UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES ) I B D I N' HISTORT OF TH1 ^ 4, STAGE. 828 .'_. I 3 COMPLETE HISTORY OF THE ENGLSH STAGE. INTRODUCED by a comparative and comprehen/ive review of the ASIATIC, the GRECIAN, the ROMAN, the SPANISH, the ITA- LIAN, the PORTUGESE, the GERMAN, the FRENCH, and OTHER THEATRES,' and involving BIOGRAPHICAL TRACTS and ANECDOTES, injlrufli'ue and awujzng, concerning a prodi- gious number of AUTHORS, COMPOSERS, PAINTERS, ACTORS, SINGERS, and PATRONS of DRAMATIC PRODUCTIONS in all countries. The libale 'written, ivith thf affiflance of interejlini> documents,^ fa/-, leflt'4 in the courfe of jive and thirty years^ by MR. D1BDIN. VOL. I. ^ L O N D O N i PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, AND SOLD BY HIM AT HIS WAREHOUSE, LEICESTER FLACE, I.FICESTER SQUARE. TO THE MOST NOBLE THE MARQUIS OF SALISBURY, MY LORD, 1 HERE is no tafk performed with fuch real devotion, or that can be fo properly in place, as that which fprings from private inclination, and is fanftioned by public duty. That private inclination di&ates this addrefs; witnefs the grati le with which your Lordfhip's unexampled liberality has indelibly impreffed me, and which VOL. I. A 11 DEDICATION. -not ,-,, i i rcoiH , , ' Jcr X is irrelillably my prerpctual theme ; and your Lordfhip's fituation as Lord Cham- berlain of his Majeily's houfehold, and Mailer of the Revels, evidently renders it a public duty in me, to addrefs a book, which profefles to record a Hiftory of the Stage, and fuch circumftances con- nected with it as relate to your Lordfhip's high office, to you, rny Lord, and to you alone. Having, however, been formerly ho- noured with dedicating a work to your Lordfhip, my difficulty in acquitting my- felf of this welcome duty would have been infurmountable, had not your Lordihip waved ceremony and precedent by gene- roufly condefcending to relieve me from this embarraffment. I could long dwell, my Lord, upon this fubjecl ; long indulge my willing in- clination with defcribing in how many ways my reputation has been advanced by DEDICATION. Ill your Lordfhip's patronage and protection; but that the fame feeling which impels me to be grateful forbids me to be importu- nate. Nobly to confer, is the molt exalted exercife of the human mind. May you, my Lord, long live to enjoy that belt of propenuties, fo congenial to the 'munifi- cent, and in particular to your Lordlhip; and may every objecl: of inch benevolence be infpired with the pride, and the fenfi- bility of obligation, which is truly felt, but cannot be adequately expreffed, by My Lord, Your Lordfhip's Truly honoured, obliged, and Devoted Servant, C. DIBDIN. Leicejler Place, March 25, 1800. PREFACE. 1HIS work once collated and gathered into volumes, I had intended, as my original advertifement ftates, to have gone into it at length by way of preface, to have enumerated every particular that might be neceflary for its illuftration, to have given, fuch reafons for every part of my own conduft as in that cafe would have been due to the public, and fuch anfwers to all thofe who have anonymoufly praifed and cenfured me as might enfure my opinions the award of candour and imparti- ality. When I made this ram promife, however, for ram it was be_ yond precedent, I was not aware that, to acquit myfelf of this almoft impoflible talk, I muft have added at leaft five volumes to thofe five I now publifh, and all this, perhaps, to lead my- felf into fcrapes with numerous individuals ; a predicament, which it is neither my inclination nor my intereft to rifk. 1 (hall therefore content myfelf with a few general remarks, let- ting praife or cenfure light upon the work, according as thofe may be inclined to indulge either propenfuy, who deliberately perufe it, without which degree of attention it cannot be read to any purpofe ; and, inltead of ihewing how readers ought to be pleafed, explain in what manner I have endeavoured to pleafe them. The prodigious mafs of materials perpetually at variance inth one another, that I have had the flavery to wade through. precluded all poiTibility of a particular elucidation ; for they were a complete chaos of jarring atoms, out of which I dcfV any man to have formed a perfeft hif:orical world ; and, there- fore, to have taken them otherwife than according to their ge- neral bearing, however it might have encouraged ingenuity, would not have favoured fidelity. Under this imprefTion I have eilablilhed judgment as the arbitrator between thofe two competitors, of which article I have certainly given up to the iubjecl all that I pofTdTed, which is as much as any reafon- able reader can defire. I might perhaps have exercifed this neceffary quality more deliberately, had not a number ofcircumftaaces intervened that it was impoffible forme to have forefeen. I had no idea, when 1 began the Hiflory of the Stage, that I ihould take a circuit of between three and four thoufand miles during the profecu- tion of it, and be in confequence obliged to difpatch copy written upon the fpur of the moment to a printer, fometimes at four hundred miles diftance, who, had he been paid to have in- volved me in every difficulty and inconvenience, could not more completely havedifcharged this retrogade office. I might, to be fure, have given it up at the end of the firil volume, but this would have violated my rcfpedl; due to the fubfcribers, and my re- gard to my own reputation; and, asto foregoing every thing elfe upon this account, I appeal to the candid, for whom I have as grateful a deference as I have an ineffable contempt for cavil- lers, whether it would not have been a fupererogate and abfurd inftance of quixotifm, if, for the fake of watching the prefs, and ofdigefling historical matter into mere form, I had given up profpL'fts which have confirmed my health, enlarged my connexions, and augmented my interefl and my reputation, r fpccially as by the experiment J fliould have loll the adlivity or' truth, and gained nothing bun its precifion, in which parti- cular, perhaps after al! I have been virtually, as correft as my neighbours. A mere hiftory of theatrical events, T taVe to be a very in- fipid thing. I confider the Stage as a Hate branching from the empire of literature, and therefore an examination of its rulers, and the rife and operation of the various circumftances iffuing from its general interefl, cannot be related to effet without digefting different opinions and forming a rational judgment of them. In this, one is apt to be a little dictatorial, which, however, is a merit ; for it implies that, after every neceflary examina- tion you have fully perfuaded yourfelf that certain fails ex ill, and therefore you naturally expeft an implicit acquiefcence on the part of the reader, provided your general reafoning have made the matter clear. In this view, the hiftorian may expect and ought to be credited ; for, if every trivial faft were to be argued upon, the chain of narrative would be perpetually broken through, and nothing would be concluded. It is upon this broad ground I wilh this book to be judged. Indeed I think it ought to acknowledge no other authority; for I will venture to fay that any thing written upon the con- vidion of long experience will be more likely in its effence to be faithfully authentic, than a hiftory compofed, or rather vamped, from a whole library of printed and written docu- ments ; efpecially when to my own knowledge many articles in even recent publications, relative to the theatre, are com- pletely falfe. It is no fubjecl of wonder therefore, though heaven knows, I have had recourie to printed documents and written ones too, many of them, thanks to thofe bufy gentlemen whofeem to have had but little to do with their time, through the medium of the penny poll, that I have had more difficulty in avoiding fancied errors that in coming at evident truths ; and here 1 cannot help reflecting on the egregious abfurdity of thofe who have been fo officioufly friendly as to tender opinions which I could not but fee, or elfe I mull be fit for Bedlam, were traps for my veracity; and yet, poor devils, I forgive them. Indeed they arc my friends without their own knowledge ; for the an- ticipation of an injury is next to the enjoyment of a benefit. As to all thofe who from real kindnefs and friendly folicitude, have ihewn an anxiety for my reputation in the courfe of thib \\ork, I mould havetoaccufe myfelf of every thing unworthy and un- grateful if I did not feel their generofity and acknowledge the advantages derived from their advice; but of this they will be confcious, by an obfervation of the ufe I have made of their va- rious remarks. My great difficulty has been to curtail ; for, from the. large cargo of matter I have had the drudgery to confult, my tafk had been as troublefome as that of a manager in the fhorten- ing an overgrown play. I have therefore never teazed the reader with dates of births, or deaths, or any times or adlions, that I have conceived to be irrelative to theeflence of the fafts 1 have commemorated. I have alfocut out fecond titles where- ever I could ; by the abfence of all which extraneous matter I have been able to crib room for anecdotes and other articles which I conceived would be much more entertaining to the reader. Above all, I have as much as poffible omitted Chrif- tian, or firft names; a circumftance which may in fome inftances perhaps be taken in dudgeon, though certainly nothing can be a greater compliment. I remember, when Garrick was abfurd- ly particular on this fubjccl:. A lady of diftinftion wrote her friend a minute account of the Jubilee, in the moment the little man returned home, with all his bluming honours thick about him. In this account fhe frequently called him Garrick, without any prefatory appellation. He was told of it, and re- marked, that it was a ftrange want of attention, for that it might at leaft have been Mr. Garrick. The lady heard of this, and wrote him a letter, profeffing to apologife for the omiffion, but yet full of clofe and keen irony. Among other things, Iher faid, " that nothing could be farther from her intention than *' the moft diftant idea of an impropriety. She only wrote while " her heart was full, at which moment fhe could no more have *' faid Mr. Garrick, than Mr. Shakefpeare." To enumerate the various objefts this fubjeft embraces would give this addrefs more the form of a profpeclus to re- commend a work, than a preface to the work itfelf. The Hif- tory of the Stage is now publifhed, and let it Hand or fall by its general merits. It may not, however, be irrelevant to notice that mulic has never been treated, as it relates to the Theatre, till now. I mall finifh this intrufion by intreating that I only defire to receive that proportion of commendation to which a fair $pn- ftru&ion of the above remarks may entitle me ; that the letter may be confidered as comprized in the fpirit of the work ; that inferior faults may be liberally overlooked ; in fhort, that I may find, as far as they are my due as to the literary part of this undertaking which refted with me, credit for good intention, indullry, and difcrimination, in the candour and confideration cf my readers ; and for the typographical part, which did not reft with me, un er?fcta in their generofity and indulgence. ADVERTISEMENT. IN addition to the fource of materials whence I Derive this work, which were before large, complicate^ and redundant; I have been, and no doubt//) a II continue to be, favoured with much anonymous and other advice, manifcjlly the refult of either curiofity, or malignity > or elfe kindnefs. As I mean to do my duty faithfully, firmly, and jione/lly ; I do not, of courfe,ftt out with an expectation, of pleajing every body, a tajk which would rejlecl no great reputation on him ivhojhould accomplifk it. As I hold myfelf, however, refponfible for the validity of tfhofe motives which may induce me to broach my opi- nions ; I Jlrall, after I have gone through the whole body of evidence, fum up., in the nature of a charge to a jury, all thofe collateral points which may have go- verned my conducl throughout tfie whole of this un- dertaking. To an addrefs of this kind which I /Jiall place at the head of this hijlory, by way of preface, 1 refer all thofe who have appeared, in any refpett, to be folicitous about me or my work, taking, till then, a privilege to. myfclf to pojlponc any public notice of their favours* Ji ADVERTISEMENT. This, declaration, however, has nothing to do with the -warm and zealous exertions of thofe whofe kmd- nefs and attention have fo largely fwelled my fubfcrip- tion. I beg, even at this early period, they will accept mymcftji.ncere acknowledgements, as an earnejl of that notice of their friendfJiip which IJJiall confider my/elf under an obligation to take when to the lajl number will be added the names of the fitbfcribers, 'the preface I have dluded to, and a dedication, by permijjion, to that ncbleman under whofe generous aufpices and un- exampled liberality I have fo often had the advantage and dijlinftion offubmitting my labours to the candour find indulgence of the public. tiffe BOOK I. 'CONTAINING A REVIEW OF THE ASIATIC, THE GRE- CIAN, THE ROMAN, THE SPANISH, THE ITALIAN/ THE PORTUGESE, AND THE GERMAN THEATRES. CHAP, I. INTRODUCTION. THREE queftions fugged the.mfelves on a corifi- deration of this undertaking : Whether the fubject it treats be of fufficient 'moment, the characters it celebrates of fufficieht inn portance, and the events it relates of fufficient authenticity to intereft the public. To which may be added, by way of a fourth proportion Whether* even mould thefe points be incontrovertably made! out, it can create intereft to fuch a degree as ef- fentially to ferve the purpofes of truth and morality, Of this field for enquiry, over which I mean to e THE STAGS. go at large in my preface, ! fhall, at prefent contcrit myfelf with taking a curfory review. If of all the arts of imitation the moft feducing^ the mofl ingenious, the moft expanded, and the moft efteemed, that depicts nature by prefenting man to man, and face to face ; that teaches us to be friends, brothers, hufbands, and fathers; that ac- celerates the progrefs of our ideas, perfects our rea- fon and our feniibility, and induces us to blufli at vice, and cheriih virtue. If the ftage exhibits this art, then is it of fufficient moment to intereft the public. The ftage, to which denomination I (hall beg td reduce all fecular fpectacles intended to inculcate morality, has maintained a commanding fituation at all times, and in all countries. Of this religion has furnifhed us with many examples, mythology with more. Indeed, as mythology is no other than al- legorical religion, fo are the doctrines promulgated from the ftage allegorical morality; to which priefts have ever and wifely lent their countenance and protection. Altars have been more thronged through the winning medium of poetry, mufic, and dancing-^ than through the attra6tion of religious or moral duty. Out of ficlion fprings truth. It is in human nature to love entreaties rather than commands, and THE STAGE. g that argument is the fureft to prevail that awakens our pleafure while it conciliates our intereft. The mod delightful fountain is the fame by night as by day. Its waters are as pure, as clear, and as delicious; but, though neceffity may, induce us to have recourfe to it in the night, it is in the day alone that the draft is fweetened, through the medium of contemplation, by an idea of that heaven which it fo beautifully reflects. So did man wander in a chaos of truth till the light of fcience taught him how to diftinguifh its beauty. To the fecond propofition I mall anfwer, that if poets, warriours, philofophers, and legiflators, if thofc who have united in themfelves thofe various cha- racters, if all the promoters and protectors of the imitative arts, whofe exertions have fo nobly con- ' tributed to civilize the world, together with thofe men fo peculiarly gifted by nature, as to command the paffions of their auditors, to compel burfts of laughter, force torrents of tears, and fo to transfufc the workings of their own fenfibility into their hearers as to raife pity, excite terror, and infpire delight. If the ftage exhibits thefe characters, then is it of fufficient importance to intereft the public. Tis little to fay that the greatcft men, both as to VOL. i. B 4 THE STAGE, power and talents, that ever lived, have countenanced the ftage. The greateft men, in different coun- tries^ and in different times, have been not only au- thors and afters, but even dancers. Thofe great writers, yEscnv LUS and SOPHOCLES, were flatef- men and warriours. They wrote for their country, and combated for it; and the fame hand that, to ferve the caufe of morality, held the pen ; in the caufe of GREECE, held the fword. The Seven Chief s^ before Thebes of AESCHYLUS, was faid to infpire his audi- tors with all the fury of battle, and they compli- mented him with faying, that though YSCMYLU* wrote the piece, it was dictated by MARS. This work will adduce a multitude of proofs to make out thefe aflcrtions. In the mean time let us confider for a moment the real worth and value of a dramatic writer. To be at all a writer, of any eminence, is a proud diftinction; men of letters, the bent of whofe genius is worthily conducted, who form the public tafte, who expofe the de- formity of vice, and inculcate the true principles of virtue, merit from their fellow citizens the moil honourable confide ration ; but a dramatic writer, he who puts fpeculative truth into action, who com- mands our richeft faculties, who pervades the rc- ceffes of reafon, who opens the treafures of the heart, excites its pity, and its commife ration, and THE STAGE. 5 teaches us to be men, and to be virtuous; to ac- quire this art, is to attain the nobleft privilege of human nature. The dramatic art is the mod precious inherit- ance bequeathed ^us by the ancients. A dramatic poet is an honour to his fellow creatures. Let us fee why the profeflion of an aftor fhould be in- volved in unmerited obloquy; and why a man, who delights and inftructs us in his counterfeit cha- racter, mould be an object of indiscriminate- re- proach in his real character. It is extremely difficult to conceive upon what principle, or from what circumftance this unworthy prejudice took its rife. Is it that actors are men of ftronger intellectual power and intelligence than the common herd of mankind? No. Individuals may be envious, the public are always generous. Is it that becaufe actors are paid to amufc and inftruct the world they ought to be confidered as purchafed flavcs pf the will ? No. Barrifters, par- fons, and fenators, are treated with refpect. What is the caufe ? That an actor is the main fpring of the dramatic art it is impoflible to deny. Vainly mall the poet paint a faithful portrait of men and manners; his labour mall remain a lifelefs lump a 6 THE STAGE till it receive a promethean touch from the fire of the actor. Nay, in this the public feern to ac- quiefce ; for the lalt inftrument, through the me- dium of which they immediately receive their plea- fures, will ever be more conlidered as the intimate and welcome object of their commendation than the author, to whofe perfon they are perfect ftrangers, and to whole merits they would have remained fo but for the actor. Roscius is faid to have given a moft perfect idea of all the impaffioned variety contained in the celebrated orations of CICERO without uttering a word. What perfect materials then muft have com- pofed the extraordinary mind of this wonderful man. But how fliall we have to admire the ftrength of his head, and the goodnefs of his heart, if we believe CICERO himfclf, who tells us that Roscius not only knew how to diffeminate virtue among his auditors better than any other man, but was more correct in his practice of virtue in private life. I know it may be oppofed to me that actrefies, in all ages, have made terrible ravages among the hearts of the fpectators, and that the ceconomy of many families has been too often deranged by the influence of their charms. Women, ornamented profefledly with an intention to captivate, will ever THE STAGE. y improperly attract the notice of the young and the irregular. The graces of beauty and talents, en- hanced by the inticements of drefs, naturally beget admiration and pleafure, and too many hufbands and fathers have certainly facrificed their wives and children at this Ihrine of voluptuoufnefs. Nay, 1 am afraid, the fcene has been, in fome inftances, reveried; and that the actor, while recommending conitancy and honour from the ftage, has raifed fen- fauons, throughout the boxes, not perfectly confid- ent with virtue in the breafts of the matron and the veftal. But admitting this argument in its fulled extent, why is this remarked in particular of actors and ac- treffes ? I anfwer, becaufe of the publicity of their fituation. Were the private conduct of individuals in all other ftations as well known, the world would be found to be a univcrfal theatre no lefs in its particular then in its general manners. But there every irregularity is as much as poflible hufhed up or glofied over ; and, but for the intervention now and then of Weftminfter Hall and Doctor's Com- mons, the great who look down on the ftage would be confidered as Irreproachable and exemplary characters. As to the Bar ; as there certainly have been 8 THE STAGE. inftances in the private conduct of its members of rapacity and, I am afraid, ciifhonour; it is not to be fuppofed that individual*, for I contend for no more, have been remarkable for a fupcnor degree of propriety, in their families and connections, than their neighbours; and oi'the Pulpit 1 (hall only fay, that churches are notorioufly places of ailignation, and that three-fourths of thofe unhappy wretches, who have been driven to prostitution by the arts of lome young rake, or, perhaps, the overbearing landlord of their fathers, always begin the wretched (lory of their misfortunes, by telling you that they are clergymens' daughters. I could go a great way into this, but that it would be foreign to my prefent purpofe, and I {hall have moft powerful occafion to illuftrate this point hereafter. J fhall, therefore, only obferve, that an object, however perfect, when placed upon a pina- cle, will appear to the purblind view of general ob- fervation to have many deformities, while the moft rickety piece of real deformity fhall halt through the croud without attracting particular notice. In- dividuals, of all profeflions, deferve reprehenfion, actors as well as others. Are all profeffions, there- fore, to be ftigmatized much lefs the profeffion of an actor exclufively ? The idea is revolting, un worthy, and unjuft. Perfection is not the, lot THE STAGE. 9 of human nature. Let not any part of the public, therefore, become obnoxious to cenfure by acting a perpetual folecifm themfelves in decrying thole with their tongues whom it is their greateft pleafurc to applaud with their hands. As to the third propofition I ftand nearly upon the fame ground with other hiftorians; and I can freely anfwer, that, if credit may be given to the various authors who have admitted the merit, and pointed out the beauties of the ancient and modern dramatic poets; who, by relating the events of ilates and empires, have neceflarily involved in their nar- rations a hiftory of thofe arts which have forwarded the great work of civilization ; if the fidelity with which men more correctly fpeak of what intereft* the imagination than What merely relates to their affairs, which is remarkably apparent in whatever can be collected of the theatres ; if theie can be re- lied on, then are the events contained in this hiftory of fufficient authority to interetl the public. I arn not to learn the prodigious difficulty of. pronouncing any thing to be true; or, with what diffidence and caution men ought to explore the labrynth of events, which cannot be known to him but through the clue of the hiftorian, often raided, and generally partial. Vague tradition may be true: apparent der^.n ^ration '"iy he f>'iM^. 10 THE STAGE. A biographer of Sir WALTER RALEIGH in- forms us, that when he had nearly finifhed the fc- cond volume of his Hiftory of the World^ being then a prifoner m the Tower, his attention was attracted by a difpute between an officer and a private cen- tinel under his window. It appeared to him that the -officer had improperly treated the poor foldier, and that the man had, with equal firmnefs and mo- deity, remonltrared againft the oppreffion. A mob crouded about the difputants, and this was all he could collect of the affair. A friend foon afterwards came to vifit him. to whom he related what he thought he had witneffed. It turned out, however, that this friend had not only been prefent at the difpute but a mediator in it, and had been, therefore, perfectly competent to afcer- tain exactly the fact ; which was, that the foldier had behaved very ill, and that the officer, in confi- deration of a proper conceffion, had, with great manlinefs and forbearance, forgiven him, when he might, confidently with his duty, have punifhed him. Having heard his friend patiently out, Sir WAL- TER, with great coolnefs and determination, is faid to have feized the different papers which compofed his work and thrown them behind the fire, ex. claiming; " How fhould I dare to avouch the au- THE STAGE. f t j theriticity of facts which are fuppofed to have paiTed at- fuch diftant times, and in fuch remote parts of the world, when thofe in a common occurrence that palles under my window, are directly oppofite to my comprehenfion of them." This circumftance is indeed doubted, for we are told by another writer, that Sir WALTER burnt the fecond volume of his work becaufe the firft fold fo flowly as to ruin his bookfeller; and we are told, by himfelf. that this fecond and a third vdlume were only in preparation, but, as it is admitted bn all fides, that the materials for fuch a work exifted but were deftroyed, this chain of circumftances .concur to render the above relation probable. Be it, there- fore, literally or virtually faci, it would be a lamen- table thing that every author fhould be actuated by the fame delicate fcruplcs. It would g'd to the anihilatidn of enquiry, and facts themfelveU, how- ever fupported, would be fuppofed never to have exifted. I own that circumflanccs, univerfally ad- mitted, have been differently attributed; but are we to infer from this that thefe cirrumitances never oc- curred at all? Seven towns are faid to contend for the birth of ROM KK. Are we, therefore, to believe 1 that there was no fuch perfou as HOMER. Indeed this lad has been ftrongly infilled on. The Fables of >Esop have been attributed to HOMER, to So- VOL. i. c ia THE STAGB. CRATES, and even to SOLOMON. This does not prove they were not -written, for by fome means or other we are in poffeffion of them, and a moft won- derful work they are. In thefe fituations what are we to do ? Since the certainty is fo difficult to come at, we are to take the probability; which, in the bufmefs of ^Lsop, appears to be this : Fable was a poeticle vehicle at the time of HOMER and HESIOD; and, no doubt, was ufed by them; but ^SOP, having perfected what others began, is confidered as the Father of Fable, juft as /ESCHYLUS is called the Father of Tragedy. It is not, therefore, that becaufe the leading fea- tures of facts are difficult to afcertain, that facts themfelves are actually to be rejected. The germ of truth feems to be planted in the minds of all in- tellectual beings; and, though uncertain hiftory, and more uncertain tradition, may have involved great events in doubt and contradiction, yet, that very doubt, and that very contradiction, have often gone to eftablifh unanfwerable confirmation that thofe events did exift. How very fimilar is the war of the giants with the gods, to the war of the malignant angels with THE STAGE. j the good. How remarkable is the refemblance of Deucalion and Pyrrha, to Noah and the Flood. So the univerfal admiration of a SUPREME BEING, ac- knowledged throughout creation even to the moft ignorant idolaters but the theme is endlefs; and, in the inveftigation of great truths, the wonder is not that faliblc human nature mould err fo much, but that it fhould err fo little. As to the auxiliary proportion, its exiftence is jnade out by eftablifhing the three others ; for, if the flage be a vehicle to inftruct and amufe ; if the primary and relative characters are of univerfal celebrity ; if the truth of the events are virtually confirmed by as indifputable authority as the events of other hiftqries ; then the fubje6l of this work is of fufficient moment, its characters of fufficient im- portance, and its facts of fufficient authenticity to intereft the public j and, if, through this fubject, thefe characters, and thefe facts, the fweeteft emo'- tions that penetrate the hreaft, are excited; if the dangerous paffions of hate, envy, avarice, and pride, with all their inumerable train of attendant vices, are, detected and expofed; if love, friendmip, gra- titude, and all thofe active and generous virtues which warm and exalt the mind, are held up as ob- jects of emulation ; if ignorance is fcoutedj genius C 2 14 THE STAGE. encouraged, and a true polifh fet on that mirror which the wifes men of all ages have felected as the mod unerring vehicle to reflect the manners of mankind: then mufl this work create intereft to, luch a degree as eflentially to Icrve the purpofes of truth and morality. THE STAGE, CHAP. II. ASIATIC THEATRE. CHINA more than three thoufand years ago cul- tivated that art which fomewhat later contributed to the renown of GREECE. The early principle of the ancient drama was to prefent living portraits of the times and manners, to reprehend vice, and in- culcate morality and virtue, through the medium of action a*d dialogue. The drama, for a confi- derable time, was only held in honour throughout the vaft country of CHINA, and the fingle town of ATHENS. ROME did not adopt it till four hundred years afterwards. The tragedies reprefented by the Chinefe were pn moral fubjects, fupported by the examples of their heroes, and the maxims of their philofophers. The fcenes and habits were prodigioufly magnifi- cent : their pieces, however, had neither regularity, intereft, nor probability. Angels and devils were indifcriminately introduced, and whatever could convey a myftic fenfe of moral duty was awkwardly enforced, no matter by what means. They had. j6 THE STACK. however, performances of various kinds, calculated merely to entertain and furprife the fpectators. An incredible number of extraordinary feats both of legerdemain and tumbling made up fome of thefe, which they performed in fo wonderful a manner, that if we credit the accounts we read, all we have ever feen of this fpecies of amufement in EUROPE, cannot boaft the fmalleft comparifon of the moft trifling of their tours in this way. Thefe were perf formed, however, in ftill greater perfection by monkies and mice, the fubtilties of which animals, it will eafily be credited, have often made them pafs for devils^and forcerers*. We are told by different travellers, that, though the Perfians and the Indians are faid to be the in- * What an admirable idea for a pantomime in the Chriftmas- liolidays! I hope it wijl be improved upon. A lion, according to ./Esop, owed his preservation to a moufe: why fhould the Englifh theatres, which bear, as their protection, the lion of ENGLAND, he- fitate to promote their glory by the fame means. Neither the learned fig, the bare, nor even general Jacko could cope with the mice. Mice have been of confequence ever fmce HOMER. I beg I may not be thought wickedly to allude to the mountain and the moufe ; we know the theatres are bringing forth fuch mice as thefe every day, but they are not of the true Chinefe breed. \ would, therefore, ad. vife to fend for fome of the right fort, in the firft {hips, and who knows, if the mice fhould grow as fond of Englifh corn as Eunuchs are of Englifh guineas, but CHINA may prove of as great advantage to the theatre, as ITALY has done to the opera-houfe. THE STAGE, ! ventors of dramatic entertainments, owing, proba- bly, to their grotefque and fanciful dances, for which they are fo famous, the Chinefe claim an indif- putable right to be acknowledged as the original founders of this art, which, though the feverity of their manners prevented them from authorizing, was exhibited at the palaces of their richeft mandarines where regular theatres were fitted up. On days of regaling it was the cuftom to invite friends and fend for actors, who brought with them lifts of fuch pieces as they were prepared to per- form. I have before me a hiftory of one of thofe days of performance, which will mew, that though the Chinefe never arrived to the regularity of the Greeks, at the time of ^ESCHYLUS, yet the drama, and all its beft purpofes, were as warmly felt theu at CHINA as it was afterwards at Athens. The piece, preceded by a prologue, was taking from hiftory. An Emperor appeared fur- rounded by an admiring multitude on whom he had heaped benefits. His virtues became the fubject of their eulogium, and they fometimes recited, and fometirnes chanted orations to his praife. This piece was followed by a farce full of in- trigue, but void of drift or regularity ; and to their jg THE STAGE. farce fuccecded a pantomime, in which women, mounted on men's (boulders, went through a kind of exercife with fans following exactly the meafure and movement of the mufic which accompanied them. Next came juglers with cups and balls, and then tumblers and pofture matters; thefe were fol- lowed by a man who thruft a tube into the wall and drew from it twenty different liquors at the word of command ; another threw three knives into the air, which he managed fo dexteroufly as repeatedly to catch one of them by the handle while the other two were fufpended. They were after this entertained with conjurors^ who came in with birds, fnakes, mice, and mon- kies; which, as they were commanded, danced upon the ground and upon ropes, and formed themfelves into all manner of figures relating to the fciences, and particularly to the mathematics, and to aitro- nomy *. * Thefe were, no doubt, intended as improvements on dancing, which in many countries were taken in a myftical fenfe. The Egyptians imitated in their myfterious dances the ordinary rotation of the ftars. The Indian prielts danced before the image of their god VISNOU, who is faid to have danced himfelf on the head of the fer- pent ADISSECKEN, whofe tail encompaired the world. The bio- grapher of Mon. GARDALLE goes farther and fays, which, by the bye, is not very far diftant from the truth, that all nations have introduced dancing into facred worfhip* The Hebrews danced for joy after - THE STAGE: At the palaces of the emperors the entertainments V.'cre of the lame hetrogeuious kind but much more grand. After fome magnificent fpectacle, founded, -as ufual, on hiflory, a pantomime commenced ' ; ;i Tartar, who fung a warlike fong to the found of a carillon, on which he performed with Hicks of Kory. This was improved by the entrance of others into a duet, then into a trio, and at length into a chorus, accompanied, at laft. by dancers, tumblers, wreftlers, and gladiators; with all which the theatre was filled, each performing his different part at'the fame time* with great vociferation, force, and agility. At length they were wrought into, fo violent a frenzy, that what commenced in jeft finiflied in earneft ; till it was with difficulty the prince himfelf could call off the performers, among whom feveral were ofieu fcverely wounded. their paflage through the Red Sea; but, fays he, " the mod inno- cent exercifes {Sometimes degenerate into abufc, for after they had danced before the ark of the covenant they forgot themfclves and danced before the fatted calf." He then goes on and quotes the Count de GEBELIN", who has demonstrated, in a curious diilertatiuij, that the mintiet was the original dance performed by the pricfts in the Temple of A'POLLO. The diagonal line and the fwo parallels that pervade the minuet are the fymbol of the Zodiac; the twelve fteps of which it is compofed, explain the twelve figns, and the twelve .months of the year. Again. The minuet begins with a pro bund obedience to the fun; and thus he goes on explaining till he proves, that there is not the fmidled movement relative to the heavenly con- Jtellations but is exemplified in the minuet. VOL. I. D 20 THE STAGE. Actors, though (laves, were held by the Chincfc in a refpectable light. THYNGH TI, emperor of CH IK A, became enamoured of an actrefs, and repu- tlialed his wife to make her an emprefs. His mo- ther, however, fhrewdly remarking that the lady having been fo ufed to act different parts, would not probably content hcrfclf with that fingle one which he had now given her to perform, the emperor, with a quick fenfe of his own abfurdity, anfwered he had only placed the actrefs in that fituation to fee how well fhe could fuilain her part, and that having had enough of the comedy, he mould now reduce her to her primitive obicurity. The mod celebrated men of ftudy and fcicnce are faid to have planned and affifted at thefe rcpre- fentations. The Gymnofophifts, who entirely gave themfelves up to the ftudy of reafon, among others encouraged., as far as the fe verity of their manners would permit dramatic exhibitions in Afia. Their principal, called Budda, is ranked among the Brach- mans, and the Brachmans are known fo have culti- vated religious truth through the medium of fcenic fiction. PII.PAY, the celebrated fabulift, us in particular fuppofed to have contributed towards the reputation of the dramatic art in Alia ; and this conjecture is ex* THE STAGE. a . t tremcly probable. He is well known to have go-, vcrned a large kingdom in INDIA under a powerful emperor ; and, as it might not have been, tale to. have uttered his political opinions to his mader- in the plain terms of unadorned truth for in that cafe he might not have come ofr ib well as the old woman who widied DIONYSIUS a long life left there ihould come a worfe tyrant in his dead ; or the Vi{ier who, pretending to underdaud the lan^. guage of birds, informed bis Suitaii that the crows were croaking his praijes for having maflacred his fubjects to provide them with carrion it is not un- likely that PILPAY Ihould endeavour to cheat his- mailer into a love of virtue, by painting on the (tags the hateful figure of vice. Indeed it was only one- ik-p further than what we know him to have done, for fables, as far as they go, are dramatic repre-. ieiuations. In JAPAN fprctaclcs are folh>we-4?with, eager* avidity, and the religion of the country >. fo.for from* condemning, authorizes and. confccraies. them. Their amufemcnts are performed to. celcbratq fcalb in honour of the divinities. They con (id of Ring- ing and dancing to muiic, if it may be ib called, performed by flutes, drums, cymbals and large, bells. As for the machinery and decorations, wo not a conception how wondqrful they ar,$,. 22 T.HE STAGR. Monftrous giants, floating cafcadcs, moving moun : tains,, peopled cities, and a- variety of other objects as extraoidinary, make up their pageants, and pvo- ceilions. Their plays reprcfent the adventures, both he- roic a'.id amorous, of their gods. They are dellri- Uuied like ours, into fcenes and acts. The prologue announces the plan, but never touches on the de- nouement, which is always managed fo as to fur- prize. The interludes and the farces, like thofe of the Chi-iefe, are grofs buffoonery ; but their trage- dies and comedies have always a moral tendency, , which the ftronger to enforce, the prielts, upon par- ticular occafions, fit in the molt confpicuous places, and are the iirit to applaud. The Pel Hans alfo have a tafte for thefe amufe- ments. There is fcarcely.a petty governor without his tumblers, his declaimers, his muficians, and his t afhumed to tell fo m:my lies 111 the face of the world? Not at all, faid THESPIS, tis only in -3 THE STAGE. bition feems, however, to be but little regarded, for THESPIS after this not only wrote tragedies but had for a fcholar PHRYNICHUS, an Athenian. He is fpoken of as the firftwho made hiltory the fubject of tragedy, who introduced the characters of wo- men on the ftage, and who invented tetrametre verfe. " PHRYNICHUS was condemned to pay a thou- fand drachms for having produced a piece called Miletus taken by Darius. He was confidered by the Athenians the more culpable bccaufe he had forced tears from the fpectators at the moment he painted in lively colours the defolation of that town ; and thus he was at once the victim of their pride, and the object of their pleafure. Notwithftanding, however, his countrymen perfecutedhim forpleafing them, he afterwards became a general in the army, and to this was, probably, owing the vehemence which appeared to characterize his tragedies. ALCEUS, another Grecian, held a high rank jeft. tn jeft! cried SOLON, ftriking his ftick vehemently againft the ground, fo much the worfe; thofe who encourage falfehood in jeft Anay at laft approve of it in earned; and 1 fliould not wonder, if this, were long permitted, that by rejecting truth, our government and; our public affairs fliould in like manner become the jeft of th^ ye^ple. THE STAGE; ^ among the tragic poets of that time. There cannot be collected, however, more than the titles of two of his pieces. CHCERII.US is faid to have* written a hundred and fifty tragedies, and to have been thirteen times crowned victor. The prize obtained upon thefe occafions ftill adverted to the fealts of BACCHUS, for it confided of a goat and a meafure of wine. Nothing is known of thefe pieces of CHOZRILUS, except one of them, but he is memorable for be- ing the firft who decorated the fcene, and habited the actors like the pcrfom they reprefented*. CEPHISODORUS was among the number of the au- thors of the ancient tragedy. They attribute to him * CHOERILUS was confidered by SUIDAS and ANTHEN^EUS aa the original author of Mafques; there can be no do'ubt, however, but the pieces anterior to THKSPIS are of that fpecies. HORACS attributes them to ^CHYLUS; which, by the bye, is a conjecture ventured very much at hazard, for they are in no refpect in his ftyle; but ARISTOTLE, with more good fenfe, informs us, that the real inventor of them, and even the time when they were originally in- troduced is unknown. The fact is this : All the dramatic piece*, both in ASIA and elfev.here before /ECHYLUS, were an irregular jumble of recitaton and finging, and therefore Mafques. The ARABIAN word mafcara fignifies railery, and buffoonery ; and pieces of this defcription, as we have feen, were reprefented in ASIA, con- fctjuently the conjecture of ARISTOTLE ought to be credited. g4 THE STAGE. five pieces, which, like the reft, were nothing more than a fort of dithyrafnbic, begun as we have feen by TH ESP is, and in fome degree improved after- wards; but it remained for ^ESCHYLUS, to difpel this mift and eclipfe thefe conftellations which, at his appearance, receded like flars at fun rife. STAGE. 35 CHAP. IV. .yfiSCHYMfS SOPiiOCLKS, AND EURIPIDES, AND THE PROGRESS OF TRAGEDY IN GREECE. ^iLiscn Y LUS. who was hailed the Father of Tragedy 9 foon fimplified and regulated dramatic reprefenta- tions. He divided his pieces into a6ts, or epifodes, that contained the expoiition of the fubjec\ the conduct of the plot, and the development of the cataltrophe. He referved the primitive chorus, no otherwife, however, than as an auxiliary, .for the pur- pole of rendering the fufyject more interfiling *. * Tragedy was originally, as we have feen, no more than a fmgle perfon who fuug dithyrainbics or hymns in praife of BACCHUS. THTSPIS added a fmgle perfon to relieve the chorus. ^SCHYLUS finding a fmgle perfon uii'aterdting, added a fecond, and at the fame time threw the chorus, as ruach as poffible, into the back ground. All that had been performed between the four fongs of the chorus they called Epijode; the fongsofthe chorus being the acts, and the epifode the ac"t t'ir.e. But -.viitii tragedy came to be formed by ./ESCHYLUS', the matter v-a> rcrericd, and what had been the auxiliary became the principal. '1 h<'ti the intereft of the piece was the primary object and the chorus, which was now ufed merely .is an interval between the acts, ftill he^hteirju the effect of the piece itfelf by, fometimes yeciting, and fometiraes linking, fiich fubj-cc^ us belonged to it iiu- VOL. I. . . ^6 THE STAGE The degree of perfection to which brought the dramatic art in GREECE, procured him great refpect and confideration, to which his public conduct, as a citizen, materially contributed. Born of one of the belt families in ATTICA, he diftinguifhcd himfclf very early in the Held. He was the pupil of Pythagoras, and at twenty-five difputed the poetic prize. He was the fii ft who brought two characters forward on the itage at the fame time; he invented the robe and the buflcin, and considerably height- ened the effect of his pieces by appropriate deco- rations of the perfonages. His improvements were fo rapid and fo effectual that he was thought to have been infpired. PAUSANIUS fays, that while TSCHYLUS was afleep under the fhadow of a vine, BACCHUS ap- peared to him in a dream, and commanded him to vrite tragedies. This fable arofe, probably, from his fondnefs for wine, for he wrote as he drank; and Ijpon all occafions, invoked APOLI.O lefs than BAC- CHUS, if we believe CAL LIST HEN ES and PLUTARCH. Whatever god infpired his verfe, it is certainly full of nature, warmth, and energy. He is, however, mediately, or as illuftrated fome point relative to it. The recitation was performed by their thief called CHoRVPHtus, who firll recited and then led the fong followed by the reft. I iTiould nojt wonder at feeing art afltrtion that this Was the original idea of the fugue in jnu/ic. THE STAGE. g* reproached, and with reafon, for introducing hard- neflcs and crudeties ; his images were gigantic and frightful, and the whole drift of his pieces was calculated to infpire terror rather than pity or delight*. It inufl not be forgotten, however, that tragedy, at the time of ^ESCHYLUS, was in its infancy, that it was his offspring, and that he trufted it in the. world that it might, by the foitering care of others^ grow to maturity. It has been warmly infilled on, and furely with good reafon, that /SCHYLUS was lefs the perfecter of the works of THESPIS than the imitator of thofe of HOMER. The Epopceia is a more natural afli- mulation to tragedy than thofe monnrous rhapfodies which were chanted in honour of BACCHUS; and, though the priefts, upon this as upon all other oc^ callous, were glad enough to beget an intereft in * In the Tragedy of Eunt nit/es, written by j?isrHYl.trs, ORPSTES in the firit act appeared furruuntied, with, furies J.illed a(leep by AHOLLO. Their dre lies were black, with fanguinary ornaments. In one hand they held a torch, from which ilftied a taint and quivering ftame, and in the, other a rod of ferpents. Their heads were covered with i'unous adders, und their facqs \vere (Q frightfully horrible, that, the moment they awoke and began to. walk tumultuouily on tlie iUge, women \vere fajd to have mifcarricd, and children to hav^ dic^ yvun fear. ? 2 *8 THE STAGE. favour of their Deity, in whofe name they hood- winked the people; yet celebrating the achieve- ments of ki'-^s and heroes among a nation of war- riors, was moic likely to route their feelings as it brought them acquainted with conduct which it Avas both their inclination and their duty to emu- late. Of this, moft probably, JEsc H Y L u s w as aware, and as he imitated the heroes of HOMER with his fword, fo did he HOMER himfelf with his pen. ferved at the baitle of Marathon, and at the fea fight of Salamis, where AMINIAS his brother commanded a fquadron of fhips and fig- nalized himfelf above all the Athenians. To this brother oiir poet, upon a particular occafion, was indebted for his life. In one of his pieces he made THETIS, Ipeaking of APOLLO, utter fome exprcf-. fions which were confidered as blnfphemy, and in another he introduced fome equivocal pleafantrics in alluiion to *he myfteries of CEKES. For thefe crimes he was coaled from the theatre, and would Have beeii ironed to death but for AMIMAS; who, throwing afide hit cloak and mewing the ftump of his aim, reminded the people of his gallantry at the fight of ^alarm's. This moved the fpectators to pity, and they pardoned JEscii YLUS, who, however, co.uid not ftomacb this indignity, and was, thercfore 9 39 determined to withdraw from a place where hi. life had been in danger. This determination was confirmed .by the. ne- glect of his pieces, and the riling fuccefs of So. PHOCLES, who obtained the prize from him, though fome fay it was SIMON i DKS in an elegy on the bat- tle of Marathon*. He, therefore, retired into SI- CILY, and was received into the court of HIERON, who was then building the city of ^TNA, which our poet celebrated in a tragedy of the fame name. Here he rcfided three years covered -with honours, when his death was occaiioned by a fingular ac- cident. An eagle having foared a great height with a tortoife in his talons, let it fall on the head of /ESCHYLUS, of which blow he died, and by his death * The fact was that SIMOXIDF.S was victor in the elegy on the battle of Marathon, and SOPHOCLI-S, as we (lull fee lieu-after, when CIMON brought b._k the bone.i of THESCUS. The battle of Mara, than was fought three years, after SJIMMK.-LKS \*a- brm, ana Stw - EDES might certainly have ofi that delation obtained a pri/,e ; but it feeins to have given ^SLHVI.V.^ very little concern, for he continued after that to \vrite with unrivalled reputation for two and twenty yeojrs ; and being then old, and his genius on the decline, no won, d.er SOPHOCLES, with the ardour of youth, and the cxatnple of lu great a mafter in his favour, got the better in this! contenV which, every thing toniiacred, aputms to be no irulCi-'ni from the brilliant reputation of ./ESCHVLUS. 4 THE STAGE; teemed to be verified a pretended declaration of the Oracle, at DELPHOS, that a blow from heaveu fhould accelerate- the death of ^SCHYLUS. It has been faid that the feats of the theatre broke down during the reprefentation of one of the tragedies of JSCHYLVS; and SUIDAS tells us that it was the caufe of his retiring into Sici LY ; but this is abfurd, for the large croud neceffary to breakdown the feats is a proof of the celebrity of VSCHY LUSJ but he means to inlinuate, that with the feats the reputation of ^ESCHYLUS which was eclipfed by So* PHOCLES, fell to the ground. The operation of this accident, however, pro- claims in very loud terms the fame of ^ESCHYLUS, for from thefe ruins fprung up thofe magnificent theatres, which were afterwards fo nobly imitated by the Romans. They were built circular on one fide, and fquare on the other, the femi-circle con- tained the fpectators, who were ranged in feats, one above another, and in the quadrangle was exhibited the fpectacle. They had machines of every fort for the conveyance of gods and goddefTes, which they fummoned at pleafure from the fea, from hell, or from heaven. Their fcene/s reprefentcci palaces, and temples, fquares in perfpective,. aftd towns in the diftance. They had transforma. THE STAGE. \ tions, embellishments, and every fpecies of decor- ation and ornament to be feen on the modern ftage^ but prepared at a much greater expence ; and, of courfe, represented with infinitely more grandeur*. Near that part of the building in which the fpectators fat, there were three porticos where they might retire in cafe of bad weather; for it is re- markable that the ancient theatres were almoft en- tircly uncovered. On the other hand, to prevent inconvenience from the heat of the fun, they ex- tended veils fome of which were very cottly by means of cords attached to the extremity of the building ; and, that nothing might be omitted that could in the fmalleft degree contribute to their pleafure, ftatues of excellent workmanfhip were placed in regular order, Supporting urns, beautifully ornamented ; thofe urns receiving ftreams deli- cioufly perfumed, which iffued from picturefquc fountains, the whole variouily formed, and judici- oufJy arranged. The theatre was fo capacious that the actors * SopftiCLFS gave additional magnificence to the conflruction f the theatres of A.THKNS. The expence for the extenlion of thcfe edifices, and for the acquilltion of what he thought ne- celFuiy to ornament one of his tragedies, brought a reproach on the Athenians of having expended more riches on a fingle dra- nutic reprcfentatiou, than in their war* a^aiaft the j| 2 THE STAGE. \vere obliged to wear mafks, which were perfectly a machine calculated to extend the voice, fo that it might reach every ear in fo vaft a fpace; to faci- Jitate which, there were alfo vafes of brafs placed in the intervals of the amphitheatre with fuch art, in fuch a direction, and compofed of fuch tempered materials, that they affifted the tones of the voice and inftruincnts ; and, by this confonance, ren- dered the found ftrongcr, more agreeable, and more All thefe magnificent improvements fprung from the fail of ^ESCHYLUS, whofe theatre, like ANTEUS, touched the earth only that it might rife with renovated itrength*. had two fons, and five nephews, all * Thefe are authors who difpute this fact, and tell us that the accident, defcribed above, happened during the reprefentation of a tragedy written by one PRATINAS. The probability appears to lye between the two ftories. The word fcene is originally from the Greek, and fignifies a hut, a booth, a tent, or other place where dramatic reprefent.itlons were anciently performed. The osgyron was ufed as well to form a ftage as to ferve as a (belter for the populace. Thus thele reprefent itions from the firft were at times itinerant or ftationary according to circumftances ; and there can be no doubt but that the fcenic art, in the progrefs of its improve- ment, improved the fcene itfelf. Thus, fometimes, fortuitoufly, and fometimes by defign, it became more and more regular till at length it attained to that fplendour vvliich grew into magnificence under SOPHOCLES. THE STACK. 43 oF whom wrote with various fuccefs for the theatre. BION, his fecond fon, was ranked among the poets called Railers, and was, probably, one of thole who wrote comedy. They are faid to have written among them a prodigious number of pieces, fome of which are yet to be feen ; but, as AESCHY- LUS eclipfed his predeceffors, fo his imitators ferved only to raife the fuperior fame of SOPHOCLES. SOPHOCLES was born at COLONOS, a town of ATTICA, in the firft year of the feventy-firft Olym- piad, which place he rendered afterwards celebrated by his tragedy of Oedippus of Colonos. SOPHOCLES operated a fecond revolution in tragedy. He introduced a third actor, and aug- mented the number of the chorus to fifteen inftead of twelve, at which number ./Escn Y L u s had fixed it* He alfo allowed the chorus to have an intereft in. the main action, fo that by this means every thing was of a piece, and all the performers had fuch parts allotted them as contributed to one uniform and regular defign. At the age of twenty-five he bore away the prize from his mafter, ^SCHYLUS, in tragedy. An extraordinary occafion was the caufe of this con- tention. CIMON, the Athenian general, had found VOL. I. C 44 THE STAGS. the bones of THESEUS, and brought them In folemfl pomp to the city, on which a trial of (kill between the tragedians was inftantly appointed. ^SCHYLUS and SUPOHCLES ftrove nobly for pre-eminence, but, in fpight of the acknowledged and admired merit of the .matter, the fuperior fire and eloquence of the fcholar bore away the palm. Before SOPHOCLES, the prize was difputed by four dramatic pieces comprized under the name of Tetralogy. The three firft were tragedies, and the fourth called Satire, being a fpecies of comedy ; but this SOPHICLES altered, by oppofing, in all contentions, tragedy to tragedy. SOPHOCL'ES did not always appear in his trage- dies on account of the weaknefs of his voice. His fame was not, however, diminifhed by this; for if ^SCHYLUS merited the title of Father of Tragedy, SOPHOCLES might, with propriety be called the Matter of it. The admiration and wonder with which all GREECE fpoke of his wisdom induced an opinion that he was the immediate favourite and inti* mate of the gods. We are told that TSCHYLUS condefcended to vifit him at his houfe, and TULLY would have you believe that HERCULES had an equal refpect for him. APOLLONIUS TYANENSIS, in his oration before POMITIAN, tells the em- THE STAGE. ^g peror that SOPHOCLES, the Athenian, was ablq to check and reitrain the impetuoufity of the winds. Certainly he was a genius of tranfcendant merit. His tragedies ferved as a model for ARISTOTLE'S Art of Poetry, PLATO'S advances in philoiophy were compared with the improvements of SOPHO- CLES in tragedy; TULLY calls him the divine poet and VIRGIL has given him a marking pre- ference to all other writers of tragedy. So charm- ing was his poetry that he was called the Bee; and to tranfmit this eulogium to pofterity, a hive was carved upon his tomb, not lefs to imprefs the world with an idea of the fweetnefs of his verfe than the diligence 9f his induftry, SOPHOCLES, like his predecefTor was ranked among the defenders of his country. He commanded an army in conjunction wiih PER- ICLES to chaftife the rebellious Samians; from which expedition he returned triumphant. His fame followed him in every thing he undertook, even to old age, at which time, he is reported ta have retained his faculties with all the fire and vi- gour of youth, and of this there is a remarkable inftance. SOPHOCLES had four fons; who, tired, with fa. G 2 46 THE STAGE. long a dependance on an old man, reprefented him to the judges as a drivler, and a perfon inca- pable of governing his family, or taking charge of his affairs. SOPHOCLES confounded them by a trait which they little expected. He had juft finimed his Oedipus of Colonos, and all his anfwer to this unjuft accufation, was a requeft that the judges would read his tragedy. They did foj and found in it fuch ftrength of mind, fuch beauty, fuch truth, and fuch perfuafion, that they difmiifed him with an acclamation of praife, and his fons covered with confufion; nay LUCIAN, who tells the ftory, adds, that the fons were voted madmen for having accufed him. There are three different accounts of the death of SO-PHOCLES. PLINY, and VALERIUS MAXI- MUS, fay that he died of excefs of joy in his ninety- fifth year, at the fuccefs of one of his tragedies. Others fay, that in reciting his tragedy of AntL gonus, he kept his breath fo long that it ftopt the action of his lungs; but LUCIAN tells us that he was choked by a grape ftone *.. * 'Tis not wonderful that a man ojf ninety-five fhould die fud. denly, nor that his death fhould be accelerated by an extraordinary effort of both mind and body. We. may, therefore, believe that SOPHOCLES died immediataly upon his gre.at fuccefs in gaining a THE STAGE, 47 PLUTARCH fays, that one of the fons of SO- PHOCLES Was a cotemporary writer with his father, and from other authors we learn that another of his fons, and two nephews, wrote pieces both tragic and lyric. We know nothing, however, of theie pieces, or even of their titles. EURIPIDES, according to fomc, was born at PHYLA, a town of ATTICA, and according to others at SAL AM is, about the firft year of the feventy-fifth Olympiad. He is (aid to have been the pupil of ANAXAGORAS, and intimately known to SOCRATES. He fortunately difcovered the works of HER ACL IT us, which were hid in the Temple of Diana; and from this commerce with thefe fages, and the advantage he reaped from con- fulting them, and reading their works, fprung that luminous moral \vhich pervaded his tragedies. SUIDAS fays, that the mother of EURIPIDES was nobly defcended ; though ARISTOPHANES calls her a cabbage feller, and VALERIUS MAXIMUS, taking the aflertion, .which was probably a jell, for prize fo late in life. It is alfo probable, that a grape (lone might accidently haften his end, but the very fume thing is told of AN. ACREON, and the aflertk>n has ever I believe, been confiaered more as poetic than true< 48 THE STAGE. truth, gravely records it. It fhould feem, how- ever, that his parents were perfons of fome confi- deration, for they confulted the Oracle of Apollo concerning him before he was born; and, having received an ambiguous promife that the world fhould witnefs his fame, and that he mould gain a crown, they bred up their fon in a proper man- ner to qualify him for a wreftler, under an idea that the Oracle meant no more than that he mould ob- tain the Athletic crown, which he actually did, at the feaits in honour of CEIIES, The genius of EURIPIDES, however, foon im- pelled him 10 abandon the exercifes of the body for the exercifes of the mind ; and firft he ftudied painting, in which he is faid to have made a confi- derable progrefs, but morality and philofophy were the ftudies moft congenial to his mind, and as thefe, philofophy particularly, had not yet been fo much the drift of dramatic reprefentations as he wifhed, he determined to add this perfection to the ftage. This gift which he pofTcfTed in an eminent de- gree, though he improved the ftage in no other re- fpect, begat for him a moft extraordinary portion of cotemporary fame. His pieces are not fpoken fo highly of as to perfectnefs as thofe of SOPHOCLES^ but the verfes they contained were in the mouth* THE STAGE. 49 of all countries where the Greeks were known. If prifoners pleaded their caufe in the language of EU- RIPIDES, their reward was life and liberty. He was called the Philofophic poet. ALEX- ANDER is faid to have admired him above all other writers; SOCRATES, who never had been accuf- tomed to vifit the theatre, went there to hear the tragedies of EURIPIDES; DEMOSTHENES learnt de- clamation from them, and CICERO was in the act of reading them when he was furrounded and affa- iinated. Neverthelefs it cannot be faid that EURIPIDES did fo much for the pofthumous fame of the drama, or its real interell as SOPHOCLES. The chorus which SOPHOCLES had regulated, EURIPIDES al- tered and made it entirely independant of the main bufmefs. ARISTOTLE gives SOPHOCLES the pre- ference in manners, ceconomy, and ftyle,. DIONY- sius HARLICARNASSENSIS commends SOPHOCLES for chufmg the moft generous and mod noble paf- fions for his fubjects, whereas EURIPIDES chofe difhoneft, abject, and cifiminate paffions; and, again, becaufe SOPHOCLES never fays any thing but what is exactly 'neceflary, while EURIPIDES amufes the reader with oratorical deductions. THE STAGE. In fliort, the general agreement between all thofe who have written of thefe admirable authors is, that one amufed, the other convinced; one ap- pealed to the paffions, the other to reafon; one had the peculiar gift of impofing any thing for truth, the other had no eloquence but what was derived from truth itfelf. E u R i p i D ES, it is faid, wrote ninety -two tragedies, but the general belief is, that he wrote no more than feventy-five, nineteen of which are extant, and the titles of fourteen others are recorded, but the pieces themfelves are not known. Like ^SCHYLUS and SOPHOCLES, he met with an extraordinary death. About a year after the Sicilians were defeated he left Athens and went to refide at the court of Macedon, being invited by ARCHILAUS, who was accuflomed to confer acts of munificence on learned men, and even to raife them to very high honours. EURIPIDFS. if SOLINUS fpeaks truth, was made his prime minifter. One evening in a wood, whether he had wan- dered in deep contemplation, he was furrounded by dogs and tome to pieces. Different caufes are affigned for this unfortunate death. Some fay that THE STAGE. ^ t the dogs were let loofe upon him by his rivals, who had rcafon ertough to be jealous of thofe high dif- tinctions paid to him by AKCHELAUS; others that the whole was purely an accident, for that having ftrayed while he was loft in meditation near a part of the palace, which was guarded by thcfe dogs* as a fecurity againft depredators, he was there furprized and thus became their victim. Exaggerated accounts go fo far As to fay that EURIPIDES was torn to pieces by women in re- venge for his having exclaimed againft them irt his tragedies*, but to this no credit has been given. Indeed the general belief is, that either by accident or defign he met with the death above related; With SOPHOCLES, who lived before and died * Hiftorians are fo extremely fond of introducing fimilar circum. fiances into the deaths of their celebrated men, that we ihould be wary as to the degree of credit we give them. Who does not fee in this report of EURIP.IDES, that his biographer ha' ; borrowed for him the death of ORPHEUS, who met with a fimilar fate from the women of THRACE, exactly as SOIHOCLES has been given the death of ANACREON. But on what ground muft the aifertion (hind, if it be true, and we are ^.'.vely informed it is fo, that there was no fuch perfon as ORPHEUS; that his adventures are a table; and that his works, which are fuppofed to have beeirtranfnntted from the an- cients, and lately discovered, are written by the ingenious and learned Dr. JORTON. but to go on a little further with EURI, VOL. I. H ra THE STAGE. after EttntPiDfcs*, died alfo every hope of advance- ment in tragedy. A 'great number of authors are faid to have written tragedies, and to have borne away many prizes, but we know nothing of them of fufficient celebrity to render their names worthy of particular notice; for they grew at laft into fuch di (repute that their productions only ferved as food for the infatiate appetite of ARISTOPHAN ES, by whom none of them were fpared; and nothing can be fo ftrong a proof of degeneracy in tragedy as its falling fuccefsfully under the lam of the co- mic mufe. DioNVsiusj the tyrant of SICILY, was am- bitious to be ranked among the tragic poets. Lu- CIAN fays that he procured fome tablets, on which ./ESCHYLUS had fet down memorandums, that ferved as the ground work of his pieces, and, pof- Not only the novelty of his extraordinary death is given t him, but his tomb is faid to have been ftruck with lightning as a feal of divinity, which the memory of no man ever was honoured with before except LYCURGUS the lawgiver. * This afTertion bears itfelf out as well as moft of thofe whiclt pretend to af certain any thing concerning antiquity. The majority of writers agree that SOPHOCLES was ninety-five when he died; if. fo, he muft have lived three years after EURIPIDES. There is, however, a refpcctable Chronological Table which fays, that he dieii It ninety-one, and that EURIPIDES lived a year after him. THE STAGE. ^ i felTed of thefe, he thought he had come at the whole myftery; but he was miferably deceived. No one gave him thai credit which he flattered him- felf he merited. To induce a general belief of his talents, he endeavoured to make the poet, PHILOX- E N u s *, whofe pliability, as a courtier, he had reafon to count upon, bolfter up his fame, by teftifymg a full approbation of his verfes. In this;, however, he failed. The poet, flexible in all other things, was obftinate when touched on the lide of his profeffionaj judgement. To requite his finceriiy DIONYSIUS committed him to prifon ; but after a tinie, remanded him in hopes that his fufferings in confinement would make him fomething more accommodating. Being informed upon what condition he was releafedj * Carry me back to prifon,' faid the poet. This firmnefs moved DIONYSIUS who pardoned PHI- LOXENUS, and treated him ever afterwards with confideration and refpectt. * PHILOXENUS was the fcholar of TELESTUS, a poet of fome ret- putation, they both w rote DitbjrambicS) but neither of them regu. lar tragedy. \ Of Louis the Fourteenth, who was as fond of encouraging as of emulating the merit of poets, they tell a ftpry exactly the reverfe of this. He {hewed fome verfes to a courtier and aiked his opinioa of them, who returned for anfwer, that they we,re very bad. ' I thought fo,' fald he, f^r I wrote them my felt! 'Upon this.th^ H a 4 THE STAGE. He was not, however, cured of his poetic pro- penfity ; for, though we know nothing of the pieces, he wrote, it is allowed there were feveral of them; and, though no one has attempted to fpeak in fa- vour of them, PLINY fays, that, like SOPHOCLES, he died for joy at obtaining a prize, the merit 'of which PLUTACRH attributes, to ANTIPHON, one of the fons of SOPHOCLES. N GREECE rendered the moft diftinguifhed honours, both to the works and the memory of her three tra- gic poets. An edict was ifTiied to erect their ftatues. Their works were preferved, and the greateft part entered in the archives. PTOLEMY, king of EGYPT, was very anxious to be in poffeffion of them, and above all of the works of EURIPIDES, to embellifh his Alexandrian library; but they were refufed, and he, in his turn, refufed corn to the Athenians during a dearth. Neceffity at length obliged the Athenians to comply with his requeft, and he, in return, nobly permitted the Athenian merchants to import as much corn as they pleafed, without pay- ing the ordinary tribute. It was a cuftom at ATHENS, in the lyric fpec- courtier begged leave to reconfider them, ' No, no,' faid the king, I fhan't fuffer that, its of more confequence that you fliould fpeak truth than that 1 fhould write k an oath to decide equitably, and without the fmalleft regard to folicitations from any quarter*. Their authority extended fo far that they had a right not Only to recompenfe men of merit, but to ptinifh, even to whipping, thofe who were dettitute of it t , * How different in ENGLAND. The only description of critics who preter.u to decide on the tbej.tr.cal productions here, are the editors of newfpapers. Thefe, however, are fo little like the Athenian judges, that inftead of paying no regard to private folicitations, they never write but in conformity with the wifhes of all the parties con- cerned. Free tickets, the admiffion now and then of an execrable- farce, fecret intelligence with actrefles and female authors, and other corrupt influence, blunt the edge of their fatire, which, indeed, would be dull enough at any rate. But it were charity to u ifh that (his Ihould continue, for as they have not judgment to decide equi- tably, were they to take an oath fo to do, it is not imfofflble but a CJLITiqjJE might no^a and then t\irn out a PERJURY. f This I would not wifh to have in ENGLAND, for in that cafe,, good heaven ! how many poets Aould we fee at the curl's tail. THE STAGE. 57 LUCIAN tells us of one EVANGELUS who was whipped, and it is faid that SOPHOCLES was ad- judged, upon a certain occafion, the prefectorfhip of SAMOS. But the incorporating national events with dra- matic poetry feems to have been the happieft and moft meritorious perfection which the three tragic poets of GREECE attained. Sentiments of greatnefs attributed to one hero often fpoke the eulogium of another. ^ESCHYLUS, in the Chiefs before Thebes, fays, fpeaking of AMPHIARUS, To be, and not to feem, is this man's maxim: His mind repofes on its proper wifdom, And wants no other praife. When the fe lines were repeated on the fiage, the eyes of the whole afiembly were involuntarily fixed on ARISTIDES, to whom this great encomium appeared molt applicable ; and who, in his own conduct had modelled the man upon the fentiment p.f the poet. In fhort, the Grecian tragedies were a patriotic concern, a public benefit, a bond between men and morals; and was, therefore, fanctioned by the legislature, and maintained at the expence of the nation. THE STAGE. CHAP. V. ARISTOPHANES AND MENANDER, AND THE PRO. GRESS OF COMEDY IN GREECE. THE real pleafure refulting from comedy, with- out doubt, is founded on that fpurious pride which delights the human heart when human nature is hu- miliated. Strange paradox! Yet clear as light. Who does not feel himfelf proud when the frail- ties of his neighbour are held up to derifion ? Who, that would choke with fpleen at the expofition of his own folly, does not rejoice with all his foul when the follies of others are laid open to public view? Yet this ever was and is ftill confidered as the true drift of comedy; falfely, however, for lafli the manners how you may, you cannot correct them ; on the contrary they will grow more callous at every ftroke, and what is worfe, every ftroke will become more familiar and confequently more tolerable. The fault feems to be that comedy has been given a latitude by much too extenfive; and, as human frailties, up from the moft pardonable folly THE STAGE. ^ to the mod malicious vice, are a field immeafurable; all thofe dramatic productions which have traverfed this prodigious fpace, according as cuftoms and man- ners have varied, according as times and circum- itanc.es have inclined the public ple^fure, or policy, to tolerate them, and according to a number of other local and temporary circumftances, have been denominated comedies. It will be no difficulty, however, even fo early as when the theatre came to be regulated in GREECE, to fhew that the particular province of each dramatic production was known and clearly underftood; and, though in (peaking of the pro- ductions of ARISTOPHANES, 1 fhall be compelled to fhew that comedy fluctuated and became irre- gular, it was only in conformity with thofe manners of which it was bound to be the faithful reprefen- tative, and without which no dramatic writer can be popular. Although all dramatic reprefentations were con- founded for a time in the word tragedy, which we have feen had not at all originally the Signification which v.e now annex to it, nothing can be clearer than that the fpecies of performance which the French call a dramc, and we a play, was what the Greeks underftood as the model and criterion of VOL. i. i 60 THE STAGE their theatrical productions. The word is derived from the Greek, and (ignifies, literally, action, the moft honourable designation of a dramatic piece, for without action it could have neither intereft nor life. Plays rcprefent mankind in their common and natural purfuits, tragedies and comedies call them into fuch actions as they are not accuftomed to but upon extraordinary occafions. A play has the pa- thetic of tragedy, arid the playfulnefc of comedy, and is, in a general acceptation, infinitely more ufe- ful, more true, and more interefting. The end of tragedy is to make you cry, the end of comedy to make you laugh*; but a play excites both fenfa- * T have read of a poet who, defcribing the nature of his employ- ment to a clown, tells him, that among other things lie writes tra. gedies, and comedies. ' What be they >' cries Clodpole. " Why works of genius," faid the Poet, " one calculated to make you laugh, and the other to make you ciy." ' I Tke well enow,' faid the countryman, ' any thing that is to make me laugh, but I cair t fee why a plague you ftoukl want to make me cry.' " Hold your tongue," (aid the Poet, " let me explain myfelf. Tragedies, you fee, are full of great heroes, who commit fuch glorious crimes ; who talk with gods, play with lightning, get drunk with vanity, and, at laft, kill themselves with an uir fo noble and magnificent." Here the countryman laughed with all his force. " Why what the devil do you laugh at! " laid the Peer. c Laugh ! why how can a body help it,' faid the countryman, ' one may really fee 'tis comical, if it be all like the (ketch you geaved me of it.' " Pooh, pooh, be xjuiet," laid the- Poet, " you ruiituke the matter, tragedies are to make you cry ; and then we have comedies, where we reprefent all THE STAGE. gj tions without violating either of them. To ftart an involuntary tear, as a tribute of fyrnpathy to do- meftic woe, is a greater luxury than to expand a torrent of tears at the death of a heroine; and a fingie benevolent fmile excited by a benificent ac- tion, the refultof nature and goodnefs, gladdens the mind more than a convullion of laughter at the pe- culiarities of a fellow creature, who, though deformed in his manners, is, perhaps, perfect in his heart. Plays then, as I mall have better opportunity to prove hereafter, are the parent (lock of the drama; from which, on one fide, fprung tragedy, which de- generated into bombaft, and on the other fide co- medy, which degraded itfelf into buffoonery. Comedy certainly was attempted in GREECE at the time of THESPIS, and, perhaps, earlier. PHRY- NICHUS is fometimes called the Comic Poet, and, there are appearances which juftify this appellation. His pieces, very likely, were kind of Mafques ; and, the follies and abfurdities of mankind." 'Trod,' /aid the country- man, ' that be ferous enow, I'd forgive the folk for crying at that.' Why here's a lirange fellow," faid the Poet, " laughs when he fhould cry, and cries when he fhould laugh." ' And here's a ftrange poet,' faid the countryman, ' if yon go to that, writes thJ^'s, to make people cry when they fhould laugh, and laugh vvhtv, thc> cry.' I 2 g 2 THE STAGE. if he was the inventor of the tetralogy, or if it was invented in his time, he, of courfe, wrote fatire as \vell as tragedy, and in the original fatires, which were the foundation of thofe comedies written by ARISTOPHANES, the names of pcrfons were not fpared *. The fatire in particular levelled at PERICLES will fhew that they were not accuftomed to ulc ceremony. CRATIXAS, TELECIDES, EUPOLUS, and PLATO, all comic poets, were perpetually aim- ing their fatirical fliafts at this monarch ; and as perfonal defects were always unmercifully turned into jeft, fo the head of PERICLES, which was dif- proportionahly long, and which is, therefore, hid as much as poffible in all the ftatues of him by an * When ALCIBIADES was accufed of having mutilated the fta- tues of the gods, and other facriligious crimes, the names of his accusers, among whom were DIOCLIDES and TEUCER, were made fport of from the ftage, and PHRYNICHUS has this patTage in one of his pieces. Good HERMES pray beware a fall, nor break Thy marble nofe; lelt fome falle DIOCUDL.S Once more his fliafts in fatal poifon drench : MER.C. I will. Nor e'er again (hall that informer TEUCER, that faithlefs ftranger, boaft from me Reward* for perjury. THE STA, gg enormous Helmet, was the conftant but of their ridicule*. Comedy, however, though it was occafionally introduced, boafted no great reputation till after tragedy had grown to perfection, and it is not an unlikely conjecture that the fiat of SOPHOCLES, which had broken the tetralogy and kept tragedy apart as a feparate province, having reduced co- medy to fhift for itfelf, it, from neceffity,! refumed fufficient ftrength to go alone, for we foon after this fee that it began to be exercifed fyftematically. Comedy having always been confidered as a \ r ehicle to hold folly up to ridicule, it took a dif- ferent bent according to the fpirit of the times. When the fupreme power was in the people, the * CRA.TINAS, in his play called Chirones, has this pafTage: Faction received OLD TIME to her embraces; Hence came a tyrant-fpuwn on earth called PERICLES, In heaven the head-compelle-r. [Alluding to JUPITFR, who in HOMER, and everywhere elfe, ir continually called 1 he Cloud-compeller.] TELECIDES has this paflage : Now in a maze of thought, he ruminates On ftrange expedient?, while his head deprefled With its own weight links on his knees: and now From the vaft caverns of his brain burit forth Storms and fierce thunders. (J 4 THE STAGE. poets, of courfe, were at full liberty to fay un- fparingly what they pleafed, and of whom they pleafed. Neither quality, office, age or fex were fpared; every one was reproached by name*; and his fpecies of comedy was called the Ancient, or ihe Real, becaufe it convinced by fpeaking truth. When the people began to lofe their power, and their liberties were veiled in fewer hands, it was no longer fafe to ufe fo bold a licenfc. The poets, therefore, had recourfe to a fecond diftinction of comedy where the fubject was real, and the cha- * There are opinions that this give rife to the inftittttion of the ten judges, to whom were given the power of whipping authors; who had falfely represented the follies of iheir fellow citizens, and therefore, arrogated a right to fcouvge others ; but this does not ap- pear to be fairly the fact. __ It itiould feem tliat thefe judges v ere piiginally appointed at the tni? \%hen SOPHOCLES bore away the prize from ^ESCHYLUS -. and PLUTARCH is very particular on this head The pro' ability is this : Arbitrators who adjudged prizes to merit there were certainly of ii>me defcription or other, even as far back as THESEUS; and, perhaps, earlier. In proportion as merit be- came more perfect and more decided, the power of thefe judges en- cveafed, and the judges themfelves were chofen out of more refpec- table tribes ; t'll, at length, fiiuTng the comic poets fo formidable, it was neceflary to oppofe authority to licentioufnefs ; and, therefore, the judges were given a po\\ er to humiliate and degrade, by corporal punifliment, all thofe who had unworthily endeavoured to humi- liate and degrade innocent and inofrenlive characters. A meritorious reftriction ; for while it encouraged the comic mule to fpok plain, it prevented her from uttering falliehood. THE STAGE. racters were feigned ; and this was called the Mid- dle Comedy, becaufe, though it Hill contained truth, it could only wound by companion*. At length truth, even by comparifon, fuited ill M'ith the luxury of the times, and the poets were obliged to invent both names and circumdances ; fo that if an application hit ever fo hard, no man was obliged to acknowledge the blow he had re- ceived; and this fort of comedy, the whole being fictitious, was called The New. "I' his lad, however, * The fpirit, however, of the Middle Comedy did not want for boldnefs, as the following anecdote of PHILIPPIDES will prove. STRATOCLES, the fervile and abject flatterer of DEMETRIUS, and other perfons of the fame defcription, inveighed againft the dramatic writers on account of the liberties they took with their vices. Thefe fatirifts avenged the'r caufe with great fpirit. STRATOCLES and the red procured DEMETRIUS, when he vifited ATHENS, to be received with the tame honours as CKRES and BACCHUS. They even went fo far as to change the term Dionyfia, or Feafts of Bacchus, to De- metria. The gods were faid to have been oflended at this. The veil which held the figures of DEMETRIUS and ANTIGONUS, together with JUPITER and MINFRVA, was rent afunder by a fudden ftorm. ' Hemlock grew up near their altars; and, one day when the Dionyfia were to be celebrated, the proceflion was ftopt by an excellive and unfeafonable cold, which blurted the corn, the vines, and the fig trees. 1 he comic poets immediately attacked STRATOCI.ES and the other flatterers. " Who was the caufe," faid PMIUPPIDES in one of his comedies, " that our vines were blafted by the froll, and that our facred veil was rent aflimdei ? He who transferred the ho- nour of the gods to men. It is he, not comedy, that is the ruin of the people." 6 THE STAGE. ill fiiitcdrhc temper of the Greeks and it grew inter no repute till it was received among the Romans. ARISTOPHANES, the boldnefs of whofe writings fpared neither" friend nor foe, gave to the Middle Comedy all the force of the ancient, or real. The place of his birth is comefted; his enemies, of which he had defervedly a great number, reprefent him as a Granger; and his advocates, who were more fo out of fear than love, infifl that he was an Athenian. His pieces were chiefly written during the Pelopennefian war. fo that he was a cotem- porary of PLATO and SOCRATES. His reputation arofe from his being an inveterate enemy to all thole who wifhed to enflave their country. Though his ftyle was by no means refined, his imagination was warm and lively, and his railery irrefiilably keen and cutting, which he laid on unfparingly, and with a fpirit of unfeeling refolution. ARISTOPHANES was remarkable for cxpofing the vices of men in power, which he did with uncommon wit and feverity. CLEO was the firft he attacked, for which purpofe he wrote the comedy o the Equitei. None of the actors, however, would venture to perfonate a man who pofieifed fo much power and, therefore, ARISTOPHANE! de- termined to perform the part himfelf. Thi* he did THE STAGE. (J~ with fo much fuccefs that the Athenians obliged C LEO to give a fine of five talents to the poet*. His comedy of The Clouds feems to be the mod celebrated of all his works, both on account of its feverity and the mifchief it occafioned. It is by many believed that ARISTOPHANES, in a great meafure, occafioned thejdeath of SOCRATES. At any rate that poet was very culpable in pub- licly accufing the philofopher of impiety in his comedy of The Clouds^. It was certainly his molt * MADAME DACIER, of whom ARISTOPHANES feems to have been a prodigious favourite, fays in her preface to the translation of his works, that his ridicule of C LEO was fo favourably received by. the Athenians, that they caft flowers upon the head of the author and carried him through the ftreets with the inoft unbounded applaule. They alfo, fhe tells us, and flie feems to have taken a great deal of pains to be certain of the fact, made a decree that he mould be ho- noured with a crown of the facred olive tree in the citadel, as a dif- tinction of the higheft nature that could be paid to a citizen. f- MADAME DACIER tranflated this comedy; and, not contented, with that, is faid to have read it over two hundred times, and every time with frefli pleafure. SOCRATES was a man of inoffenfive and irreproachable manners: he dlfapproved of the liceritioufne-fs of the comic poets, both in their writings. and in their conduct :. For this he was thought a proper object of fatire: for this ARISTOPHANES became the terror of virtue, and the idle of ATHENS and MADAME DACIER. VOL. I. K 68 THE STAGE. celebrated piece, and, therefore, it is fuppofed he had fome ftrong inducement to take fo much pains with it. This is faid to be the hiftory of the tranf- action. ANYTUS and his party left no method untried to compafs the deftruction of SOCRATES. But they feared the Athenians, who loved him, would revolt at any ouverte meafures; they, therefore, had re- courfe to ftratagcm, to execute which they em- ployed ARISTOPHANES. This artful and habile fatiriit, who knew fo well to apply his arguments that they never failed of their full force, undertook the tafk. He had long looked on the auftere manners of SOCRATES as a fit fubject on which to employ the gall that dilli lied from his pen. He accufed him in the open theatre of being an eloquent feducer, who, by the charms of his language and the witchery of his arguments, was fpecioufly capable of reconciling every poffible contradiction. That, through the medium of this winning deceit, he had deluded the people and broached the moft dan- gcrous doctrines; that he defpiled the gods, and in- ipired all thofe who liftened to him with errors, tending to produce 'the moil fenous and alarming confequences. ARISTOPHANES played upon the fubject witk THE STAGE. g the fame glare of falfe reafoning of which he had accufed SOCRATES; and* while he laboured to, make it appear that another had impofed upon them, his own impofition was but too fuccefiful. The Athenians had not the fmalleft expectation that any one would dare to broach fuch bold accufations, and, therefore, at firft, felt fome refentment; but being naturally diftruftful of all diftinguiflied and extraordinary men, this comedy began to gain ground; and at length, for prejudice knows not where to ftop, became more celebrated than any thing that had been exhibited in GREECE. It cannot, however^ but be allowed, that though all the ancients admired ARISTOPHANES for the true attic elegance of his ftyle, and though the moderns have in this, as in other things, very often they knew not why, yielded a blind obedience to the ancients, yet it were better that ARISTO- PHANES had never lived, or that he had employed his talents to worthier purpofes; for, however he might have been admired by St. CHRYSOSTOM, who always laid him under his pillow when he went to bed; however SCALIGER may infift that no one ought to judge of the Attic dialec^ whq had not AIUSTOPHAN.ES athis fingers enda; however FRIST may have entered, the lifts \vidi K * yO THE STAGE. in his defence ; however RYMER may have been enchanted with " his ftrange fetches, his lucky ftarts, his odd inventions, his wild turns, returns and coun- ter turns," finifhing his rhapfody by the anti-climax of comparing him to the mad RABELAIS; and, to bring up the rear refpectably, however MADAME DACIER might have affected to receive fo much rapturous delight from that wit which had been the death of a man who was an honour to his country ; yet the more poignant his wit, the more brilliant his genius, and the more confummate his judgment; his indifcriminate exercife of thofe talents ; his wickedly and wantonly confounding SOCRATES with CLEO, and thereby preverting the principles of moVality; his parodying SOPHOCLES and EURIPIDES, turning into ridicule the works of thofe admirable writers, the ftudy of whofe lives had been to make their fellow citizens honeft and honourable; and, thereby eftablifhing, ftampt with the confequence of his au- thority, to which the people were accuftomed to look up to as a fiat, a criterion for meaner writers to ridicule every thing noble and worthy ; theie, however they may eftablifh his reputation as a writer, muft deftroy it as a member of fociety; and. whatever opinion may be entertained of his Y T it, a moft delpicable one mult be formed of his morals. THE STAGE. ^ 4 ARISTOPHANES is faid to have written above fifty comedies, eleven of which are extant, and fome of them are printed in different languages. MA- DAME DACIER, with all her admiration of him, feems to have thought only two worthy of felection, which are Plutus, and The Clouds ; thefe (he pub- liflied with critical notes, and an examination of them according to the rules of the theatre. We know nothing of when or where ARISTO- PHANES died, fo that all his extraordinary fortune happened to him in his life time. After ARISTOPHANES the middle comedy gra- dually declined ; for as the wits that came after him had not the merit to imitate him in his bold and fatirical ftyle of writing, their minor abilities na- turally turned to the falfe and feeble parts of his works, in which he di (honoured his genius by pityftil parodies of writings, infinitely more valuable to the caufe of truth and literature than his own. It was, however, the fate of GREECE that the (tage mould be once more refcued from barbarifm. . MEN AN DER, who was born at ATHENS, in the third year of the hundred and ninth Olympiad, intro- duced the new comedy, and thereby refined an j 2 THE STAOE. art that had been exercifed for fifty years with the mod unbridled profligacy and licentiouiMc's. His incomparable merit quickly fpread his name to the remoteft nations. PLINY fays, that the kings of EGYPT arifl MACEDON 'gave a noble proof of their admiration of him, by fending ambafladors, and even fleets, to bring him to their courts; but MENANDER was too much of a philofopher to be tempted by the promifes of the great. The time continuing, however corrupt, his coun- trymen denied him that merit which he was allowed by ftrangers, and. therefore, ettabliihed, in his favour, the ftrongeft poifible proof of his fuperior genius. This contumely he pitied and forgave; and though, through the ignorance and partiality of the judges, he often law the prize awarded to PHILEMON, a miferable c.otemporary poet ; he bore it with per- fect indifference, the only notice he ever took of it being when he afked PHILEMON whether he did not bluih to wear the laurel. is faid to have written above a hundred comedies, which are all unfortunately loft. We can only come at his works, therefore, through TERENCE, v\ho borrowed four plays from him a THE STAGE; (hough fome fay fix, which are allowed tor have loft much of their original fpint. We know, therefore, but little of but that little may ferve to give an exalted idea of his reputation. He feems to have been in comedy what EURIPIDES was in tragedy. The old rhe- toricians recommend his works as the true and per- fect patterns of every thing beautiful and graceful in public fpeaking. QUINTILIAN advifes an ora- tor to feck in MENANDER for copioufnefs of in- vention, for elegance of expreffion, and all that uni- verfal genius which is able to accommodate itfelf to perfons, things and affections. MENANDER'S wonderfcil talent of portraying na- ture in every condition, and under every accident of life, occalioned that memorable queftion of AR- ISTOPHANES the grammarian : " Oh MENANDER ! Oh nature ! which of you have copied the works of the other." OVID, and PLUTARCH, have paid the tribute of praife to his reputation, but CAESAR, in calling TERENCE a half MEM AND ER, has feemed to give a critical idea of his exellence by allowing him double the merit of the /Roman poet, whofe extraordinary value as a writer he is recording at the minute he makes the remark. 74 THE STAGE; MENANDER died in the third year of the hun- dred and twenty-fecond Olympiad ; and, after him there is nothing worthy to be related of the dra- matic art in GREECE. THE STAGED 75 CHAP. VL ACTORS, AND THE CONCLUSION OF THE GRECIAN THEATRE. ACTORS were held in honourable efteem iriGREECEj but this is only faying that the Greeks honoured all thofe whofe purfuits were ftimulated by any merit- orious emulation. I mall, however, premife, that the arts which flourifhed in perfection at ATHENS were little known orreliihed in SPARTA, and it cannot but be confidered as remarkable, that the Greeks, who were, in fact, but one people, mould be divided into two kingdoms merely from manncrs 3 habits j and modes of thinking. This, however, taken one way, may tell to the honour of the Spartans. Their manners were fo aullere, and their conduct fo exact, that they re- jected every thing fuperfluous; and though amufe- ments, poetry and mufic in particular, were but little encouraged among them, yet, fuch as they had VOL. i. L p THE STAGE. a tafte for, confided of pure fimplicity and digni- fied expreffion. TERPANDER, who was both a poet and a mufician, PINDAR and other eminent men, though not Spartans, were admired in SPARTA. Any thing but the mere fentiment in mufic and poetry, and its force and influence on the mind, the Lacedemonians rejected. Even when LYCURGUS inftituted the fenate of thirty, including the two kings, they met in the open air, under an idea that a hall, or building- of any kind, prepared for the purpofe, might amufe the attention with fuch trifles as pictures, or ftatutes, and fplendid ornaments, in- ftead of occupying it on fubjects relative to the ge- neral welfare. Theatres, in like manner, were difcouraged. AGESILAUS, who reigned in SPARTA forty -one years, held the theatre in contempt. One day CALLIPEDES, a celebrated Greek tragedian, ap- proached AGESILAUS and paid his refpects to him, arid having waited a considerable time in expectation that fome honourable notice would be taken of him, faid, at laft, " Do you not know me Sir?" The king looking at him with a contemptuous difdain laid, " Are you not CALLIPEDES the ftage player?" Another time AGESILAUS was alked to hear a THE STAGE. 77 mimic who imitated the nightingale to perfection. " No,'" faid he, " I have heard the nightingale herfelf." Kay, this diflike, or rather feverity of manner.', extended even to their flaves. When the Thebans invaded LACONIA, they took prifoners a number of the Helotes, whom they ordered to fmg the odes of TERPAXDER, ALEMON, or SP,ENDON, the Lacedemonian; but they excufed themfelves, fay- ing, that it was forbidden by their matters *. But if the dramatic art was flighted in SPARTA, it was,carefTed with enthuliafm in ATHENS; and, indeed, in all the countries into which the Grecians penetrated. Every general of any eminence had in his camp his poets, his muficians, and his de- clamers. In the camp of ALEXANDER, HE- PHESTIAN gave to Evius, the mufician, the quar- ters deftined for EUMENES; who, thus affronted, complained to ALEXANDER, and faid that he faw * PHYKNIS, the mufician, added two ftringstothe harp, making them in all nine. Thefe two firings were afterwards taken away, but TIMOTHEAN, the famous dithyra.mbic poet and mufician, ex- tended the number of firings to twelve. He was. however, feverely punifhed by the rigid Spartans, under an idea that tuxury of foiinji would effeminate the people. L 3 g THE STAGE. plainly the beft way to acquire promotion would be to throw away their arms and learn to play upon the flute, or turn tragedian. Indeed, ALEXANDER, proud as he was, con- fidered it no degradation to countenance actors, and even to place a confidence in them. Having an opinion of the wit and readinefs, nay the difcretion and honour ofTaEssALUs the actor, he fent him on an embafy to PEXODORUS, the Perlian governor in CAR i A, to break off a match between the elded daughter of that chief and ARIOSE us. At ALEXANDER'S return to PHCENECIA from EGYPT, the people at the facrifices were entertained with mufic, and dancing; and tragedies were alfo performed with the greateft magnificence. Befides the perfons ufually chofen by lot from the tribes to conduct thofe exhibitions, NICOCREON, king of SALAMI?, and PASICRATES, king of SOLI, parti- cularly diftinguifhed themfelves upon this occafion. PASICRATES rifked the victory upon ATHENODORUS the actor, and NICOCREON upon, THESSALUS. AL- EXANDER interefted himfelf moft anxioufly in be- half of the latter. He did not, however, left the aflembly mould be biafled, declare in his favour till ATHENODORUS was proclaimed victor by all tfie fuffrages; when he exclaimed, that he com- THE STAGE. 79 mended the judges for what they had done, but that he would have given half his kingdom rather than have feen THESSALUS conquered. ALEXANDER had an opportunity afterwards of fhewing how unprejudiced his mind was. When the fame ATHENODORUS was fined by the Athenians, for not making his appearance on the ftage at the feafts of BACCHUS, he entreated ALEXANDER to intercede for him ; who, though he did not chofe to write in his favour, paid the fine. Another time LYCON, the actor, a native of SCARPHIA, finding that his performance delighted ALEXANDER, infmuated adroitly in his part, that he was in neceffity for ten talents. ALEXANDER laughed at the conceit, and ordered the actor what he fo ingenioufly demanded. But the inftances of admiration in which the talents and conduct of the Grecian actors were held are innumerable. We have already feen that AESCHYLUS, SOPHOCLES, and EURIPIDES, were all actors, and, indeed, fo were moft of the Grecian dramatic writers. Had not ARISTOPHANES been an excellent actor, the world would have loft the hateful character of CLEO. Thus declamation at ATHENS was the criterion g o THE STACK. of oratory. POLL'S, an actor, had loft his only- child, whom he tenderly loved, and he was on that day to perform a part which had an incident fimilar to his own fituation. To render his grief more lively and natural, he took an urn containing the afhes of his fon, which fo wrought upon his feel- ings that he drew tears from the whole aifembly. In fhort, declamation was efteemed a great re- quifite towards obtaining a rank in public life. The firft men of AT HE MS did not difdain to practife it. Neverthelefs actors were not permitted to judge of the merit of public entertainments. When DEMOSTHENES complained that the worft orators were heard in the roftrum in pre- ference to him, SATYR us, the actor, to mew him how much, grace, dignity, and action add to the celebrity of a public man, repeated to him feveral paflages from SOPHOCLES and EURIPIDES, with which DEMOSTHENES was fo captivated that he ever. afterwards modelled his eloquence from the example of the beft actors*. We have now feen that the dramatic art it traceable in GREECE to THESEUS t. That it gra- We (hall fee more of this when we get among the Romans* f THESEUS, after h had deferted ADR.IADNE, in return fc THE STAGE. $ t dually came forward till it was perfected by /ESCHY- LUS; that the admirable talents of ^SCHYLUS, SOPHOCLES, and EURIPIDES, were fuperior, when the infancy of the drama is confidered, to any trium- virate fince that time ; that this great compact once broken, comedy, particularly in the hands of AR- ISTOPHANES, degenerated into licentioufnefs ; and that the incomparable talents of MENANDER came 100 late to.fave the linking intereil of the itage. It remains now only to fay, that from the paro- dies of the tragic writers, began by ARISTOPHAN ES, and awkwardly imitated by his cotemporaries and luccerTors, fprung mimes, farces, and the grofleft buffoonery*; and, though the Grecian theatre ftill her having given him the clue to the labyrinth of CRETE, by which means he conquered the Minotaur, put in at DELOS, where he fa- crifked to APOLLO, firil having dedicated a ftatue of VENUS, which lie had received as a prefent from ARIADNE. This ceremony, or dance, by various involutions and evolutions, refembled the labyrinth, and was, therefore, called the Crane, in imitation of that bird, which, in its flight always takes a circular direction. THESEUS is faid to have been fo pleafed with it, that he inftituted panics at DLLOS, where began the cuitom of giving a palm to the victor. When the Athenian theatre, by the introduction of puerilu ties, loft its honour, it loft its confequence, and degenerated in credit as it degenerated in virtue. What then (hall we fay when we con- fider that the fame abufco which procured the difgracc of the Gre- cian lla^e, ihould enfure the repuUtioa of the En^lifti. g 2 THE STAGE. kept up an appearance of greatnefs, and there was often fome brilliancy beamed acrofs the hetroge- neous mafs which obfcured that truth and nature to which the people were no longer fenfible ; yet the grandeur and magnificence of public exhibitions, viiibly decreafed ; till, at length, the fate of the ftage too truly foretold the fate of the empire. So certain it is that where the arts are redundant they introduce luxury, and fap the foundation of a ftate. THE STAGE, CHAP. VII. Rr>MAN THEATRE, FROM ITS ORIGIN TO THE TIME OF LIVlUS AN. DRONICUS. \VHAT nature was to the Creeks the Greeks were to the Romans*, and the refemblance is remarkably perfect; for, as the Creeks attained a fplendid degree of perfection by a cloie imitation of nature, the Romans never arrived to any diftinguifhed per- fection becaufe they imitated man. But, indeedj in greatnefs of foul and ftrength of mind they were in every thing infinitely below the Greeks. A peo- ple whofe luxury was to enjoy a fpectacle of gla- diators were little calculated to lifl.cn to lectures of * It is remarkable, but by no means aftonifhing, that the fame may be faid of all nations, in proportion as civilization extended itfelf ; for we may go on and fay that what the Greeks were to the Fiench, the French were to us. It doei not, however, follow that the dramatic art has gradually declined fmce the time of the Greeks ; for the French improved upon the Romans, and we have, in great meafurc, improved upon the .French ; but it follows, neverthelefs, that if ^SCHYLUS, SOPHOCLES, EURIPIDES, and MENANDER* had never been born, the theatre might at this moment have retained its original barbarity. VOL. I. M g THE STAGE truth and morality. The ferocious Romans were always rather terrible than great ; and the mind ac- commodates itfelf ill to a belief that the fame men could attend with any degree of pleafure, or in- tereft, to whatever inculcated the mild duties of clemency and beneficence; who, in cold blood, could murder their defencelefs fovereign at the foot of the capitol. All writers agree that the Romans arrived to no degree of perfection in either literature or the arts, and, in particular, the ftage, but as they copied the Greeks, and that even of the ftage, their copies are faint indeed. The pompous and phlegmatic SENECA, falfely called the Tragic Poet, with his fettered and dependant ftyle, lagged far behind the Greek triumvirate. The cold TERENCE, though full of nature and grace, imprinted nothing on the mind congenial to the Roman character. The fub- jects were Greek, but they were enfeebled and fpiritlefs; and only ferved to excite regret in thofe who knew how to tafte the mufe of MENANDER. The Romans were nearly four hundred years withoutany fcenic reprcfentations; but it is not to be fuppofed that they were fo long without any fort of poetry, or that fome felf-born amufement did not manifeil itfelf with them as it did with the Greeks ; THE STAGE. $ on the contrary monfters of this defcription were born and nurfed by feafts and debauches. Their firft poetry, which was called Saturnine and Fefci- nine was hard and srude, refembling rather profe in cadence than meafured verfe. In other refpects it was full of grofs raillery, and fung by perfons who accompanied it with geftures and poftures the/ rooft indecent and lafcivious. ? This barbarous fluff gave place to raillery more refined ; but which, however, became fo fevere and farcaftic, that thofe at whom it was levelled, not liking thefe fort of jefts, retorted the kindnefs manually ; till, at length, it caufed fo much mifchief that a law was made which condemned to death any perfon who in their verfes fhould wound the reputation of his neighbour. This law was made in the three hundred and fecond year of ROME ; a certain proof that this licentioufnefs had obtained and that they had grown fufficiently civilised at that time to fupprefs it. This reform la fled a hundred years, at the end of which time a public calamity induced them to feize every opportunity to appeafe the anger of Heaven ; and thus feafts in honour of the gods be- came, after a time, theatrical performances. 'M 2 85 THE STAGE, Thcfe were, however, according to TITUS LIVY, irregular {ketches made up wholly of imitation. BALADINES, who came from TUSCANY, danced to the found of the flute, and exhibited a number of rude geftures and attitudes in the manner of that country. This amufement was received with the warmed applaufe, and after repeated trials and im- provements it became more endurable. Regular troops named Hiltrions, becaufe in the Tufcan language a baladine is called Hitter, performed complete pieces entitled Satires, in which the ac- tors and the fpectators joined promifcuoufly. Thefe kind of farces continued about a hundred and twenty years; when the poet ANDRONICUS* about the time ARATUS called in ATIGONOUS from MACEDONIA, which proved t^e ruin of GREECE, about two hundred and forty years after the death of ^ESCHYLUS, and about a hundred and eighty years after the death of SOPHOCLES and EURI- PIDES, brought forward the firft perfect dramatic piece in Rome. THK STAGE. CHAP. VIII. LIVIUS ANDRONICUS, PACUV1US, ACCIUS , AND SENECA, AND THE PROGRESS OF TRAGEDY IN ROME. ANDRONICUS, furnarned LTVIUS, becaufe he ob- tained his freedom through LIVIUS SALIN'ATOR, to whofe children he wa,s preceptor, was a native of GREECE. It is faid. that defpairing of any im- provement in the Roman Theatre, he fang his pieces in the manner of his predeceflbrs ; but one day as he was furrounded by the populace, be- ing extremely fatigued, he called in the afliltance of a (lave, who relieved him while he fetched breath. The flave, however, not acquitting him- fclf to the fatisfaction of his matter, he expolhilated \vith him; upon this the fpec tutors, fuppofing their altercation to be a part of the piece, were fo en- tertained with it that from thence dialogae was adopted. * T.IVIUS AxoRONicrs, PACCVIUS, and ACCIVP, \vere the earlieft poets in ROME. HORACE gives to LIVIUS the reputation of invention, to PACUVIUS the merit or' regularity, and to Accitfs the advantage of fublimity. gg THE STAGE. It is much more probable that being himfelf a Greek, and having eicaped from the wreck of the Grecian theatre, LIVIUS bore away with him fuch part of its treafure as the ftorm had fpared ; and, as a fit opportunity for his purpofe occurred at the end of the firft Punic war, when the Temple of JANUS was (hut for the fecond time fince the foundation of ROME, and when the Romans were in friendfhip with all the world, he took his mea- fures ; and. in pity to the wretched (late of their dra- ma, ventured to innovate upon a more rational tafte. This he did to fo good a purpofe, that, certainly, for a time, the Romans rejected all their former rude and impure dramatic culloms; and, under the tuition of ANDRONICUS, determined to regulate their tafte on the Grecian model; indeed it will be difficult to controvert, that through ANDRONICUS and ENNIUS, whom SUETONIUS tells us were half Greeks, the caufe of literature at this favour- able period became, completely eilabUmed. Whatever the merit of ANDRQNICUS might .have been, except giving to Roman tafte Grecian refinement, is very uncertain. He is fpoken of in general only collaterally ; and but for ENMIU&, with whom he is often coupled, and who, ibme tra- gedies tranflated from the Greek excepted, has no THE STAGE. g f I * * * * m *. THE STAGE. * | _i< 4 CHAP. XI. ACTORS, AND THE CONCLUSION OF THE ROMA,N THEATRE. ~ THE manner in which ihe Romans paid attention to any thing was of fo rude a kind, that the compli- ment was feldom either an honour, or an advantage; whereas the Greeks knew how to render^ diftiriction more welcome by the mode of conferring it. It is on this account, perhaps, we have been told that the profeffion of an actor was difreputable at ROME, though honourable in GREECE*, for there^Ss'no- thing elfe that^fems to lend probability to this* report. * The actors in ROME were freed men, and en- joyed ^|| the immunities of other citizens; but there were two circumftances which feemed to place them differently in rank to the actors in GREECE. In GREECE, the beft authors %/ere the betf actors, * A French author, fpeaking of this circumftance, fays, that, in regard to actors, FRANCE imitates both GREECE and ROME; for th;it the French confider actors after the manner of the Roman*, and live among them after the manner of thf%reeks. r ' THE STAGE, 9 * ani they were bcfides, as we have feen, very ho* nourably employed; whereas*few of the Roman authors were actors; and, except in one or two in- ftances, nothing can be faid of their rank, for FtAUTUswas a miller's man, and TERENCE was a flave*. The other circumftance is, that though men of high rank and confiderable employment, from rdi'o to emperors, were aciors, yet they were not profefh'onally fufcbut in the nature of amateurs ; and on this account they could not $ayp kept up their diftinction off the ilage had .they not affected - to look down on thofe, without whofe ailiftance they would have ciit a defpicable figure on it. Thus acting in ROME was^a profeffion by itfelf; and it is on this account, probably, it grew i'lio inch aflonifhing repute. In GREECE it was no un- common thing for authors to teach actors their man- ner ; to note, meafure, and point the cadence, that the actors might be tutored into reciting and linging, asfjbgularly as boys are in a cathedral. In ROME This is no deduction fftm their merit, but rather an honoura- ble tribute to it. It is only mentioned hereto fhe\v that men of ge- nius in fociety are careffed from appeatance only, juft as a book is efttmated by the gaudinefs of its binding. The mind of the man, and the contents of the book being confidcred as masters of up fqnfequence. 2 * U8 THE STAGE. > f all this was unnecJHary ; actors, as to reprefcn^auon, could teach authors; What aftonifiiing things we ate told (If and RJQSCIUS, who weje preceptors ir^ploquence, ./Esop in particular, to CICERO. The action of this great man. like that of DEMOSTHEN ES, was de- fective, 'till with unwearied at^ntion he had ftSdred under thcfe actors; from wh(|m he imbibed fuch commandmgjpowers of attracting and pejfuading his hearers by the force of his gelhire, the modu- lation of his voice, and the grace of his action, as to be acknowledged the greatelt orator of au- tiquityf . + i performed tragedy, and Rosci * o|>me- dy; therefore, juft as we fay tragedy and comedy, or GREECE and ROME, giving the ancient title the firit dillinction, fo we fay /SOP and Roscius, but there caijtbe no doubt but Roscius had more uni- verfal merit than ZEsop. Of this hi^reml^hig CICERO'S oration not only perfectly intelligible * There cannot be a doubt but SOP and Roscius in their inftructions to CiCERO,4id the foundation of all thofe extraneous ' and fportive Tallies of humour, through which, at tms moment, the lives and property of individuals are eloquq^tly jelled a^ay, for it muft be allowed that there was much fta^e wit, and many clap-traps in the oratory of CICERO. * THE 'STAGE. HQ , but jgreatly intSrelFing by gefti% alone is a mod adoniihing proof. His judgment is ipoken of in terms of wonder. He taught acting to all ranks, by whioRihe amalfed prodigious riche^and never failed at firil light to predict the degree of progreis hiFfjholar would make. He had. fuch ftrength of mind, and fuch Jbute perception, that he penen the very recedes of , the heart. No wonder fuch a man mould command the paffions of his audience*. * * i . Rose 1 1^ certainly was immenfely^i^i. His* falary was equal to three thoufand pounds a year; a^l as he performed very late in life, as he made incredible fums by teaching, 4fcd as he had led a pretty regular life, a few frelks with SYLLA and others excepted, by which he was rather likely to gain than to lofe, by the time hegpvived to eighty- i one, at which age he died, he mud have realized a mondrous firni. All ihe great men. who were cotcnipornry with KOSC^S and furvived him, rjay^ae mod enthu- ii;i{}ic tributes of love and edeem to his memory. CICERO regreted hhfi mod fervently. <; Where," _ ^ * Roscius feems, in his way, to have been a LAVATER, yet fo good an actor that ha*he aftuiued in LA%TER'S prefence a character totally ditierent from his own, he vould certainly have created a blemilh in th^|hfallibility^f the phifiognomift^ iTA< ,., THE SVAGE. * * . * f *. ^ faid he, in one o phis mod celeorafed oration^ 41 is " the man among us who has fo hardened a mind, " and fo unfeeling^ heart, as not to be deeply af- " fected afcthe death of Roscius!" CM-ULLUS W r i *** r compaj^s his torm. with all us imperfectwiR, o the refulgent beaut^of the rilir^fun. Indeed he^rght have g<'^.e on through the fplendo^of ml the ftages of that luminary; for, if we^may credit the nu- merous eulogiums on his merit and virtues, he was g.onous eveain his decline. * ** * The character of TEsop was in every refpect difFerent. As an actor he confined himfelf to tra- gedy, which by thisjtime had gone far beyond oe- clamanon, ahnoit the only diitmction it attained in GREtcsE; he feems to have pwfected the ffting of tiagedy by infurmg into his very foul the femiments and feelings of tfc character he had to reprefcnt.* PLUTARCH tells us, that, one Mjf he performed Atrcus; ttd in that part in which he conhders how he may bed kill THY ESTES, he worked HPnfflf into iuch a pitcn^ciL ungovernable anger, that a fervant happening to pafs by, he itruck ail hirn fflth hi& Iceptre and laid him dead at his feet. I jEsopwas ode of^the greateft voltrptuaries of his time, and this mfy ferve to giW an idea of the 'prodigious riches which were the rewaid of thea,- - , THE STAGE. 121 * , * m tricalr talents in ROME. If an TIC tor could have emulated the extravagance of LUCULLUS and others, and refined upon gluttony till the value of a fingle dim mould amount-to five hundifci pounds; what nuift have been his emoluments? JEso? is laid to have gone on in this profufion during a long life; and, at length, fo far from dying Jnfolvent, TO * have left his fon enough to enable him to play the fame gaife over again with additions and improve- ments; 'lor not content witJMpcoilly dimes, he added cffily beverage, prefenting his guefts with diffolved pearls* to wafh down (tewed tongues of fpeaking and iinging birds. ^Esop, owing, p^haps, to his profligate way of living, fell off greatly towards the latter part of his life. This failure of his powers iurfu-ced him to re- Tire from th&fiaa^ and when, wfmthe vanity of a veteran, inftjkd of liftening to prudence, and con- tenting himfelf with the well earned laurelSie wore, he ralhly expofed himfelf, many years a&er he had nr ~r -*- * CLEOPATRA, we are told, regaled ANTOXY in the fame man- ^ ner. To be fure thefe tliings are as incredible as they are con- temptible. A wag who chofe, by wa^^f ^conciiinc credulity with probability, to put a ludicrous conrtrucTOn onflps fact, might reafon in this manner. Any tffing is laid to be diffolved that is made away with, and thus '^Esop and CLEOPATRA, to provice^hcir friends * with a dinner, fent their jewels to the pawn-broker'^. 122 THE STAGF. * retired, on the opening of POMP EY'S theatre. The A Romans received his ineffectual efforts to pleafe with a mixture of pity and contempt. H^ What has injured the confequence of th$Roman actors, and, indeed, mod of their men of genius, is thWr having fo far let down their pride as to mix with great men who treated the^ merely as buffoons. SYLLA could go no where without his hereof poets, muficians, actors, ancL.mimics; in which frolics Roscius is reproached with having joined in ttee mummery of SOREX and MATROBIUS. ANTONY is faid to have come reeling to the Senate after fitting up all niglu at the wedding of HIPP i AS. The actor SERGIUS had fuch intereit with him as to get rewards from him, and make him confer favours; aPd CYTHERIS, Anaclrefs, had the addrefs to manage his heart at her capricious will. She attended him in his excurfions ; her equipage was prodigioufly expenfive ; till, at length, me be- came the mimic reprefentative in ROME, of what CLEOPATRA was afterwards the realty * To keep up this refianblance, FULVIA, the wife of AX- TONY, was as jealoU of this actrefs as was his other wife Oc- TAVIA, afterwards of CLEOPATRA. It wfaid, that in revenge, ^FULVIA endeavoured to captivate AUGUSTUS, and that having gone fo far as unequivocally tomanifeit her wifties, which declaration 4 * TftK SI ACE. 123 Afier all, though the merit of the Roman actors tnuft have been very great and extraordinary, yet there is fomething extremely revolting in the flrange and inconvenient mediums by which the pieces Were reprefented to the audience. One of the actors fpoke while another accompanied him with proper geftures. The voice of the reciter was conveyed through a tube of brafs, for other- wife how could it have been heard by fo large an affembly. In order to give a ftronger idea thari mere mufcular gefticulation could do of the paflion to be expreffed, monftrous mafks were worne, ex- prefling joy on one fide of the face, and grief on the other; fd that if the gefticulator did not take met with a cW return, me grew outrageous at her difgrace, and me- naced AUGUSTUS with a civil war. This induced him to write the ^following epigram, which I haye imitatedjtfor I ever did, and I hope I ever {hull difdajn the fervility of mere translation. EPIGRAM. That ANTONY prefers an actrefs' charms, Muft I, per force, take FULVIA to my arms ? FULVIA the wife of ANTONY my friend ? 'Tis vile, be (ides the labour's \\ itlioiu end ! F.-JT, did T comfort all v.-J-.o d^fa^r-.e Mongft wedded friends, fome one need comfort me ; But 'tis worfe yet the 'peremptory fair Love me, fhe cries, or elfe fo^war prepare. Thus muft I cluife, to fia'fh the difpute, BEM.ONA*S trtlrnpet, or CYTHEREA'S flute; To be with laurel, or with myrtle crown'd : $ She's devilifh ugly Let the trumpet found. VOL. I. R fc - 12! | THE STAGE. * good care he might have congratulated his friend with a fad countenance,, or murdered him with a merry one. Much has been faid by various authors concern- ing thefe mafks; more, indeed, than the fubject feems worthy of. It has been contended by fome, that the mafk covered the head and fhoulders, un- der an idea, I prefume, that the head, thus en- largedj would throw the whole frame into fy- metry, when the body was raifed upon {lilts; but this would have been a miferable mi ft, becaufe in proportion as the mafk enlarged the head, and the (lilts lengthened the legs, the arms unfortunately would have been ridiculoufly too fhort. Others are of opinion that the mafk was hollow from the face; and, by taking a greater circumference, ap- peared to enlarge it, to which the helmit gave af- fiftance; but this expedient, when we add the ftilts, will put the arms in the fame awkward predica- ment they were in before. The mod probable ac- count, therefore, we have is, that the mafk was like gold beaters fkin, fo tranfparent, and fo artfully pre- pared and fixed, that the play of the mufcles was plainly feen through it, and that the eyes, the mouth, and the ears, were not concealed at all. On thefe mafks they delineated carefully the features of the very character that was to be repre- THE STAGE. 125 fented. In other rcfpects, as by the mouth and the eyes are expieffed the vivacity and diforder of the pailions, the movements of the mind were difernable through this thin veil, and by this means the actor was never before the audience but the character. Thus, by the help of thefe mafks, age became youth, and uglinefs beauty. PLINY tells us of an actrefs who performed comedy to admiration at a hundred years old, at which age one fhould fuppofe her whole form would need a mafk. We are, however, far to feek in this bufmefs, and the farther we feek the lefs we mail be fatisfied. It is probable that mafks of each of thefe defcrip- tions were ufed both in GREECE and in ROME; but it mufl have been entirely to enforce expreffion on account of the great diftance of the actor from the remote part of the fpectators ; an expedient, how- ever, to remedy an inconvenience is not a per- fection; and, in fpight of numberlefs hiftorians, who unanimoufly agree that the effect of thefe mafks was beyond conception aftonifhing, in fpight of our conviction, as far as it relates to pantomimic characters, the geftures of which were, at the time of RICH, wonderfully expreffive; mafks that co- vered the moulders, muft have been frightful and gigantic, maiks which extended the fize of the R 2 , 2 5 THE STACK. ' face fantaftic and grotefque, and tranfparent mafks, by the impoflibility of leaving the apertures cor- rect, and of ftretching them fo as to play in unifort with the mufcles, mult have exhibited an effect paralytic and ludicrous ; and, in fpight of the pain- ter, who on thefe mafks laboured fo ingenioufly to portray the mind, the more he came up to the truth and correctnefs of nature, the more we mould be induced to fay, " draw the curtain and let us fee *' the picture." i But there are ftronger objections than thefe, the bed acting of ^Esop and Roscius was without rnafks, and when they came to mere pantomimes, of \vhich we are told fuch wonderful things, it is im- poffible to have conveyed a thoufandth part of the expreffion they are reported to have contained, ex- cept by an undifguifed exertion of the features *. In fhort, every exaggerated expedient, invented * The teftimony borne to the celebrity of thefe pantomimes is truly aftonifh ing. Among other inftancei it is laid, that DEMETRIUS, a cynic philosopher, laughed at the folly of the Romans for per- mitting fo ftrange an entertainment; but having been, with much difficulty prevailed upon to be prefent at the reprefentation of one of them, he was confounded with wonder. The ftory reprefented was the detection of MARS and VENUS, the whole performed by a Jingle actor, who defcribed their interview ; PHOEBUS difcovering them to VULCAN as they lay afleep ; VULCAN forging the ii THE STAGE. 12 ^ by air, and fubtituted by neceffity, mud have been a departure from nature; and the anfwer of a child might be anticipated, who fliould be afked whether ib grofs a violation conld be the perfection of that art which can derive no merit but irom its fidelity as a repre Tentative of nature. i The vagaries of XERO would claim no right to be mentioned here, being no more than the frantic acts of a magnificent madman, by profeffion an em- peror not an actor, had they not degraded the dra- matic tafte. and haftencd the theatre to its difiblution. Hsppy had it been, however, for his country, and for humanity, had he contented himfelf with a dif- play of mimic greatnefs on the ftage ; if, for every murder in tragedy he had not perpetrated a hundred murders among his fubjects; if, with a love of thofe arts that humanize and correct the heart, he had not unnaturally blended every deteftable and fanguinaiy paflion that can debate and corrupt it. PofTeffed as he was, without the fainted fiiadow of viable net., and afterwarcb catching them in it; the trouble and con. fnfion of the lovers when they could not difentangle themfelve.s ; the Celeftials furrounding them with Ihouts and burfts of laughter; the fhame of VENUS, the humility of MARS, the triumph of VUL. CAN; and, in rtiort, the whole fable; till, at length, the philofopher wrourrht up to the higheft pitch of admiration, exclaimed, that the ^ctor had no occaiion for a tongue he fpoke (o \\ ell w'rh his hands. J2 8 THE STAGK. either poetical, mufical, or theatrical abilities, he would be confidereVi as the moft confummate prac- titioner in all ; and woe to thofe who did not une- quivocally acknowledge his claim. It was enough that it was his fiat, and that he had proclaimed himfelf the firft artift; 'till, in this career of alternate folly and wickednds, and growing fatiated with extorted applaufe at home, he determined not only to make a muiical and theatrical tour of his own empire, but to extend his vifit to GREECE. Applaufe extorted at the point of the fword, attended him wherever he went. No one was per- mitted to leave the theatre during the time of his performance, and, to manifeft the indignation that his performance naturally infpired would have been inftant death. It is faid that the novelty of an em- peror on the ftage had at firit fuch an effect, that the audience did not perceive an earthquake which really happened while he was fmging; yet, when, the firft movements of their curoiity had fubfided, men leaped privately from the walls to efcape from fuch an abfurdity; and women pretended to fall into fainting fits as an excufe to be carried out; vhile the foldiers were fo vigilant in enforcing applaufe that the looks and actions of men were not their own. An old fenator named VESPASIAN, \vho had fallen afleep during one of thefe per- formances, narrowly efcaped with his life. THE-STAGE. 12 g The arts he ufed to obtain the victory, over the performers were truly contemptible. He bribed the judges, ordered his followers to prepare the public mind in his favour, and decry the merit of his competitors. One inconnderate HiTger who had great vanity, greater abilities, and more indifcretion than either, fung fo much to the fatisfaction of the people, that NERO ordered him inllantly to be put to death. Among the Greeks, however, now effeminated, profligate, and artful, fo much precaution was un- neceifary. NERO proclaimed himlelf an APOLLO wherever he went; and, though he was thrown out at the Olympic games, he not only obtained the crown, but afterwards at the Ifthmean, Pythian, and the Nemean games, where he performed ftill worfe. In fhort, he remained a whole year in GREECE, where all was feigned extacy, and hypocritical rap- ture at his different performances ; nay, he bore off from thence eighteen hundred crowns earned by his extravagant folly, and given by their political cun- ning ; and, fo far was this from foftening jiis mind, the remainder of his life was a itudied climax of cruelty. I Dramatic rcprefentations became from this period more and more licentious. The panto- mimes, which had long prevailed, and which had ,33 THE STAGE. caufed fo much tumult and mifchief, at length fell off and tragic-comedy gained ground. This hetro- geneous reprefentation, admitting of every thing monftrous and ridiculous, deftroyed by degrees all regularity and order; and, as it grew ruder and ruder, it partook of all the bitternefs and malignity of perfonal and pointed latire *. At length the courage of Romans was vifible only in their dramas, for in thefe they boldly ventured to introduce under the mafk of fiction, accufations which for their lives they dared not openly to broach t. Strong genius, however, true wit, and genuine humour, having gradually withdrawn from the ftage, after a time it became deplorable ; and, as it followed the example of GREECE in its rife 4 fo did it in its diflblution. * Thefe fatires were even more bold and daring than thofe for.; meily fpoken of, and which, even fo early as five hundred and twenty years before, it was thought expedient to fupprefs. So fafl was the Romans degenerating to their original barbarity. f Not even the emperor was fpared. NERO had connived at poifoninghis-father, and attempted to drown his mother; and DATUS, the actor, to revive the recollection of thofe horrid tranfactions, in- troduced in one of thofe faragoes a fong, the burthen of which was, " Farewell father, farewell mother." The better to make known his meaning, he accompanied the words of " farewell father" with the act on of drinking and making wry faces; and when he came t " farewell mother," he counterfeited a (truggling in the water. TITK STAGE. CHAP. XII. SPANISH THEATRE. As the theatre in SPAIN, even to this moment, has never had to boaft of any thing regularly dramatic, it would be difficult, if not impoHible, to give a methodical account of it. The wit and humour that have fo lavifhly pervaded it, manifeft the moft luxuriant fertility in the genius of their dramatic writers; whofc works, crude and irregular as they are, have ferved like a rich mine for the French, and, indeed, the Englifli at fecond hand to dig in. Their wit, however, like their hard dollars, can never be corifidered as ilaple, but a ufclefs mafs of no intrinfic value till manufactured into literary merchandize by the ingenuity and labour of other countries. The Spaniards had fome knowledge of dramatic entertainments, even when the Roman* began firit to be celebrated for good poetry. The ruins of fo many ancient theatres the velliges of which are VOL. i. s j2 THE STAGE. yet to be feen in their principal towns give incon- teftible proofs how much they were delighted with this fpecies of amufement; but the Goths, and other Barbarians that overrun the kingdom, drove out the Mufes, and confequently among them THA- LIA. As for MELPOMENE fhe never even to this hour refided in SPAIN. The Arabs, however, brought THALIA back again, and by introducing a rude fort of fuperlii- tious drama, which was intermingled with grotefque provincial farce, eftablifhed the foundation of the iirft Caltilian plays. The fubjects were fometimes the loves of fhepherds, and fometimes different points of religion; fuch as the birth of our Sa- viour, the Palfion, the Temptation in the Defert, and the Martyrdom of fome of the Saints. Thefe facred pieces were played as intermezzos, and the decorations confifted of views of Paradife, Hell, the Trinity, the Sacrament, and to make the re- femblance more interefting, it was no unufual thing, in this ftrange jumble of facred and pro. phane, to adminiiler benedictions, and ling Tc Dtvm*. * We have gone yet but a little way towards this on our flare. Inaction we have to be fure now and then introduced Noah's Ark, Solomon's Temple, Heaven, Hell, and fome other linnlar objects, and held up MOSES, AARON, and the Man after GOD'S own heart as iree-aiaions. But in our oratorios we come on pretty well. The THE STAGE. !23 In one of thefe pieces entitled The Creation, ADAM enters on one fide, and the CREATOR on the other: CHAOS (rands in the middle. ADAM entreats GOD to deftroy CHAOS, and create MAN. In another piece the DEVIL tempts the Chevalier St. JAMES who is defcribed to be of a good fa- , the Redemption, and fuch familiar titles by way of com- panions to the Tarantula and the Cabinet of Monkies are fported againft all the old walls in town ; and I remember in one of thefe facred dramas, as they are facetioully called, which had for its title the Afcenfton, that in the moment OUR SAVIOUR is fuppofed gradually to difappear to fnft mufic, the orcheftra, in a mod rapturous ft\le, ftruck up, " DC'' el take the Wars that hurried Willy from me." This charming performance, by way of digreifion, was performed once t and GIARDINI was prefent. After it was over that connoifieur was afked how he liked the mufic, to wh'ch he anfwered : " Oh, Sare, " de man who is difcontent wid dis mufic, mofl be very xmrea- " {enable for it contain great many little bit of all de celebrated " mailer dat ever have compofe." Though, however, we have yet only gone thefe lengths, I think we need not defpair.' When the rage for HANDEL'S mufic fliall be a little higher for our prefent iiuttention can only be confidered as a paroxyfm gone off I Ihould not think it extraordinary if we were to be entertained with feeing the mighty SAMSON pull down the pafteboard temple of DAGON, the fhepherds in the MeJJlab piping to profile fheep, or that noble Coup de theatre in Jnjbua, where Mr. HANDEL fo beautifully makes the fun jland ftill, TO MUSIC. But fuch bold improvements one can only expect by degrees : in the mean time we mull content ourfelves, if we would wifli, according to the cant phrafe, to fee fuch objects as natural as life, with reforting tp thofe itinerant theatres called puppet-fhews, where Mr. PUNCH introduces you to the whole court of SOLOMON, by way of firft piece, and afterwards entertains, you with JEPTHA'S rajb omr, or the Pirginfacrifced, for a farce. S 2 1; ,4 THE STAGS. mily to reject our SAVIOUR becanfe he is only the fon of a carpenter, and cannot produce letters of nobility. In fhort, it is impoflible to imagine a thouiandih part of the infurferable ignorance and abfuidity thefe ftrarige farragoes contained, which are not to this day entirely aboliihcd. What aftonifhes one mofl is the ludicrous and blafphemous applications they continually make of the texts of fcripture. There is fcarcely any paffage in the prayers of the church, or in holy writ, but is employed in thefe burlefque icenes in the moil in- decent manner. A valet afks a girl if inc be a vir- gin. 4 Yes indeed I am,' fays the girl, ' but don't you think fo yourfelf.' The valet with great fe- rioufnefs quotes St. THOMAS, and fays, 4 Nifi vi- non credam.' Thefe extraordinary jumbles, however, are now little performed, except in the remote parts of the kingdom, where prejudice (till reigns in all its in- fluence; whereas, at CADIZ, BAKL t LON A, ' VA- LENCIA, and MADKID which places are fre- quented by ftrangers, and coufequemly more po- lifhcd the dramatic entertainments are better re_ gulated. At the early period of the Spanirn drama, while THE STAGE. 135 buffoons, jugglers, and hiftrions, who found their way to SPAIN as well as to ROME, amufed the peo- ple with thefe heterogeneous reprefcntations, men of good fenfe, who noticed the regularity and nature which characterifed the bdl works of antiquity, be- held with difpleafure how much thefe rnonftrous farces were beneath the wifdom and the tafte of the ancients. A ftrong defirc to remedy this, induced them to compofe dialogues, which they called comedies; yet thefe were too tedious and unconnected to ad- mit of reprefentatioti. Their tendency, however, was meritorious, but they made little progrefs to- wards the cure of the licentious manners of the times. At length thefe plays began to be mixed with that very libertinifm they were originally written to explode. Such is the famous comedy of Calixtus and Milibeus, where the defcriptions are fo lively, the characters fo loofc, and the circumftances fo lafci- vious, that it was coniidercd as dangerous to expofe them to public reprefentation. In other refpects thefe plays were much too long to be patiently heard to an end ; yet as they ardently wifhed for fome- thing on the ftage lefc reproachable, fome tranfla- tions in profe from the Greek and Latin drama ef- 136 THE STAGB; fected in time a confiderablc reform in the Spanifli theatre. LOPES DE RUEDA, a native of SEVILLE, was the flrft who gave reputation to the drama in SPAIN. He was both a poet and a player. CZRVANTKS fays that he excelled in padoral poetry, which he worked as epiibdes into his dramatic pieces but the theatre was yet a rude piece of building, con- taining only four very long feats. The actors were habited in (kins fringed with gold, and in a large piece of tapeftry, drawn afide by two cords, con- fiited the whole of their fcenery, machinery, and decoiation; but yet they were greatly followed, and RUEDA acquired incredible reputation in parts of fimplicity, braggadocia, and vulgarity. The famous author of Don Quixote, Marled as a comic writer. With a happy and fertile invention, he wrote feveral admirable pieces which might have ferved as a model to his country. LOPES BE VEGA, on the contrary, defpifed the rules of the ancients, and banifhed probability, regularity, and decency from the ftage. His heroes came into the world, grew up, became old, and died in the fame reprefentation. They ran all over the earth; they Pept in the eaft, dined in the north, and when he found the world too fmall for their pranks, he conducted them intck THE STAGE. 1 ^ the air, to go to bed. His valets fpoke the lan- guage of courtiers, his princes of coxcombs, and his ladies of quality that of fifh women. His actors made their entrance in a mob, and their exits in confufion. In one piece probably you have fixty principal characters *. The rules of art were not much better obferved in CALD KRONE. A play is the hittory of a man's whole life, which he fometimes contrives to fpin out for fixty years, without plan, preparation, or probability ; and, to add to all this barbarous ab- fence of tafte, the more affecting fcenes are filled with the groffefl buffoonery. A Prince, in a fitua- tion of inexprefh'ble wretchednefs, is interrupted by the fenfelefs pleafantry of fome impertinent fervant : and yet, in fpight ofr theie defects, CAI.DKRONE is the idol of the Spanifh theatre; and after all it muft be confeffed that you admire in his flyle a noblenefs of diction, an elegance without obfcurity, while his artful manner of keeping the fpectators in * CERVANTES blamed LOPES DE VEGA, for this licentious abufe of the ancient rules; to which TOPES anfwered : " As the people pay u<=, it is very proper we fhould pleafe them, which no- thing but the grafted ignorance can do; I, therefore, lock up ARIS- TOTLE and HORACE, becaufe they continually reproach me for de- parting from my duty as a dramatic writer, and as for PI.AUTITS and TERENCE I never hold any converfation with them but they have the impudence to criticife every one of my productions." J3 3 THE STAGE. a pleafmg yet continual fufpence, has a truly in- genious and comic effect. SOLIS, MORETO, ZAMORA, CANDAMO, and CANIZAREZ, merit praife for having approached nearer to regularity. That, however, which we find mod wonderful in the dramatic authors of this nation is the prodigious, the immenfe quantity of their works. It is impoflible to hear without afto- mfhment that LOPES DE VEGA compofed two thoufand different pieces for the ftage; yet, when we confider the nature and the form of thefe works, the phenomenon is more eafy to be conceived. The Spaniards have a great number of rhapfodics under the tiilcs of chronicles, annals, romances, and legends. In thefe they find fome hiftorical anecdote, fome entertaining adventure, which they tranfcribe without choice or exception. All the details they put into dialogue and to this compilation is given the dif- tinction, PLAY : thus one can cafily imagine that a man in the habit of copying with facility, could write forty of thefe plays in lefs time than an author of real genius and regulated habitude could put out of his hands a fingle act; for the latter is obliged to defign his characters, to pre- pare, graduate, and develope his intrigue, and to reconcile all this to the rules of decency, tafte, probability, and, indeed, cuftom. THE STAGE. \y It is curious that the Spanifh plays, which are no more than romances in dialogue, have been frequently re -transformed into romance. The talk cannot be difficult : it is only to render the dia- logue again into recital. LE SAGE has done this feveral times in Gil Bias, and this is not the worll part of the work. His hiflory of AURORA DE GUZMAN is tranflated from a play of MORETO*. Nor has LE SAGE been the only one who has built a reputation on the plunder of Spanifh dramatifts. Madam GOMEZ, SCARRON, and others have done the fame ; and it may be fairly averred, that mofl * Our THOMSON goes ftill further, and gives us, in his Tan. ered and Sigiftnunda, a novel out of Gil Bias. MOORE, whofe Gamfjlerls fo full of tendernefs, and proves, in fpight of MADAME DACIER, and all DE LA MOTTE'S enemies that profe touches the heart more fenfibly than verfe, has given the Engliih ftage another play which has its origin in the fame work. It is, indeed, a very ad- vantageous thing for the theatre that hiftorical juftice obliges me to record this; for it points out a fource of materials through which the ftage may be fuppl'ed for ages, which fource, in its primitive ftate, though a kind of literary chaos, is to the full as regular as moft of the modern dramatic productions. It is true this fountain has been frequently vifited, particularly by the ladies. But it is a fource difficult to exhauft; and if, afrcr all, authors are too dull, or too lazy to carry their theatrical pitchers to the fountain; or too fear. ful for pitchers of all kinds too often come home cracked at laft they have nothing to do but fteal the pitchers of their neighbours, the French, and appropriate, in a retail way, the contents to their own advantage. VOL. I. T 1 4O THE STACK. of the novels which had fuch fuccefs in the laft century in FRANCE, and part of this century in ENGLAND, are nothing more than Spanifh dramas metamorphofed into French and Englifh narrations. It muft be allowed that no nation was ever fo fertile in invention 1 , or fo wide of regularity as SPAIN : the reafon is evident. Spanifh gallantry conlifts entirely of ftratagem ; and fancy is per- petually upon the ftretch to bring about natural events by extraordinary means. Their manners are derived originally from the Moors, and are tinged \vith a fort of African tafle, too wild and extra- vagant for the adoption of other nations, and which cannot accommodate itfelf to rule or precifion. ImprefTed with an idea of that knight errantry which CERV ANTES fo fuccefsfully expofed, Spanifh lovers feem as if they took a gloomy pleafure in difappointment. They enter the lifts of gallantry as if they were more pleafed with the dangers of the tournament than the enjoyment, of the reward; and, at length, when they arrive at the poflerTion of that object with which they were originally fmitten with a glance from a lattice, or a regard in a cloifter through a thick veil; difappointment fuc- ceeds to admiration, and they grow jealous and outrageous to find that love is the very reverfe of THE STAGS. , 41 caprice, and that happinefs cannot be enfured but by a long and intimate acquaintance with the heart. On the other fide, the lady, immured from the fig^it of men, reads romances, and heroically re- folves to confider, as her deflintd lover, the firft who has the addrefs and the courage to refcue her from her giant father, and her monfter duenna. Reafon, prudence, mutual intelligence, purity of fentiment, and affection ; thefe have nothing to do in the affair* Fate fettles the whole bufmeis and her deliverer, be he ugly or handfome, clownifh or accomplimed, is fure to carry her with a coup de main at the very firft interview *. We have no account of even one Spanifh tra. gedy. The authors chofe their characters inclif- * There is a ftory told of a Spanifli lady of quality, who wag reading a romance full of extraordinary adventures at the moment flie languished under the mod cruel apprehenfions that her father's aufterity and vigilance would render abortive every attempt of her lover to obtain an intervie%v with her. After a number of dangers and difficulties, the lovers in the romance contrive a meeting ; when, inftead of profiting by the opportunity, they enter into a long con. verfation on the viflicitudes of love, and accufe fortune for having kept them fo long afunder. ' Was ever any thing fo ftupid,' cries the Udy, throwing her book away ; * two lovers to meet by the mod 4 unexpected and mod fortunate accident in the world, and trifle away 4 their time in talking.' T 2 m THE STAGE. criminately; and it is very common to hear kings, princes, miniflers, peafants, valets, bravoes, and hangmen trying which fhall be loudeft at the fame icene ; nay fbmetimes the latter clafs have all the interefling (ituations, while kings and nobles are the buffoons of the piece. It is not that the Spaniards . want genius to arrive to this fpecies of dramatic writing: on the contrary, there is an elevation, in their minds, a grandeur in their ideas, and a noble- nefs in their fentiments ; but they know little of judgment and tafte, nor can their redundant imagina- tions conform to the rules of art. Except the fpectacles of the court, the Spanifli theatres are equally indecent on occount of their obfcenity and their dirtinefs. There are two the- atres at MADRID which feem to vie with each other which mail be the word. Their beft acting is low comedy, their declamation being infupportably tirefome, and their (peaking through the nofe, efpe- cially the women, difgufting beyond expreffion. Between the acts they have grotefque intermezzos, which they play extempore. They are naturally performed, but they exhibit a ftrange mixture of joy, fentiment, reflection, and fatire, and fometimes finim with fongs compofed in the Italian tafte. The inflrumental performers are pafliblc, but the fingers dcteftable. THE STAGE. j^ Although it is not intended to fpeak of opera as a branch of the dramatic art till it {hall make a fe- perate article in the French theatre, at which time its origin and progrefs will be particularly traced and followed up; yet it is impoffible to refrain from noticing here the prodigious avidity with which this fpecies of amufement, though by no means excellent, was followed not fixty years ago under FAR IN EL LI*, whofe extraordinary and facinating talent of im- poling upon credulity, will hereafter be enlarged upon in the hiftory of the Englifh theatre. Fortunately for this flrange adventurer, after he had gulled the Englifh to their eternal reproach, and received fuch a reception from the French, as convinced him they were as well verfed in trick as himfelf, the king of SPAIN happened to languifli under a complaint for which, according to his phyli- cians there could be no cure but mufic. % This intimation FARINELLI took the advan- tage of to fome tune ; for, being fent for by the * Through what medium may a man hope for recommence, and who (hall worthily expect the gifts of fortune, when it is a kno-vrn fact that FARINELLI, in ENGLAND and in SPAIN, received more money than did the DUK.E OF MARYBOROUGH for the recompencc of all his fervices in the low countries!. 