Much do I fuffer, much, to keep in Peace This jealous, wafpifh, wrong-head, rhiming Race. POPE, AR S a perfect Tragedy is the nobleft Production of human Nature, fo it is capable of giving the Mind one of the moft delightful and most improving Entertainments. A virtuous Man (fays Seneca) ftruggling with Misfortunes, is fuch a Spectacle as God's might look upon with Pleafure; and fuch a Pleafure it is which one meets with in the Reprefentation of a well-written Tra gedy. Diverfions of this kind wear out of our Thoughts every thing that is mean and little. They cherish and cultivate that Humanity which is the Ornament of our Nature. They foften Infolence, footh Affliction, and fubdue the Mind to the Difpenfations of Providence. IT is no Wonder therefore that in all the polite Nations of the World, this part of the Drama has met with publick Encouragement. THE modern Tragedy excels that of Greece and Rome, in the Intricacy and Difpofition of the Fable; but, what a Chriftian Writer would be afhamed to own, falls infinitely fhort of it in the moral Part of the Performance. THIS I may fhew more at large hereafter; and in the mean time, that I may contribute fomething towards the Improvement of the English Tragedy I fhall take notice, in this and in other following Papers, of fome particular Parts in it that feem liable to Exception. ARISTOTLE obferves, that the Iambic Verfe in the Greek Tongue was the most proper for Tragedy: Because at the fame time that it lifted up the Discourse from Profe, it was that which approached nearer to it than any any other kind of Verfe. For, fays he, we may obferve that Men in ordinary Difcourfe very often speak Iambicks, without taking notice of it. We may make the fame Obfervation of our English Blank Verfe, which often enters into our common Difcourfe, though we do not attend to it, and is fuch a due Médium between Rhyme and Profe, that it feems wonderfully adapted to Tragedy. I am therefore very much offended when I fee a Play in Rhyme; which is as abfurd in English, as a Tragedy of Hexameters would have been in Greek or Latin. The Solecifm is, I think, ftill greater in those Plays that have fome Scenes in Rhyme and fome in Blank Verfe, which are to be looked upon as two feveral Languages; or where we fee fome particular Similes dignified with Rhyme, at the fame time that every thing about them lies in Blank Verfe. I would not however debar the Poet from concluding his Tragedy, or, if he pleafes every Act of it, with two or three Couplets, which may have the fame Effect as an Air in the Italian Opera after a long Recitativo, and give the Actor a graceful Exit. Befides that we fee a Diverfity of Numbers in fome Parts of the Old Tragedy, in order to hinder the Ear from being tired with the fame continued Modulation of Voice. For the fame Reafon I do not dislike the Speeches in our English Tragedy that clofe with an Hemiftich, or half Verfe, notwithstanding the Perfon who speaks after it begins a new Verfe, without filling up the preceding one; nor with abrupt Paufes and Breakings-off in the middle of a Verfe, when they humour any Paffion that is expreffed by it. SINCE I am upon this Subject, I must observe that our English Poets have fucceeded much better in the Stile, than in the Sentiments of their Tragedies. Their Language is very often Noble and Sonorous, but the Senfe either very trifling or very common. On the contrary, in the Ancient Tragedies, and indeed in thofe of Corneille, and Racine, tho' the Expreffions are very great, it is the Thought that bears them up and fwells them. For my own part, I prefer a noble Sentiment that is depressed with homely Language, infinitely before a vulgar one that is blown up with all the Sound and Energy of Expreffion. Whether this Defect in our Tragedies may arife from from want of Genius, Knowledge, or Experience in the Writers, or from their Compliance with the vicious Tafte of their Readers, who are better Judges of the Language than of the Sentiments, and confequently relish the one more than the other, I cannot determine. But I believe it might rectify the Conduct both of the one and of the other, if the Writer laid down the whole Contexture of his Dialogue in plain English, before he turned it into Blank Verfe; and if the Reader, after the Perusal of a Scene, would confider the naked Thought of every Speech in it, when divefted of all