its Circumftances 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 boaft of Accuracy in their Conftruction, as the Plays of Shakespeare; nay, perhaps, it might be proved that, amidst the moft open Violation of the jeffer 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. This Charge must be confeffed to be true: But upon Examination it will, perhaps, be found of lefs Confequence than is generally imagined. Thefe Dramatick Tales, for fo we may beft ftile fuch Plays, have often occafioned much Pleafure 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 Charac ter, 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 fuch 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 Midsummer Night's Dream, the Merchant of Venice, As you like it, Twelfth Night, the Faithful Shepherdefs 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 obferved, cauti oufly ftile them Plays: And Plays indeed they in 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 Circumstance 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 Reprefentation of real Characters, Characters acknowledged to abound in common Life; but may be extended alfo 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 Courfe of Nature. Shake Shakespeare, in particular, is univerfally acknowledged never to have foared fo far above the Reach of all other Writers, as in thofe Inftances, where he feems purposely to have tranfgreffed the Laws of Criticifm. 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 Boundiefnefs 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 fhall we fay? Shall we confefs their Force and Power over the Soul, fhall we allow them to be Beauties of the most 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 allot Manners and Employment peculiar to itself. The fevereft of the Antients cannot be more eminent for the conftant Prefervation of Uniformity of Character, than Shakespeare; and ShakeSpeare, in no Inftance, fupports his Characters with more Exactnes, than in the Conduct of his ideal Beings. The Ghost in Hamlet is a fhining Proof of this Excellence. But, in Confequence of the Cuftom of tracing the Events of a Play minutely from a Novel, the Authors were fometimes led to represent a mere human Creature in Circumstances not quite confonant to Nature, of a Difpofition rather wild and extravagant, and in both Cafes more efpecially repugnant to mo dera dern Ideas. This indeed required particular Indul gence from the Spectator, but it was an Indulgence, which feldom miffed of being amply repaid. Let the Writer but once be allowed, as a neceflary Da. tum, the Poffibility of any Character's being placed in fuch a Situation, or poffeft of so peculiar à Turn of Mind, the Behaviour of the Character is perfectly Batural. Shakespeare, though the Child of Fancy, feldom or never dreft up a common Mortal in any other than the modeft Drefs 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 Flesh, 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 fuflained!-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 Ex-' clufion 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 GenHeman of Bohemia, having taken an affecting Leave of WRITERS. 271 of his Wife Sophia, with a Refolution 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 raife A Building of Sufpicion fhe ever was, Or can be falfe hereafter? I in this But foolishly inquire the Knowledge of A future Sorrow, which, if I find out, My prefent Ignorance were a cheap Purchafe,a 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 Unwillingnefs) have wo:1 To do as much as Art can to resolve 'me [him My Fate that follows-To my With he's come. Enter Baptifta. Julio Baptifta, now I may affirm Your Promife 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 Reafon therefore You should fix here, and make no farther Search Of what may fall hereafter. Math O Baptisła! 'Tis |