144 THE STAGE. queen, he fo ingratiated himfelf at court that he prefently had a penfion fettled on him of about three thoufand two hundred pounds a year, and a coach and equipage kept at the king's expence. Prefents were made him of immenfe value. The king gave him his picture richly fet with diamonds ; the queen prefented him with a fnuff box with two diamonds of high price in the lid; the prince of ASTUKIAS prevailed on him to accept of a diamond button and loop worth a prodigious fum ; and he condefcended to permit perfons of all ranks to follow in proportion -o their fituations thele very noble and meritorious examples of their betters. The length of time that this folly exifted is incre- dible ; FERDINAND continued FARINELLI in his fituation after the death of PHILIP; and, ftill to O beyond his predeceffor in liberality, honoured him with a crofs of Calatrava, one of the moit an- cient orders of knighthood in SPAIN *. This was about the year 1750, and we find that after this, he * When FARINELLI was inverted with the infignia of the order of Calatrava, according to the cuftom of the other knights, he wore fpurs; which being perceived by a dry old Spaniard, " Well," fit id he, " each country to its cuftom. In ENGLAND they arm cocks ** with fpurs, in SPAIN capons." THE STAGE. 1 ^ continued to conduct the opera till the year 1761, when he retired to ITALY with his peniion from the court of SPAIN fettled on him for life. We have now feen all that is remarkable or worthy to be related of the Spanifh theatre, which, though a ftrange hetrogeneous jumble of jarring atoms, will be found hereafter to have furnimed fome very rich materials which the French and n- glifh theatrical chymifts have ingenioufly extracted to ornament their own productions. They certainly prepared the French to receive a true tafte for the dramatic art; who, without them, would probably never have imitated SOPHOCLES and TERENCE. The very name of the Cid mews whence CORN EILLE drew the original; and MO- LI ERE, who is confidered as the creator of the French comedy, derived much of his excellence' from the fame fource. This fubject will be hereafter more fully dif- cuffed, when many of the Englifh dramatic writers, with BEAUMONT and FLETCHER at their head, will be fhewn to have had obligations to the fame quar- ter, and will ferve to prove that the dramatic is truly an imitative art in a larger latitude than its i 4 6 THE STAGE. general acceptation warrants ; for, though nothing more is meant by the naked expreflion than that poets mould produce a faithful imitation of nature, they have clothed it and very often difguifed it by fervilely imitating one ano.ther. THE STAGE. i CHAP. XIII. PORTUGUESE THEATRE. IHE mod celebrated dramatic poet among the Portuguefe was BALTHAZAR, of the ifland of MA- DEIRA, who wrote ancient dramas called Auto, of which the greateft part was made up of pious fub- * jeers like the ancient myfteries in FRANCE. HENRY DE GOMEZ wrote twenty-two comedies, and GIL VINCENT, whom they looked upon as the PLAUTUS of PORTUC-AL, ferved as a model for LOPES DE VEGA and OUIVEDO. It is faid that ERASMUS learnt the Portuguefe language on pur- pole to read the comedies of GIL VINCENT. Spanifh pieces, however, are thofe which are ge- nerally performed at LISBON ; but the theatre be- ing extremely difcouraged, has long languifhed there. Had it not been for the king's order, no opera would ever have been eftablifhed in that capital ; and, perhaps, it might as well have been let alone, for when they had their theatre, they had nothing to perform in it ; whereas, at that time in VOL. i. u Ixi 3 THE STAGE. FRANCE, they were full of good things without a theatre *. The theatre, however, which is faid to have been very fuperb, was overthrown by the famous earthquake, which, by fome, was confidered as a public benefit, for they performed in it fo feldom, and at fuch an expence, that they eftimated every reprcfentation at nearly four thoufand dollars. * This, a few years ago, was diftimSlly different from the fituation of the Opera in ENGLAND, for we had at that time neither opera- houfe, nor pieces. Indeed our opera has not, for a conliderable while been an object of the fmalleftconfequence. The different acts of the performance are only confidered as fo many intervals to drefs and reft the dancers. ALEXANDER may warble his foul out, and fing his own exploits with all the fweetnefs of a bulfinch to eternity, and yet be unable to wrefl the attention of a fingle Englishman : but the moment }ou turn the hero into a whirligig, the whole world fur. rounds him: renters' and proprietors' Shares are bought up at any price, and the concerns of the theatre get into fuch perplexity, that we are obliged to burn down our opera houfes to liquidate their debts. THE STAGE, 149 CHAP. XIV. ITALIAN STAGE. DRAMATIC entertainments had birth in modern ITALY under LEO the teiuh. The SophtmiJbA of the celebrated Prelate TRISSINO, the pope's nuncio, was the firlt regular tragedy known in Europe after thofe barbarous ages of which I have already given an account; as was the Calandra of Cardinal BiBiENA,the firft comedy. The Italians, however, feem to have had as in- different a talte for theatrical reprefematious as the ancient Romans; as may be gathered from the fol- lowing account of Rjdamijtus and Zenobia. The piece begins with a combat between more than a hundred perfons. They fight on the llage, beh'ege a place, and carry it by affaulu and, though the whole drift of the tragedy is intended to be as affect- ing as pottible, Punchello is one of the warriors who frightens the combatants, parodies the beft fpceches, makes a jell of the hero, and behaves with all the ricjiculous buffoonery of a puppet; and (.hat the u 2 J^Q THE STAGE. heroine may not want as ftriking a contraft as the hf"o, Zenobia's nurfe is reprefenied by a man with a black beard, and a wig made put of a lamb's fkia with the wool on. This tender female talks of vir- tue and delicacy, is frightened left fome one fhould offer violence to her charms, and gives hcrfelf a thoufand childifh and coqucttifh airs. ARIOSTO wrote for the ftage. It is faid that his father one day was, on fome occafion, extremely angry with him. ARIOSTO liflened to him with the moit fteady patience, and mod profound attention. He neither faid a fingle word in contradiction of his father, or j unification of himfelf ; but on the con- trary, heard him to an end with an impatient cu- riofity, and feemed to wifh that the lecture had con- tinued longer. A friend who was prefent afked him after his father was gone why he had not faid fomething in his own defence. ARIOSTO anfwered that he bad been for fome days working at a comedy, and on that very morning had been at a lofs how to write a fcene of a father reprimanding his fon, that at the moment his father firft opened his mouth, it ftruck him as an admirable opportunity to examine his manner with attention, that fo he might paint his picture after nature, and being thus employed, he had noticed only the voice, the face and the action THE STAGE. ,^ t of his father, without in the lead regarding the truth or falfehood of what he laid to his charge. In the time of RANUSE FARNESE, duke of Parma, a prince of uncommon underilanding, an old nobleman blindly gave himfelf up to the arts of an infamous woman. The duke, who had a great regard for his courtier, was touched that he mould be a victim to fo fhameful a paffion, and did every thing in his power to cure him of his folly, without informing him of it in direft terms. At length, having made feveral attempts without fuccefs, he caufed a comedy to be written, wherein the old no- bleman's abfurdity was fo ftrongly drawn, that it could not be miftaken; and yet fo artfully, that it might be kno\vn for perfonality only by him whom it was intended to reclaim. The duke took the nobleman to the play, who ftruck with the reproach, not only turned off his miftrefs, but privately thanked the duke for a leffon by which he benefitted as long as he lived. The Italian tragedies are miferable indeed. They are languid, yerbofe, and uninterefting, unlefs the human mind can be inierefted by fubjects of hor- ror. St. EVREMOND iriftances this, fpeaking of The Feajl of the Statue, from which MOLIERE took his fingular but celebrated piece of Don John-, !^ 2 THE STAGE. " The moft patient man," fays he, " would die " with langour at that ftupideft of all dull things " the Feajt of the Stctue^ and I never fee it without u wifhing the abominable author thunderftruck with * 4 his abominable atheift." The Italian opera had fome refemblance of the theatre at ATHENS. Italian recitative, like ancient declamation, was noted, and fuftained ad libitum by mufical inftruments. The chorufies, which were added after a time, qnd which belonged to the body of the piece, and made a part of the general fubjcct, were, smd indeed are yet, expreffed by a fpecies of mufii different from the recitative, in the fame man- ner as the ftrophe, the epode, and the antiftrophe.of the Greeks were fung in a manner totally different frc'r the declamation. This was yet more clofely adhered to as thefe fpectacles became more perfect, for in many of the ferious operas of the Abbe METASTASIO the unity jf time, place, and action, arc abferved; .and to this we may add, that thefe pieces are full of that poetic expreffion and fi- nifned elegance, which embellifh a natural fubjed without confuting it, and which the French fay AD* DISON only attained among the Englifh, and we that RACINE alone arrived to among the French. TASSO, GUARINI, and others have alfo \yriu THE STAGB. 153 ' written comedies, as they were called, which in their way had great beauty and poetical meriu but they were merely paftoral, and, therefore, had little to do with what ought to be conlidered as comedy. The very names of AM INT A, and PASTOR FIDO, with which pieces every reader of tafte is well ac- quainted, will bear me out in this affertion*. Other writers, however were not of opinion that paftorals were true comedy; for they acknow- ledged nothing under that title that was not a jum- ble of every fpecies; and, as it were, COLDONI, MACHIAVEL, TASSO, andGuARiNi, all beat up together. Thus you had in one piece, in mo- dern ROME, all thofe fubjects united, v.hich, in an- cient ROME, it required fo many quarrels to keep feparatc. Haughty tyrants, languishing lovers, bears, devils, * It is, however, at leaft worth a reflection that, notwithstanding the eftabliihed criterion at this moment of tragedy and comedy, is that fpecies of writing which excites in one the more tender and touching fenfations, and in the other the more mirthful and exhi- lerating, the Italians, in thefe paftorals, (tuck clofely to the true an- cient meaning of comedy, which is compofed of two Greek words, and fignih'es no more than ' long of the village.' TASSO, and GUARINI were writers of tafte and learning; and very likely to know decidedly, being nearer to the time, what the Greeks originally aeant by comedy. t _, THE STAGE. cupids, and fcaramouches were prefented you all in the fame piece ; and every thing was conducted in a manner fo truly ridiculous, that if their intention was that comedy from that time mould be conhdered as nothing more than a dramatic exhibition to excite laughter, they fairly fucceeded; for, what with the flupidity, the abfurdity, or the humour it was im- poifible to avoid laughing throughout the piece* Unfortunately, however, as much as they gained on the fide of the fenfes they loft on the fide of the heart ; for whatever there might be to create mirth, there was nothing to create intereft. I very much queftion, however, whether thefe very comedies did not go a great way towards per- fecting that fpecies of dramatic production; for when they come to be incorporated into the French theatre, the hiftory of which circumftance will be hereafter particularly related, they diffufed a light- nefs into the French tafle, which had long languished under the verbofity and dullnefs of their comedies, as they were called, confiftir^g of fome fingle unin- terefting a8ion drawled on through five ats of monotonous verfe. This lightnefs, infufmg itfelf into general tafle, obliged dramatic writers to become conformifts ; and as it approached nearer to nature than the old THE STAGE. ^5 fyftem, as it became adopted by men of real merit who knew what to preferve and what to reject, comedy, by degrees, became interefting as well as amuflng. It is certain, however, it never attained per- fection, a di!;inction it certainly once knew in this country, till we improved, in that as we have done in every effort of genius, on the French; and I mail inllance VANBRUGH'S comedy of the Con- federacy^ which he tranflated from RSGNARD, to prove this aflertion. In fhort, though the Italians continued to breathe the fame air, and enjoy the influence of the fame fun which warmed the Romans, they were no longer di^inguifhed by their talents nor animated with their virtues, for there was nothing left in ITALY of ROME but its vices. Oreatnefs, courage, and manlinefs were gone, and nothing but effeminacy, voluptuoufnefs, and lirentioufnefs remained, and thus, if the Roman theatrical reprefentations, by reflecting themfelves, were a mixture of virtue and vice; thofe of the Italians, through the fame mirror, were a mafs of vice without the relief of any virtue at all. ITALY has been famous for the comedies of VOL. i. x 15* THE STAGE. GOL DON i, though they are the wildeft rhapfodies that can be conceived. Thofe of MACHIAVAL have more merit. In ihort, ITALY has to boaft of no theatrical fpectacles of consideration, but its operas, -which, upon fomc particular occafions, have 'been moft fuperb and magnificent. All this may be in a great meafure attributed to the French, who brought the productions of the Italians into greater perfection by incorporating them with their own, of which I mall hereafter fpeak more at large, when I ihall alfo fpeak of what was called the Italian can- vafles, planned by RICOBONI and others, which were imported into FRANCE, and begat the original celebrity of their petit pieces. THE STAGE, CHAP. XV. GERMAN THEATRE. 1 H E German theatre is about as ancient as the French, and till the times of CORNEILLE and Mo-- LI ERE wa * as brilliant, and abounded as much in good authors. But as the French theatre improved, the German theatre degenerated. GOTTSCHED, of the academy inftituted at BOLOGNE, and profeflbr of the Belles Lettres, at LEI p sic, re-eftabiimed and entirely changed the fcene, about the year 1700. He formed young actors, and excited young poets to write*. CATO, of UTICA, gave, as one may fay, the iignal for this revolution. Finding, however, they were cultivating an un- grateful foil, they foon faw nothing of confequence could be produced original ; they, therefore, fet themfelves down to tranflations, and ever fince CORNEILLE, RACINE, VOLTAIRE, Mo LI ERE, and * Pity but feme GOTTSCHED would dart up in ENGLAND. X 2 jgg THESTAGB. DESTOUCHES have been the fupport of the Ger- man theatre. The German opera, fo much efteemed in the laft century, particularly in HAMBURG, BRUNOWIG, WEIFFENPELS, and LEIPSIC, is no more, the Ita- lian opera has taken its place. The theatre at AMSTERDAM owes its origin (o two focieties of rhetoricians *, compofed of an in- finite number of diftinguifhed perfons, men of let- ters, junfconfults, and magiftrates. BARDEZIUS, burgomafter and counfellor, P. C. HOOFT, the cele- Dramatic productions have overrun HOLLAND as well as every part of GFRMANY, and have reached even to SWEDEN ; where they were eftabliflied by the famous BARON DE HOGBERA, a very extra- ordinary character. He was the fon of a foldier, who, from the ranks, became ennobled. Deprived of his parents very early in life, and deft'.tute of fortune, he taught himfelf to read ; and, going on ftep by ftep, he acquired a confiderable inllght into feveral fciences with no matter but his own genius and obfervation. At feventeen years old, without money or recommendation, he determined to make the tour of Europe on foot, to perfect himfelf in his ftudies. He traverfed FRANCEJ GERMANY, and HOLLAND, where he inflructed the peafants ba different methods to improve hu(bandry,and received lodging and nutriment for his pains. After this he arrived in EN- GLAND enriched with all the knowledge of Europe. The public, however, knew 1'ttle 'of his merit till" he eftablifhed himfelf at CO- PENHAGEN, where his excellent productions foon made him known and admired. His comedies, eighteen in number, eftablifhed the Danifh theatre. THE STA 15 g brated poet, and the famous JOOST VAN VON DEL, were at the head of the confederacy. Thefe two focieties began to difpute on dif- ferent fubjects about 1584. Their pieces at firll vere only dialogues in verfe on the news of the time, the events of the nation, or mithological fic- tions ; and ferved very m criterion fly as a fchool to regulate the manners and farnifh the amufement of a laboiious and induitnous people. In time, however, they difagreed. Each fo- ciety ridiculed the proceedings of the other, and their former eloquence degenerated into fevere in- vective and bitter fatire ; till, at lengih, to obtain order, the magiftrates came to a determination to fupprefs them both. The people were, however, unwilling to give up their favourite pleafure ; and afier a variety of difficulties, it was finally agreed that they mould unite. This gave fatisfaction to all parties, and, about 1635,- a phyfician of the name of SAMUEL ROSTER, built a theatre where both the focieties were incorporated into one body. KOSTER, however, could not fupport the ex- pence of this theatre, and it was bought of him by the guardians of the orphans and the aged, to whofe ufe the profits were charitably appropriated ; and thus, by converting it into an inftitution fo lauda- jgQ THE STAGS, ble, the theatre began to have confiderable cc~ lebrity. The performances, however, with the exception of a very few, were grofs and beaftly. In one of them, which is a reprefentation of ABRAHAM offer- ing up his fon ISAAC, ABRAHAM having tied ISAAC to a (lake, very leifurely takes out an old nifty horle piftol, and meafuring fix paces with great de- liberation, prefents his piece ; when, all of a fudden, finding fome wet defcend into the pan, he looks up and fees an angel in a certain attitude, who had oc- calioned what he had miftaken for rain. ABRAHAM is in the greateft conircrnation, when the angel cries out, " Der taiple ABRAHAM will ta te younker " flauken?" Thefe brutal rcprefentations made up for a confi- derable time the delight of the Mynheers; till, at length, they improved the ftage by tranflations of Spanh'h comedies, and French tragedies, originally introduced by a focicty of Portuguefe Jews, who eftablifhed a theatre, to which the Hollanders were invited gratis, the better to keep up a good under- ftanding between th-t Portuguefe and the Dutch in commercial negociations. Their firft efforts, however, were clumfy enough. If CALDERONE was full of extravagance on, the THE STAGE. jgj Spanifh theatre, his curvettes, and his caprioles, were, of courfe, imitated, as awkwardly on the ftagc of AMSTERDAM, as a guinea pig imitates a fquirrel; and, as for CORNEILLE 1 cannot re- frain from giving one inftance how adroitly he was rendered into Dutch. There is a well known paflage in the Cid, where the father of RODORIGO ftimulates his fon to re- venge ; and, not fatisficd with the affurance he had before given him, flopping him fhort he fays, " a t; tu un coeur RODRIGUE? " He replies, pointedly, " tout autre che mon pere le trouvera fur 1'heure." The Dutchman, determined to be as phlegmatic as the Frenchman was brilliant, has rendered it thus : " Ap ye a hart RODRIGUE." c< Yaw, papa," cries RODRIGUE. THE STAGE. CHAP. XVI. OBSERVATIONS ON ALL THE PRECEEDING CHAPTERS. PREPARATORY to the French theatre, which will be the next article, it may not be immaterial to ga- ther up, by way of gleanings, all thofe minute par- ticulars which will ferve to confirm and perfect the crop of intelligence already houfed, and alfo leave a clear field for the harveft that is to fucceed it. Nor can a better figure be devifed as an object to fyfhbol theatrical productions ; which fmack of the country where they are produced as faithfully as corn or wine : not reflecting general truth, but particular manners;* not holding up the mirror to nature, but to the times; not appealing to the per- fection of the human mind, but to its caprice. * It has been extremely well faid that, though we ought to re- fpect the ancients we (hall feldom fucceed in the fort of refpect due, or that would have been acceptable to them, on account of the lapfe of time between them and us, by which we fail of exactly afcertain- ing their tafte ; and this rule equally proves that we f'nould not blindly follow the ancients. ARISTOTLE himfelf has often confi- dered as perfection what was thought fo at ATHENS rather than what is really fo in nature. THE STAGE. jgg It is on this account that the theatre will have arifen to the trued perfection in that country where the principles of the people are an emanation of true virtue, and real patriotifm ; where the public mind is informed and enlightened, and where tafte knows every thing of reafon and nothing of re- proach; but, critically fpcaking, where is this coun- try to be found ? We have feen then, as far as we have gone, that the theatre has arifen to no real perfection; for, whether we take it from that reproach to GREECE, the death of SOCRATES, or the combination of every thing worthy and vile, juft as caprice hap- pened to dominate in ROME, confirmed by the ac- commodating difpofition of Pi.AUTus,and the de- claration of AUGUSTUS; or the mad frolics of the Spaniards, countenanced by the anfwer of LOPES DE VEGA to CERVANTES, the theatre has hitherto been little more than a pander to the times. With- out the theatre, neverthelefs, thofe nations we have traverfed, and thofe manners we have witnefled, would have lamented a mortifying and uncomfort- able chafm in their time, and a confiderable defi- ciency in their civilization. What then would have been the theatre had it VOL. I. Y ^4 THE STACK. nobly aflerted its privilege, had it refolutely aflumed its legitimate right, and poflefied itfelf of its real province ? It would then have purified thofe man- ners which it too often corrupted, it would have re- fined that bad tafte it too frequently tolerated, and have given to literature an active example of having planted reafon in the human mind. But how was this to be accomplifhed ? Poets did not write for reputation but for hire ; they did not chufe to undertake the romantic tafk of teach- ing virtue fuch as it ought to be and ftarve, they rather contented themfelves with defcribing it, fuch as the people wifhed it to be, and live voluptuoufly. Yet we have feen the theatre in GREECE an ob- ject of real importance; for it is difficult to con- ceive a truer picture of exalted greatnefs than that meritorious diftinction which could at once cor- rect diffipation and conciliate ferocity ; and this was exactly the operation of the theatre in its influence over ATHENS and SPARTA immediately before ARISTOPHANES. But the times were to be thanked for this, and not the poets. The famous faying in the theatre of the old Spartan, " that the Athenians knew what " virtue was, but that the Lacedemonians practiced THE STAGE. jgg " it;" gives a picture uncommonly beautiful of the effect of a theatrical production at GREECE. The inftance of ARISTIDES being admired for his vir- tues, by implication, in a play, and that fo delicately as not to wound his feelings although he was prefent, is one fortunate proof among thoufands that the the- atre, worthily conducted, is the true medium to, promulgate honourable emulation. But as the manners grew corrupted, the theatre, at the very time it was the poft of honour, at the moment it was its particular province to ftem the torrent of licentioufnefs, cowardly deierted its Ra- tion and was hurried away with the ftream. It would have been a glorious thing that fome ME- NANDER. had ftarted up at the time of ARISTO- PHANES, if it had been only to ihew, while yet the Greeks retained a recollection of thofe virtues for which they will ever be quoted as a great example, that the human heart is cafier moved by conci- liation than by menace*. * Whence ARISTOPHANES could conjure up fuch wonderful fome is altorufhing. There is an epigram attributed to PLATO, though the title certainly does not imply that fort of poem calcu- lated to convey a compliment, not at the fame time that it is incapable of it, which fays, " that the 1 Graces after having fearched through " the whole world for a place to build an eternal temple, chofo Y 2 ,^6 THE STAGE. From the parodies of SOPHOCLES and EURI- PIDES by ARISTOPHANES, may fairly be dated the fall of the ftage which improved upon from JEs- CHYLUS under thofe wonderful authors, wonderful furely, coniidering the time in which they wrote, had it gone on to the perfection it was capable of, would certainly have given laws to literature. In- ftead of which it gradually degenerated, and though we have witnefTed many lucid intervals through which it has ftruggled, it could not be confidercd in any thing like a ftate of convalefcence till SHAKE- SPEAR* gave to ENGLAND a more brilliant fame than JL.SCHYLUS had given to GREECE. " for this immortal ftructure the mind of ARISTOPHANES^ from " whence they have' never Cnce removed." If gall, invective, fcandal, malignity, and every thing that can debafe the honeft drift of fair, open, generous, general fatire, are the materials with which the Graces chule to build their immortal temple, may they ever refide in the mind of ARISTOPHANES ! * It will be hereafter my willing duty to prove that SHAKE. SPEAR, to a much greater extent than has been related or, perhaps, believed by the moft faithful of his biographers, or the warmeft of his advocates, diffufed a glow of reputation into'dramatic literature, which was felt by furrounding nation*. It mult be remembered that he came long before CORNEILLE and MOLIERE; who, great and celebrated as they defervedly were, do not both together make up one SHAKESPEAR; and it will not be difficult to fliew that, though the theatre in FRANCE commenced much earlier than that in "ENGLAND, the latter .arrived fooneft to perfection. THE STAGE. 167 As to the Romans they were too turbulent a people to encourage a real and decided tafte for theatrical productions ; befides there was always a policy among them mixed with every thing public juft as it fervcd to promote fome innovation, in- trigue, cabal, infurrection, or afTaflination; and thus dramatic reprefentations were a fpccious lure, a tub to the whale, to divert the minds of the people from fome impending treachery, and not an excite- ment to excellence in paths of true glory and un- fullied honour. It was through this that their dramatic poets held a ftation below the level of their gladiators, their mimics, and their rope dancers; which the great AUGUSTUS profeffedly promoted, rather than re- drained inftead of ftimulating writers of acknow- ledged merit by means of the ftage, to admonifh the people out of their irregularities. The Spanifh theatre, though more irregular than the Roman, was lefs mifchievous, for it corrupted nothing of the nation but its tafte; and I would ra- ther fee twenty FARINELLI'S tickle the ears of the Spanifh nobility till they were gulled out of their money, than one NERO inuring his mind to fictitious murder on the ftage that it might render him more expert in the murder of his fubjects. Befides the jgg THE STAGE. Spaniards have left fomething behind worth imi- tating, whereas from the Roman authors we have nothing but a Greek filtration, taftelefs and infipid, from the flatulent SENECA to the tame TERENCE, whofe works a celebrated critic calls comedies for mathematicians. The Portuguefe theatre is fwallowed up in the Spanifh, and the German in the French; fo that ad- mitting, which it is perfectly right to do, the theatres in all countries are not only ufeful but materially eflential, the Itage, according to its meritorious efta- blifhment at the time of yEscHYLUs, and its im- provement under SOPHOCLES and EURIPIDES, de- generated, both as to tragedy and comedy in ROME; and, though the Spanifh comedies have fupplied a large fund of admirable materials, yet, in proportion as the theatre loft fight of GREECE, is loft light of regularity, There cannot be a properer time th;n this to enter into a fair examination of the true value of what is called dramatic regularity, and to fhew how far, rationally, the unities ought to be preferred, or may be occaiionally broken. What are thefe rules but a recommendation of what was confidered as perfection in GREECE? THS STAGE. 169 ARISTOTLE has added nothing to this; he has only repeated word for word the methods which regu- lated the writings of SOPHOCLES and EURIPIDES, without adding a fingle idea to theirs but what has confounded the thefis on which he refts his argument. He recommends the unity of action, certainly an important precept, but already put in practice before he fuggefted it. He excludes from the the- atre, as a remark from himfelf, characters purely vir- tuous, which are precilely, not only according to SOPHOCLES and EURIPIDES, but according to reafon, the very characters that ought to be intro- duced into a dramatic piece. It was ARISTOTLE who confecrated that nonfcnfi- cal opinion that to form an interefting action it is ne- ceffary to introduce fome great and celebrated pcr- fon. This idea is little worthy a philofopher, who fhould be the firft to feel and to acknowledge that private life, or even obfcurity, frequently furniflies inftances of exalted virtue and genuine magnanimity unmixed with the remorfc that attends the extermi- nation of nations to add to the celebrity of a hero*. * ALEXANDER himfelf feems to have been more candid than his preceptor, for when a poet fung of his juftice and moderation at the fackof SIDON, " Here's a fellow," faid he; " he celebrates me as ** an honed rruii at the moment I am robbing a whole city." ,- THE STAGE. But the preceptor of ALEXANDER was obliged to fquare his dramatic rules by thofe which were moil likely to flatter his difciple. He, therefore, in this inftance deferts his original plan, probably becaufe he trembled under the hand that had ftrangled CA- LISTHENES and PARMENIO, in whofe plot againft the life of ALEXANDER he was by the way fuf- pected to have had a hand. The fublime genius of ARISTOTLE made the wonderful difcovery that there are but four forts of tragedy. There are as many forts as there are fub- jects, juft as there are as many faces as there are men. Nature is infinite, and it is fterility alone that fearche* for excufes in the abfencc of invention. He infifts that tragedy ought to be confined to a fmall number of families, a reflection evidently that comes from ancient GREECE, very proper for the obfervance, at that time, of that republic, but which, held out to other nations, would reftrain the art rather than extend it. Thus the inviolable rules of ARISTOTLE, which it is ridiculous to apply ge- nerally to other nations, are no more than an enu- meration of the beauties he found in the Greek poets;, and, as to the faults which he has held up as proper to be exploded, he might as well have been filent on the fubject, for as they arc grofs and palpa- THE STAGE. ^ ble, and fuch as no man of genius could poffibly have ftumbled on. Thus ARISTOTLE has written nothing new on this fubject. He has only tranfcribed a notice, and fluck it up, one would think by way of a pafqinade by anticipation on his commentators * ; who, enve- loped in ancient manners, are loft in a circle, out of which they have not, even in imagination, been able to extricate themfelves; till, thus bewildered, they have rendered him unintelligible to us, whofe beauties they fancy they have elucidated, which beauties they falfely conceive were intended for the advantage of pofterity. I mall be told, however, that there are many luminous traits in the poetics of ARISTOTLE; and, among the reft, that admired precept will be quoted that " the beauty of poetry confifts in order and " grandeur;" but, good heaven! what is this more than a felf evident truth which was known long be- fore ARISTOTLE was born, and which will be as plain as day light for ages after every preferit in- * " The innumerable multitude," fays a French author, " of " ARISTOTLE'S commentators, who ftun us even in thefe days, and " in full academy, feem to me to be a troop of the moft invincible " idiots that ever profaned literature." VOL. I. Z ^2 THE STAGE. habitant of the world fiiall have periflied ? Are men to have rules to know when the fun (bines? But it is not the fault of ARISTOTLE, who little dreamt that, while he was endeavouring to regulate the poetics of a fmall commonwealth long fmce anihi- lated, his rules would beget fo much controverfy in fo many countries, to whofe manners moft of them were uncongenial, and whofe men of genius would have been better employed, inftead of adopt- ing dogmatic opinions, in following univerfal truth, and erecting rules for themlelves *. But I (hall leave ARISTOTLE, at prefent. with a declaration, that fmce his rules, hitherto known to us, which have only extended to tragedy, have fet fo many learned men together by the ears, as a lover of harmony and good order, I am not one of thofe who lament that his precepts for co- medy did not dcfcend topofterityt. * M. L'ABBH D'AUBIGNAC, in his dedication of Zenobla to one of the pr-nces of the blood, piqued himlelf on having given a per- feet model of the ancient Tragedy, and critically followed the rules of ARISTOTLE: THE PRINCE returned for anfwer, that "he was " extremely pleafed M. I/ABBE b"'AUEiGNAC fhould fo clofely ob- *' ferve the rules of ARISTOTLE, but he was very an<;ry, indeed, " with the rules of ARISTOTLE that they fliould oblige M. L'ABBS " D'AUBIGNAC to write/o Lad a tragedy." f One may illuftrate this by an anecdote, rather laughable to be fure, but which will clearly prove that we sure indebted to ARISTOTLE THE STAGS. ^ The poetics of HORACE appear to be ftill in, ferior to thofe of ARISTO FLE ; nay, it is doubtful to me whether he ever intended them as that univerfal leflbn for which they have been received. But this with his advocates will bv* an argument in his favour; for if what lie confid-j'-ed merely as private in traction has been, by the confent of mankind, generally adopted, it will argue a proof of its irurinfic merit; ,and this I fhould willingly conlider as a decition that ought to be final were it not that the premifes will not bear out the fact ; but, on the contrary, the more we examine, the lefs reafon we fhall have to allow HORACE that fame which he really did not feck, but which the world, or rather public clamour pr rather to thofe who published his works two hundred and feventy years after his death, or elfe, to accident that thefe ftrictures on comedy never were given to poftirity. Seven p'lots went out in 3 yacht to examine the buoys and regulate the fouadin .s on a par: of the En^lilh coift, for the purpofe of mak'ng a new chart; during this trip four of them, who had ,been feverally hailed to pilot irt mips, which were making a neighbouring port, left their three companions to comple e their furvey ; who, wlvle the/ were providing for the fafety of others, by fome miftvljulation endangered their ov n, for they ran the yacht aground, and after great difficulty made a fliift to gei homp in the ftage coach. They were relating the cacun limce in the even, ing, when a dry old tar noticed, that thy had been remarkably lucky to efcapefo well. " Lucky," faid one of the pilots. ' Ay to be Cure,' faid the failor, 'for if it was nece.Tary to have three pilots to run the veilel afhore if the whole feven had remained ill 1 her (he muft infallibly have been ftaved a\l ta pieces.' Z 2 174 THE STAGE. as in the cafe of ARISTOTLE, has been fb ready to award him. When HORACE fays that we ought not to couple ferpents with birds, or lambs with tygers, or that comic fubjects fhould never be mixed with tragic, he clearly addreffes himfelf to the elder of the Pi SONS, and not to poets. Where he ferioufly affirms that it is wrong to roaft human entrails on the ftage, he cannot have had an idea that he held out univerfal inftruction, becaufe no writer wants to be told that fuch monftrous circumitances are revolting and deteftable; but no fuch thing was in his mind; he only in addreffing the Pi SONS took an opportu- nity, by a fide wind, of rebrobating the liccntioufnefs of the Roman theatre, which we have feen was at that time both cenfured in private and encouraged in public by AUGUSTUS, and which is evidently the reafon why HORACE was too politic to fpeak out*. * Perhaps this difficulty in fpeaking out waswhat made HORACE fo fhy of AUGUSTUS, who aJked the poet whether he thought it would be a difgrace to his memory if it ihould appear to pofterity that they had been intimate. This flattery, which quality is as ac- ceptable to poets as to emperors, had its effect, for HORACE imme- diately dedicated his Carmen Seculare to AUGUSTUS, which was exactly what he had been fifhing for. THE STAGE. , 75 Thefe puerilities, added to the grave afTertion that there is a great difference between a (lave who fpcaks and a hero, fairly fatigue us; and mew that, however, they may ferve as inftruction for youth, they can never be confidered as a literary treafure except by pedagogues, who from their own imbe- cility will always be happy to find precepts for their pupils ready cut and dried to their hands. But the mod curious part of HORACE is his no- table difcovery that art is as neceffary as genius to form a poem. This narrow maxim, perhaps, might have been advantageous to him, who never gave the world any grand, or folid work, but merely in- genious, elegant, and finifhed trifles; but it would be highly abfurd in fpeaking of poetry irr its ex- tended fenfe, the offspring of intuition, the emanation of the foul. Where is the poetic art that can form a HOMER, a SOPHOCLES, a EURIPIDES? Thefe created thofe very rules which ARISTOTLE and HORACE fondly dreamt had been invented by them ; in which delufion HORACE wraps himfelf up ; and, inftead of examining poetic genius as a queftion of fublimity that foars above all art, he yawns out a declaration that " the union of nature and art pro- " duces a happy effect." This precept becomes a fiat, and every fchool boy acknowledges with afto- mfhment the rare fagacity of HORACE. J7 5 THE STAG2. VIDA, who is preferred by SCALIGER, to HORACE*, has certainly method, art, and per- fuafio'.i. He loves poetry, and fpeaks of it with tranfport, yet his fentiments, though enthufiadic, are profound as well as lively. He gives his pre- cepts not with a biting and dogmatic air, but in % tone, eafy and perfuafive, and with all that amiable gaiety which HORACE has every where but in his art of poetry, and which, after all, is an argument both againft VIDA, and in favour of HORACE, for it proves that VIDA was the beft critic, and HORACE the beft poet ; and, at laft, to mew how difficult it is to find fetters for the mind, V IDA'S poem is but a repetition of what VIRGIL had copied before; and, therefore, a proof that poetic rules cannot be an in- vention to enfure future fuccefs, but only an invi- tation to emulate what has fucceeded already. As to thofe rules which more particularly re- late to the contraction of plays, all countries at all times have occalionally violated them to ad- vantage ; and the plain anfwer to thole caviller* who have condemned this conduct in the lump, it fhort and incontrovertible. Let the unities be re- gulated by the nature of the fubject. * SCALIGER fays that HORACE'S art of poetry is ar. art au&ht without art. THE STAGE. T 77 This pofition had better reft till it be exemplified by the works of authors which will be hereafter fpoken of; in the mean, time I (hall detain the reader from the French theatre no longer than juit to fay, that it h eaOer to give your neighbour edvice than to takehyourfelf*; for, notwithstanding the peremptory * I have met with a letter in feme French author fuppofed to hax'e beenwrhten from the Ifland of MADAGASCAR, which (peaks of a diminutive race of favages, the ftre'ngth of \< ho.e intellects, however, makes up .for the fetblenefs of their form. They are described to have nothing four nor rancourous in their difp.ofitions notwithstanding the contumely they fuftain from the more gigantic favages tiiat fmround them ; and though they feel this difadvantage, they are moderate enough to refift the infults of their ne'.'gl bouro by teaching them decency, propriety, and decorum. This they do by means of a fpecies of drama, which has obtained fuch reputation among them that the fituaton of an actor is confidered as the Ivgheft in the ftatf. On this account they are very careful to prevent the prevalence of any thing licentious on the theatre ; and it is, therefore, permitted that every fpectator may come with a fort of catcall, and teftify, by playing on' it, his difapprobation of any actor, or any paflage in the play, Woe be to him, however, if he fhould happen to whittle malapropos; for, when this is the cafe, the whiftler is obliged to mount the ftage and give his reafons publicly for his con- duct. If his diflike is to the piece and he points out, to the fatlf- faction of the audience, any paflage that has a tendency to im- morality, or that may be confidered in any way dangerous or oftenfive to fociety, he immediately receives public thanks. If not, he is, what we call, fent to Coventry. If his objection is to the actor, he is obliged to perform the part better, or elfe, in cafe of failure, to re- tire with difgrace from the alfembly and never afterwards be per- mitted to join it. This curious hiftory, neaily as I have Hated it, for 1 quote from recollection, is evidently an invention in revenge, per- 1/8 THE STAOR. mandates of thefc law givers to literature, I don't find that ARISTOTLE, HORACE, VIDA, BOILEAU, or anyothcr of the critics ancient or modern, who have meaiured and cut out plays, have appeared able, however they might have been willing, to write any thing dramatic themfelves. haps, for fome dramatic difappointment its author had fuftained. It is, however, a moft wholefome lefTon, and would be wonderfully fer- viceable were it adopted in this country. Every thing that is public very properly and worthily attracts public curiofity ; but let not, therefore, the labours of the ingenious and the meritorious become the feoff of every ignorant, vain, and envious pretender. Let the public, for the fake of their own confequence, tax the merit of critics; and, in pro. portion as they poflefs, upon proof, fuperior or inferior abilities to thofe whofe labours, and whofe livelihood they have the arrogance to reprobate, and the cruelty to undermine, let them be honoured, as the worthy protectors of the arts, or branded as difturbers of the rational purfuits and inoffenfive pleafures of their fellow creatures. THE STAGE. 179 BOOK II. THE FRENCH THEATRE FROM ITS ORIGIN TO THE DEATH OF CORNEILLE. CHAP. I. EARfcY INTELLIGENCE RELATIVE TO THE FRENCH STAGE. , THE dramatic entertainments of FRANCE, origin- ally, and for a length of time, fo rude, fo mon- ftrous, and fo ferocious, came in a direct line from the Romans, and were nothing more than a feeble copy of thofe brutal games which difgraced the amphitheatres of thofe conquerers of the world. If various authorities that corroborate each other may be depended upon, hiftrions, farcers, dan- cers, and cudgelers overrun FRANCE as early as the feventh century, who imitated the pieces of the Romans in the infancy of the art, exactly as the Romans in the fame manner had imitated the Greeks, reprefenting nature in its rudeft and groffeft ftate, VOL. i. A a j8o THE STAGE. It is plaiT,that thcfc performances, whatever they were, though intended to promote civilization had an effect exactly the reverfc; for they grew to fuch a licentious height that, in the eighth century, CHARLEMAGNE was obliged to fupprefs them; vainly, however, for the habitude had obtained, and the people would not be diverted from their amufe- mcnt; and fince they had loft their plcafure, becaufe it was confidered as irreligious, they were determined to make religion itfelf the means of rcftoring it. To this the priefts had no objection, for in multiplying religious ceremonies they multiplied their own emo- luments; till, as the priefts of BACCHUS encouraged thefe early reprefcntations in GREECE, fo the priefts of FRANCE willingly turned the churches into the- atres, where they permitted ridiculous farces, in- decent dances, and facriligious buffooneries. The very vaults where the faints were depofited echoed with fcandalous and impious fongs. Upon thefe occafions the priefts often turned actors, and fomctimes actrefles; hiding their fanctity and their facerdotal robes under grotefque habits and ridiculous mafks; in which difguifes they very frequently got drunk, quarrelled, and fought. Thefe difgraceful fpectacles continued more or lefsj according to circumftances, till about the mid- THE STAGE. igj die of the twelfth century, when EUDES DE SULLI, bifliop of PARIS, thundered his anathemas againft thefe facred Farces ; which, however, were but little fupprcfied till the Crufades, when, the fpirit of the nation leaning towards every thing religious, the French checked whatever ferved to render religion ridiculous; befides it now became meritorious to conform to religion and yet act farces. Pilgrimages, and wars with the crofs as their enfign were good theatrical matter. Troops of thefe devout itin- erants were conftantly appearing in the fquarcs and in the market places, and no one was confidercd as a capital actor who had not noviciated at NOT RE- DAME DU PUY, St. JAMES OF COMPOSTELLA, or JERUSALEM. Thefe pilgrims, mounted upon fcaffolds, fung fpiritual canticles, which they had compofed on their journies, and exhibited fcenes in which they reprefented fome myftery of religion, or the life of fome Saint, till, at length, they formed a fociety, the particulars of which we (hall fee in its place. In the mean time we will return to the time when SULLI began to anathematize holy buffoonery, at which epoch it appears that the people, beginning to be difappointed of their amufement through the medium of the church, invited writers and per- A a 2 ,g 2 THE STAGE. formers to continue it through the medium of thoi'e favagc feafts.in which FRANCE was fb fond of emu- lating the Romans. The Cours pUnieres, the Tournois., and the Ca- roufeh were an imitation of the fanguinary amufe- ments of their ancient mafters, and offered to the eyes of the fpectator a frightful image of war and all its horrors. By degrees, however, ftill like the Romans, the French united in their exercifes, ob- jects lefs mocking and offenfive, in which they in- troduced poetry, which was fung at their repafts during the intervals of ferving the different courfes, and therefore called entremets. The provincial poets, that is to fay, thofe born in the fouthern provinces of FRANCE and who fpoke a language derived from the Romans, and called Romanc proven^ale and the French poets born in the northern provinces, whofe language came from the fame fource, but was pronounced differently, and, therefore, called Romans Franf^oifc, thefc two forts of poets were the original authors and per- formers of all the fpectacles which, though bar- barous enough in themfelves, relieved thofe favage feafts called the Cours Plcnicres. They chofe fuch grand circumftances as the THE STAGE. jg^ marriages of fovereigns, or the celebration of cer- tain days in the year, either appointed to comme- morate great national events, or confecrated to re- ligious purpofes. The provincial poets were called Troubadours, and the French Troumrres, which word in both dialects fignifies difcoverers, finders, in- ventors. Their inventions were called Jeux partis, and were divided into what they called Sirventes and Tenfons. Thofc called Sirventes were fatires le- velled at all forts of people, fomething refembling the Saturnines and Fefcenines of the Romans be- fore LIVIUS ANDRONICUS, and the Song of the Goat among the Greeks before THESPIS. In thefe performances called Tenfons the fub- ject was love. They were written in dialogue and executed by fcveral interlocutors. Furniflied with a number of thefc pieces, which were lighter, eafier to perform, and capable of affording more general amufement than the Sirventes, the Troubadours and Trovcrres of the eleventh century, went about from town to town, and villa to villa, accompanied by their minllrels, their juglers, their pofture matters, and their rope-dancers ; who, uniting their different talents, performed entremets, or entertainments, to amufe large companies. 