tion with action; and, in the quickest fucceffion, be able to adopt every different character introduced in his work. But à very humble flight of imagination, may ferve to convert a writer into a spectator, fo as to figure, in fome obfcure manner, an action as paffing in his fight and hearing. In this figured fituation, he is led naturally to describe as a fpectator, and eat fecond hand to entertain his readers with his own observations, with cool description and florid declamation; inftead of making them eye-witneffes, as it were, to a real event, and to every movement of genuine passion*. Thus, in the bulk of plays, ca

* In the Æneid, the hero is made to defcribe himself in the following words: Sum pius Æneas, fama fuper athera notus. Virgil could never have been guilty of an impropriety fo grofs, had he affumed the perfonage of his hero, instead of uttering the fentiments of a fpectator. Nor would Xenophon have made the following fpeech for Cyrus the younger, to his Grecian auxiliaries, whom he was leading againft his brother Artaxerxes. "I have chofen you, O Greeks! my auxiliaries, "not to enlarge my army, for I have Barbarians without "number; but because you furpass all the Barbarians in va"lour and military difcipline." This fentiment is Xenophon's; for furely Cyrus did not reckon his countrymen Barbarians.

tirefome

tiresome monotony prevails, a pompous declamatory style, without entering into dif ferent characters or paffions.

This defcriptive manner of expreffing paffion, has a very unhappy effect. Our fympathy is not raised by defcription: we must be lulled firft into a dream of reality; and every thing must appear as actually present and paffing in our fight. Unhappy is the player of genius who acts a capital part in what may be termed a defcriptive tragedy. After he has affumed the very passion that is to be represented, how must he be cramped in his action, when he is forced to utter, not the fentiments of the paffion he feels, but a cold defcription in the language of a by-ftander? It is this imperfection, I am perfuaded, in the bulk of our plays, that confines our ftage almost entirely to Shakespear, his many irregula rities notwithstanding. In our latest Englifh tragedies, we fometimes find fentiments tolerably well adapted to a plain pasfion. But it would be fruitless labour, to

See chap. 2. part 1. fect 6.

U 2

fearch

fearch in any of them for a fentiment expressive of character; and, upon that very account, all our modern performances of the dramatic kind, are intolerably infipid.

Looking back upon the foregoing obfervation, I am uncertain whether it will be fufficiently apprehended; for, upon this complicated fubject, I find fome difficulty to express myself with perfpicuity. I despair not however to place this matter in the clearest light, by adding example to precept. In the front fhall be fet one or two examples of fentiments that appear the legitimate offspring of passion; and to them shall be opposed a few others that are defcriptive only, and illegitimate. In making this comparison, I fhall borrow my inftances from Shakespear and Corneille, who for genius in dramatic compofition stand uppermoft in the rolls of fame.

Shakespear fhall furnish the first instance, being of fentiments dictated by a violent and perturbed paffion.

Lear.

Filial ingratitude!

Is it not, as if this mouth fhould tear this hand

For

For lifting food to't? But I'll punish home;
No, I will weep no more.
In fuch a night,

To fhut me out!-Pour on, I will endure.
In fuch a night as this! O Regan, Gonerill,
Your old kind father, whofe frank heart gave all-
O, that way madness lies; let me fhun that;
No more of that.

Kent. Good, my Lord, enter here.

Lear. Pr'ythee, go in thy thyfelf, feek thine own ease,

This tempeft will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more- but I ll go in;
In, boy, go first. You houfelefs poverty ———
Nay, get thee in; I'll pray, and then I'll sleep-
Poor naked wretches,, wherefoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitilefs storm!
How fhall your houseless heads and unfed fides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggednefs, defend you
From feafons fuch as these?OI have ta'en
Too little care of this! take phyfic, Pomp;
Expofe thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou may'st shake the fuperflux to them,
And fhow the heavens more just.

King Lear. at 3. Sc. 50

To illuftrate the foregoing doctrine, one other instance of the fame kind may suffice,

expreffing

expreffing sentiments arifing from remorse

and despair.

Othello. Lo! I have a weapon:

A better never did itself fuftain

Upon a foldier's thigh. I've seen the day,
That with this little arm, and this good fword,
I've made my way through more impediments
Than twenty times your ftop. But, oh vain
boast!

Who can controul his fate? 'tis not fo now.

3

Be not afraid, though you do fee me weapon'd
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
The very fea-mark of my outmost fail.
Do you go back difmay'd? 'tis a loft fear.
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires. Where should Othello go?
Now how doft thou look now? Oh ill-starr'd

wench!

Pale as thy fmoke! when we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my foul from heav'n,
And fiends will fnatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl,
Ev'n like thy chastity. O curfed flave!
Whip me, ye devils,

From the poffeffion of this heav'nly fight;

Blow me about in winds, roaft me in fulphur, me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire