fome monotony, and a pompous declamatory style* It is fcarce neceffary to produce particular instances; for he never varies from this tone. I fhall however P4 take This criticism reaches the French dramatic writers in general, with very few exceptions. Their tragedies are moftly, if not totally, defcriptive. Corneille led the way; and later writers following his track, have ace customed the French ear to a ftyle, formal, pompous, declamatory, which fuits not with any paffion. Hence it becomes an easy task to burlesk a French tragedy: it is not more difficult than to burlesk a ftiff folemn fop. The facility of the operation has in Paris introduced a fingular amufement, which is, to burlesk the more fuccessful tragedies in a fort of farce, called a parody. La Motte, who himself appears to have been forely galled by fome of these burlesk compofitions, acknowledges, that no more is neceffary to give them a run, than barely to vary the dramatis perfonæ, and in place of kings and heroes, queens and princeffes, to fubftitute tinkers, and taylors, milkmaids and feamftreffes. The declamatory ftyle, fo different from the genuine expreffion of paffion, paffes in fome meafure unobferved, when great perfonages are the speakers. But in the mouths of the vulgar, the impropriety, with regard to the fpeaker as well as to the paffion reprefented, is fo remarkable as to become ridiculous. A tragedy, where every paffion is made to speak in its natural tone, is not liable to be thus burlesked. The fame paffion is by all men expreffed nearly in the fame manner: and therefore the genuine expreffions of paffion cannot be ridiculous in the mouth of any man, provided only he be of such a character as to be fufceptible of the paffion. It is a well-known fact, that to an English ear the French actors appear to pronounce with too great rapidity; a complaint much infifted on by Cibber in particular, who had frequently heard the famous Baron upon the French flage. This may in fome measure be attributed to our want of facility in the French language; as foreigners generally imagine, that every language is pronounced too quick by natives. But that it is not the fole take two paffages at a venture, in order to be confronted with thofe tranfcribed above. In the tragedy of Cinna, Emilia, after the confpiracy was discovered, having nothing in view but racks and death to herself and her lover, receives a pardon from Auguftus, attended with the brightest circumstances of magnanimity and tenderness. This is a happy fituation for representing the paffions of furprife and gratitude in their different stages. These paffions, raised at once to the utmost pitch, are at first too big for utterance; and Æmilia's feelings muft, for fome moments, have been expreffed by violent gestures only. So foon as there is a vent for words, the firft expreffions are naturally broken and interrupted. At laft we ought to expect a tide of intermingled fentiments, occafioned by the fluctuation of the mind betwixt the two paffions. Æmilia is made to behave in a very different manner. With extreme coolness she describes her own fituation, as if he were merely a fpectator; or rather the poet takes the task off her hands. Et fole caufe, will be probable from a fact directly oppofite, that the French are not a little difgufted with the languidnefs, as they term it, of the English pronunciation. I conjecture this difference of tafte may be derived from what is obferved above. The pronunciation of the genuine language of paffion is neceffarily directed by the nature of the paffion, and by the flownefs or celerity of its progrefs. In particular, plaintive paffions, which are the moft frequent in tragedy, having a flow motion dictate a flow pronunciation. In declamation again, which is not the genuine language of any paffion, the fpeaker warms gradually; and as he warms, he naturally accelerates his pronunciation. But as the French have formed their tone of pronunciation upon Corneille's declamatory tragedies, and the English upon the more natural language of Shakespear, it is not furprising that cuftom should produce fuch difference of tafte in the two nations. Et je me rens, Seigneur, à ces hautes bontés, Et pour preuve, Seigneur, je n'en veux que moimême; J'ofe avec vanité me donner cet éclat, Puifqu'il change mon cœur, qu'il veut changer l'état. Ma haine va mourir que j'ai crue immortelle, In the tragedy of Sertorius, the Queen, furprised with the news that her over was affaffinated, inftead of venting any paffion, degenerates into a cool fpectator, even fo much as to inftru&t the bystanders how a queen ought to behave on fuch an occafion. Viriate. Il m'en fait voir ensemble, et l'auteur.. Par cet affaffinat c'eft de moi qu'on difpofe, Ch. XVI. So much in general upon the genuine sentiments of paffion. I proceed now to particular obfervations. And, firft, Paffions are feldom uniform for any confiderable time: they generally fluctuate, fwelling and fubfiding by turns, often in a quick fucceffion*. This fluctuation, in the cafe of a real paffion, will be expreffed externally by proper fentiments; and ought to be imitated in writing and acting. Accordingly, a climax fhows never better than in expreffing a fwelling paffion. The followlowing paffages fhall fuffice for an illuftration. Oroonoko. -Can you raise the dead? Almeria. Oroonoko, act 2. fc. 2.. How haft thou charm'd The wildness of the waves and rocks to this? Mourning Bride, act 1. fc. 7. I would not be the villain that thou think't Macbeth, act 4. fc. 4. The following paffage expreffes finely the progress of conviction. Let me not ftir, nor breathe, left I diffolve Mourning Bride, act 2. fc. 6. * See chap. 2. part 3. In In the progrefs of thought, our refolutions become more vigorous as well as our passions. If ever I do yield or give confent, By any action, word, or thought, to wed And this leads to a fecond obfervation, that the different ftages of a paffion, and its different directions, from its birth to its extinction, ought to be carefully reprefented in the fentiments, which otherwife will often be mifplaced. Refentment, for example, when provoked by an atrocious injury, dif charges itself firft upon the author: Sentiments. therefore of revenge take place of all others, and must in some measure be exhaufted before the perfon injured think of pitying himself, or of grieving for his prefent diftrefs. In the Cid of Corneille, Don Diegue having been affronted in a cruel manner, expreffes fcarce any fentiment of revenge, but is totally occupied in contemplating the low fitua tion to which he was reduced by the affront.. Ο O rage! ô defefpoir! â vieilleffe ennemie ! N'ai-je donc tant vecu que pour cette infamie? Trahit donc ma querelle, et ne fait rien pour moi! |