184 THE STAGE. By degrees thcfe fpectacles were varied and ex- tended. Farces and pantomimes were introduced re- prefenting fubjects from hiftory, and in thofe pieces were brought forward terreftrial and aquatic animals, and fcencs, machinery, and decorations of moft ingenious execution, and upon an inimerifc fcale. It is difficult to fay what were the dimenfions of thofe buildings where thefc amufements were per- formed, or to eftimate the prodigious expence they incurred. The mechanic art at that time mufl have arrived to great perfection, and the refources of thofe who encouraged it have been immenfe, to have executed fuch ingenious ami extraordinary concep- tions,- and have defrayed the confequent expence, efpecially when we coivfider that they were per- formed but a few days in one place. The dramatic art, however, was yet unknown. This itinerant poetry, like tjiofc who cultivated it t knew nothing of any fixed rule. It confuted of irregular fongs on the fubjects of love and arms, or peribnal praifc or fatire, performed by troops of vagabonds, who united poets, compofers, actors, fingers, and orchcftra, all, perhaps, in one family. FONTENELLE fays pleafantly enough, " Song " begat poetry, or at leait was born with it. The THE STAGE. i8 5 " poetry of Trouverres was made to be fung. " During the repaft of a prince, a trouverre woulcT " arrive with his minftrels, and his juglers, who " began to fing to their harps and viols ibmc curious " verfes that weie comopofed for the occafion. " Thofe who both fung^ and wrote were moft " efteemed. Among the ancient trouvcrres we " find a great number who boafted fuch exalted " names, that there is fcarcely at this time a noble- " man that would not have been very happy to " have defcended from them. Every one who " could claim a right to half, or even a quarter, of " a family caftle, though the remainder were mort- " 8 a g e dj ran a bout the world rhiming, with a view <; to redeem his -pawned patrimony. Nor did he " want encouragement. From fomc he received 4t arms, from others flags ; here cloaths, and there " horfes; nay, very often, money; and to render " the-recompenfe of perfons of quality more wor- " thy the acceptance of the nobleman difguifed as " a ftroller, the great ladies, even to princefles, " joined their favours. " But if we are aflonifhed that, in a nation like " FRANCE, where letters have ever been delpifed, " and where we are not yet emancipated from this " barbarity, gentlemen and noblemen have for- " mcrly ainufed thcmfelves with writing poetry, I jg6 THE STAGE. f don't know what elfe to anfwer but that it was poetry written without genius, without ftudy, " without fcience, and, therefore, fuch as will not " difhonour nobility." Notwithftanding this pleafantry of FONTENELLE, and his kind concern left the anccftors of the FRENCH nobility ihould have written good poetry, and, therefore, difhorioured their fucceflbrs, no- thing can be more certain than that perfons of the firft rank, in the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries, made this amufement their principal occupation. We find among the number, fo early as the year 1100, WILLIAM the Ninth, Count of POITOU, who knew not only how to write verfes, but to fing them afterwards; and who was fo witty and fo pleafant a companion as conftantly to keep the table in a roar. This talent was fo natural to him that at his return from the firfl crufade, in which he was far from being fortunate, he fung the fatigues and dangers of that expedition in a poem fo full of vivacity that it was confidered both as a juft ridicule of that ftrange war, as far as he had wit- neffed it, and a deprecation of its difgraceful, ca- taftrophe. In 1102, the famous father ABE LARD, who was of a noble family, and whofc talents and ' THE STAGE. misfortunes have excited fo much admiration an companion, is laid to have written and exhibited as __ > a trouvcrrc*. In 1152, BERTRAND who was attached to the COUNT D L YEN TADOU R, and afterwards to ELEO- NO RE L)E GuiKXNE Wife of Lo U I S the SeVeilthof FRANCE, M|ha married and was divorced from the duke of NORMANDY, fiuce king of ENGLAND by the name of HENRY the Second This BERTR AN D, whole elogium has been given us by PETRARCH, was one of the mod celebrated poets of his time. He encouraged the v trouverres and wrote for them. From thi.s period to the year twelve hundred we find a long lift of noble peribnages, who both coun- tenanced thefe fort of performances and aflifled them as authors and actors. Among thefe are the names of the emperor FREDERIC, the dauphin * This circumftance, by the way, ought to excite no aftonifli- ment, for lv.3 ftiange a ivciunrci \\ere tragedy, comedy, and farce all in one during his l'-te time; nay, afterwards, for it is fa:d, that when the remains of HELOISE were depoihed in his grave twenty year* after his death, at which tinnr, taking all -the Circumftancei together, one v\oiil.i .h.nk he ought to have been pretty told, he ftretched out his .r.u., and ardently embraced her, V O L . I . B b t 88 THE STAGE. D'AuvERGNE,the Dominican Mifionary, and Inqui- ^fitor IZARN, the chevalier SORDEL, who was over- whelmed with benefits by St. BONIFACE, and mar- ried BEATRICE, through which marriage he was con- nected with a firing of Italian nobility, the count of VANTADOUR, the countefs DE DYE, and RICHARD CCEUR DE LION, who all compofed and cultivated poetry. During the next century the number of poets were ftill more numerous, and not lefs refpectable. Among thefe were FOUQUET, bifhop of MAR- SEILLES, and afterwards archbifhop of TOULOUSE, GUILLAUME DE C AB EST A N, who periflied 3. \ ictim to the jealoufy of RAYMOND CASSEL DE Rous- SILLON DE SEILHANS, to whom he was page, ANSELME FA ID IT, an author and compofer, of whofe writings and emoluments BEAUCHAMP en- larges a good deal, RAIMOND BERENGER, count of PROVENCE ar/d of FORCALQUIER, fon of AL- PHONSO, king of ARRAGON, who married BEA- TRICE, lifter of THOMAS, count of SAVOY, by whom he had four daughters, who were all married to kings. MARGARITE to Louis the Ninth, king of FRANCE, ELENORA to HENRY the Third, king of ENGLAND, SANCHE to RICHARD, king of the Romans, and BEATRICE, declared by her father heirefs to the county of PROVENCE, to CHARLES, THE STAGE. 189 brother to St. Louis, who was crowned king of NAPLES and the two SICILIES; GASPER DE PUYCIBOT, a great mufician, and who performed on many forts of inftruments in great perfection; SORDEL MANTOUAN, in whofe works was mixed much moral inftruction; PIERRE AUVERGNE, a mufician and a poet; ALBERT, marquis of MALA- SPINA; and LE SEIGNEUR BERTRAND D'ALLA- MANON, one of the moil learned men of thpfe times, who dedicated his works to ESTEPHANETTE DE ROM AN IN, of the family of GANTELME, and aunt to the celebrated LARUA SADO, miftrefs of PETRARCH. BERTRAND was greatly efteemedand. patronized by ROBERT, king of NAPLES, and count of PROVENCE, who was called the Father of the provincial poets. In the 1305, appeared PIERRE CARDINAL, a rnan 1 of great talents, who wrote poetry in feveral languages. The town of TAR A SCAN affigned him feveral considerable appointments for his trouble in inftructing youths, who, under him, made great progrefs in learning. He was confidered by the great as a man proper to be trufted with comiuidions of confequence, and, among the reft, by BER- TRAND to prevail upon the princefs BEATRICE, who had retired to the convent of NAZARETH at Aix, to quit her religious habits and appear like the B b 2 ,g O THE STAGE. daughter of a king; in which undertaking lie ac- quitted himfelf fo well that he conducted her to NAPLES where (lie married the marquis of EST. During the next ten years many others made their appearance ; and, in the year 1321. PHILIP th'e Long, count of POITOU. and afterwards king of FRANCE, became celebrated as a votary of the MufesT He was a prince of a mo^t enlightened un- derftanding; his principal delight 'was to cultivate and protect literature, and, as a remarkable inttance of it, he gave condderable appointments in his houfehold to ten of his dependants becaufe they were poets. GEOFREY DE Luc, who eftablifhed an aca- demy, MADAME DE. MAKCHEBRU*:. and her fon, ANSELME DE MOUSTIER, a great favourite of ROBERT, king of NAPLES. BLUNAKD Rose AS. related to the Popes, C I/EM EN T, and INNOCENT the Sixth, and efteemed a greater man than either. ARNAUD DE COUTIGNAC, who was erteemed for his rare prudence, and remarkable for quelling a rebellion fjr the king of NAPLES, and many others made up the interval from 1320 to 1355, Nvn <-' n LE MONGE appeared,' who was called the fcourge of the Troubadours on account of his wiitings. He fell moft unmercifully on the poets of his time, <- THE STAGE. fparing neither friend, nor foe, nor perfuafion. nor condition ; till, at length, he expofed the tyranny of ibmc of the rulers in the provinces, and was ailaifinated for his pains. LE MONGE, however did fervice both to the caufe of poetry and his country ; fo much that TARAUDFT, who fucceeded him, and who wrote with equal ieverity, but more policy, completely effected that reform his predeceflor had only medi- tated. TARAUDET was born a gentleman, and was bred a warrior as well as a poet. Being in treaty with FOULQUES DE PoNFENAS for an eilate, FOULQU ES, being a great admirer of poetry, con- tented himfelf with giving him an eafy bargain in confequence of his dedicating to him a work called, A method to guard the heart againjl the treachery of love. TARAUDET being now rich and a nobleman, afTembled the neighbouring nobility and purged PROVINCE of all thofe petty tyrants that had fo long defolated it. After thefe, BOYER, a mathematician, and who as well as poetry wrote on naturaLJiiftory, meteoro- logy, hydraulics and botany," JCTTN DE MEUN, a famous theologift, philofopher, aftronomid, chymilt. 1Q2 THE STAGK. arithmetician, and, above all, a poet, and the il- luftrious Louis DE LA SCAR is, count DE VINTI- MILLE, celebrated for his talents and his valour when the Normands and the Englifh ravaged PRO- JLENCE, were at the head of literature in FRANCE ; till, about 1375, when BERENGER DE PARASOLS gave a new turn to dramatic poetry, having, it is laid, compofed five regular tragedies. Of thefe tragedies there is fo particular an ac- count that it is difficult to fufpect the truth of his having written them. They have all appropriate names, and the matter of which they are compofed conhfts of fatyric particulars relative to the mar- riages of princes and princefles of thofe times. BERENGER, according to thefe authorities, dedi- cated his tragedies to Pope CLEMENT the Seventh^ who recorripenced him with a prebendary of PARA- SOL, where BE A UCH AMP tells us he ended his days, but PARFAICT fa,ys he was poifoned on account of the truths contained in his tragedies, which Fo\- TENELLE feems to confirm by hinting that JOAN of NAPLES, hated PARASOLS foi having expofed, in one of his pieces, the circumltance of her Itrangling her hufband that me might marry one me thought more amiable. ^ There is reafon to believe, that though thefe THE STAGE. jgg pieces were called regular they approach very little towards that didinction in the fenfe we underftand it now, being no more than fatires in dialogue, and diltinguilhed in nothing from thofe of DANIEL in 1189, and FA ID IT, in 1220, except in their ftyle. ^ Thefe poets, together with RICHARD DE BAR- BEZIEUX, who joined to poetry rhetoric, theology, and mathematics, and Father BONIFACE, related to the mod ancient nobility in PROVENCE, and re- markable for his attachment to JOAN of NAPLES, and consequently an enemy of PARASOLS, were the principal among a very large number that made up the literati of the fourteenth century. In 1408 lived another LE MONGE, from whofe information, through different channvls, are fur- nifhed the preceding particulars. He was made librarian of the monaftery of LKRINS, of which fo- ciety he was a member. In the library under his care, which it is faid contained a prodigious number of books, he carefully collected the lives and la- bours of the provincial poets. Thefe materials he was fo particular in arranging and digetting, that his authority has been confiantly confidered as au- thentic, efpecially that edition of it corrected and improved by St. CEZAKI in 1435. ,g4 THE STAGE. After this period, to enumerate all thofe poets that pafs in review upon enquiry, 'would give this' work the air of a catalogue rather than a hiftory. More than three hundred names might be fet down th.it different authors have thought it worth while to celebrate. Many of thefe lived in the court of TIBALD, where they formed an aifembly for the purpofe of examining one anothers works after the manner of that fchool of poetry firft inflituted by GEOFREY DE Luc in 1340, and carried into greater perfection by B.ERTRAND DE ?EZARs in 1348; and which ms^hbe confidered as the foundation of the French acjtfjemy, afterwards fo celebrated; though not ; ts origin, for CHAR LEM AGN E eftablifhcd an academy for fcience and literature in general on his return from ITALY in 781. Thefe names make but a part, as we are told, though one fhould fuppofe a confiderable pait of the principal inventors, as they are called, or poets in FRANCE; and the furrounding nations and pro- \ inces, where fhe French language was either cor- rectly , or imperfectly fpoken. The principal fervicc ihcle authors havg' rendered to the caufe of literature i.s in leaving us an idea of the manner of thofe THE STAGE. '95 times in which they lived; but thefe were fo bar- barous and unpolifhed, that their labours ferve more to point out what ought to be avoided than what ought to be imitated as far as it relates to their choice of fubjects ; and, if we fliould go further ar^i fairly look into their works as an objecl of criticifm, though we mould find anecdotes and Ihort hiflojtes recounted with neatnefs and fimplicity, and remarka- ble for the truth of their images, and the elegance of their ftyle; yet the grofs indecency, the barbarity, and crudenefs of the reft, would render the tafk of felection fcarcely worth the pains; of fo little value would be the gold, after it were extracted from the filthy concrete in which it is enveloped. This chapter ought not to be finiflied withcrat a notice that it is impofTible, from the contradictions of various authors, to be correct to a year, or, per- haps, to twenty years, as to when thefeuoets wrote. The fame circumftance is frequently related dif- ferently, and fometimes one circumftance is miftaken for another. For one inftance, among many others, the four daughters of BERENGER, Count of PRO- VENCE, it is agreed upon on all hands, married four kings, but one author will iniift upon it, that one of the hufbands was RICHARD CQ:UR DE LION, who, by the way, was dead before the thirteenth century, VOL.1. C C 196 THE STAGE. and another fixes the time of the birth of BEREN- GER at the year 1245, which is impoffible, bccaufe HENRY the Third married his daughter in the year 1536. The firft miflake originates, perhaps, from the name of BERENGARIA the wife of RICHARD, and the other from making 1245 the time of BE- R^ENGER'S birth, inftead of the time he was cele- brated as a poet. As thefe circumftances concern literature itfelf but very little, I mall always, where I find no ma- terial contradiction, fet down events, as they are related, leaving it to the difcretion and good fe'nfe of the reader to diftinguifh between what appears to be merely probable and what pofitively authentic. THE STAGE. '97 CHAP. II. DESCRIPTION OF THE ENTREMETS. As the amufements called Entremets, becaufe they relieved the different courfes of feafts, had fome- thing in them very extraordinary it would be highly improper to pafs by this opportunity of defcribing them 1 . Though we have accounts or" magnificent fpec- tacles under this title which were performed fo early as the year 1200; and, again, from the chronicle of ALBERIC of an altonifhing one in 1237, on the marriage of ROBERT, brother of St. Louis, with MAHAUT, Countefs of ARTOIS, and daughter of the Duke of BRABANT, beiides many others, I ihould exceed the bounds I have prefcribed for rnyfelf did I particularly notice more than two or three of the moft remarkable. I (hall, therefore, carry the attention of the reader to that magnificent and extraordinary fpecta- cie performed in honour of ISABELLA of BAVARIA., c c 2 lg g THE STAGE. queen to CHARLES VI. which was folemnized at 'PARIS with the utmoft fplendor, in October 1385. Among the fetes upon this occafion was a combat performed before the trinity, illuftrative of the holy war. The French and Englifh fought againft, and, of courfe, beat the Saracens, in prefence of the queen. All the ftreets were laid with carpets, feveral fountains were placed in different fituations, ^shich ran with wine and other delicious liquors, and upon lofty ftages erected for the purpofe, were placed choirs of muficians, oigans, and youths who reprefented different parts of the ancient tefta- mem. Machines were contrived, by means of which infants, dreffed to reprefent angels, defcended and placed flowers and ornaments on the head of the queen; but the mod aftonifhing part of the fp'ec- tacles was the intrepidity of a man who glided down by a cord from the fpire of NOTRE DAME to the bridge where the queen was to pafs, and placed a crown upon her head, which having ef- fected, he returned by the way he came, as if afcend- ing to heaven. This extraordinary tour was the invention of a Cenoefe, who had been a long time contriving it; and what contributed to render it the more remaikable, even at a diftance from PARIS, being very late in the evening, the mail THE STAGE. ^gg carried a flambeau in each hand, that both the beauty and the temerity of the action might be the more (triking. In 1453, according to the accounts of MATHIEU DE Couci, and OLIVER DE LA MARCHE, ADOL- PHUS, Count of CLEVES, gave a fpectacle of this kind at LISLE, in FLANDERS, in an immenfe hall filled with tables, or rather with vaft theatres. In one of thefe was placed a bark with the fails furled, in which was feen a chevalier armed cap a pie. Be- fore the bark was placed a filver fwan with a golden collar and chain, with which jt feemed to tow the vefiel along, and near at hand a caftle appeared to rife out of the waves on which a falcon was perched. Thefe different objects were emblematic of a trait of ancient hiftory relative to the houfe of CLEVES, in which it is reported that a fwan tra- verling the RHINE, led, miraculoufly to the caftle of that family, a chevalier, celebrated by his ex- ploits, who became the hufband of the princefs of the country, and gave an heir to that ancient and illuilrious houfe, whole title would otherwife have become extinct. The fame year, when MAHOMET the Second, menaced CONSTANTINOPLE, the emperor CON- 200 THES'IAGE. ST AM TINE, the laft chriftian prince that reigned in the Eaft, demanded fuccour from all the princes of his religion; and, among others, from PHILIP the Good, then duke of 13 u KG u N DY. PHILIP flattered with this attention, replied oftentatioufly to CON- STANTINE, that he fhouid prepare a crufade him- felf. And to effect this he inftantly alfembled his provincial generals, and the commanders of hi* veffels, to whom he gave a grand feafl, at which was performed a magnificent entremets. Among the different objects introduced in this aftonifhing entertainment was a church filled with fingers, whofe voices were accompanied by bells ; a veflel fitted with all forts of merchandife ; a fuperb fountain, with ornaments in glafs and lead fo wonderfully conftructed as to reprefent trees, flowers, verdure, {tones of all colours, and a figure of St. ANDREW with his crofs, from which ifl'ued a fountain which fell at his feet and loft itfeif in a beautiful declivity covered with flowers; and an enormous pie which represented a cattle and con- cealed eight muficians. On the battlements of the caftle was feen a ferpent, arid at the bafe were two fountains, from which ilfued orange flower water which filled the foffes. After this was feea a wind-mill with a magpie. THE STAGE. 2Ot perched on it; two tuns, from one of which flowed a fweet liquor, and from the other a bitter one ; on each of thefe as placed a flatue holding a label with thefe words, " Take your choice." Then came a view of a defert; a tyger fight- ing with a ferpent; a favage upon a camel; a peafant beating the butties from which flew a thou fand birds; a chevalier entertaining his dulcinca under a hedge of rofes; a faiyr mocking a fhep herdefs croffed in love ; a madman upon the back of a bear; and a number of other flrange and in- congruous objects. In another place was a lake furrounded with villages and caftles; and further off an impervious foreft embellifhed with oriental trees, and filled with a croud of animals of every kind fo natural that they fecmed alive. In a niche were placed vafes of gold enriched with precious ftones, where fat the figure of a woman made out of the fame ma- terials, from whofe nipples ifTue4 a delicious be- verage; a lion was placed by her fide chained to a column, on which was written, " Touch not the lady." After this the company were entertained with 202 THE STAGE. the exploits of JASON, who drenched the bulls that guarded the golden fleece \viih the contents of MEDEA'S vial, and employed her marvellous ring to cutoff the head and draw the teeth of the ferpent; after which, he fowed the teeth in the earth; armed men inftaritly rofc up cap a pie, who mafiacred one another, and all thefe fcenes were accompanied, fometimes, by the^gers in the church, and fome- times by the inftruments in the pie. But this was not all. A giant now appeared drejfed and armed like a Saracen conducting an elephant who carried on his back a caftle, in which fat a lady drefled like a devotee, and appearing mod deplorable and wretched. She thundered an ana- thema againft the giant, which obliged him to^op. This lady reprefented religion. She complained moft bittterly of the ills me had fuftained through the tyranny of the infidels, and lamented the tardi- nefs of thofe who ought to have ,flown to deliver her. This lamentation rimmed, an armed chief pre- ceeded by a long itring of knights of the golden fleece, and bearing upon his fift a pheafant orna- mented with a collar of gold enriched with diamonds and pearls, advanced to the Duke of BURGUNDY THE STAGE. 2O& and prefented two ladies, one of whom repre Tented YOLANDE, his natural daughter, and the other ISABELLA of NEUFCHATEL, daughter of the Seigneur DE MONTAIGN. Each of thefe ladies was accompanied by a knight, and the armed chief offered the bird to the duke in the name of the ladies, whom he recommended to the protection of their fovereign *. The duke of BURGUNDY, after liftening atten, tively to the requeft of the armed chief, held out to him a fcroll, which was immediately read aloud, and contained a folemn vow to GOD, to the VIRGIN, to the ladies, and to the pheafant, that he would carry war into the territory of the infidels in defence of the opprefled church. The duke's vow became * Thjs ceremony, fays my author, was ufed that the duke might conform to thofe ancient cuftoms, according to which princes and noblemen were prefented at grand feaft? and magnificent aHembl'es with a peacock, or fome other npble bird, to induce thofe vows, which were made upon thofe occafions, to redrefs the wrongs of fiich ladies as implored their afliflance. This lad ceremony was called the Vow of the Peacock, which bird was employed, or when, it could not be eafily procured, a pheafant, becaufe the grandeur, the beauty, and the Variety of the plumage of thefe birds repre- fented the majefty, the beneficence, and, the power of kings, as well as thofe fupeib dreiles in which great men \vere decked at thcj Cour Plenieie. VOL. I. D C 204 THE STAGR. immediately a fignal for his whole court, every member of which, to an infinite number, inltant'y vowed the deftruction of the Turks, all which ac- clamation was accompanied as before by the in- habitants of the fteeple and the pie, and when this ceremony was over a new groupe of characters pre- fented themfelves. A lady dreffed in white, in a religious habit, and carrying on her fhoulder a fcroll, on which was written, " Thank GOD," entered and paid her acknowledgements to the affembly; which done flie introduced twelve other ladies, repre- fenting different virtues, who were to accompany thefe knights of the crofs to the holy war as their tutelary guardians. Their names, which they bore on their fhoulders, were. Faith, Cha- rity, Juftice, Reafon, Prudence, Temperance. For- titude, Truth, Liberality, Diligence, Hope, and Vigilence, Thefe parTed in review; and, after they had been acknowledged by the knights as the com- panions of their voyage, a moil extravagant dance, full of mummery, and accompanied by mufical in- ftruments, bells, drums, clailiing of (words, and other monftrous and deafening founds finiflied THE STAGE. 205 the entertainment; after which they grew intoxi- cated at the feaft, where many of the valorous knights who had fworn to maflacre the Saracens at the gates of JERUSALEM, were either killed or wounded in this drunken frolic at PARIS. o d 2 20 6 THE STAGE. CHAP III. DESCRIPTION OF THE MYSTERIES. IN proportion as chivalry left FRANCE for the HOLY LAND, fo a tafte for the entremets fell off; and, when the knights of the crofs returned from JERUSALEM, they were fo full of adventures that the priefts thought they could not do better than turn thofe adventures to the advantage of the church, or rather of themfelves. Confcious, however, that a mere relation of that mad bufmefs would have but a difgracious effect, they foon ceafed to fing the exploits of kingly prietis and facerdotal generals, and contented themfelves with acting facred hiftory, and perfonifying divine characters. For this purpofe they formed themfelves into a fociety, but not being rich enough to buy grouhd, much lefs to build a theatre on it, they firlt made profelytes of iome of the moil opulent tradcfmen THE STAGE. 2Q in PARIS, and afterwards had the condefcenfion to accept of their money and property, by which means they carried their fcheme into execution. They chofe for their fcene of action the Bourg of St. MAUR DEs-Fosss near PARIS, which nad been rendered celebrated by the number of pilgrims who reforted there from motives of devotion. The firft myftery that was performed by this fociety was called The Hiftory of the Death of our Saviour^ and from this circumftance they gave themfelves the name of The Confraternity of the PaJJion. The followers of this fpecies of amnfement were, as we are told, in number beyond all belief. Bufi- nefs was fo at a ftand, and every public concern neglected fur the pleafure of running after this no- velty to fuch a degree, that, in 1298, the prevot of the capital iffued an interdiction to lupprefs the pious farces of thefe holy actors. The intereft of the priefts however was paramount to that of the prevot; nay the interference of that magnate was ultimately of fervice to them ; for, upon petitioning the king to take off the interdiction, they were invited to per- form before him, and he was fo delighted with the poetry and the acting, that, in 1402, he eftabiifhed them at PARIS by his own letters patent, after which it was even fafhionable to become members 20 g THE STAGE. of this fraternity; for we find that feveral of the king's houfehold, nay, the king himfelf, did not dii'dain to make a part of the company. The hofpital of the trinity, which had been founded in 1100 for the reception of pilgrims, was now converted into a theatre for the reprefen- tation of thefe myfteries. The theatre was won- derfully well conitructed for the purpofe of giving effect to the performances. The front was much in the ftyle of ours, but the ftage was upon a very dif- ferent principal, being intended to convey an idea of all objects as truly as it was poffible to exhibit them. Heaven, earth, and hell were their three principal objects, which they contrived to reprefent \\ith great facility. If the fcene was to be heaven, convolutions of clouds to an immenfe height and ex- tent furrounded the ftage, on which angels appeared flying or walking as it belt fuited to carry on the amufement ; if earth, the extremity of the theatre feemed an immenfe expanfe, on which, at proper diftances, objects appeared as in nature ; and, if hell, the whole ftage was lifted up like the jaw of a monftrous dragon reprefenting a tremendous abyfs, and out of the mouth, which vomited fire, came le- gions of devils. Though the Paflion of our Saviour was the firft piece performed by this fraternity, which very pofiibly was originally written many hundred years before, for no one has pretended to name the author of it, three cotemporary poets of the thirteenth century, whofe writings were depohted among the manufcripts of CHARLES the Sixth, feem to have furniihed the materials for this brotherhood to work upon. Thofe poets were called RUTEB&UF, BODEL, and ADAM DE LA HALLE; and, among the mod celebrated of their pieces, which were all. mytteries, we find The Prodigal Son., The. Miracle of Theophilut, The Crufadei, and St. Nicholas, and The Children in the Tub. Thefe three poets had their imitators to the number of fifty or dxty, fome veitiges of whole works we have imperfect accounts of. They con- fift of fubjects from fcripture put into action, and contain, among a heap of rubbifh, fome literary- jewels of confiderable value. It is impoflible to deny that thefe writers were ftrongly poffeffed with a true knowledge of the dra- matic art; for, where the fubjects, though fcriptural, are purely domettic and (imple, and have no re- ference to religion beyond fair and naked morality, we find for fuch times many of the requires that 2to THE STAGE. compofe a regular piece calculated to convey amufement and inilruction. One of thefe is, The Prodigal Son, written by RUTEBEUF, fo early as 1240. A ftory, which if we diveft ourfelves for a moment of having read it in the New Teftament as a parable, has nothing to do with religion in any other refpect than as it is a beautiful leffon of morality. RUTEBEUF chufes to throw into his piece all the nature and fimplicity he poffibly can ; and, therefore, feigning to forget, or really forgetting that his bufmefs was to write a religious myltcry, he, places his fcene in a beautiful country, and makes his characters opulent labourers, a people of all others, who are naturally Grangers to artificial as well as real want. Thus in the Prodigal Son has he given a mod beautiful picture of the reilleffnefs of human nature. Bleft with health and ftrengih, and allured of every rational bleffing for only the trouble of earning it \, and what bread is fo fweet as that we earn He makes it the bufmefs of his life to run counter to reafon. He torments his father in return for his unbounded indulgence, and hates his brother be- THE STAGE. , 2 1 1 caufc he is good and dutiful; till, at length, he demands his patrimony and determines to feck his fortune. Turned loofe in that world of whole inhabitants and manners he has no knowledge, the prodigal fon is not more delighted and aftonifhed than he is afhamed and confounded. The compliments he re- ceives on his wit, his grace, and his good fenfe, though he knows them to be falfe he admits as if they were true. Nay, he begins at laft to fancy him- felf perfectly accomplished; and, under this idea, is more angry with his father and his brother than aver, who wanted him to confider himfelf as a clown and to linger out his life in obfcurity. But the de- lufion does not lad long. He goes to an inn where the landlord and waiters fly at his orders. A lady enters, he falls in love with her, the dinner is ferved, wine and mufic fucceed, in the mid (I of which an- other lady is introduced, and he has the incxprelli- ble pleafure of feeing himfelf an object of con- tention between the two ladies. He appeafes them, and affures them he is in love with them both. By this time they, beginning to be tired with their farce, or rather interefted in bringing on the de- nouement, make him drunk as fall as poflible, pick his pockets, {hare the booty with the landlord, and vo L.I. EC 212 THE STAGE. decamp, leaving him afleep. He afterwards wakes, difcovers his lofs, and while he is raving about like one diftracted, the landlord brings the bill, and finding his gueft has no money kicks him out of the houfe. We next fee the prodigal fon a beggar on the highway. His miferies have now made him contrite, and he recals to his mind with tears the indulgence and the advice of his father. He thinks of his bro- ther, who by induftry and frugality is in abundance, while he through his profligacy is ftarving for want. In this wretched plight a peafant touched with his misfortunes takes him to his hovel and fets him m take care of his pigs. In this fituation he has time for reflection, and at length his repentance is con- firmed, when he refolves to return to his father, who receives him with tendernefs, and the reconciliation takes place exactly as in the parable. We have here a regular piece. This is no myftery from fcripture. It is plain felf evident morality. It is a picture of human life fuch as it ever has been and ever will be; and, as to the poetical requifites, it is full of them. It confifts of a fmgle fable, fimple, and grand. It has beginning, middle, and end; and there is not a circumftance throughout the whole but inculcates fome moral THE STAGE. 213 iuftruction. It is true RUTEBEU F does not feem to, have read ARISTOTLE, but he had read nature* which anfwered his purpofe better; and, if other authors had paid the fcripture no worfe a complU meat than bringing it on the ilage with fo fair and fo honeit a. motive for what (lore can we fo properly fearch to find moral iuftniction the myilcries fo far from profaning fcripture, would have honoured it. As far as thefe myfteries were confidered as a vehicle for poetry, there is fomething in them awful and majeitic. To give an idea of this let us turn our thoughts to Mi LTON'S Paradife Loft, and then, fuppofe this poem put into dialogue, and acted on the (tage; which is the ftrongtft cafe in point that can be imagined. What would be the confequence? The characters, which, while the reader's fancy is fired with the glowing imagery of the poet, are fa-* credand fublime, would link into the moflmiferable burlefque if attempted to be perfoniried; and this bathos would be {till more complete in proportion to the beauty of the poetry. Fortunately, though to be fure it is a left hande4 advantage, there was very little in the poetry of theie myfteries to drive it into any fuch predicament. It was miferable enough, GOD knows; but, in return, that the priefts might be fure to incur their rightful E e 2 2,4 THE STAGE. portion of reprehenfion, the matter was not only the moll facred that could be chofen. but the molt dangerous to expofe to ridicule ; for when we con- fider that fuch fubjects were performed on the ftage as the Conception of the Virgin MARY, the Paffion of CHRIST, and the Refurrection, the mind is of- fended to a degree of outrage, and we condemn that country where fuch an impiety was tolerated, and thofe priefls who connived at it. The myftery of the Conception is compofed in fifty three acts, diftributed hiftorically, and traced all the way from the prophecy of ISAIAH, to the death of the Innocents; and, without mentioning the chorufles, has at lead a hundred characters. To go over the plot would be to reiterate all we have read on the fubject in the New Teftarrrent, which is on the ftage tedioufly fpun out in four feet verfe, with now and then a few awkward Alexan- drines, perpetually fifhing for the fublime, and catching the bathos. The joy of the human race on the coming of the MESSIAH is truly poetical; fo is the difcomfiture of the devils; but if it had not been larded with the jokes of the landlord of the inn at BETHELEM, \vho is very facecious with MARY about the groaning, and the devils putting new bolts and bars upon limbo for fear our SAVIOUR Ihould - THE STAGE. 3,5 let out ADAM and EVE, it would not have been feafoaed LO tn palates of the priefts. The jefts alfo of thofe who are employed by HEROD to murder the Innocents with the leave of the holy fathers, might as well have been fpared ; nor can we forgive the devils, after they have tempted HEROD with fo many flattering promifes of reward, for inftigating him to cut his throat, and afterwards kicking his foul about till they are tired, and then enjoying the pleafure of feeing it bubble in a furnace of molten lead. There are a hundred- other abfurdities, the mildeft epithet that can be given them, and yet this ftrange incongruous farago is excelled in point of impiety, meant for fanctity, in the Paflion, which begins with a fermon by way of prologue ; and yet more in the Refurrection, which finifhes with a figure dance between ADAM, EVE, ISAIAH, JERE- MIAH, JOHN the Baptift, the Good Thief crucified with CHRIST, and an immenfe number of othtr fouls, whom the coming of the ME si AH had li- berated from limbo. Thefe myfteries, having obtained incredible re- putation in the capital, were very foon fpread throughout the kingdom. ROUEN, ANGERS, LE 21 g THE STAGE. MANS, METZ, and almofl every principal town had to boaft a company of flrollers deputed from, the confraternity. VILLON, the poet, who is faid to have written feveral myiteries, became very bufy upon this occahon as an itinerant. We are told by RABELAIS, that having retired to his friend the Abbe St. MAIXENT, near POITOU, VILLON was very anxious to amufe the inhabitants of that place with the Paffion of Our SAVIUOK in the Poitevin dialect *. * RABELAIS relates a matter full of pleafantry and extravagance, of this attempt of VILLON to eftablifh religious myfteries through the medium of the theatre I give it merely to fliew the fingular and grotefque manner of thofe times, and the author who celebrated them. Kc fays, that after VILLON had diftributed the parts, and the actors hadrehearfed two or three times, he prevailed on the mayor and the other magiftrates to fuftfer the reprefentation of the piece. There was nothing now wanting but the dieffes, and though (;hey tried their r.tmoft, they could not find any thing fine enough for the Almighty, who had alwayi, in thefe fort of pieces, been introduced perfonally on the itage. VILLON knew that at the convent of COR- DELIKKS they had a magnificent tape, which it was ufiul to wear upoi. Holy Thurfday, and other religious occasions. But the Superior of the convent refufed very abruptly to lend it, for lie faid that the provincial ftdtutes forbad them to lend any thing to the theatre which was the houfe of Satan. VILLON maintained that the law re- guarded only fuch pieces as were profane, and not thofe which con- tributed to the edification of the public. His arguments, however, were o'f no tife; he was fent away without his errand. Having made known t, the company his bad fuccefs, they were one and all determined to be revenged. To put their defign into execution, one day when the Sacrijlan THE STAGE. 2 iy The prodigious number of thefe entertainments it will be here impoffible to give a correct account of. It may not be arnifs, however, to notice yet fome few particulars concerning them. ARNOT GREBAN, canon of MANS, wrote the myftery of the Acts of the Apoftles. The title ran thus : " The Triumphant Myftery of Catholic " Works in the Acts of the Apoftles taken from St. " LUKE, evangelift and hiftoriographer." Another of thefe curious pieces was called the Hittory of the Old Teftairicnt This was the title, 4i The Old 14 Teftament, in which is (hewn how the children of " ISRAEL paffed the Red Sea and reached the " Land of Promife, with feveral other hiftories 44 fuch as J'OB, TOBIT, DANIEL, SUSANNAH, and 44 HESTER." A third has, for its title, " The Vengeance of 4 CHRIST in the deftruction of JERUSALEM, ex- vent on his mule to collect charity for the convent, they hid them- felves in a wood, arrayed in the mod horrible difguifes, and carrying in their hands cracked bells and flambeaux, which they rendered more difonant and hideous by the addition of cow's horns and large crackers. In this trim, they all on a fudden fell upon the poor S<7- crijlan, crying, " Oh the nalty villain of a monk, who would not *' lend GOD the Father a cape." , The poor fuperior, half dead with fear, confefled that it was very finful, but it was the practice wf the convent to borrow every thing and lend nothing'. 21 g THE STAGE. " ecuted by VESPASIAN and his fon TITUS j 4i contained in feveral Roman chronicles in the reign " of NERO, and other fine hiftories in honour of our ' ; SAVIOUR and the court of Paradife." A fourth is called " The Myftery of the Patience of JOB, " and how he loft all his wealth by war, and by " fortune ; how he was reduced to the greateft *' poverty, and how every thing was rendered back 44 again by the grace of GOD." A fifth was entitled " The Sacrifice of ABRA- " HAM." I take the literal words. It is thus recom- mended : 44 This is a French tragedy, neceffary to 44 all chriftians that they may find confolation in " times of tribulation and advcrfity." This piece no more refembled a tragedy than any of the preceding ones; but it appeared at a time when the myfteries began to tire. There- fore the author, though he could no farther inno- vate than to change the defcription of the piece, was determined to do what he could. The myfte- ries, which formerly took each of them four days in the performance, began now to be confiderably comprefled; and, wherever any familiar circum- ftances occurred, they were confidered as properer for the ftage than thofe more facred fubjects which were profaned enough by the ceremonies of the THE STAGE. 219 church. Nay, it is not very clear that the authors, who were now principally laical, did not attempt as far as they fafely could to burlefque thefe holy fub- jects, by way of bringing them into contempt; for we find about this time fuch titles as The Joyous Myjlery of the Three Kings ; and The Pleafant con- ceit of the Apocalypfe, of St. John of Zebadee^ " in " which are contained the vilions and revelations of " the laid St. JOHN in the illand of PATMOS." Thus much has been faid to give an idea of the genius, the manners, the art, and the language of French poetry in thofe times. I fhall now, as briefly as poffibk, go on to thofe amufements called mo- ralities which fucceeded the myfteries. VOL. i. F f 220 THE STAGE. CHAP. IV. DESCRIPTION OF THE MORALITIES AND OTHER ENTERTAINMENTS. THE tragedy of Abraham, and another called The Difcomfiture of the Giant Goliah, feem to have firuck hard at the myfteries in FRANCE; for, en- couraged by the firft effort at innovation, there fhortly appeared a piece with the following title : The Myftery of the Dejlruction of Troy the Great. " The Rape of HELEN, done by PARIS, and com- " pofed in good French rhime ; together with the " prowefs, the virtues, and the noblenefs of the va- " liant HECTOR; the damnable treafon committed 86 by the Greeks, and many other hiftories con- " taining all the tranfactions between the Trojans < ; and the Grecians." This heathen myftery excited as much curibfity as had the religious tragedy : Curiofity begat con- troverfy; and, the fchifm once fown, efpecially as it had reafon to nourifh it, the myfteries were quite at a ftand. At laft the priells yielded with the beft grace they could, and the general title of pieces for THE STAGE. 22l the theatre no longer aflumed the term myftery, but morality. It was difficult, however, to draw a line as a cri- terion for the regulation of fo wide a field ; and, therefore, the fubjects were fometimes holy, and fometimes profane ; but, as their general tendency was morality, every thing was permitted. A Pilot, by name JOHN PARMENTIER, fup- pofed to be the firll european who ever fet foot in AFRICA, wrote a morality in honour of the Af- fumption; a Cardinal wrote a choice morality called The Reformation of Taverns and Alehoufes, and the Deftruction of Gluttony ; and the Valet de Chambre of Louis the Twelfth, wrote a morality which he called The Juji Man, and the Man of this World, by which he meant the perfonification of virtue and vice ; and he fo completely wound up his plot, that the juft man was fent firft to purgatory and afterwards to heaven, while the devils ran away with the foul of the man of this world. A phyfician, of an honefter cad than the phy- ficians afterwards ridiculed by Mo LI ERE, wrote three moralities, entitled, The Road to Health, The Government of the Human Frame, and A Prohibition of an Indulgence of the paffiom. F fa 222 THE STACK. LOUISA L'ABBrf, born at LYONS, and called the French Sappho, at the age of fifteen followed her lover in men's cloaths to the fiege of PE PIG- NAN ; and, afterwards, when, me had returned and married the man of her heart, wrote a morality called The Folly of Love. She is (aid to have -written poetry in four languages, and her houfe was a fort of academy for the literati of her time. But the Prodigal Son of RUTEBEUF became now the great object of imitation. It was per- formed with material alterations, and it produced as many imitations of u as there were in ENGLAND of the Beggars Opera. Scarcely an inftance of filial piety or ingratitude could be invented but pre- fently it was brought on the ftage in the fhape of a morality. The fubjects of one or two are worth attending to. The Poor Villager,, " written in praife and " honour of honeft girls,'* made its appearance the year after the Prodigal Son was revived. The ftory is brief. A feigneur of a village endeavours to corrupt his vandal's 'daughter ; and finding all his arts ufelefs, is determined to have recourfe to vio- lence. In this fituation, the poor girl promifes to confent upon condition previoufly of fpeaking to her father. The lord fufpicibus of every thing is THE STAGE. 