditors have different habitudes; and that, upon the whole, all plea. fure confits in variety,
The players, who in their edition divided our authour's works into comedies, histories, and tragedies, seem not to have distinguished the three kinds, by any very exact or definite ideas.
An action which ended happily to be principal persons, however serious or distressful through its intermediate incidents, in their opinion constituted a comedy. This idea of a comedy continued long amongst us, and plays wstę written, which, by changing the catastrophe, were tragedies to-day and comedies to-morrow,
Tragedy was not in those times a poem of more general dignity or elevation than comedy; it required poly a calamitous conclusion, with which the common criticism of that age was farissied, whatever lighter pleasure it afforded in its progress.
„History was a series of actions, with no other than chronological fuccesiion, independent of each other, and without any tendency to introduce or regulate the conclusion. It is not always very nicely distinguished from tragedy.' There is not much nearer approach to unity of action in the tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra, than in the history of Richard the Second. But a history might be continued through many plays; as it had no plan, it had no limits.
Through all these denominations of the drama, Sbakefqeare's mode of composition is the fame; an interchange of seriousness and merriment, by which the mind is softened at one time, and exhilarated at another. But whatever be his purpose, whether to gladden or depress, or to conduct the story, without vehemence or emotion, through tracts of easy and familiar dialogue, he never fails to attain his purpose; as he commands us, we laugh or mourn, or sit filent with quiet expectation, in tranquillity without indifference.
When Shakespeare's plan is understood, most of the criticisms of Rhymer and Voltaire vanish away. The play of Ilanlet is opened, without impropriety, by two fentine's ; Iago bellows at Brabantio's 'window, without injury to the scheme of the play, though in terms which a modern audience would not 'easily endure; the character of Polonius is seasonable and uteful; and the Grave-diggers themselves may be heard with applause.
Shakespeare engaged in dramatick poetry with the world open before him; the rules of the ancients were yet known to few; the publick judgment was unformed; he had no example of such fame as might force him upon imitation, nor criticks of such authority as might restrain his extravagance: He therefore indulged his natural disposition, and his disposition, as Rhymer has remarked, led him to comedy. In tragedy he often writes with great appearance of toil and study, what is written ac last with little felicity ; but in his comick scenes, he seems to produce without labour, what no labour can improve. In tragedy he is always struggling after some occasion to be comick, but in comedy he seems to repose, or to luxuriate, as in a mode of thinking congenial to his nature. In his tragick scenes there is always something wanting, but bis comedy often surpasses expectation or desire. His comedy pleases by the thoughts and the language, and his tragedy for the greater part by incident and action. His tragedy seems to be skill, his comedy to be instinct.
The force of his comick scenes has suffered little diminution from the changes made by a century and a half, in manners or in words. As his personages act upon principles arising from genuine passion, very little modified by particular forms, their pleasures and vexations are communicable to all times and to all places; they are natural, and therefore durable; the adventitious peculiarities of personal habits, are cnly superficial dies, brighe and pleasing for a little
while, yet' soon fading to a dim tinct, without any remains of former lustre; but the discriminations of true paffion are the colours of nature ; they pervade the whole mass, and can only perish with the body that exhibits them. The accidental compositions of beterogeneous nodes are disolved by the chance which combined them ; but the uniform simplicity of primitive qualities neither admits increase, nor suffers decay. The sand heaped by one food is scattered by another, but the rock always continues in its place. The stream of time, which is continually washing the diffoluble fabricks of other poets, passes without injury by the adamant of Shakespeare.
If there be, what I believe there is, in every nation, a stile which never becomes obsolete, a certain mode of phraseology fu confonant and congenial to the analogy and principles of its respective language as to remain fettled and unaltered; this stile is probably to be fought in the common intercourse of life, among those who speak only to be understood, without ambition of elegance. The polite are always catching modish innovations, and the learned depart from eltablished forms of speech, in hope of finding or making better; those who wish for distinction forsake the vulgar, when the vulgar is right; but there is a conversation above grosiness and below refinement, where propriety resides, and where this poet seems to have gathered his comick dialogue. He is therefore more agreeable to the ears of the present age than any other authour equally remote, and among his other excel
lencies deserves to be studied as one of the original masters of our language.
These observations are to be considered not as une exceptionably constant, but as containing general and predominant truth. Shakespeare's familiar dialogue is affirmed to be smooth and clear, yet not wholly without ruggedness or difficulty; as a country may
be eminently fruitful, though it has spots unfit for cultivation : His characters are praised as nacural, though their sentiments are fometimes forced, and their actions improbable; as the earth upon the whole is spherical, though its surface is varied with protuberances and cavities.
Shakespeare with his excellencies has likewise fauits, and faults sufficient to ob!cure and overwhelm any other merit. I shall fhew them in the proportion in which they appear to me, without envious malignicy or superstitious veneration. No question can be more innocently discussed than a dead poet's pretensions to renown; and little regard is due to chat bigotry which fets candour higher than truth.
His first defect is that to which may be impuced most of the evil in books or in men. He facrifices virtue to convenience, and is so much more careful to please than to instruct, that he seems to write without any moral purpose. From his writings indeed a system of social duty may be selected, for he that thinks reasonably must think morally; but his precepts and axioms drop casually from him; he makęs no just distribution of good or evil, nor is al