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; To fhut me out!-Pour on, I will endure. 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 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, Who can controul his fate? 'tis not fo now. 3 Be not afraid, though you do fee me weapon'd wench! Pale as thy fmoke! when we shall meet at compt, 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 |