223 determined to overhear the converfa'ion, and hav- ing effected his fcheme without her knowledge, he is witnefs to her imploring her father, in the moil earnelt manner, to cut off her head rather than let her chaftity be violated. Struck with remorfe the lord entreats her forgivenefs, gives her and her fa- ther their freedom, and loads them with benefits. Another has for its title, The Ungrateful Son, who is fo completely the darling of his parents that they abfolutely ruin themfelves to make his fortune. After a fime they are overwhelmed with poverty, and he is rolling in riches ; and, when they have recourfe to him as the only benefactor they know where to lly to, he treats them molt \vantonly unnatural, not even permitting them, though they are ftarving, to eat of a repall on which he is feafting. The father, feeing him treat the mo- ther contemptuoufly, can forbear no longer; but, lifting his hands and eyes to heaven, curfes him and implores the vengeance of GOD upon his head. Scarcely has he uttered this curfe but a monftrous toad comes out of a pye and flies at his face which it completely covers, attaching itfelf fo clofely that no human art can remove it. The unnatural fon begins now to relent, and the parents, too ready to forgive, liften to his contrition. He is, however, in- formed that prayer alone can expiate his guilt ; 224 THE STACK. they, therefore, fend him about from pried to prieft, afterwards to the biihop, and at lad to the pope ; and, by the time he has expended almoit his whole fortune, he is relieved by exorcifm and exhortation from the frightful reptile and reconciled to his parents. This piece was followed by another called The Morality of the Child of Perdition, " who killed his father, hanged his mother,. and afterwards went mad.'* But thefe inftances are enough to (hew the dif- tinction between the my defies and the moralities; which were the only regular dramatic attractions of the times. We are crroneoufly informed that the clerks of the Bazoche eftablifhed a theatre where the beauty of virtue, and the hideoufnefs of vice were perfonified; but the fact is that thefe clerks were no more than the laymen who gave the firft blow to the rnyfleries, and who afterwards, in con- junction, or rather by the connivance of the prietts, performed the moralities at the eftabliihed theatre, the priefts being too cunning to fhut out any op- portunity of bolftering up their own reputation, which at that time began to decline. We are told of a theatrical fociety called Lrs Enfans de Sans Souci ; but thefe cannot be re- gularly clafled, being no more than a number of THE STACK. 225 young men of fortune and family who ran after pleafure, and ftuck at nothing to procure it. In confequence of purfuing this career m.y.iy of them were ruined; and, having talents, they turned their thoughts to the ftage for a livelihood. They were many of them fcholars ; and, being out of humour \vith the world, they walked in the foodteps of ARISTOPHANES, and in their pieces laflied the manners of their time. This new fpecies of amufement fucceeded, and the interelt of the Confraternity began again to be menaced. Thefe children of Sans Souci were, therefore, invited to join the regular theatre in the fame manner as the brotherhood had invited the moralHls; and thus, this inlatiate vortex, from which, perhaps, originated the idea of the Parfon's Barn, {'wallowed up every thing that came in its way. The itage, however, having gradually gone from nayfteries to moralities, from moralities to farces, from farces to the groffeft buffooneries, and very frequently a mixture of them all^ the government took away the theatre from the confraternity, and in the year J 539' tne houfe of the triniry became an hofpital according to its original inllitution. FRANCIS the Firft having accorded the bro- therhood, letters patent confirming all the privileges l-hey enjoyed under CHARLES the Sixth, they now 22 6 THE STAGE. fought for fome new place of eftablifhment; and, for that purpofe, hired the Hotel de Flandres, where they performed four years; but the king ordered the demolition of this hotel, and feveral others near it, and our holy actors were as far to leek as ever. Tired \vith the confiderable e*pences they had incurred by tranfporting their theatrical trappings from place to place, they refolved to build upon their own foundation. They, therefore, bought fome ground on which had flood the hotel of the duke of BURGUNDY, and there they erected their fourth theatre, which confifted of a hall and other edifices, many of which are now to be feen. The parliament, upon ftrong folicitation, gave them permiflion to eftablifh themfelves there upon condition they performed none but profane fub- jects; but neverthelefs, fuch as tended to promote the practice of morality. The Confraternity of the PcJJlon^ who profeffcd piety, could not content themfelves with performing fubjects purely profane, and, therefore, in the year 1588, they let their theatre to a troop of French comedians who had juft then formed, with a view of performing under the permiflion of the king. The pieces, now exhibited, began to be a little more THE STAGE. 227 fupportable than thofe of the Confraternity of the Pajfion. By degrees the public tafte became more extended and more pure. Printing being invented in the reign of Louis the Ninth, and literature confiderably more eltabliflied under FRANCIS the Firft, books, of courfe, became common, different languages were generally learnt, and thefe improve- ments introduced tranflations of the tragedies and comedies of the ancients. VOL. i. G g 22 g THE^TAGB. CHAP V. FROM THE COMMENCEMENT OF TRAGEDY TO THE TIME OF HARDY. THOUGH JODELLE is .generally confidered as the ./ESCHYLUS and the LIVIUS ANDROMICUS of FRANCE, yet the introduction of tragedy is cer- tainly owing to LAZARE &AIF, a gentleman of ANGEVIN, who was educated by the celebrated BUDE. BAIF travelled to form his heart and his imderftanding.. At ROME he ftudied Greek under the learned MUSURUS; and after he had accom- plifhed every intelligence he thought neceiTary for his purpofe, he retired to his eftate at ANJOU to lofe himfelf in ftudy. FRANCIS the Firfl, however, unwilling that fuch talents (hould be loft to the world, drew him from obfcurity and fent him ambaffador to VEN ICE, \vhere he fell in love with a young lady of condition, by whom he had feveral children. Returned to PARIS, he was promoted by the king to fome honourable and lucrative fituationsj and the firft ufe THE STAGE. he made of his learning was to trandate fuch as might be ferviceable to the Hate. The tafk, however, in which he mod delighted was tranflating SOPHOCLES and EURIPIDES. The tragedy of Electro, containing, according to its title, the inhuman and truly piteous death of AGAMEM- NON by his wicked wife CLYTEMNESTR A, and his cruel adulterer EGYSTHUS, was publifhed at PARI* in the year 1 537. . This tragedy that the French might clearly com- prehend the nature of Greek poetry. BAIF tranflated verfe for verfe; confequently the ityle is barbarous enough. But he tranflated afterwards the Hecuba of EURIPIDES in a more liberal manner, intending it for the edification of his children. It was printed in 1550, dedicated to HENRY the Second, and it is fpoken of as an ingenious work. THOMAS SIB i LET, about the fame time, pub- liflied a tranflation of the* Iphigenia of EURIPIDES, and other authors are fpokeuof who emulated BAIF. The French, nevertheless coniider JODELLE as the founder of tragedy ; for they fay that thefe translations only ferve to point out, at a diflance, the road that dramatic writers o.ught to follow. But this is only general opinion. " JODELLE," fays the G g 2 230 THE STAGE. duke de VALLIERE, "was the firft who had the " boldnefs to bring forward a tragedy of his own " invention. It was called Cleopatra Captive, and " publifhed in 1552; but it was a fervile imitation " of the cut and form of the Greek theatre, and " yet he has the glory to pafs for the inventor of " French tragedy." But let us examine him. ETIENNE JODELLE, lord of LIMODIN, was born at PARIS in 153^, of a family illuftrious both by birth and by talents. The delight he took in ftudying the works of the Greeks and the Romans, induced him to lament that the ftage had remained fo long in a barbarous ftate, and that fome fuperior genius had not introduced SOPHOCLES and MENAN- DER, SENECA, and TERENCE, into FRANCE. But how to manage ? The confraternity were too intent upon deceiving the people to confent to fuch a dra- matic revolution. JODELLE had influence, and having conftructed his Cleopatra upon the Greek model, he procured a theatre to be prepared in the court-yard of the hotel of RHEIMS, where his tra- gedy was performed before HENRY the Second, and a large concourfe of fpectators, with the mod extra- vagant applaufe. JODELLE, being then only twenty, and remarka- bly handfome, undertook to perform the part of THE STAGE. 231 Cleopatra. He alfo fpoke the prologue, which was a compliment to the king, and in it he adroitly in- finuated that the Mufes, having flown from GREECE to FRANCE, implored the protection of ib great a monarch. This piece is opened by the ghoft: of ANTONY, who complains that the gods, jealous of his valour and glory when living, had connived with CUPID to render him a flave to a paflion that terminated his life ; and, not contented with this, they had made him become odious to the Romans by pro- voking him to turn his wife and children out of doors. Since, however, matters are fo, this ghofl feems determined to keep up the idea of all for love; and, therefore, appears to CLEOPATRA in a dream and advifes her rather to kill herfclf than be led in triumph and chained to the chariot of CAESAR. The ghoft, out of regard, probably, to the rules of ARISTOTLE, enjoins her to meet him in the (hades in lefs than twenty-four hours. The chorus, at the end of the firft act, fing the inftability of human widies, the fall of TROY once fo glorious, the wretchednefs of MEDEA at the lofs of JASON; and, at length, advert to the rofe that lafts but a day, and apply their remarks to the unhappy fate of ANTONY and CLEOPATRA. 232 THE STAGE. In the fecond act, C/ESAR enjoys the idea of CLEOPATRA'S captivity. In the third he has an interview with CLEOPATRA, who threatens to kick him and he runs away. In the fourth {he kills her- felf; and in the fifth they deplore her death. PRO- CULLUS exclaims " Never did the light, of heaven " difcover fo frightful a day for EGYPT. I found " her," fays he, 4i in her royal habit and her crown, " itrttched dead and pale, on a rich bed painted <; and gilt. ERAS, her woman, lay dead at her " feet, CHARM ION yet breathed, but life was leav- " Higher. Was this nobly done?" faid I. " Yes," cried the faithful CHARM ION, " it was nobly done; " and every fucceeding king of EGYPT (hall bear " teftimony of it. This (aid, ihe itaggeied, fell, " and died." I confidered it necefTary to fay fo much of this tragedy as it was looked up to as the chef d'cmvre of its time, and a model for every thing that was to fucceed it. Its reception encouraged JODELLE to go on. and he foon after produced The Sacrifice of Dido, taken as clofely as poflible from the ^Eneid of VIRGIL, which had conliderable fuccefs; and after that a comedy called Eugene ; or the Rencoun- ter . winch are fuppofed to make up the whole of his dramaiic works, for they are printed, together with feme milcellanies of his, in one volume in 1574- THE STAGE. - 233 He appears, however, to have left behind him fomething more in manufcript ; for DE LA MUTTE fays, " I have the tragedies and comedies of Jo- " DE LLE iii my poffeflion. fome fini fried, fome hung <; upon the hooks ; thefe were commanded eitherby 4i the queen, or madame, the king's fitter; but were <; deferred on account of the troublefome times." DE LA MOTTE alfo fpeaks .of him as a man of univerfal knowledge, and greatly efleemed by all ranks of people. A number of dramatic authors followed JODELLE with various fuccefs; but no (ingle effort proved any thing equal to the model from which they copied, till, in GARNIER, JODELLE found a moft powerful rival. There is fomething fo very extra- ordinary in the particulars of that man's life that I Hull briefly relate them. ROBERT GARNIER was born at FERTE BER- NARD, in LE MAINE. He was intended for the law, the fludy of which profeflion he very little re- garded, his inclination leading him wholly to elegant and claffical literature. It was not, however, till after JODELLE had obtained confiderable repu- tation that GARNIER was known as a poet; but as loon as hii name came fairly before the public, he 2^4 THE STAGE. was confidered as a French SOPHOCLES, born to eclipfe their ^CHYLUS, JODELLE*. The report of his fame foon reached the court, and CHARLES the Ninth was very anxious to attach him to his fervice ; but he preferred the comfort and tranquility he enjoyed in the bofom of his fa- mily, to the anxiety and uneafinefs attendant on the followers of kings. HENRY the Second made an- other attempt to entice him to court, alluring him with large offers to forward his fortune. He had, however, the courage to refift this fecond tempta- tion, and pronounced upon this occafion as he bad upon the other, a. harangue of thanks which proved him a good orator, a true philofopher, an excellent poet, and a zealous citizen. He was, neverthelefs, prevailed upon by his friends for the good of his country, which ftood in need at that time of every honefl man's afliftance, to accept a charge in the grand council of the na- tion ; and, for this purpofe, he eftablifhed himfelf at PARIS. He had not been long in the capital with his wife and his children, whom he tenderly * To make this fimilitude more perfect, he began his career with gaining a prize at the Feafts of FLORA, eftablifhed in PRO- VENCE for the encouragement of poetry. THE STAGE. 2 ^ loved, when the plague almoft defolated that city by its ravages. This was about 1580; and, in ad- dition to the danger he had to apprehend to himfelf and his family, a moft horrible plot was deviled againft him by his fervants, who formed the mon- ftrous and dreadful project, for the purpofe of plun- dering the houfe, of poifoning him, his wife, and his children, under an idea that their feveral deaths might be lain upon the plague. This fhocking plot was detected and i\& perpe- trators convicted and punifhed ; but it operated on poor GARN IER and his family, only as a lingering death inftead of an inftant one; for, no fooner had the wife of GARN IER lifted the poifon to her lips, by which means the difcovery was made, but (he felt its cruel effects ; and though every afliftance was given her fhe fell into a weaknefs and a langour that at length terminated her life. GARN IER furvived her but a fhort time, leaving his inconfolable children to the care of friends indeed, but without a father or a mother. His tragedies, eight in number, are evidently imitations of the Greek and Latin poets. He has chofen fubjects fui table to the times in which he wrote, and calculated to infpire horror at thofe civil wars with which FRANCE was convulfed during VOL. i. H h 236 THE STAGE. his life. This he confidered to be his duty as a poet and a patriot; and while his zeal in the caufe of his country added animation to his genius, he at once wrote leflbns for the conduct of his country- men, and examples for the enlargement of their un- derftandings. " No pieces," fays his biographer, " were at ct that time equal to thofe of GARNIER. His fub- " jects are noble, his perfonages are great charac- 4; ters, his ftyle is harmonious, and fometimes " energetic. The critics, however, have reproached " him with preferring the manner of SENECA to ; that of SOPHOCLES and EURIPIDES, and to have < ; given in dialogue, which mould be as near to " nature as poffible, fometimes the familiarity of * ; epiftle, fometimes the epic pomp of the epopceia, 44 fometimes the pindaric flights of ode, and fome- *' times the paftoral images of eclogue. In a word, " to have forged new expreffions, chequered with * Greek and Latin ; but, in fpight of thefe faults," continues this writer, " GARNIER will always hold <* a confiderable rank as a dramatic poet," THE STAGE. 237 CHAP. VI. FROM HARDY TO CORNEILLE. FROM GARNIER to HARDY, comprehending aK mod the laft half of the fixteenth century, FRANCE produced many authors, fome of whom were men of original invention; but far the greateft part were either tranflators, or imitators of the ancients, or clfc of their cotemporaries in other countries. I mall, not, therefore, fpeak particularly of any of thefe, for they were remarkable for nothing but their llrict conformity to the bad tafte and puerility of many of thofe who had gone before them. To keep this matter, therefore, as interesting as poffible, it will be better altogether to pafs by this dramatic chafm, and come at once to HARDY; who, by his aftoni filing fecundity, by the new character and particular conduct of his tragedies, fome of which are now to be procured, certainly wrought a remarkable epoch in the hiilory of the French drama. H h 2 THE STACK. ALEXANDER HARDY was born at PARIS, but it is very uncertain in what year, who were his parents, or how he patted his youth. All we cer- tainly know is, that about the year 1600, he was cele- brated for his dramatic talents, and at that time we find him a retainer to a ftrolling company, whom he, in an aftonifhing manner, perpetually fupplied with novelty *. His reputation, however, foon attracted the at- tention of the comedians of PARIS, who, at their eftablifhment, when they came to a refolution of performing three times a week, found they could not carry their fcheme effectually into execution \vithout the afibciation of this poet, who appeared to be fo capable of furnifhing continual novelty. HARDY undertook the tafk, and performed it with luch fuccefs, that he continued their almoft ex- clufive writer to his death, which happened fome- time between 1628 and 1632; for, at the firft of thofe dates, he was certainly alive, having at that time publifhed himfelf the fixth volume of his works ; and, at the latter, he was dead, for his widow was then obliged to commence a law fuit againit * BAIF, JODELLE, and GARNIER, were men of family, and con- fequently every particular concerning them is very eafy to be traced. HARDY was, very probably, the fon of an actor and actrefs; and, therefore, his birth, and his death, are marked with obfcurity. THE STAGE. 239 the managers for having fhamefully rejected to fulfil their contract with him. HARDY is faid to have written eight hundred pieces. This is extremely improbable, and indeed it is very much doubted. Many authors of repu- tation, however, for though they feem very little to regard him, are yet anxious about his works, agree that he had an invention incredibly fertile ; and, in- deed, if it be true, that he almoft wholly fupplied the theatre for nearly thirty years ; his productions muft have been immenfc in point of number, what- ever they were in point of merit. SCUDERY, who infifts that HARDY wrote eight hundred dramatic pieces, adds that he was a great man in fpight of the envy that purfued him*; that, had he worked for his amufement initead. of through nccelfity, his productions would have been inimita- ble, but as he unfortuaately ilruggled with poverty, too often to the reproach of the world, an attendant on poetry, in neglecting HARDY, the age in which he lived has fubfciibed an indelible record of its own ignorance. * If SCUDERY had inftanced this as a proof of his being a great man nobody would have doubted him. 34 THE STAGE. PERFAICT fays*, that if SCUDERY for inimi- table had fubltituted the word palfable, this eulo- gium on HARDY would have been literally truth; adding, that one proof, not only of his merit but his influence was, that he ellablifhed a regular price for dramatic pieces, which no author had ever been able to accomplim before him. " For the reft," continues PERFAICT, " it is very eafy to fee that " his fubjects are without choice, or difernment, " that his verification is poor and low, and that 41 he has ill obferved the rules of decency and 44 decorum,' fo eflentially neceflary in dramatic " poetry ; but, with all his faults, it cannot be de- " nied that he was born with diftinguifhed tarents ; 44 which, it is to be lamented, his miferable fituation " and his unfortunate propeniity to write verfe 44 fo rapidly , almoit deprived him of the power to 44 make an anvantageous ufe of. It may be faid " further, that he certainly underftood effect on the 44 ftage more naturally, and in a manner more per- 44 feet, than any of the poets who preceded him; 44 and he gave fo new a form to the theatre at PARIS, 44 that thofe fpectacles, which began with him to be * Then, are two PERFAICTS. They were brothers, and wrote in co..junct;o'. ; but all the French writers have a habit of men- i. L; thorn 3^ if their works were written by one author; I (hall, therefore, conform to it. THE STAGE. 241 " performed three times a week, before his death " were performed every day." GUERET, in a work, entitled The War of the Authors, fays that HARDY wrote verfe with fuch facility, that he would often produce two thoufand lines in twenty-four hours, and that, in three days, he would write a comedy, the comedians would get perfect in it, and it would appear before the public *. FONTENELLE, fpeaking of HARDY, writes more foberly, " His fecundity," fays he, 4t cer- 44 tainly is marvellous; but then neither his verfes 41 nor the difpofition of his pieces have coft him 44 much pains. Nothing comes amifs to him. Every 44 fubject is good. Whether it is the death of * 4 ACHILLES, or a tradefman's wife that the hufband *' catches in adultery, it is all the fame to HARDY. * We have no certain account that HARDY wrote any comedy at all, therefore that part of GUERET'S remark is as ridiculous as the reft. Two thoufand lines is equal to eighty pages, the letter the current fize of this hiftory. What writer will undertake, in a day, to copy half that quantity, much lefs invent it. Befides GUERET, in his kindnefs, outculculates himfelf ; for he not only tries to *prove that HARDY was very lazy, for at this rate he might, inftead of eight hundred, have w ritteti more than three thoufund pieces ; but he eclipfes the poet in the fuperior merit of the actors ; unlefs, as in the cafe of FALSTAFF and the prince, HARDY had the talent of iiu fpiring the actors with hisinftinct. 242 THE STAGE. " Every thing is equally tragedy. Nor have man- 44 ners or decorum any thing to do in the bulinefs. " Now we fee a proltitute in her bed who fupports " her character very naturally ; now we are enter- " taincd with a rape ; and, now, a married woman " meets her lover at the place of affignation. and " they fairly tell the audience that they are going " to bed together." FONTENELLE is alfo very angry with HARDY for the immorality of his expreffions, which, he fays, not only hurt his caufe but his reputation. To call a woman a faint, is not only irreligious, but unpoetic. " If he called her a goddefs," faid FONTENELLE, 44 it would be perfect poetry, and the very fiction " that is permitted to lovers. It is too ferious to " fport with truth. There are faints but there are "no goddeifes*. cc However," continues FONTENELLE, " it ' muft be confefled that the pieces of HARDY " have not that tirefome and unfupportable tame- : * Here FONTENELLE has written a fatire on doctor JOHNS ox, and a panegyric on SHAKESPRAR. JOHNSON will not allow any thing mythological to be admitted into poetry. SHAKESPEAR, who knew without a prompter the whole province of poetry, makes JULIET fay, " Swear by thy gracious felf who art the god of my " idolatry t \ and I'll believe thee. / I THE STAGE. 343 " nefs of the greateft part of thofe that have gone " before them. But this is all the merit we can " allow them ; for, though the iubjects give them " fometimes greater ftrength and intereft, the poetry " is not written with proportionable force." The reader will very readily, from thefe re- marks, form a pretty correct judgment of HARDY. Certainly the French ftage has fingular obligations to him; but it is prudent, however, to obferve that, though he has general merit he has particular faults; which, to do him juitice, no one was more ready to point out than himfelf ; endeavouring, at all times, in very laudable felf defence, to throw the odium on his unfortunate fituation, which obliged him to write more than he had an opportunity to correct; and this mould feem, really, to prove that his ge- nius and his talents were fuperior to what the world had a right to fuppofe them *. * To give HARDY as much fair play as poflible, let us inftance DRYDEN; who, though he has immortalized himfelf by a fingle poem, would have left behind him by no means a brilliant fame had he written only for the ftage. Not from his want of fuperior ge- nius and talents, but from his having been a dramatic drudge as HARDY was. I cannot, however, compliment HARDY with placing him by the fide of DRY DEN, whpfe worft play has probably more poetry th:m HARDY'sbeft. I only mean to inftance the (imilarity of fituation between the two men, and by that to prove, that if the ex- VOL. I. I 1 244 THE STAGE - As to the number of pieces written by HARDY, we know by name but of forty-one. SCUDERY, as we have feen, infills that he wrote eight hundred, and GUERET has a much higher notion of the matter; but Scu DERY is a writer who was remarka- ble for exaggeration, and GUERET, very probably, as his Battle of the Authors, like SWIFT'S Rattle of the Books, is a fatire, only meant to ridicule what he did not believe. HARDY himfelf, in his preface to his works, fpeaks of fix hundred and more; which FON- TENELLE pleafantly obferves, was no number at all when it is confidered that his cotemporary, LOPES DE VEGA, had given to SPAIN two thoufand. It fhoqld feem, as he himfelf printed an edition of his works, that over and above the forty-one pieces that edition contained, his productions were, per haps, irregular, or unfinifhed, or written to ferve fome local or temporary purpofe, or of fome other defcription that rendered them unfit for publication, and, therefore, whatever might have been their inunber, he thought none of them worthy of fe- lection. traordinary reputation of DRYPIN was materially injured by his theatrical trammels, the fame inconven'ence muft certainly, in a pro. portionable degree, have lellened the reputation due to HARDY. THE STAGE. 345 Certainly HARDY muft have paved the way for that reputation the French ftage fo foon afterwards experienced ; for we fee, in his life time, not only fo great an avidity in the public to frequent the the- atre that from three times a week plays were per- formed every day; but foon after he got alinofl art exclufive pofleffion of the drama, on account of the prodigious concourfe of fpectators, the comedians, for the accommodation of the public, feperated into two companies, one continuing in their old theatre, Lc Hotel de Burgogne^ and the other removing to a new one au Marais *. Indeed, the more we confidef the circumftance, the more we mail have to admire that HARDY fingle handed could fuftain the prodigious tafk of furnifh- ing novelty to the theatre with improved fuccefs for nearly thirty years, when we (hall fee that it re- quired not lefs than twenty celebrated men to keep it up to any pitch of excellence for the following fifty years, during which period the ftage flourilhcd under the great CORNEILLE. * This was about 1600, when, by an ordonnance of the police, the doors of the theatre were obliged to be opened at one o'clock in the day, and the performance to begin at two and finifh at four. At that time it was fafhionable to dine at noon. There were no lamps in PARIS, few coaches, it flunk with filth, and fw armed with thieves. i i 2 246 THE STAGE; On taking leave, therefore, of JODELLE, GAR- NIER, and HARDY, it may be remarked, that JO- DELLE merited all the praife he received for emu- lating BAIF, and, thereby, refcuing the French ftage from barbarifm by introducing the ancients; for though he mud have found infurmountable dif- ficulties in attempting to fuit the harmony of the Greek language, and the majefty of the Roman, to tiercenefs of the French ; yet thofe traits of na- ture and fimplicity to which he was able to give force and effect, were not only admirable in them- felves, but ferved as a model for his fucceHbrs, which foundation for fame ought not to be denied him; for though it was only fowing a harvelt for others to reap, yet it mufl be allowed that his la- bours, though not perfect, were highly meritorious, and that had he lived a century later he would cer- tainly have been a celebrated writer. To GARNIER another fpecies of praife is due, \vhich places his character, as a great genius, even above that of JODELLE; for, though he took his fubjects from the ancients, his applications were all at home, certainly the firft and molt perfect pro- vince of tragedy; and which gives a writer oppor- tunity to blend the patriot with the poet. He in- spired FRANCE with a juft horror of domeftic dif- f~ntions, by reprefenting the entrails of ROME tonic THESTAGK. 2 ^ by her proper citizens. He combatted pride, envy, and cruelty in the Romans, that they might be de- tefted by the French. A pen like this is the club of HERCULES, and does more towards eitablifhing domellic tranquility than a thoufand armies. Thefe deftroy men, the other deftroys menders. The praife of a bold and fuccefsful attempt at this reformation is due to GARNIER ; who, had he been able to have accomplifhed that extreme diffi- cult tafk of imitating without becoming a mannerid, would, to the force of his writings, have added tade and ftyle ; but the French language had not at that time been fufficiently filtered to be limpid. It required that JODELLE and GARNIER fhould be perfected by CORNEILLE, and RACINE; who, admirable as they were, experienced advantage in finding the fource already explored to their hands. As to HARDY, we can add no more than that, had he given himfelf time he mud have greatly eclipfed his predeceflbrs; and, taking in the idea, that there was no competitorftiip, nothing to excite emulation in him ; but, on the contrary, that his invention was conftantly on the ft retch, and that his whole employment was to exhaud his fertile and THE STAGE. productive mind, and all this for no induce- ment but general applaufe, for he was always poor, it is impoffible to deny that his genius was inexhauftible, his induftry meritorious, and his patience exemplary. THE STAGE. 249 CHAP VII. SCUDERY, TRISTAN, MAIRET, DU RYER, ROTROU, AND OTHER HARBINGERS OF CORNEILLE. "WE are now come to the time when the dramatic art in FRANCE began to look proudly forward to- wards perfection; an era which, in any country, cannot be expected but from a grand affociation of talents. This event nature feems at that time to have confidered herfelf indebted to FRANCE, for the fifty years during which CORNEILLE adorned literature, produced a larger lift of eminent dra- matic writers than any other country in the fame period ever had to boaft. As this great luminary was furrounded with many fatelites at his birth, who (hone with fome brilliancy as they followed him through his career, it will not be improper, in a fummary manner, to fpeak of their merits the better hereafter to il- luftrate his. GEORGE SCUDERY, who we have already known 2 THE STAGE. as the panegryift of HARDY, feems to have been in need of a iimilar panegyrift himfelf; for, in endea- vouring to out-do his favourite, he fell into much more unpardonable errors himfelf. He was not con- tented vv'uh writing very fa ft, and confequently very imperfect, but he thought proper to chufe fubjects that were uninterefting, and plots that were inex- plicable. His fcenes are, therefore, alternately wonderful and tirefome, and his ftyle beautiful and bombaftic. * His dramatic pieces, eight in number, were pub- lifhed at various times, as well as a variety of other productions, all which are faid to have had a great fale *. SCUDERY was born of a noble family, in 1601, at HAVRE DE GRACE, and died at PARIS in 1667. He ferved in the army, obtained a high ran];, and was admitted of the French academv. * This great fale of the works of SCUDERY provoked the fol- lowing impromtu : Ah happy SCUDERY, in thought fo profufe, That thy pen every month a new book can produce : 'Tis true thy productions ne'er yet had pretence To genius, or ftyl .-, erudition, or fenfe ; Yet, SCUDERY, be happy ; though wife men ne'er heed 'em, Still bookfellers fell 'em that idiots may read 'em. THE STAGE. 2 - t FRANCIS TRISTAN, furnamed the Hermit, and fuppofed to have fprung from the famous PIERRE LE HERMITE, author of the fir It crufade, was born, in the Chateau de Souliers, in the provence DE LA MAN CHE, in 1601. His' character feems to have been fomething (imilar to our SAVAGE the poet, for he pofiefied iimilar merit, laboured under fimi- lar misfortunes, and endured fimilar poverty. TRISTAN was placed near the pcrfon of the marquis DE VERNEUIL, natural fon of HENRY the Fourth ; but, having had the misfortune to kill an officer in a rencounter, he fled to ENGLAND, where he firft imbibed a tafte for letters. After a time he returned, and marihal DE HUMIERES fee* ing him at BOURDEAUX, prefented him to Louis the Thirteenth, who granted him a pardon, and G ASTON D'ORLEANS took him for one of his gen- tlemen in ordinary. Gaming, wenching, and poetry filled the time of poor TRISTAN, but not his pockets. His po- verty was extreme. BOILEAU tells us that he pa fled his fummers without a fhirt, and his winters without a coat. He died in 1655, after having led a life agitated and full of events, which he himfelf has given an account of in his romance called The D if graced Page. VOL. I. K. k i5 3 THE STAGE. TRISTAN wrote a great variety of things, but he is chiefly fpoken of for his dramatic productions, of which there are eight known to be his, and two attributed to him. His merit was of a fuperior ftamp to SCUDERY and others. His tragedy of Mariamne has certainly confiderable merit. Indeed fhis piece, as well as fome others of his writings, furnifhed matter for the imitation of more cele- brated men, and there can be no doubt, had not his life been chequered with fo much madnefs and folly, had he not neglected his friends, trifled with his reputation, and difgraced his fhuation, for he was noble by birth, and had the diftinction of a feat in the French academy, TRISTAN would have made a diflinguifhed figure in literature*. Of MAI RET there is very little to fay. He was born two years before CORNEILLE, and died * It will be recollected that TRISTAN formed his dramatic tafte in ENG LAND. This was fome time after the death of SHAK.ESPEAR, whofe works, as well as thofe of JONSON, BEAUMONT and FLETCHER, and other writers of that time, he muft have read. This will incontrovertibly prove that both tragedy and comedy were infinitely forwarder in ENG LAND than in FRANCE, but I mall re- ferve myfelf for a better opportunity of fpeaking to this particularly; when, I think, I lhall eafily (hew that whatever may have been our obligations to the French theatre fmce CORNEILLE and MOLIERE, it never would have arrived to the ftate of perfection in which they left it, had not their cold inanimate productions received a prome- thean glow from the fervid and cclcftial genius of SHAKESPKAK.. THE STAGE. 3-3 two years after him. He feems as if he had kept his reputation by his connections ; for being at- tached to the admiral MONTMORENCY, he was created a nobleman for his valour. As to any pre- tentions to rank as a poet he had none but what; were very (lender indeed. His pieces, which amount to twelve, are in general tragi-comedies, and clothed in very indecent language. They are bold and broad, but have neither conduct, nor regularity. 1 1 is Sophonijld, however, in which he has obferved the rule of twenty four hours, excited fomecuriofity ; nay it is even faid that VOLTAIRE, on that account, attempted to repair it; but he defifted, faying, that it was like an old houfe; it might be pulled down and rebuilt with the afiiftance of better materials, but that it was impoflible to repair it. Du RYER, who was born in PARIS, of a noble family, in 1605, was admitted into the academy in 1656. He was fecretary to the duke DE VENDOME, and obtained late in life the brevet of hiftoriogra- pher of FRANCE with a fuitable penfion. A dif- proponionate marriage reduced him to work by the fheet as a poet. This is enough to prove that what- ever his merit might have been it had not fair play. He left behind him nineteen dramatic pieces, and five more are attributed to him. Alcionee, Saul, and Scevole, are faiql to have corifiderable merit. LAbbt K. k a 2 4 THE STAGE. D'Aubignac, fays Alcionee, is full of beauty and grandeur; MENAGE confidcrs it. as a chef d'xitvre, and CHRISTIAN, queen of SWEDEN, was fo en- amoured of it, that me had it condantly read to her three times a day *. Du RYER is generally allowed a confiderable fhare of reputation ; which, if it was his due, ihackled and trammelled as it was, muft have been much greater had he written up to his feelings and not at the command of a talk mailer. ROTROU was born at DREUX, in 1609, three years after CORNEILLE; but, as he died thirty years before that great poet, it will be proper that he fnould be fpoken of here. ROTROU would have been invited to become a member of the French academy had he been a refident in PARIS, which regulation, except to honorary members, was in- difpeniible. As it was he was obliged to decline this diitinction, confidering it his duty to write at DREUX, where he had feveral honourable em- ployments, to the duties of which he fell a facrifice ; for, conceiving his prefence necefTary for the better regulation of the inhabitants during a peftilential This is nothing to the (lyle of MADAME DACIER'S partiality for Tbe Clouds. THE STAGE. 2 r^ fever, he was himfelf carried off by the diforder he had been Ib folicitous to avert. In nineteen years ROTROU produced thirty-fix pieces ; in which, as his labours were entirely de- voted to the valuable purpofe of rendering tragedy natural and interefling, and as- there are a great number of poetic beauties to be found in his pro- ductions, there can be no doubt but he may be fairly confidered as the neareftat that time, in point of intrinfic merit, to CORN EILLE. ROTROU, neverthelefs, wrote too faft. His foible was gaming, and whenever he had a bad chance he repaired it by writing a play. Thus his pieces have not all the fame force and beauty. It cannot, however, be denied that in moft of them there is an elevation in the defigns; the ideas are novel, grand, and bold ; and the conduct announces a judicious tafte, and a well informed mind. His errors are the errors of the times, from which even CORN EI LLE was not free. His fources, like the fources of other poets, were, as occafion ' ferved, Greek, Roman, Italian, Spanifli, and En- glifh. Tragi-comedics were at that time the pre- vailing taftc, and thefe were taken from romances, ill conftructed, {luffed with trifling characters, frivo- 25 6 THE STAGE. lous epifodes, and every thing unnecefTary and ex- traneous. Combats, meetings, partings, diiguifes, and other fantaltic and extravagant circumftances, outraged common ienfe and propriety, deftroyed fober and rational expectation, and gave the piece more an air of knight errantry than nature. In this extravagance, perhaps, ROTROU too much indulged himfelf ; but it was only going with the herd, and it does not preclude him from the honeil fhare of praife due to his real merit, which was great and commanding, and which, had he lived to have curbed the mettle of his volatile mufe, might have confirmed him a reputation, perhaps, but little inferior to his great cotemporary. It will be proper to follow ROTROU with fome account of DESMARETS, COLLETET, andBoisgo- BEKT, which four, together with CORNEILLE, aflifled cardinal RICHELIEU in the fabrication of feveral miferable performances, in which it is al- lowed he had a hand, but which were moft probably originally written by him and retouched by thofc five poets, who fathered thefe plays that the repu- tation of the cardinal as a great ftatefman might not be fcandalized. DESMARETS, who was born in 1595, feems to THE STAGE. ^ have had fome wit, but much more cunning. He was called Le Bel-tfprit of vifionaries, and the vifionary of Les beaux-efprits. He managed, however, his visions fo well that they realized for him feveral lucrative fituations under cardinal RICHELIEU, through whofe felicitation he was alfo one of the firft members of the French academy. He publifhed ten very indifferent dramatic pieces, in many of which the cardinal is fuppofed to have had a hand, particularly thofe under the titles of Europe, and Mirame. COLLETET, counfellor^ and one of the forty members of the French academy, was neither fo fortunate, nor fo prudent as DESMARETSJ for, though he was a great favourite of the cardinal, andxcondefcendecl to take his fhare of the odium vhich attached to him and his colleagues in confc- quence of the folly of R i c H E L i E u , who vainly fan- cied it was as eafy to become a poet as a ftatefman, he had not wherewithal to bury him when he died. BOISROBERT, who, being one of RICHELIEU'S favourites, \vas given a confiderable place, and alfo introduced among the members of the French aca- demy, feems to have had a fertile genius, and lefs fervility than DESMARETS and COLLETET. He pubUfhcd iw.enty dramatic pieces, fome of which re- 2 ;j8 THE STAGE. ceived no advantage from the afliftance of the cardinal. There was alfo a man of very inconfideiable merit, of the name of CHAPE LAIN, who feems to have b.een the fervant of all work in his bufinefs. He was compiler, amanuenfis, prompter, in mort any thing; but the moft convenient among his ac- commodating qualities was his fathering all fuch miferable paffages of the cardinal as the reft of the fraternity thought would difgrace them. RICHELIEU, no doubt had a hand in many of the writings of DESMARETS and BOISROBERT; but the pieces fuppofed to -have been firft written by him, and afterwards fitted to the ftage by the five poets, as they were then called for diltinction, were Europe, Miramc-, and the Tuiller'ies ; fome particu- lars relative to whicli pieces it may not be unenter- taining to relate. After the cardinal had written Europe, he fent it by BOISROBERT to the French academy, compofed principally of his creatures, and entreated their opinion without flattery ; begging alfo they would honeftly correct any thing that militated againft the rules of the theatre, or poetry. in general. The academy flattered by the unlimited condition^. THE STAGE. 2 59 given them, and, perhaps, pleafed at an opportu- nity of vaunting their own confequence, forgot the deference due to the cardinal's patronage, and dif- figured the manufcript with fo many alterations that it was all one blot, like the picture of PRA- XITELES. BOISROBERT having with extreme difficulty and caution made his report to his principal, the poor cardinal, who could (land unmoved when any difafter happened to the ftate, fairly funk under this difafter that had happened to his play; and, in the firft paroxyfm of his defpair, he tore the copy to pieces, threw it into the chimney, and in a ftate of the greateft defpondency went to bed. Happily, being fummer, there was no fire on the hearth, and this the wretched cardinal, with the true tendernefs of a father for his dear offspring, re- collected. He got up, fent for CHEREST, his fecre- tary, ordered him to collect all the fcraps that had been thrown into the chimney, and afked him to get fome pafte, or if there was none in the houfe, to go to the laundry and fetch fome ftarch. CHEREST in- ftantly obeyed his mafter's orders, produced the ftarch, and they paffed the greateft part of the night VOL. i. L i 260 THE STACK. together ftarching and patching the play till, at length, it \vore a pretty legible form. Next morning the play was copied in the car- dinal's prefence, who ordered the corrections made by the academy to be changed, except fome few of the moft immaterial ; and, in this (late, he fent it back by BOISROBERT, with directions to inform the academy that they might fee he had profited by their advice; but, as it was poffible they might not be more infallible than him, he had not altogether abided by their alterations. This proceeding had the defired effect; for the academy, perhaps at the inftance of BOISROBERT, DESMARExs,and the reft, having by this time con- fidered, that, however, fcouting the cardinal's play migjit, as a fet of literary characters add to their reputation, yet applauding it would as politicians add more to their intereft, they thought proper to return it without any further correction, together with a letter exprefling their unanimous approbation. The cardinal, however, had a more impartial and, certainly, a more juit ordeal to pafs than the academy. The public, awed by no confideration of intereftj damned the piece ; and both the car- THE STAGE. 2 gj dinal and the academy were fo afhamed of them- felves that, not prevailing upon any of the five to acknowledge a concern in the play, it was attributed by confent to a man of the name of St. So URL IN, a c:eature of the cardinal. As for Miramc, the " cardinal gave a fenfible proof th..t he was its author, for it coft him a hun- dred thoufand crov. ns 'O bring it on the ftage. He afliiled at the firft repreferitation, and was in an agony of defpair at finding it did not fucceed. When he went home he ordered DESMARETS to attend him. Poor DESMARETS fearing to face his patron alone, took with him a friend, whofe name was PETIT, and who had fome humour, and more prefence of mind. The moment the cardinal faw them, " Well," faid he. " will the French, do you think, ever have " any taite ? Do you know they were not de- " lighted with Mirame" DESMARKTS was con- founded, but PETIT knowing better how to humour the cardinal, " It was not I allure you monfeigneur," faid he, 4i the fault of the play, which is admirable, " It was the fault of the actors. Yoiir eminence *' mud have perceived that they were not only " imperfect in their parts, but they were all drunk." " I thought fo," faid the cardinal; " well, we L 1 2 2 5 2 THE STACK. " fhall fee what is to be done on the next repre- " fentation." DESMARETS and PETIT, were fo fatisfied by this hint, that they packed an audience, who were not only admitted gratis*, but paid for going and we * This, probably, was the origin of orders; a practice by no means improper under certain regulations and reftrictions ; but which, tarried to fuch a fliameful height as to form a pofitive oppofition to the public opinion, ought to be publicly fcouted. It was formerly the privilege of actors, according to their refpective iituations, to give their friends a gratuitous opportunity of feeing them perform ; who, in return, promoted their intereft at their benefits. It was alfo held politic, both for the particular intereft of the theatre, and the general intereft of the public, that men of genius ihould be permitted gratis to witnefs dramatic productions, becaufe the advice of enlightened men muft neceflarily afllft the operations of the ftage. There are fome few more cafes alfo, in which orders are not an infult but a compliment to the public. But when it reaches to the fcandalous length of procuring a fuborned auditory, who, right or wrong, are told to fupport a piece, whatever may be theexprefs fenfe of the public, I know of nothing fo fhaineful and fo revolting. Every man who hazards a trial of his abilities before an Englifli audience is as fafe as on a trial for life before an Englifli jury ; nay, it is juftice multiplied ; for, fliould he fucceed, inftcad of twelve jurors he has hundreds, irr- deed now thoufands, who fmcerely rejoice at his acquittal ; and, on the contrary, mould they, ft'orh truth, from candour, and from the deterence due to their own difcernment, be unwillingly obliged to pronounce a harfli fentence ; ftill, be it author, or actor, has the ob- ject, whole merits they have met to investigate, an obligation to their decifion, which may either beget emulation, that emulation may produce perfection, or elfc induce a relinquilhment of that purfuit for which there was no qualification. But this is not all. THE STAGE. 