its Tragick Ornaments. By this means, without being impofed upon by Words, we may judge impartially of the Thought, and confider whether it be natural or great enough for the Perfon that utters it, whether it deferves to fhine in fuch a Blaze of Eloquence, or fhew itself in fuch a Variety of Lights as are generally made ufe of by the Writers of our English Tragedy. I muft in the next place obferve, that when our Thoughts are great and juft, they are often obfcured by the founding Phrafes, hard Metaphors, and forced Expreffions in which they are clothed. Shakespear is often very faulty in this Particular. There is a fine Obfervation in Ariftotle to this purpose, which I have never feen quoted. The Expreffion, fays he, ought to be very much laboured in the unactive Parts of the Fable, as in Defcriptions, Similitudes, Narrations, and the like; in which the Opinions, Manners, and Paffions of Men are not reprefented; for thefe (namely the Opinions, Manners, and Paffions) are apt to be obfcured by Pompous Phrases and Elaborate Expreffions. Horace, who copied moft of his Criticifms after Ariftotle, feems to have had his Eye on the foregoing Rule, in the following Verses: Et Tragicus plerumque dolet Sermone pedeftri:" ROSCOMMON. AMONG our modern English Poets, there is monet who was better turned for Tragedy than Lee; if inftead of favouring the Impetuofity of his Genius, he had re ftrained it, and kept it within its proper Bounds. His Thoughts are wonderfully fuited to Tragedy, but fre-t quently loft in fuch a Cloud of Words, that it is hard to fee the Beauty of them: There is an infinite Fire in his Works, but fo involved in Smoke, that it does not ap pear in half its Luftre. He frequently fucceeds in the Paffionate Parts of the Tragedy, but more particularly where he flackens his Efforts, and cafes the Stile of thofe Epithets and Metaphors, in which, he fo much abounds. What can be more Natural, more Soft, or more Paffionate, than that Line in Statira's Speech, where the defcribes the Charms of Alexander's Converfation Then he would talk-Good Gods! how he would talk! THAT unexpected Break in the Line, and turning the Defcription of his Manner of Talking into an Admiration of it, is inexpreffibly Beautiful, and wonderfully fuited to the fond Character of the Perfon that fpeaks it. There is a Simplicity in the Words, that outfhines the atmoft Pride of Expreffion. OTWAY has followed Nature in the Language of his Tragedy, and therefore fhines in the Paffionate Parts, more than any of our English Poets. As there is fomething Familiar and Domeftick in the Fable of his Tragedy, more than in thofe of any other Poet, he has little Pomp but great Force in his Expreffions. For which Reafon, though he has admirably fucceeded in the tender and melting Part of his Tragedies, he fometimes falls into too great a Familiarity of Phrafe in thofe Parts, which, by Ariftotle's Rule, ought to have been raised and fupe ported by the. Dignity of Expreffion. IT has been obferved by others, that this Poet has founded his Tragedy of Venice Preferved on fo wrong a Plot, that the greatest Characters in it are thofe of Rebels and Traitors. Had the Hero of his Play difcovered the fame good Qualities in the Defence of his Country, that he fhewed for its Ruin and Subverfion, the Audience could not enough pity and admire him: But as he is now reprefented, we can only fay of him what the Roman Hiftorian Hiftorian fays of Catiline, that his Fall would have been Glorious (pro Patria fic concidiffet) had he fo fallen in the Service of his Country. No 40 Monday, April 16. 3 f C Ac ne forte putes, me, que facere ipfe recufam, IMITATE D. t. Yet left you think I rally more than teach, 3 'Tis he, who gives my Breaft a thousand Pains, HE English Writers of Tragedy are poffeffed with a Notion, that when they reprefent a virtuous or innocent Perfon in Diftrefs, they ought not to leave him 'till they have deliver'd him out of his Troubles, or made him triumph over his Enemies. This Error they have been led into by a ridiculous Doctrine in modern Criticism, that they are obliged to an equal Diftribu tion of Rewards and Punishments, and an impartial Exe cution of Poetical Juftice. Who were the first that established this Rule I know not; but I am sure it has no Foundation in Nature, in Reason, or in the Practice of the Ancients. We find that Good and Evil happen |