263 arc told by PELISSON that the cardinal enjoyed this hired applaufe with the mofl enthufiaftic rap- ture, fometimes Ihewing himfelf to the audience, that they might be induced to applaud, fometimes loi:d!y applauding himfelf, and fometimes com- manding filence, that his favourite paffages in the play might be the better attended to. Poor Bois- ROBERT, however, with all his zeal, fuffered fe- Putting it out of the queftion that the public ought to be offended at the infolence of thefe gratuitous critics, who cry bravo in concert, and, applaud at the word of command; there is not common fenfe in the mode by which thefe manoeuvres are conducted. Thofe who vifit a theatre through the medium of orders, exclullve of fuch as I excepted before, are a fet the moil vulgar, the moft ignorant, and, indeed, the moft impudent that can be imagined. Can a manager have an idea that they embellifh his theatre ? They fit in the boxes it is true, but their appearance would difgrace the upper gallery. Can he rely upon them to criticife a dramatic performance? They do not understand it. Does he think that they are the proper perfons to rely on in cafe of a riot ? The very reverfe, they exiil but in a row. What an evil then muft it become when it is confidered, for fo is the fact, that, with all this meannefc, this ignorance, and this vulgarity, thefe orderly people in every poifible way inconvenience all the reft of the audience. They get the beft places, they are the louddt critics, and they feel themfelves fo perfectly at home, that they con- fider the play and its reprefentation as an enteitainment entirely pro- vided for their accommodation. It were pity but managers and authors, for actors are now fo abridged of this privilege that they are out of the queftion, had fufficient manlinefs and independence to break through this difgraceful cuftom. It would at once fpeak a confcioufnefs of their own merits, and an honeft determination to court a decifton from the real voice of the public; the only one that can reflect any luftre on their reputation. 264 THfe STAGE, verely upon this occafion; for, not being able in ib much hurry and buflle to difcriminate as to the characters of thole volunteers for whom he, toge- ther with his colleagues, had beat up under the banner of the cardinal, he unfortunately introduced fome ladies of equivocal character into the box \vhere fat the duchefs of AIGUILLON, who was fo outraged and offended at this conduct, that RICHE- LIEU mod ungratefully banifhed him at her requeii. The academy, however, who knew, to their mamc, how little reafon the cardinal had really to be dif- pleafed with BOISROBERT, fent a deputation to de- mand his recall ; which, however, was not effected till RICHELIEU, being ill, principally from chagrin, afked his phyfician for a recipe, who anfwered that his beft recipe would be the prefence of BOIS- ROBERT. The comedy of The Tuilleries was performed in the cardinal's palace s who arranged all the Icenes himfelf. CORNEILLE, who, perhaps, felt himfelf a little awkward upon this occafion. wanted to alter fomething in the third act; but RICHELIEU told him quit falloit avoir un cfprit dc fuite, meaning that the genius for him mull be one fubfervient and accommodating. The prologue of this comedy, which was written by the cardinal, but fathered by CHAPELAIN^ THE STAGE. 265 praifed all the authors, who were feated upon this occalion very confpicuoufly among the audience. COLLETET, after the manufcript of the comedy was finifhed, read it to the cardinal; who, having heard four lines, was fo enchanted that he imme- diately laid him down fifty piftoles, bidding him flop there, for that the king's revenue could not furnifh enough to pay for the relt in proportion. The fol- lowing are the lines which fo enchanted the cardinal: En meme temps j'ai vu, fur le bord d'un ruifieau, La canne s'humecter de la bourbe de 1'eau ; D'une voix enrouee, et d'un battement d'aile, Animer If canard qui languit aupres d'elle *. RICHELIEU, when he became more acquainted with thefe lines, thought he could improve them, * This is exactly B A YES'S boar and fow, and if thefe five poets had made it their ftudy to hold the cardinal up as an object of ridicule they could not have more effectually fucceeded. That every reader may have an opportunity to judge of this great ftatef- man's tafte, I have endeavoured to render thefe four lines into En- glifti in fuch a way as to do jullice to all the parties. So have I feen, inclining to be fond, The humid duck explore the muddy pond ; Ply her thick voice, her wings in dalliance (hake, To animate to love the amorous drake. COLLETET laughed in his fleeve at this generofiry of the cardinal, and, being aflced by a friend if it was true, anfwered, " What a fum for four lines, full of quibbles and quirks, " All would at this rate I could fell all my works ! " 2 66 THE STAGE. and fent for COLLETET to talk to him upon the fubject. COLLETET wifhed to know what alter ation he thought proper to make, and the cardinal faid the fecond line, La canne s'humecter de la bourbc de I'eau, ought to run La canne barbotcr dans la bourbe de I'eau; barboter, which means to muddle, being a better phrafe than humecter, which means to moiften. COLLETET affected to think the mat- ter worthy mature confideration, and promifed to write to the cardinal upon the fubject. This pro- mifehe performed, fubmitting to his patron whether the word muddle was not too low and unworthy an application for the chafte paflion of a duck and a drake*. The cardinal, who was extremely angry with this letter, had fcarcely read it, when he was waited on by feveral courtiers, who came to announce to him a brilliant victory, the meafures of which had been taken by his advice and the whole conducted under his direction. They addreffed him in a ftyle full of flattery, faying nothing could refift the au- thority of his eminence. " You are miftaken," faid the cardinal, "that fcoundrel COLLETET refifts me. * SCRUB'S obfervation of two intriguing ducks in a mill-pond, feems to have originated from the cardinal's favourite patfage. How unconfcious FAR^UHAR was that he made SCRUB ridicule the great RICHELIEU. THE STAGE. 267 " I did him the honour to alter a line in his verfes, " and he has the impudence to write me a long " letter, in which he endeavours to prove I am in " the wrong." It can he eafily underftood how fuch men as DESMARETS, COLLETET, and BOISROBERT, came to be RICHELIEU'S poetic drudges; but it is ex- traordinary that CORNEILLE, or even ROTROU, fliould notoriously join fuch a confederacy. It appears, however, that they contented to it with extreme reluctance, for they were by no means active in the bulinefs, and withdrew themfelves as foon as they could. Nay, it mould feem that RICHELIEU felt this poignantly, for he did every thing in his power to injure CORNEILLE; and, indeed, meditated a revenge which he thought would accomplim his ruin. It, however, difgraced the cardinal moft fignally, which the reader will eafily allow when it is known that this meditated revenge was no lefs than ven- turing a fecond reprefentation of Europe, which had been damned, in oppofition to CORNEILLE'S popular tragedy of The Cid. Europe was thus performed under tlic influence of the cardinal; but when the accor came to give it out again he VOL. i. Mm 2 63 THE STAGE: was hifTed off, and nothing further was fuffered till the performers promifed the Cid for the next night's reprefentation. RICHELIEU is excufed by his biographer for all this abfurdity under an idea that he patronized thefe poets, but the reyerfe happens to be the fact; for, according to what we have read, they patro- nized him. Inftead of allowing to them the in- fluence of his name, and protecting every valuable line they wrote, he made them his tools that he might vaunt under their fanction every miferable line written by him. Is this patronage ? No. Give me that fpontaneous difmterefted patronage that, without any lelfifh views or pretentions, 'diftin- guifhes merit, foflers it, brings it to light, fanctions it, recommends it; and, thereby, confers an ho- nourable pleafure on the patron, and proves a mu- tual advantage to the poet and the public. But, putting every other consideration out of the queftion, there cannot be any thing fo filly as the idea of feveral men writing in conjunction*. * Among many inftances that may be cited to prove this, POPE, GAY, and ARBU THNOT, who feparately, one would think, might have written a tolerable good play, laid their heads together and pro- duced a inoft wretched farce that was deiervedly damned. THE STAGE. 269 Ilere the application is particularly in point ; for though every one of thefe men, except the cardinal, produced, fingle handed, plays which had fuccefs ; yet, when they worked together, nothing could be more contemptible than the iffue of their labours. M m 2 2 7 THE STAGE. CHAP VIII. DRAMATIC EVENTS FROM THE BIRTH OF COR_ NEILLE TO THE DEATH OF CARDINAL RICHELIEU. THE great COR NEILLE, an appelation that ad- mirable writer very honourably merited, was born at ROUEN, the twenty-fixth day of June, 1606. He brought out his comedy of Melite in 1625, at the age of nineteen, and he died the firft of October, in 1684. He was intended for the bar, but his genius was too elevated for that profeffion ; at the fame time it -was difficult to divine what bent his mind would take, as he manifefted no extraordinary gifts of na- ture. The fpark, however, only lay dormant. It remained to be roufed into action by love. A young man took his friend with him to vifit his rmftrefs; the lady chofe the friend and rejected the lover; the friend, charmed with this preference, be- came a poet upon the fpot. Hence the comedy of Melite^ and hence the emancipation of the great CORN EI LLE. THE STAGE. 2 - t There was treachery in the cafe certainly ; but the lady, who was the fubject of the comedy, and who went a long time in ROUEN by the name of MELITE, was principally to blame; yet, whatever anger the lover of this lady might harbour againft his miftrcfs, the public were willing to acknowledge the higheft obligations to her, for they feemed from that moment to have a talle for dramatic entertain- ments unknown to them before. The particulars of this great man's life, which for fuch a man are rather confined, will gradually come in with the accounts of his dramatic fuccefs ; which, for a time, I (hall now uninteruptedly follow. His fecond piece was a tragi-comedy called Cli- tandre, which he wrote to correct the too great limplicity that, with all its merit, the public com- plained of in Mclite. This effort, however, had better have been let alone ; for, if Mclite was too iimple, Clitandre was too extravagant; and Ro- TROU having two years before brought out his firft comedy, The Bague de Loubli, with fuccefs, and foon after his comedy of The Hypocondriaque, the public had paufed upon the merit of CORNEILLE, which doubt Clitandre unfortunately did not ferve to clear up. His third piece called La Veuve, which was a 272 THE STAGE. comedy, did not make its appearance till 1634, and in the interval between Clitandre and that, RO- TROU had brought out Dorijlee et Cleagenor, IHereufe Conftance^ Les Occnfions Perdues, Les Menechmes, which ferved afterwards as a fubject for REG- NARD,and Celemene, which was again retouched by TRISTAN, and at length written anew and brought out by ROTROU, with prodigious fuccefs, under the title of Vencejlas in 1647*. Thus ROTROU had by this time made a for- midable (land againft CORNEILLE, which circum- ftance neither La Veuve nor, La Galtrit du Palais, a comedy performed the fame year, had power ma- terially to affect; nor even another comedy called La Suivante, the principal merit of which is, if we * When Vencejlas was in rehearfal, ROTROU was put into prifon for a gaming debt ; he, therefore, fold his piece to the players for twenty piftoles, which was jufl fufficient to releafe him, but its fuc- cefs was fo extraordinary that they gratuitoufly prefented him with a confiderable fum, all which proves that, as this was in the zenith of CURX'EILLE'S reputation, ROTROU muft have been highly in favour with the public. This piece which like the Cid was originally Spanifh, was afterwards popular from a remarkable circumftance. The famous BARON quitted the theatre for thirty years, and he finiilied his fecond career as he had done his fii ft by performing in this play. He was then feventy years old, and had fuch an afthma that he could fcarcely fpeak. He was, however, entreated to per- form, but had fcarcely uttered twenty lines w hen he was obliged t quit the ftage, which he did with thefe remarkable words; Si proche du cercueil ou je me vois defcendre. THE STACK. 273 believe a French author, that the five acts are fo exactly of a length that there is not a fingle line in any one more than any other. It is very poffible that this extraordinary effort of brifiging out three pieces in one year, evidently excited by the fuccefs of his rival, and, after all, meeting with but indifferent fuccefs himfelf, in- duced COR N E i L L E to join the cardinal's confederacy, for it was on the following year that The Tuillerics was performed, in which our author notorioufly aflifted as one of the five. We muft, however, do him thejuftice to believe that he very foon grew fick of the connection, for Europe did not appear till 1637*, and, for Mirame, it was not performed till 1639; and as we know that the cardinal and CORNEILLE were at enmity when the Cid was pro- duced, which was in 1636, it is almoft reduced to a certainty that this coalition, as far as our poet was concerned in it, did not laft much more than a year, and that he would never have joined it at all but under the expectation of meeting with a liberal pa- * I found it extremely difficult to get any authority that T might rely on in relation to the firft appearance of this play. The accounts generally fay that it came out in 1643, but tliib cannot be, for the cardinal died :n 1642. It fs moft probable that it was produced as .foon as poiHble after the Cid, and, therefore, 1 have placed it in 1637, sft-Jhidi feme accounts feem to confirai. 2 y 4 THE STAGE. fron, in which expectation he was completely di{- appointed. In 1635 appeared, written by CORN EI LLE. a comedy called La Place Royale, and his fidt tra- gedy called Medee, neither of which had by any moans capital fuccefs; and early in 1636, came out a comedy called L Ilhifion, which CORNEILLE him- felf confefles he wrote by way of diverting jiis mind from the gloom of having written Medee, and, there- fore, he declares it deferves but little notice. In the interim ROTROU, always at work, had furprized the public with L'Heureufe Naufrdge, and four or five other pieces, fo that their fuccefs was hitherto upon the whole pretty nearly equal, but it was very foon decreed that the genius of CORNEILLE mould gain fo complete a triumph as to leave all his com- petitors at an immenfe diftance, for in two months after the appearance of Llllujion came out that admirable performance The Cid. This piece, which has many ftriking beauties, and many glaring faults, is neverthelefs, upon the whole, a moft extraordinary effort. The Cid was celebrated before CORNEILLE brought it out. He himfelf acknosvledges that he is much indebted upon this occafion to GUILLIN DE CASTRO, a Spanifh poet, and FOXTSNELLE fays that there was THE STAGE. 375 no nation, however barbarous, where the Cid was unknown. It muft be confeffed, however, the Cid itfelf muft have been as barbarous as thofe people who cherifhed it, till it came polifhed from the hands of CORNEILLE, who alone was intended as the lapidary to mew the luftre of this diamond. Never had a tragedy more celebrated fuccefs. It was repeated by heart, taught to children, and it was the cuftom to fay beau commc It Cid. Cardinal RICHELIEU, we are told, had an ambition to be known as the author of it ; but CORN EI LLE, fonder of fame than fortune, rejected the propofal with contempt. That all powerful minifter in other things, dcfeat-ed in this, infifted that the academy mould examine it, who prefently, in their officious zeal to oblige their principal, found out that all the rules of the drama were violated. CORNEILLE'S partizans agreed to this, but drew from thefe pre- mifes a moft powerful conclufion in its favour. All the poets, however, influenced by either the bribes or menaces of the cardinal, joined in this hue and cry againft the Cid y with the fingle exception of ROTROU, who with a generous difdain refufed to join the league. ROTROU called CORNEILLE his father, his inftructor, and never ceafed to manifeft VOL. i. N n THE STAGE. the higheft veneration for his character, which give* ho little luftre to his own when \ve confider how long he had been his powerful rival, and how nobly generous it was to place himfelf the palm upon the head of his competitor. It is hardly poffible, and if it were poffible it is almoft ridiculous, to enumerate the neft of envious hornets which were roufed by the extraordinary merit and fuccefs of this piece. The academy, through the influence of the cardinal, fat as gravely and as folemnly to examine its merits as if the wel- fare of the nation had depended upon the i0ue of their deliberation; but, as if they feared the ill confequence of this officioufnefs, they affected to proceed with all poffible caution and delicacy. It is thought that the cardinal's averfion to this piece proceeded from fome fentiments it contained which expofed the undue influence of minifters, and reprobated their injuftice and rapacity; it was impoffible, therefore, for him to act too warily. He firft procured SCUDERY to abufe the work, and then reprefented, through BOISROBERT. to COR- NEILI.E trjat it would be a high advantage to permit his piece to pafs through an examination by the aca- demy, by way of filencing every clamour ; to which CORNEILLE, feeing the drift of the application, an- THE STAGE. 2 77 fwered, that if the judgment of the academy would give the catdinal the fmalleft amufement he cer- tainly fhould not oppofe it. This was conftrued into a full confent on the part of CORNEILLE. Commiffioners were imme- diately appointed to examine the Cid, and, that every thing might wear an appearance of impartiality, SCUDERY'S remarks were alfoto be examined. After this the obfervations of the commiflioners were re- ported and deliberated on in full aflembly. It was a long time, however, though they had feveral de- bates before they came to a conclufion, but at length they agreed on reducing the Cid to that form in which they thought it ought to have been repre- fented. It was in this ftate given to a printer, arid the firft (heel was fent to the cardinal for his opinion, who found they had gone from one extreme to the other; for, inttead of pointing out the faults and amending them, they had taken out the beauties and rendered the faults ftiil more glaring than ever. RICHELIEU, finding he mould only expofe, himfelf, fent to ftop the impreffion, becaufe what but blind malice could prompt a ftep at which the indignant public muft naturally revolt. Being, therefore, a better politician than thofe he em- ployed, he contented himfelf with a few inconfi-. N n 2 278 THE STAGE. derable alterations, which CORXEILLE had too much good fenfe to oppoi'e, and thus the matter \vas compounded, and the piece has remained in that ftate to this hour. This play, however, though one of the moft celebrated that has even to this moment appeared upon the French ftage, underwent a thoufand com- ments. The academy fet the example, and it be- came the mode to cenfure the Cid. SHAKESPEAR himfelf, and that is a bold word, nver was more roughly handled. Some lines were faid to be im- moral, others puerile, others bombaftic, and others ridiculous. Even RACINE when he came for- ward as a poet, did not fail to turn the Cid into ridicule. He parodied in his piece called Les Plai- deurs, the following line fpoken in the Cid by DON DIEGO. Ses rides, fur fon front, ont grave fes exploits, RACINE'S line runs thus : Ses rides, fur fon front, gravoient tous fe,s exploits. " How is this," faid CORNEILLE, " is it permitted " to a young man to ridicule people's beft verfes ?' But hi this RACINE only took up the idea of the academy, whofe remark was, that wrinkles clo not mark exploits, they only mark yea,rs. Poor BARON, as I have already noticed, like THE.STAGE. 579 , quitted the ftage and appeared on it thirty years afterwards. He was then very infirm, but had been fo great a favourite that the public fuffered any thing from him. One evening, however, when he repeated the following lines, they burft into an involuntary laugh. Je fuis jeune, il eft vrai: mais aux ames bien nees, La valeur n'attend pas le nombre des annees. BARON difregarded the rifible effect this had upon the audience, and gravely icpeated the paffage, when they laughed louder than before ; upon which he came forward and ferioufly addreifed the parterre. 6i Gentlemen/' faid he, " I mall now begin for the <; third time ; but if I hear any one laugh, I fhall " quit the theatre immediately, never to return." This had its effect, and they took particular care to offend him no more, although the fame evening when kneeling at the feet of his miftrefs, me 'bid him rife, he was obliged to entreat the afliilance of (wo fcene fhifiers before he could get on his legs. But the famous expreflion, " A tu du cceur," has been more cavilled at than any thing in the piece. It has, which is faying a great deal, been twitted and turned as many ways as SHAKESPEAR'S " put out the light*." This expreffion has been * A wag had an idea, at the time this t.ne begat fo much con- 2 g o THE STAGE: contended was altered by the academy from " a t " un cceur;" and to confirm this, fome of the edi- tions have it fo ; and I myfelf heard it ufed to LE KAIN. The arguments in favour of this laft reading are fhrewd and fendble. A tu du cceur is fimply, " Haft thou courage ? " Which is a tame queftion indeed to be put to the valorous RODRIGUE, from his father too. A tu un coeur is, " Haft thou a * 4 heart?" Which may be conftrued, Haft thou na- ture, affection, family pride, haft thou, in fhort, refolution, dear as the daughter is to thee, to avenge the wrongs of thy father by deftroying her's ? Is thy affection to thy father proof againft thy love for her to this degree ? And his anfwer begining " Tout autre que mon. pere," is heightened by giving it this turn. But vainly were the tongues and pens of fo many writers and critics at work to decry the merit tention, of infifting that SHAKESPFAR'S meaning was as follows: " When I have put out the light, perhaps, as it has been my cuflona " at that time to indulge thofe fond ideas that fill the warm imagi- " nations of hufban^s, who are going to bed to their wives, I may " forget my refentment in her embraces, and thus her life may be " fpared." An idea full of ingenuity as well as poetical jullice ; for, had DESDEMONA lived only an hour, every thing would have been discovered, the guilty would have been yiuniihed, and virtu^ would have been triumphant. THE STAGE. 2 8 t of this piece. It triumphed over all its enemies, This DESPREAUX notices in the following lines: En vain centre le C/Wunminiftre ft ligue; Tout I'ARIS pour CHIMENE, a les yeux DE RODRICCE. L' Academic en corps a beau le cenfurer : Le public revoke s'obftine a 1'admirer. The only hope that now remained with the cardinal of crufhing CGRNEILLE was that his following pro- ductions might be fo inferior to the Cid as to lower his reputation; but he was completely baffled in thefe very charitable expectations; for Horace^ which was his next performance, confirmed that fame the Cid had acquired ; and, in fpight of the in- trigues of the academy, who again fat in judgment on him, the public laughed their puny attempts to icorn; and, in proportion as their favourite was calumniated, they drove to render him the judice his mem deferved *. Horace appeared early in 1639. an( ^ a f ew months afterwards CORNEILLE brought out Cinna, a tra- gedy of considerable celebrity ; fome fay it is his heft work, others have declared for Polieucte t and he himfelf preferred Rodogune. * CORNEILLE fatd upon this occafiou that it was but fair his piece (hould meet the tame fate of him who was the fubject of it ; for, added he, " HORATIUS was condemned by the Duumvirs, but *' ubfolved by the people." 2 3 2 THE STAGE. Cinna wrought an effect on Louis the Four- teenth, verv honourable for its author, and to the dramatic art. The Chevalier de ROHAN had con- fpired againft the ftate, and the king had conftantly refufed to grant his pardon to the moft powerful and prefling felicitations. The night before the exe- cution of the chevalier, Louis was at the reprefen- tation of Cinna ; many paflages of which piece itruck him fo forcibly, particularly the fpeech of AUGUSTUS in the fifih act, where he congratulates himfelf on having obtained a conqueft over his paflions, that though, from pride, or fome political confiderations, he did not revoke the fentence of ROHAN, yet he frequently afterwards declared that if, at that moment, he had been folicited to fave his life under any colourable pretext, he certainty fhould have confented. This tragedy drew tears from the eyes of the great CON DE at the age of twenty, o which Lou is augured fo well that he confidered it as a prefage of his future greatnefs. - Polieucte, which was the next production of CORNEILLE, came out in 1640. This piece had very nearly been configned to oblivion, or rather .frnothered in its birth. CORNEILLE fent it to the theatre for the approbation of the actors, \vho re- THE STAGE. 283 fa fed to perform it. One of the performers, who was entrufted to return it to the author, one day re- perufed a part of it as he walked about in his lodg- ings, but being difpleafed with a paffage he met in it, he threw it carelefsly from him, and the copy fell upon the teller of the bed. He gave hirhfelf no further trouble about it, and nobody knew for a confiderable while, what was become of the play. After it had been midaid eighteen months an up- holfterer took down the bed, and rcfcucd Pvlieucte from oblivion. Previous to the representation of Polieucte on the ftage, CORN EI LLE read that piece at the Hotel de Rambouillet, which was then the fovereign tri* bunal in all literary matters, The piece was ap- plauded in the prefcnce of COR NET LLE, out of that refpect which they thought due to the merit of fo great a man, but VOITURE was privately en- joined to inform CORN EI LLE, which he did in the mod delicate manner, that Polieucte had not found that warm encouragement that might have been ex- pected, and that in particular thofe paflages which concerned religion had moft difpleafed. COR- N EI LLE, alarmed at this, would have withdrawn his piece, but was at length perfuaded to leave it in the hands of the actors, which, however, he would VOL. i. o o 284 THE STAGE. not do till one of them promifed that it fliould not be performed. This protnife was broke, which, probably, gave no difpleafure to the author, and PolieucU made its public appearance. In the fourth act of Polieucte, there is a fcene where SEVER us, (truck with the unity of GOD, dif- covers to FABIAN his doubts concerning the Pagan religion, which admits of many deities at once. BELLEROSE, who performed SEVER us, in convey- ing thefe fentiments, adopted a tone of fuch mo- deration and good fenfe, that the public, who had before feen nothing but extravagance and bombaft, were greatly ftruck with this new manner, fo much more like nature; and, as the fubject was very awful on which BELLEROSE exerted himfelf. it was not only prodigioufly admired, but begat a refpect and consideration for actors which had not before been attached to their characters. What SEVER us fays is no more than the vague doubt of a Pagan, to whom the extravagance of his religion rendered it an object of fufpicion, but who had not the fmalleft knowledge of thofe proofs which render the chriftian religion more refpectable than paganifm. On this account CORNEILLE was very much blamed for printing it, for it was faid THE STAGK. 385 that notwithftanding his delicate and proper inten- tions, they might be mifinterpreted. Polieucte^ however, as I have already faid, be* gan to open the eyes of the public as to the refpec- tability of dramatic entertainments, considered in a moral light. This circumftance, joined to another altogether as extraordinary, no lei's than that the actors, from the moment they were confidered as more refpectable, actually became lo, procured, on the fixteenth of April, 1641, the following favour- able arret. " In cafe the faid comedians regulate the action ei of their performances, fo as to be entirely ex- " empt from impurity, we will that their exhibition* " as by this meanxS they will innocently amufe " the public be conlidered as void of blame and " reproach, and alfo that their occupation mall not " be pleaded as an impediment to the exercife of <; any bulinefs, or connection in public commerce." In 1641, CORNEILLE produced Pompee^ and in 1642, in which year cardinal RICHELIEU died, ap n peared Le Mentcur, certainly CORNEILLE'S beft comedy, fo that the cardinal lived long enough to fee the man again ft whom he had fhewn fo much rancour, merely becaufe he was pofTelfed pf fu- 002 286 THE STAGE. perior talents to himfelf, which talents he difdaine^ to proftitute for patronage, fecure in a firrn and per- manent reputation, which all his infidious arts had not been able to deprive him of. As to other dramatic events from the birth of CORNEILLE to the death of RICHELIEU, they confift principally of contentions for fame between different poets, among whom there were a great variety of pretenders, indeed fo many that the re- gular theatres could not entertain their productions; in confequence of this, feveral attempts were made to eftablifh a third theatre, one of which in 1632 partially fucceeded. A party of thefe difappointed poets, through various interefts, prevailed on the lieutenant civil to grant them permifTion to open a theatre at the Ten- nis-court in the ftreet Michel-dt-comte for two years. This theatre being fituated in a part of PARIS where the ilreets were very narrow, and the fur- rounding inhabitants of the lowed order it Became a neft for all manner of thieves and {harpers, and alfo a market for the vent of the moft execrable literary tram. It was, therefore, reprefented to the parliament as a nufance, and in lefs than a twelve- month from its eftablifhment it was {hut up by au- thority. THE STAGE. 287 Of the confederacy who wrote in the pay of RICHELIEU, we have partly feen the fuccefs; it may not, however, be improper to go over fuch particulars as may ferve to (hew the complexion of the times as to the encouragement of the drama during that period. SCUDERY between the birth of CORNEILLE and 1642, brought out fifteen pieces with various fuccefs. His firft performance was a tragi-comedy called Ligdamon et Lidias, for which be thus apo- logizes : " I have pafled," fays he, " more years " among armies than hours in my clofet, and have " ufed more matches to fire guns than to light lamps. " I can range foldiers better than words, and know " more adroitly to halt a battalion than to round a " a period." Of thefe truths this piece gives abundant proof, for it is certainly a moft miferable performance, and fhould not have been mentioned here but for the opportunity of noticing what dwarfim feconds RICHELIEU had recourfe to when he combatted the giant CORNEILLE. When SCUDERY produced his L Amour Tyran- nique, a very indifferent performance, the cardinal fought knee deep for it. He declared that this piece fpoke its own eulogium ; and SARRAZIN, to curry favour, printed a difcourfe at the head of it 2 88 THB STAGE. addrefled to the French academy, where he endea- voured to point out the beauties of the play, and the talents of the author. In confequence of this all PARIS crouded to it, and at their return home laughed at themfelves for their credulous folly. Upon the whole his Mart de Cefar feems to have been his bed play, and VOLTAIRE was fo much of that opinion that he certainly borrowed many paf- fages from it. The pieces of Du RYER, during this period, eight in number, are of a better kind than thofe of SCUDERY; but they give proof in how very barbarous a ftate the ftage ftill continued. We have feen FONTENELLE incenfed againft HARDY for the proflgacy of his mufe and the indecent fituations into which h^ has thrown his characters, but the 'Lucrece of Du RYER will (hew that even the commanding genius of CORNEILLE had not been able to give the theatre that polifh without \vhich it cannot be coniklered in a ftate of per- fection. The plot of this piece is fimply the Roman ftory. TARQUIN, with a poignard in his hand, demands of LUCKETIA the facrifice of her virtue. She ftruggles and eicapes behind the fcenes, the audience prefently hear her cries, and foon after THE STAGE. 289 fhe comes on in the utmoft diforder and fairly tells the fpectators that her honour is violated*. To MAI RET certainly very little praife can be due, if we are to credit, which is generally admitted, that Sophonijba.) which as we have feen VOLTAIRE thought it worth his while to retouch, was written by THEOPHILUS VIAUT, and the Viofmaries by DESMARETS, with the afMance of RICHEIIEU; but this lad may be a miftake, owing to the iimi- larity of the names. There is fomething in the ftory of VIAUT, that it may be worth while to relate. His manners were * This circumftance is topped by the elegant TERENCE in his comedy of The Andritt^ wha makes r. lady complain on the ftage of a pain in her bowels, and after fhe has retired for fome time, during which (lie is heard to groan and cry piteoufly, the audience are in- formed that fhe is brought to bed. Indeed TERENCE is fo fond of ladies with child that he has introduced another of them in his Adelphty and alfo a common proftitute, both of whom are honeftly married to thefe brothers with the confent of their father and of their uncle who had adopted one of them; and really if thefe are the pieces of MENANDER, ftolen from the Greek by TERENCE, for the edification of the Romans, and we are to confider thefe productions as models for us, the true drift and intention of the dramatic art is to reward vice and punifh virtue; but thefe are the ancients, and who (hall have the temerity for a fingle moment to doubt their infallibility. 2 q THE STAGE. fo licentious that he was banifhed FRANCE. He* had, neverthelek, fome friends ; and after he had refided a few years in ENGLAND, where he im- bibed an inclination for the dramatic art, he was re- called. He was always of the perfuafion of the country where he happened to live. In GERMANY he was a Calvinift, in England a Proteftant and in FRANCE a Roman Catholic. He was, neverthe- lefs, in every place a libertine; and as he wrote poetry with great facility, he never failed to lafh the roguery of priefts with great afperity. On his re- turn to FRANCE he wrote a fevere. poem called Parnajfc Satyrique^ which work was confidered fo very licentious that he was condemned to be burnt. He efcaped and was burnt in effigy. As he was wandering, however, from one retreat to another, he was arrefted at GATE LET, and fhut up in the fame dungeon with RAVAILLAC. The parliament commenced anew their procefs againft him, and he had fuch addrefs that his trial was alternately put off and renewed until the expiration of two years ; when, through the great intereft made for him, his fcntence was meliorated to perpetual banifhment. He retired to the eftate of the duke of Mo- MORENCY, where he lived in a more reafonable manner, and declared to his laft hour that he was THE STAGE. 2 gj innocent of the charge that had been brought againft him. " He was intimate with MAI RET, who was alfa protected by MOJMORENCY; and if DESBARREAUX is to be credited, who was the friend and intimate of them both, THEOPHILE left behind hiiij- in the porTeffion of MAIRET his tragedy of Sophonijba ; which, with the deduction of the Vijionaires, finks MAIRET'S fame materially. Of the productions of ROTROU I have fpoken more at large, that poet's reputation having beerr the neareft to .that of CORNEILLE. In 1642, he had brought out twenty-fix of his plays, many of which had confiderable merit, and nothing can give ftronger proof of this fact than that, though he is at prefent very little known on the ftage by his own proper writings, yet the materials that compofed them are fo good, the characters fo natural, and the fubjegts fo dramatic, that the mod celebrated writers fince his time have not difdained to take him for their model; witnefs The Thebaide of RACINE, which is an imitation of his Antigone^ The Inh of DE LA MOTTE, taken from his Laure Perfccutce^ and Lcs Sceurs Rivales of QUIXAULT, which is but little more than a copy of his Deux Pucdlts'. VOL. i. p p 2Q2 THK STAGE. It would be prolix and tirefome to notice any thing further concerning the theatre during the time it was patronized, iff I may fo call it, by RICHE- LIEU. A man, as SI-IAKESPEAR fays, {peaking of his brother cardinal, of an unbounded domach ; who, not commit with governing FRANCE almod abfolutely, with lowering the pride of AUSTRIA, and regulating the movements of Europe at his own will, added, to all this defire of ftirring up na- tional commotions, a perpetual wilh of fomenting commotions in. the theatre. When the Cid came out, he was as much alarmed as if the Spaniards had been at the gates of PARIS. What then mud have been his miferable condition, if FONTENELLE is to be believed, who fays, "that after the Cid, *' CORNEILLE became more elevated in Horace, " {till more in Cinna. and dill more iri Polieuctc ; " beyond which no merit can reach." It cannot be denied that this druggie of RTCHE- LIEU to attain dramatic fame certainly afcertained what dramatic fame was. The cardinal's favour being naturally fought after, all thofe who fancied they had literary talents put \\hat little merit they had to the ted, all thofe who really had genius, ftraincd every nerve to excel one another. This emulation in a fhort time did wonders. It purified THE STAGE. 2 gg the tafte, mended the ftyle, and regulated the con. duct of dramatic entertainments. The chorufes, which had been introduced by JODELLK, and fcrupuloufly obferved by the dra- matic poets till 1 6'2Q, were afterwards banifhed from the theatre. Inftrumental performers were fubfti- tuted in their place, who were firft fituated between the wings on the ftage, afterwards in the upper boxes, after that in the lower boxes, till, at length, it was thought proper to fituate them between the audience and the ftage, where they are now con- ftantly feated. For thefe and other circumftances, which con- tributed to perfect the theatre, and which could not in fo fhort a fpace as twelve years have wrought fuch a reform without the afliftance of fome high and commanding influence, the French nation are certainly indebted to RICHELIEU ; who, though he in himfelf found a wide difference in the talents ne- ceflary to form a great writer and a great ftatcfman, was certainly the caufe of bringing forward to pub- lic notice that merit in others which he envied but could not imitate. All this Fo N T E N E L L E, though his beft apologift, allows; but he adds, that " he recompensed as a p p 2 2 g THE STAGE. " minifter that merit of which he was jealous as a " poet ; and that, however, his great mind might " have had weaknefles, he feldom failed to repair " his faults by fomething noble." Surely when FONTENELLE made this remark he forgot that he was writing the, life of CORNEILLE. * * THE STAGE. 2 g 5 I i _ FROM THE DEATH OF RICHELIEU TO THE DEATH OF ROTROU. THOUGH the great reputation of,^QoRNEiLLE, at the death of RICHELIEU, could not have received much additional celebrity, for nothing is fo fair an object of public encouragement as that which is pri- vately opprefled, yet after that period, by being more tinreftrained, it grew more commanding. His pieces, in the opinion of the public, threw all others at a diftance, and thofe four tragedies which Fo NT F.- NELL E declared nothing could exceed, continually occupied the theatre, adding at each performance a new trophy to his well earned fame. The fuccefs of the Menteur induced CORNEILLE to follow it up with a fequel, which like the original was an imitation ef Lopes de Vega. This fequel feems to have fhewn its author that, however be might be capable of writing comedy, it was either not his forte fo properly as tragedy, or that comedy was not in FRANCE arrived at that perfection to which I 2 g5 THE STAGE. Jte and others had brought tragedy. Indeed this tadjk-emained to be performed by^/Io LI ERE. The Suite du Menteur^ though it received ap- plaufe, n however the applaufe to which Xo R- NEILLE had been accuftorfitd, and though, when it was better underitood upon a revival, it had Mill greater fuccefs, determined CORNEILLE to return to tragedy. He paufcd, however, probably that he might do nothing unworthy the fame he had fo ho- nourably acqunrd, and did not venture to produce another play until 1646, when trie public teftified the higheft fatis faction at his tragedy of Rodogune. I have noticed already that CORNEILLE rather inclined #0 think this his beft work. Let us fee what he fays himfelf on the fubject. " I have 4 - been often afked," fays he, " which of all my 44 dramatic poems I efteem the moft, and I have 44 generally found that thofe who have put the 44 queftion to me were prejudiced either in favour 41 of Cinna, or The Cid. I have, therefore, been <; cautious of declaring my real fentiments, which 44 are certainly in favour of Rodogune. This pre- 41 ference is, perhaps, in me the effect of that blind 44 partiality which parents fometimes entertain for > one child rather than another; perhaps it may " be tainted with a little felf love becaufe this , THE STACK. 2Q7 ^/ st tragedy H more properly my own than any thing ^ 6i that has preceded it, on account of the incidents " being new, original, invented, and fuch as* had " never before been placed on a tfieatre ; and, if i - this reafon Jhould be juft, it eitablifhes a fact " which confirms the propriety of my partiality." I mall have good opportunity to prove that COR- NEILLE was not fingular in this opinion. K * This preference for Rodogune feemed a prefcnti- ment to COR NEIL LE that his reputation was at its ^HP height; for, from the time that tragedy was pro- duced till 1653, when CORN EILLE left the theatre in difgufi the particulars of which wUfhall fee here- jj[* after, though his general fame kept an honourable fiand, his productions were reviewed with lefs warmth than he had been accuftomed to roperience. His tragedy of Theodore, produced the latter end of 1646, had very indifferent fuccefs, confidering it was the production of the greagjCoRNEiLLE. Hcr- ffclnis, brought out in 1647, though admired by the judicious, the world affected not to underftand, and AndromcdcviajjjobYiged for the aftonifhing reception it met with to fcenery, machinery, and a living r Pegafus, the bed performer, according to public ppinion, in the whole piece. The fact is that CORNEILLE was born to be the him aground,lind the theatre with^him, by diverting it another*. 298 THE STAGE. ?^f fport of cardinals. RICHELIEU endeavoured to * bvowhelm him by turning the tide of prejudice *- oneway, an^lAZARiNE endeavoured to leave him aj it anoi 1 have noticed that Theodore was cooly received. Iliraclius w;is of itfelf a fipgular production; but .^ bjt the inattention of the public, who began to be tired of every thing regular an^riking, it was con- * fidcred as a very heteroclite performance, and in- * capable of affording pleafure equal to the pains it took to pay improper attention. W *$ The fact is, CORNEILLE had been fo charmed v ith that originality on which he fo warmly congratu- lates himfelf in Rodogune* that he was determined to be ftill more 'original in Heraclius. In conlequence of this he has certainly in places obfcured what he meant to elucidate^l The Abbe PELEGRIN whiin- * CORNEILLE when he brought put Cinna, probably under an idea that it would gall RICHELIEU, had determined to dedicate it to MAZARINE ; but receiving an intimation that it would be coldly re- ceived, and above all that he would get no dedication fee, he changed 'Jus mind, and addreifed "his tragedy to Monlieur MONTAURON, a/oz difant MF.C>ENAS, from whom lie received a thou&uid piftoles. This \va ever)' way confidered as a merited fatire on the two cardinals, a:id it was faliJbiuible afterwards to call epiitlea dedicatory, Lpitrcs a la Montauron. THE STAGE. 2OO calls Heraclius the defpair of all the tragic authors, and DESPREAUX archly fays it is not a tra- gedy but a logogryphe*. Let us fee what CORNEILLE himfelf fays upon this fubject. "This tragedy," fays he, " is more 44 an effort of invention than Rodogune^ ancl I may " dare fay that it is a happy original, of which there " will be many copies." He then goes on, ex- plaining the nature ofHhe incidents, in what manner they are knit together, how involved in difficulty and intricacy, and, at length, fays that they certainly cannot be comprehended but by reflection after the finilh of the piece, and, perhaps, they are not to be enjoyed with tafte till the fpectators have witneffed a fecond reprefentation. Certainly this, however it may recommend the piece to a perufal in the clofet, . * The beft part of the (lory is that, with all its originality, COR- NEILLE is accufed of having flolen Heraclius from CALDERONE, who beyond all queftion flole it from him. CALDERONE produced afterwards in SPAIN, a play almofl a translation of Heraclius, which he called, In this lift every thing is truth and every thing is falfebood. The fact is, CALDERONE was in PAKIS when lleraclfus firft irade its appearance. He was introduced to CORNEILLE, who informed him, with the fame franknefs which accompanied all his conduct, that he had formerly been accuftomed, as in the in/lance of The Cid, Ibe MAiteur, and other pieces, to avail himfelf of what had been already done by the Spanifh poets; but that in the prefent inflance he had the good fortune to prefent the public with a happy original. This VOL. I. Q q :- 00 THE STAGE. cannot be in its Favour as a dramatic production,*, where every thing fhouldbe comprehended at once. But this piece lias given his enemies a handle, as \vell as fome fcenes in Pompce, to cavil at Cou- NEILLE, under the idea of comparing his writings to the turgidnefs, the flatulency, and the obfcurity of SENECA, rather than the nature, the fimplicity, and the beauty of SOPHOCLES and EURIPIDES ? which opinion FONTENELLE does not altogether contradict. I It was not, however, fo much the fault of Hera- dius as the times, that the public attention, which had been fo unremittingly pai<$ to CORXEILLF, began to waver. MAZARINE, who found that his predeceflbr had heen indebted, if not for his po- pularity at lead for his notoriety, to poets and ac- tors, was determined to fee what fame he could deiive from compofers and fingers. In fhort it was in 1647 that MAZARINE eftablifhed the opera in FRANCE, the particulars of which, how- ever, I mall defer till I have gone on with the French theatre to the death of Roxiiou. CALDERONE was very much pleafed to take advantage of; and, though perhaps he would have been thefirft to have ackr.owledgecUiis obllgatipns to CORNEILLE, the enemies of that great man propa- gated a repog that he had ftolen his play from CALDERONE, a calumny he fo.much defpifed that he did not think it v.orth hit, while to refute it. THE STAGE. 301 It was necefiary, however, to introduce the opera here, becaufe it immediately became the rage to fuch a degree that no dramatic fpectacle from ^ that time ftood the fmalleft chance of fucceG, that was not recommended to the public by fplendid icenery, machinery, and decorations; by which tide of folly we fee CORNEILLE borne away as well as the reft; for in 1650, came out Andromede uJhered to the public by all the foppery of the Venetian opera. 4 It would be pityful and unworthy to defcribe all the particulars of that puppet mew through which the public were now to admire the brillia. i talents of the great CORNEILLE. One principal object of admiration was a living pegafus, flung in a way fo peculiar, that he fprung into the air and feemed loft in the clouds. The poor horfe it feems was kept without food till he w^ almoft ftarved, and in that condition fattened inlne flies to a core! with pullies fo conftructcd that by a counterpoife his own weight could carry him to the other fide of the ftage. When if was the proper time for this pegafus to exhibit, a man on the other fide, fo concealed as not to be feen by the audience, held in fight of the famifhed animal a fieve of oats. The creature in- llant!y began neighing and pawing; and when he Jiad been fufficiently irritated, the rope that had re- 302 THE STAGE. ;i * into the air till he arrived at his {table in the clouds; where he was recompenfed;-by a good {upper for (trained him was loofened and the effort threw hin into the air til where he wa: his dexterity. ^r " 'Tis true." fays the author of this article, < we have feen living horfes in the Italian opera, " but none of them had to boaft the warlike ardour " of the pcgafus in CORNEILLE'S tragedy of An~ " dromedc) his movements were admirable, and cer- " tainly contributed very materially to the fuccefs " of the piece." Having fettled CORNEILLE fo " comfortably upon his pegafus, or rather upon the hobby horfe of cardinal MAZARINE, \ mall now go over fuch circumftances as paffed from 1642 to 1650, and particularly numerate the various fuccefs 'of ROTROU. TRISTAN during this interval produced four plays, which had tolerable fuccefs, but not equal to his Mariamne, which I have already mentioned as a celebrated piece. SCUDERY brought forward only one, which was his lad. It was a tragi- coined y called Axiane, and written in profe *. This piece was pro- * SCUDERY, whofe emoluments and preferment came through the channel of RICHELIEU'S bounty, did of courfe in that ftatefman's life time what he was bid, and, therefore, could not indulge his own vein as to writting ; in which inftance the cardinal for once was cer. 303 ?#,-: ducedin 1643, and though Scu DERY lived till 1607, we hear no more of him as a dramatic writer. SCARRON, who was born in 1610, and died in^ 1660, brought out his firft piece called Jodeht ; or* the Maitre Valet, in 1645; and f ur others before 1650. The laft of thefe, LHeritier Ridicule, pleafed Louis the Fqurteenth, when he was young, to fuch a degree that he had it performed three times in one day. It will be neceffary hereafter to fpeak of this extraordinary man and his productions. L'ETOILE, a very laboured writer, brought out one piece in 1643, an< ^ another in 1647. '^ e ^ s ^d to have affifted RICHELIEU, and fome authors will* have it that he was one of the five who fat as the o^enfible authors of Les Tuilleries, by which^it mould appear that CORNEILLE did not fuftain that difgrace; but I am afraid that we muft not flatter * tainly in the right ; for finding that SCUDERY had nothing for it but an inflated (Me borrowed from the fchool of SENECA, he adviled him never to write a play in profe. As (bon, however, as the cardinal died, and he had' the liberty of writing without a dictator, he in- dulged the bent of his own inclinations and wrote Axiane in profe ; when his mufe, being unaccuftomed to walk without Itilts, hobbled lo wretchedly that the piece was not only configned to oblivion but the author too; for this failure, added to the dillike the public con- ceived againlt him for meddling with the reputation of CORNEILLE, induced him at the perfuafion of his friends to lay down the employ, meat of a dramatic writer. THE STAGE. ourfelves with any fiich hopes, for VOLTAIRE, and many other authors have taken fo much pains to af- certain the fact, that it is my unwilling duty, as a iiftorian. to let it down for truth. LASERRE, a curious author, and a vhimfical character, brought out in 1643, a tragedy called Sainte Catherine, and another the following year called Thifee. He wrote five other wretched plays, foine of which, howeverjrnhrough the influence of RICHELIEU, had great fuccefs; in particular Ti.o/iu's Morus, firil pcrfomicd about fix months ''Tore the Cardinal died. It was ixprcicnted at rise Calais Royal, and feems to have been one of the ,, cardinal's lafl efforts to injure the reputation of CORNEILLE *. * A public print of that time, evidently under the influence of the i.-.ruin;J, gives the follo\vi:v; account of Tt.-tmas il/'.?/'.-. 9f* Thispfay acquired a reputation which no other of its time ever " had. Caa'dinul RICHELIEU was n>elted into tears whenever he was " at its reprefentation ; he gave public teftimony of his high efteem " for it, and perfuaded all the court to follow his example. Le " Palais Royal, was too final 1 fqr the concourfe of people that " crouded to it, and four porters were killed in one evening endea- " vouring to keep away the multitude. This is," fays the para* graph writer, " what I call a good piece. Monfieur CORSF.ILLE has P" never had fuch powerful proofs of the excellence of his pro- " ductions, and I never will permit him to rank before LA SERRE " till any one of his pieces (hall have excited fo much public ?' curiolity as to be^the death of five porters,.' 1 THE STAGE. 305 . I, A SERRE was librarian to Mounfier. brother of Louis the Thirteenth, and had a fuperficial knack, in confequence of his acquaintance with catalogues and the names of authors, of writing a great denl without method or coherence. Nobody, however, felt or acknowledged this more readily than he did himfelf; for, being totally without difguife, he al- lowed that his propeniity was the cacoethes fcri- bendi and nothing more j' v . which, as it turned to fuck good account, he indulged in order to catch the at- tention of fo profitable a patron as the cardinal. Having attended one day to a very long and tire- fome public dilcourfe, he embraced the orator, as he deicended from the roftrum. " My dear friend," faid he, " I did not think fuch a thing was poffible." " What?" faid the other. " W r hat!" replied LA^ SERRE, " why you have uttered more nonfenfe in <4 an hour than I have been able to write in tw< *' years, and yet I have tried hard too." LA SERRE ufed to fay that he boafted one ad- vantage that no author had ever done before him ; * for," faid be, " I get rich by writing wretched " productions, while men of merit are dying of * hunger*." When he was reproached with the * I know not what the inexperience of [.A SF.KRF. inij>,hr induce him to believe ; but I fancy, though he conceived the application tj have belonged only to himfelf, it is a Jm^ntuble truth that it ?ver has bcedMKi ever will be but too gent a Igfeeutable * 306 STAGE. ' m THE STAGE. promptitude with which he wrote, he anfwercd tfiat his pegafus had golden wings and would not be re- Itrained, '$So I evqg^ faid he, " throw the rein " over his neck for I have fo little relifh for what is " called fame tHat I wotild rather get a fortune and 44 fpend it merrily than be miferable in this world 46 and fave up money to build a monument for me " after I die *. ^ - * ^ This ftrange character, who appears to "be more knave than fool, but who certainly was the in- different writer he himfelf reprefents, would never have examined books any further than to duft them^ if he had not been induced to try his hand at the inftance of RICHELIEU. ' LA CALFRENEDE,who enjoyed^in fome degree* ivour of RICHELIEU, and who was, as report ;, much indebted to the great CONDE for fome epifodic parts of his pieces, was a native of GAS- CONY, and a dramatic poet. He produced in all thirteen pieces, four or five of which appeared be- tween 1642 and 1650. To his patrons, however. 4 he is indected for his reputation, if it may Le faid * " The fact is," faid LA SERRE one day to a confidential friend, I beg, borrow, and fteal, to fuch a degree in my productions, and have fo little ability of my own, that this library of Monfieur may very properly be compared to a ferasjlio, the books to beautiful women, and myfell^Khe eiguch who guards thjMf % f THE STAGE. ^ , r that he had any. ""He read his comedy of Clarientc one day to RICHELIEU, who told him that the piece was tolerably good upon the whole, but that the expreffions were lac/ie ; a word fignifying, as to writings, loofe, carelefs, negligent, and, as to men, cowardly. ' 4 Cade/is" faid the author, in the true gafconade ftyle, " I would have your eminence " know that n^Auig lache ever belonged to the " houfe of CALPRENEDE." GOMBAULT, of whom there is nothing re* markable but that he was one of the members of Beaux-efpnts, formed under CONRADE, which gave rife to the French academy, brought out two pieces during the intermediate period at which we are arrived. He was certainly a man of talents, but he was rather a general poet than a dramatic . writer. I come now to fpeak of THOMAS CORN BILLED who was born at ROUEN, it has been faid on the very day, certainly in the fame year, that his bro- ther brought out his comedy of Mclitc. He followed the -fame career of his brother, but with lefs fuccefs, though fome think he ad- hered jpatftvftnctly to the rules of the thcaTre, a R r I THE STAGE. M - negative merit which, upon proper occafions, the great CORN'EILLE knew how to defpifc. " DES- " P-REAUX," fays a French author, "did right to call " him the Norman younger brother, but wrong to fay " he has written nothing reafonable. This fatirift " had, perhaps, forgotten that many of his pieces " keep the ftage with reputation*." *'" As thefe brothers go on hand in hand, I mail have plenty of opportunity to notice their different merits. At prefent I mail only fpeak of fuch pieces as T. CORNEILLE brought out before the year 1650. His firft piece a comedy, called Les Engagements du Hazard, came out in 1647, li was taken from two pieces of CALDERONE; one hav- ing the fame title, and the other The houfe that has two doors it is difficult to guard. His next comedy, produced in 1649 ca Ued Les Feint Ajlrologue, is alfo taken from a play of CALDERONE under the fame title, El Ajlrvlogo Fingido ; which, two years before, had however been brought forward at the. theatre by D'OUVILLE, brother of Bois- ROBERT, whom I mall prefently have occafion to mention. 3> TEkefe piece^rand Don Bertrand de Cigarral, W ^fc * This obfervation was written about the year 1773. ^t .* I THE STAGE. g O g r which came out early in 1650, are all I fliall fpeak of at preient from T. CORNEILLE, which as the firft and fecond were taken from CALDERONE, and the other, from DON FRANCESCO UE ROXAS, and after all was a mere farce, though in the minority of Louis the Fourteenth, it was certainly performed at court more than twenty times, amount yet to no- thing that promifes for him a reputation likely to keep pace with his brothc mm a reputation iiKely to icr. B0|| n author of inconfiderable D'OuviLLE was an merit, and it well might b"e fo if he was as he is re- prefented to have been much inferior to his brother. The pieces he brought out from 1642 to 1650, were Jodelet Aftrologue> almoft copied as abovementioned by T. CORNEILLE, The Coeffeufe a la Mode, and Les Soupfons fur les Apparence, in all which he is fuppofed to have been ailifted by BOISKOBF.RT. B which was taken from CALPERONE, and alniojl the fame manner with T. CORNEILLE'S firll piece Les Engagement du Ifazard. This did T. COR- NEILLE but little fervice, but he excufed himfelf . OISROBERT in 1646 brought out L'Inconnue t l in by faying that he had long written it .but had reafons, for keeping it back. BOISROBERT brought put be.- fore 1650 alfo La jaloufe D^elle Meme, tramlated from Lopes de Vega. ' *t THE STAGE. BENSERADE. a writer of merit, about this time produced two or three plays. He was'Born of ag^o- ble family in NORMAN OY, in 1612, and intended for the church, of which body he was expected to have made a very refpectable member, but his deftiny decided otherwife; for 'having feen Madamoifelle BELLE ROSE, a beautiful woman, and a favourite ac- trefs, he ibon exchanged his breviary fora caft book, and his faints for the mufes. It is aftonifhing with what avidity he cultivated his theatrical employments. Nothing came amifs, as we {hall fee when we find him compofmg Ballets in conjunction with OLIX- AULT and LULLY, By the liberality of melqueen, cardinal MAZARINE, and feveral other perfon^ rank, he acquired a large fortune, which he uninteruptedly till his death, which happened, at the age of eighty, in an extraordinary manner. He had fuffe red Tome time the greateft agoi^|s from the (lone ; which, notwithstanding his advanced age, he was determined to get rid of by cutting. His courage, however, was- put to a proof (till more extraordinary, for a furgcon, who by way of pre- paration had been initructed to bleed him, wounded an artery and was fo alarmed for fear of the confe- quenc.es that he fled without binding up the arm. BEN^RIADE, therefore, bled to fuch a degree that afliftance came too late, and ihey had jult time to 4 THE STAGE. o tl call in a confefTof when he expired with great firm- neis in the arms of his friends. When we have feen the fuccefs of ROTROU'S re- maining pieces, we fhall have before us every thing of any material confequence that was oppofed to iyggtE from the om ofRiCHELiEU till 1650. PARIS at that time fwarmed with authors, and fo indeed it has from that time to this; but my limits will not permit me to give more than the lead- ing features of dramatic productions and events. ROTROU brought out ten pieces during the in- terval we are fpeaking of, and all with a confiderable degree of reputation particularly Cofrocs, which has been often revived with fuccefs, Don Lopes de Cardonne which was proclaimed worthy the pen of COR.VEILLE, and Venceflas ; which, in addi- to what has been {aid or*! already, was re- :d by MAR MONT EL, and begat a literary dj^ pute, that I (hall notice in its place, highly honour- able to the reputation of ROTROU. In fliort, taking in all the circum mull certainly place R&TROU *& dramatic writer of eiMence. He rJWtefled afl^p requifi^s of a poet of this defcription. He knew character, con- duct, and di (crimination ; he had the good fenfe to^ 9 v *j^r *t THKSTAG^ reject, as much as the times would permit him, that barbarity which characterifed the French ilage; and, though his own talents were, not of weight and confequence enough to attempt the Herculean tafk of cleanfing this augean ftable, yet when he found CORNEILLE had refolutely undertaken this labour, he certainly lent him a refpectable helping hand. So that we may fairly fay, if CORNEILLE had never lived, ROTROU would have enjoyed the firft rank in his time as a dramatic poet; butCouNEiLLE having lived, ROTROU moved only in a fecondary fphere, although his reputation derived more fplen- dour from the reflection of this luminary than, it ever could have boafted from its own proper power. At the fame time it muft be acknowledged that fhe reputation of CORNEILLE derived no mean ad- dition from the literary race, in which he was very often hard run, that with 'ftrenuous exertion he ained from ROTROU. ! THE STAGE. CHAP. X. THE OPERA, AND CORNEILLE'S FIRST RETIREMENT FROM THK STAGE. As the opera very materially deranged the ftate of the theatre about this period, it is neceffary it fliould be mentioned here, but I fliall defer the account I mean to give of its origin till I have brought the French ftage forwarder, left it fhould prove too much a digreffion, and fo cool the intereft that na- turally rifes from a progreffive account of tragedies and comedies. I* ,A I mail, therefore, content myfelf with intro- ducing this fpecies of entertainment, which ren- dered the French ftage a model for fcenery to the neighbouring nations, which has been the lource from whence our opera has been fupplied with dan- cers ; and which firft conquered fenfe in favour of found, and afterwards found in favour of agility, by quoting the words of VOLTAIRE. fi It is to two Cardinals," fays he, u f that tragedy tffe dy ' 314 THE STAGE., " and opera owe their exiflence in FJM*UCE. CoR- " NEILXE ferved an apprenticeship Hfler Riciu- " LIEU with other authors, who worked as amanu- " enfifes at thofe dramatic plans which were in- " vented by the cardinal, and in which he intro- " duced fome very bad lines. " Cardinal MAZARINE was the firll who intro- " duced peras, which was a bungling bufincfs, " however, a circumftance the more extraordinary " as that minifter did not write any part of them. 64 In 1647 arrived from ITALY a troop of Ita- " lian fingers, decorators, and an orchellra. They " performed in the Louvre the' tragi-comedy of " Orpheus., in Italian verfe, fet to mufic. The per- " formance fet all PARIS afleep. Very few un- " derllood Italian, fewer hacr a tafte for mufic, and " every body hated the cardinal. The piece \yas " hilled, the cardinal ridiculed, and the French t; grew outrageous againft a man who had prc- * 4 fumed to ufe an endeavour to pleafe them. 44 In the beginning, however, of the Sixteenth 44 century.they had ballets in FRANCE, and in 4 - thcfe ballets fome vocal mufic, relieved by cho- " rufes, which, indeed, were little more than the plain gregerian chant. Na^there are accounts :i!E STAGE. u of Syregj-who fang at the wedding of the Due Pt F . fr Piirlv a< fh<=> vpar 1 rR.i Knt T QTY> " DE Joy^PsE, fo early as the year 1582, but I am li afraid they were ftrange Syrens. " Cardinal MAZ AR IN E was fo little difcouraged " at the bad fuccefs of his Italian opera, that as " foon as he came into full power, he fent again for " a troop from his own country, who performed Lt " Nozze de Pcleo d de Thetide, in three acts, and, to " make all fure, Louis XIV. danced at this wed- " ding. The French were charmed to fee their " king young, graceful, and of a figure both no- ' ble and amiable, after he had been hunted from ' the " pened. capital, fencing in it as if nothing had hap- o " Notwithftandinji the cardinal arj^l his Italians '* pleafed as little on repetition as at firft, MA- ", ZARINE ftill periifted. He fent for fignor CA- *' VALLI, who brought out in the gallery of the i" Louvre the opera, of Xerxes, in five acts, but *' unfortunately the French went fafter afleep than " ever, and all their confolation was that they " (hould be relieved from the opera by the death * of the cardinal, who, indeed, drew on himfelf a *' th^^and ridiculous farcafms, and g^e place to ~bc <:oti raged, but that, iitverthclefs, he mould refill with all his influ- ence the introduction of machines and other me- chanical operations, which, though ingenious in themfelves, difgraced tragedy, and lowered it to the level of pantomime ; he would not only have kept his own fame up to its legitimate (tandard, but all other writers, who feeing CORN LILLE mifled, were glad enough to have recourfe to this new ve- hicle to fame to bolder up their own (rickety re- putation, would have remained at their polts. By this means tragedy would have kept within the pale of its own province. As it was. did CORN E i r. i. E do this ? No. If the Mountain had rcfufed to go to Mahomet, Mahomet THE STAGE. g 21 would have been glad enough as formerly to have gone to the Mountain. But this was not the cafe, CORNEILLE, iramoveable, had he chofe to have remained fo, fluctuated, trimmed, and accommo- dated himfelf to the caprice of the times. Andromede was followed up in 1651, by a heroic comedy called Don Sanche D'arragon ; which, by the ufual affiftance of machines, had fome eclat, but was foon withdrawn and performed only in the provincial towns. This piece was not in the ftyle of CORNEILLE, being takep from two Spanim plays, which had been firft romances, and it would have been better for his reputation if it had never been produced. CORNEILLE himfelf attributes the want of fuc- cefs in this piece to its having been prohibited^ Why he does not tell us. His excufes, however, are but lame, for he confefies that by his taking his piece from the Spanim (lories he was entangled in the lail act, that he was obliged to bring a man from the clouds to make the necefTary difcovery for the catadrophe. The fact is, CORNEILLE giv- ing into the new tafte turned projector. The piece is properly neither tragedy nor comedy, and, there- fore, heterogeneous and unworthy COHNEILLE. > 22 THE STAGE. Nicomede, \vhich came out in 1652. was anothet experiment. CORNEILLE feems at this time to have grown tired. He owns that this piece is upon an extraordinary conduction. " But," fays he, " it is my twenty-firft production ; after having 41 written forty thoufand verfes, it was not very eafy " to find any thing new without going out of the 44 high road of nature to fearch for fuch ideas as are 4f excited by extraordinary objects." This decla- ration might have ferved BOISROBERT, or RICHE- LIEU, but CORNEILLE fhould have difdained it. " Tendernefs, and the paffions," continues hej " which are the foul of every tragedy, has nothing " to do with this." Upon what then could he ground his fuccefs? 44 Grandeur and courage " only are to be found here, fuch grandeur and *' fuch courage as have no other fupport than that * 4 love of virtue which is imprinted in the heart of " nations." Wkhouttendernefs! Strange doctrine. This piece, but for fome applications to a popu- lar event, which parts of it contajned, would have had but indifferent fuccefs. CORNEILLE, how- ever, was at all times fo idolized by the people, that fome time after when BARON, who was con- iidered as the French Rolcius, and almoit permitted THE STAGE. 3 2 3 to do any thing, attempted to alter fome paflages in, a way as he thought more to the public tafte, the. houfe, as with one voice, infifted that the diction of CORNEILLE mould not be violated, and obliged him to repeat his part exactly as it had been origi- nally written. Pertharite, his next piece, produced in 1653, was literally damned, and CORNEILLE immediately retired from the theatre, with a declaration that he would never return to it. This refolution he kept fix years, which time I mall take to fpeak of Mo- LIERE, who brought out his firft play in the very year when CORNEILLE had declared he had brought out his laft. VOL, I. T 324 THE STAGE. CHAP. XL WOLIERE AND THE STAGE TO CORNEILLK'S RETURN. JEAN BAPTISTE POQUELIN, fo celebrated under the name of Mo HE RE, was born at PARIS in 1620. He brought out his firft piece in 1653, and died in 1673*. Birth, which in no inftance that ever was read of either conferred or precluded ta- lents, was not among the advantages MOLIERE had to bdaft. Both his grandfather arid his father were valets des chambres and tapeftry -makers to Louis the Thirteenth, and his fate would have been ito cm up tapes and bindings, and hang parlours and bed- chambers, had not his genius induced him to con- fider thefe only as fecondary objects, and fuch as might humbly ferve to decorate thofe better repre- fentations of nature with which fhe had given him, the talent of ornamenting his country. MOLIERE for the firft fourteen years followed SHAKESFEAR and MOLIERE died at the fame age. THE STAGS. 325 the bufmefs of his father, and a patent was even taken out for him as fucceflbr to his father's charge, but he would neither yield to this nor would thofe friends, many of whom was celebrated characters fcbout the court, who witnefled the growing merit of this youth, confent to his remaining uninftructed in thofe fhidie.s by means of which they were fa- tisfied he would arrive to fome extraordinary re- putation in either literature or the fciences. He was in confequence fent to 'a college at CLERMONT, where he got intimate with CHA- PELL*, BERNIER, and CYRANO*, who were all pupils of the famous GASSENDI, from whom the young Poo. UE LIN imbibed with great avidity thofe precepts of philofophy which taught him after- wards fo well to reafon, and which ferved as the * CYRANO, born the fame year with MOI.IERF, was a mo(lex traordinary character. He was of a generous fpirit, and as courageous as a lion. He was a cadet in the regiment of guards, and became the terror of all the bravoes of his time. There is a ftory of his attacking a large party of defperadoes who Ifed way-laid one of his friends, and rither killing or wounding feven of them. For his coolnefs and va- lour in the field he was called Dlntrepide. He had been frequently wounded, and at laft he died at the age of thirty-five of a wound in the head which he had received from a piftol ball fifteen months before. He caught atafle for writing from MOLIERE, and his Pe- dant youe, which hai been imitated on our theatre, is by no means destitute of merit. T t 2 THE STAGE: foundation of that reputation which guided hirti through the greateft part of his works. A tafte for dramatic entertainments having per- vaded all FRANCE in confequence of RICHELIEU'S patronage of the ftage, many focieties in the nature of our private theatricals, a little upon the principal of the old title of Les Enfans Sans Souci, united in domeftic parties to perform plays. POQUELIN made one in a fociety of this description, which was called the Illuftrious Theatre. Here he changed his real name for that of Mo- LI ERE, which circumftance of changing names was extremely common in FRANCE among the poets and actors, but in MOLIERE is faid actually to have arifen from a fear of contaminating the race of valets des chambres and tapedry-makers, who thought it a greater honour to remain blockheads and receive chriftian burial, than to amufe and en- lighten mankind and be rewarded with a fentence of excommunication *. * This diftinction has been the parent of numbef lefs pleafantries, fome of which I (hall from time to t?me fet down. At pfefent the only one that occurs to me is this. A French actor having amaffed a ium of money he bought an eftate, which they call feigneuriale y and we c^ll a manor. The firft Sunday he went to church, it being the curate's duty to offer up prayers for this new feigneur, he was.. THE STAGE. $ 2 - In this fociety Mo LI ERE became acquainted \vith a woman of the name of LE BE j ART, who had been a country performer ; and as he found her fentiments of the fame calt as his own, he agreed that they fhould form a company and go to LYONS, where LEtourdi was firft performed. This was in 1653, and its fuccefs was fo prodigious that it fairly ruined the other company of comedians eftablifhed in that town; many of whom begged leave to join Mo L i E R E, who, with his company thus ftrengthened, went to LANGUEDOC, and offered his fervices to the Prince of CONTI, who then held his court at BEZIERS *. This prince had known MOLIERE at college, and had not only been prefent when he performed at PARIS, but had very often invited him to his palace. L'Etourdi, with the protection of this prince, experienced at BEZIERS new fuccefs. He extremely embarrafled in what manner to pray for a perfon excom- municated by the church. T^ ere was no help f r it however ; and being driven into a corner, " My dear brethren," faid lie, " let us *' pray for the converfion of iuch a one ; finner, comedian, and lord *' of this purith." * The Prince of CONT! who held MOLIF.RE in real eftimation, entreated him to remain with him in quality of fecietary ; but hap- pily for the French theatre, though he had the highell fenfe of the honour offered him, he preferred following the iinpulic of his own genius. 228 THE STAGE. brought out atfo fome farces, one of which was called Le Docteur,Amoreux, and another Les Trois Docteurs ; which, being trifles, he very properly afterwards fuppreffed. Having travelled with his company to GRENO- BLE, he went firil to ROUEN, and afterwards to PARIS, where he determined, if poflible, to fix. By his connections he got accefs to Monfieur, who prefented him to the king and the queen-mother; they faw him and his company perform, and granted him permiffion to exhibit in the Guards of the old Louvre, and afterwards in the Palais Royal. At length his company was retained in the fervice of the king, in 1665, and this was the commencement of a real tafte for comedy in FRANCE. Le Depit Amoureux, which had been performed at B E z i E R s in an imperfect flate, was brought out at PARIS in 1658, with great fuccefs ; but Les Preci- enfes Ridicules was the firft: comedy that permanently fixed the reputation of Mo LI ERE. At the finifh of the firft nights reprefentation of this piece, a crony of his, took our old acquaintance CHAPELAIN by the hand, " You and I," faid he, " approved all thofe " fubtle criticifms which abounded formerly in " compliment to our old friend the cardinal ; but " believe me we have been taught to night fo rnuck THE STAGE. g f real tafte, that we ought to burn all we have ad-' " mired, and to admire all we have burnt." The fuccefs of this piece fairly fhewed MO- LI ERE upon what ground he flood. " I will no <; longer be reproached," faid he, " with copying 6i PLAUTUS, and TERENCE, and 1't.udying ME- 4; NANDER. In future I have nothing to do but &i ftudy the world." The Precieufes Ridicules was performed at court, though the royal family were at that time on a journey to the PYRENEES. On their return the price to Mo HERE'S theatre was doubled. Ad- mi fiion to the parterre before that time had been only fix fols. I mall now fpeak of QUINAULT, who for a con- fiderable time was not allowed that mare of merit he certainly poflerTed ; nay, to this moment, fuch is the force of prejudice, that his name in the ge- neral idea of French literature is feldom clafled refpectably, though there can be no doubt but that upon the whole he was the beft lyric poet FRANCE ever knew*; a fpecious of merit furely that {lands very high in the gradation of literary fame. * When I fay this I mean a writer of poetry proper for mufic ; 2^0 THE STAGE. We have feen already that VOLTAIRE con- fidered QUINAULT as a man of abilities. This opinion many other French writers have unequivo- cally confirmed, but a better proof, a perul'al of his works, will e(lblifh for him that reputation \vhich has been fo often denied him ; for, in thofe works, among a great deal of tram written to hu- mour LULLY, is to be found great and (triking poetical beauties, fuch as BOILEAU, with all his bitternefs and invective againft a man who had never offended him, had neither the foul nor the capacity to write. QUINAULT, however, in great meafure deferved every fyllable that has been faid againft him. His permitting an arrogant, impudent mufician to appro- priate to himfelf quietly and comfortably that ge- nius and thofe talents which were legitimately in the poet and not in him, was as unpardonable as it is inconceivable. But it fhould feem that if LULLY laughed at QUINAULT, QUINAULT laughed at LULLY; for, pardoning every advantage the mu iician took on the fide of reputation, the poet had which, I take to be the true unadulterated fenfe of the word lyric ; for taken to that extant which it often ufurps it is capable of any thing but harmony, and I could name lyric odes that if a compofer were infpired with the genius of APOLLO he would yet be incapubk of fetting them to mafic. 33 l liis revenge on the fide of profit, or rather prudence? for while LUL'LY diflipated his emoluments, Ouiv- AULT took care of his affairs. He married :he widow of a merchant, who had beer v; id friend, with a fortune of f>nv thoufand grown.- Bought a confiderable charge in the auditory of \ ts; he wrjs admitted into the French academy ; honoured with the Cordon de Sf. Michel; ai;- in PARIS in 1688, at the age of tifty three, with a fortune of more than a hundred thoufand crowns. As QUINAULT employed his talents more for the opera than the theatre, we lhall have but little jto fay of him at prefent. His tragedies, except L'Ajlrate^ and LSAgrippa, have di {appeared from the theatre, and even thoie are weakly written : his heroes are no more than gallants, and his fubjects are no higher than paftoral and romance. His comedies are fuperior to his tragedies, and his Mere Coyu^ tie, and one or two others, give good expectation that if he had purfued this ftyle of writing he would not have cut an inconfiderable figure even by the fide of Mo LI ERE. OUINAULT'S firft piece for the regular theatre was a tragi-comedy called Les Rivales. It came VOL. 1. U U 332 THE STAGE. out in, 1653, and caufed a confiderable change in the mode of recompencing dramatic authors for their labours. It had been the cuitom to buy per- formances of authors for fuch prices as mould be agreed upon, which .was fometimes regulated ac- cording to the merit, but oftener according to the reputation of the writer, for the merit and the re- putation are now and then diflinct things. In ge- neral, however, thefe productions were fold low enough, the actors at that time having had the fame hold of the authors in FRANCE as the bookfellers have now in ENGLAND. This comedy of Les Rivales, which was little more than a copy from ROTROU, TRISTAN, of whom QUINAULI was the eleve, undertook to read to the ;c ;>rs under an idea that he could make a better bargain for his pupil than his pupil could have done for himfelf. The actors charmed with the piece, and upon a fuppofition that it was written by TRISTAN, offered a hundred crowns for it. Being undeceived, however, they told TRISTAN, that though QUINAULT appeared to have talents, yet as he had no eftablilhed reputation, they could not rifk that fum for the -piece, but would, at all ad- ventures, give fifty crowns; TRISTAN would not fuffer Qu IN AU LT to accede to this, and the matter was compounded by an agreement to give the au- THE STACK. g, thor a ninth of every night's receipt during the run of the play, provided that afterwards it fhould be- long exclulively to the actors. Thefe terms were accepted, and the propofal appeared fo fair and judicious, both on the part of authors and actors, that it has been ftrictly obferved ever fince; after-pieces, by way of proportion, bearing only the value, thole in two acts of a twelfth, and thofe in one of an eighteenth. QUINAULT after producing three plays with pafTable fuccefs, brought out, in 1656, a piece called Les Coups de Lameur and de Fortune ; but SCAR- RON tells us that this play is not at all attributable to QUINAULT, for that TRISTAN wrote the firft four acts, and that he himielf wrote the fifth after TRISTAN died. SCARRON'S pieces, from 1653 to 1659, were Don Japhet D'Armenie, LEcolier de Salamanque^ and /two others. The firft he introduced by the following burlefqu'e dedication to the king ; TO THE KING. " SIRE, <; ANY other Bel-efprit but myfelf would have v u 2 334 THE STAGE. " began with telling your majefty that you arc .** the greateft king upon earth; that you were " more knowing in the art of reigning at fourteen " years old than the oldeft greybeard; that you *' are the bed made among men much lefs among " kings; and. in mort, that you have nothing to do " but to ftretch out your arms and touch the top " of Mount Lebanon and as much farther, as you " pleafe. All this is very handfome and virtually " true; but I fliall fay nothing of it here. 1 (hall tl only fay, that fihce your power is fo great I M entreat you to ufe it to do me a little good; " for if you were to do me a little good, I fliould ct be much merrier; if I were much merrier, I *' mould write merrier comedies ; if I were to write *' merrier comedies, you would be more diverted ; " and if you were more diverted, your bounty 64 would not be thrown away. All this feems fo " reafonable that I am perfuaded I mould think " the conclufion fair, even were I as great a king et as your majefty, inftead of a poor miferable " devil as I really am, but neverthelefs " Your majefty's " Very obedient, cs And very faithful fubject and fervant, " SCARRON." LEcolier dc Salamanque, which came out in THE STAGE. 5c 1654, gave rife to a mod bitter quarrel between 'SeARRON and BOISROBERT. SCARRON had a cuftom of reading his works to his acquaintance, one of whom was BOISROBERT, who was io (truck with the circurnftances of this play as he heard it piece meal, that he did not fcruple to build his Genereux Ennemis upon this foundation; which, indeed, was .not all, for T. CORNEILLE worked The Gcnereufe, Ennemis into The Illujlres Lnnemis, and both thefe copies of SCAR RON'S play came out before the play itfelf ; fo that it had to encounter all the difadvantage of the firft and fecond imprefTion of it. But it did not ftop here, for BOISROBERT did his utmoft to decry the merit of LEcolier de Salamanque, and abufed SCARRON for dealing it from him, whereas he knew the contrary to have been the fact. This treatment SCARRON never pardoned ; and, being a much better writer than BOISROBERT, he threw out his invectives againft him in a (train of fuch fevere and bitter fatire that BOISROBERT felt their effects as long as he lived. T. CORNEILLE during his brother's abfence ac- quired fome celebrity. From my laft accounts of him to 1659, ne produced eight pieces. The firft three had merely paflablc fucceis, and the fourth g^5 THE STAGE. called Les Illujlres Ennemis, was even lefs att ended to on account of its being borrowed, as I have al- ready faid from BOISROBERT, who Mole it from SCAR RON. His fame from thence, however, be- gan to rife, and, indeed, to wear fo new an afpect that he no loner feemed to be the fame writer*. The tide of T. CORNEILLE'S reputation took a 9. mod extraordinary turn in 1656, when he pro- * This has been charitably accounted for under an idea that his brother, having retired from the theatre, lent him affiftance. It is certainly very poflible that upon occafion he might have confulted his brother, and his brother him ; for it is remarkable that no tw brothers ever lived in clofer union, nor had fo many natural and for- tuitous ties to bind this compact of affectionate alliance. They lived under the fame roof, they married two fifters whofe ages had the fame difproportion as their own, each had exactly the fame number of children as the other, and every thing relative to their fortunes was fo in common between them that they lived in this flyle more than twenty years before they came to any fettlement as to how their different affairs were fituated, which would not, probably, even then have taken place had not prudence dictated what proportion ought honourably to be affigned to each, that their families might know what they had to depend upon in cafe of death, or any cafual alter. ation in the eftablifhment of their children. All this is fo remark- able that it is impoffible but they mil ft have confulted each other in their writings; but yet it fliould feem that it was merely as to. opinion and nothing elfe, for never was there fp marked a difference between two writers; the great CORNEII.LE had too fplendid a genius fervily to buckle to regularity, and his brother had little more than that meafured regularity which never yet boafted th. and there are as innu- merable inftances of their being matured early in life as of fillynefs and dotage in old men ; and, if this be true, thefe are the circum- ftances which ought to be introduced on the ftage, being in nature and yet peculiar. It the remark of this fmtrling fatireft be admitted \vhat becomes of the glory of ALEXANDER, CHARLES the Twelfth of SWEDEN, and aft thofe heroes who atchieved wonders and yet died before they attained the prime of life. But this will ever be the way with thofe who cavil at what they cannot imitate. It is difficult to admire real merit in an author while you are obliged to deipife the man. But in BOILEAU, and I don't defpair of proving it, you muft defpife both the man "and the writer; and nothing caa more fully prove that he was neither born a poet nor a philanthropist, than his Art of Poetry, the fervile echo of an echo, where the only truth to be found is his pretended modefl declaration, which he ^iild not have made hud he expected it to have been believed, that the poem lias no other merit than being decked in the fpoils of HORACE. THE STAGE. terwards imitated by MAR MET, MONCH R F.TIEN, DE MONTREUX, and MAIRET, or, as has been already explained, VIAU D THEO.PHILE, which laft piece kept the Rage with celebrity. On this account COR NEI LLE has been blamed for bringing out a tragedy on the fame iubJct, and, , indeed, envy, at the fucccfs of MAiRET,*nas been kindly conlidered as his motive ; but not only the known character of CORN EI LLE contradicts this invidious report, it is completely refuted by hjp own declaration, in which he pays a compliment to his predeceflbr more flattering to his reputation than the play was capable of procuring him, and which Jie ought to have been very proud of, even van- guifhed as he was by his more able competitor. 3ut let us look after MOL i ERE. It mould be known that MOLIERE occupied with his company, a third theatre Au Pftit Bourbon, with the pcrmiflion of the king, where he performed alternately with the Italians, of whom I mail at a proper time give the hiilory. This theatre was afterwards' pulled down to build the grand entrance to the Louvre, and the king then took him into the Palais Royal, firft called his company La Troupe 1661. It was the firft piece that Mo LI ERE brought out at the theatre du Palais Royal, and the firft that he printed.. In quality of chief of the company of Monfieur, he, therefore, dedicated it to that prince. This comedy, which ferved as a model for Englifh and other authors, is taken from a Tale by BOCACE, which every body knows. The only dif- ference in the two plots is that, in BOCACE, a wo- man in love with a young man makes her confeflbr the gorbetween, who carries letters and prcfents un* deran idea that he ferves thepurpofes of devotion; and, in MOLIERE, an old man is fubuituted for the confeflbr, who is duped in the fame manner by a girl he is in love with and to whom he is the tutor, UEcole des Femmes^ MOLIERE'S next comedy , was performed for the firft time in 1662,. So du vided began to be the French at this time a^ to* MOLIERE; that under the idea, probably, of his,, commencing ARISTOPHANES, and ifiuing perfon-. alities from the ftage, whereas he in fact perforated 1 men only by perfonating manners, he fuftained all forts of affronts. The public were extremely di- vided as to the merit of this play. It gained ground, fiowever, and brought a great deal of money. The-fe 4. Y y 24$ THE STAGE. cabals induced Mo LI ERE in the following year to write a piece which he called LCritique dc LEcolt des Femmes. This piece was the firft of the kind that ever appeared on the French theatre. It is rather . a dialogue than a comedy; Mo LI ERE, however, is to be commended for having written it, for he very happily, while he points out the faults of his play, turns its enemies into ridicule. The Mercure Galant^ conducted by a man of the name of VISE, who was conftantly flicking in MOLIERE'S fkirts. has the kindnefs thus to criticife this piece by anticipation. " We are to fee in a fhort time a piece entitled " La, Critique de L'Ecole des Femmes, where the au- " thor, foi difant, is to enumerate all the faults in " his piece, and to excufe them at the fame time. " Curious, that a man fhould take fo much pains ' : to defend a piece which is not his own, but written " by the Abbe du BUISSON, who is one of the " moft gallant men of the age. But MOLIERE has 4i the audicity to deny this. He fays that the " Abbe certainly did write a piece on this fubject *' and bring it to him, and that he could not help " allowing it coniiderable merit, though he had his 44 reafons for not performing it. What does all this 44 fay ? That this cunning comedian, whofe bed " merit is to know how to take advantage, dif- THE STAGE. 049 " cerned in the Abbe's piece fomething that could " pleafe the public, and fo palmed it upon them ** as his own." The Abbe might have written a piece upon this fubject, but it was perfectly unneceflary that MO- LI ERE mould copy that piece, for he had only to go to the fame fource where the Abbe derived his ma- terials, which was a book entitled Le Nuitsfacdieufes du Seigneur Straparole ; which is a hiftory of a man who communicates to his friend all that paffes be- tween him and his miftrefs, not knowing that his friend is his rival. But it now became pitiable to fee pieces on the theatres in the fhape of disjointed critiques; and really it is to be regretted that Mo LI ERE, in imi- tation of the fun when the flies wanted to put him out, did not mine on inftead of condescending to notice the fwarm of tiny critics that furrounded him. As it was, the cabal againft him, though it did not injure him, gave him great inconvenience, and more than one critique, which would have died away forgotten, became noticeable to the public by his pointing it out. BOURSAULT, a writer of real merit, and who was now coming forward, took occafion to render Y y a 35 THE STAGE. himfelf popular by bringing out at the Hotel de Bourgrgne, a piece called Le Portrait du Peintre, which was not only a critique of L'Ecole des FemmeSj but produced at the fame time; and contained, as far as he could learn or imagine, the fame matter of Mo LIE RE'S piece under that title*. MOLIERE now began really to be piqued, and he brought out in the fame year his Jnpromptft de VerfailltS) levelled directly at BOURSAULT, whom he treated with the greateft contempt and derifion; referving to himfelf, however, a degree of noblenefs; for this contempt, and this derifion went no further than the genius and talents of BOURSAULT, whereas BOURSAULT has defcended in his ftrictures on Mo- HERE to attack his private character. This piece alfo is a rrioft fevere and fuccefsful fatire on the^performers at the Hotel dc Bourgogne, whom MOLIERE confiders as having inftigated BOURSAULT to ridicule him; and, indeed, though * This the reader fees was no difficult matter ; for nothing could be eafier than 'to felect the known and acknowledged faults of L'Ecole des Femmes and excufe them exactly the way that its author would do. This was what ftruck BOURSAULT, who fucceeded fo well in hisdsfign that at laft it was faid, in addition to MOLIERE'S having ftolen his EcoJe des Ffmtnes from L'ABBE DU BUISSON, he ftole his criticjue of L'Ecole (its Femniei from BOURSAULT* THE STAGE. 3l no one could commend this fpirit of party between two bodies whofe bufinefs was only to entertain the public, yet Mo LI ERE received and deferved great praife for the able manner in which he conducted this controverfy ; for, in anfwer to their pityful invec- tives which he {corned to imitate, he contented him- felf with pointing out their faults as performers, par- ticularly the fleepy monotony of their declamation, \vhich he did \vith fuch judgment that the ridicule which followed this difcovery drove them into a cor- ner and they were obliged to correct their faults or be laughed at; and thus MOLIERE, in refenting a private injury, did a public benefit. BOURSAULT, whom I mall now introduce, was one of thofe extraordinary proofs that {hew us how infinitely genius ranks before education. He vva.s born at BOURGOGNE in 1638, and died in PARIS in 1701. We find him at the age of twenty-three bringing out fuccefsful comedies, and two year* afterwards entering into a controverfy with a man of Mo HERE'S wonderful talents, though he could fpeak nothing but a provincial jargan called Patois, no more like French than Erie or Irifh is to Englim, at thirteen, and had then firft to learn to write, and afterwards to chufc what language be fhould write in. STAGE; It was not long, however, after he came to PARIS, which was in 1 1651, before he taught himfelf to ; write and fpeak French- elegantly; and, what may appear very extraordinary, without knowing a word of Greek or Latin, his ftyle was fraught with the native purity of the ancients. But I cannot find any thing irreconcileable in. this. ; Nature taught them, nature taught him. Neither they nor he had been tainted with the foppery of the fchools. His conception was fo ftrong, his ideas were fo true, and his fancy was fo pliant, that he had nothing to do but to think and write. His happy genius accommodated itfelf to every ftyle. His tragedies manifeft a firm mind and a flrength of conception equal to a defcription of the nobleft paffions. His comedies contain lively pictures of men and man- ners fukable fo all ranks, all ages, and all times. He is ferious, comic* moral, and lively without vio- lating the rules of tafte. It muft now be recollected that I am fpeaking of his beft and lateft productions. In his early ones, there is certainly, and it would be wonderful if there were not a great deal of tram ; but there are ' traits of genius every where, and he arrived at laft to a taile fo pure, and a ftyle fo chafte, that " he was THE STAGE. he retired in 1653. The advantage taken of his ab- fence to model the theatres to the rules of art, fo, enervated the drama, that what it gained on the fide * Befides his dramatic productions CORNEILLE produced a va- riety of things, both in French and in Latin, all \vlrch bear the (lerling tfamp of an extraordinary and commanding genius; a genius, like the tripod of the Sybil, which it is unpoffible to approach withou^ feeling a fuddea entauiiafm. THE STAGE. 385 of tafte and refinement, it loft on the fide of fim- plicity and nature. The grandeur of tragedy in par- ticular funk after Mo LI ERE had taught them how to admire true comedy, and the foftnefs and effiminacy, introduced by RACINE, which, in proportion as it funk to mere ftyle and regularity loll fight of the fublirne. enchained the theatre in the (hackles of complaifance and fervility j till women, the univer- fal rulers of French fafhions, became the arbiters of dramatic excellence, and the courtier bore away the victory from the philofopher, who was now in derifion called Old CORNEILLE. He, however, proudly difdained to adopt this new tafte. Not becaufe he could not have excelled RA- CINE, nor becaufe his age had enfeebled his mind both of which obfervations have been urged againft him for in thofe fcenes of Pfyche, which he wrote, but did not acknowledge, he has purpofely aban- doned hirnfelf to an excefs of tendernefs which RA- CINE would have found it difficult to imitate. CORNEILLE was of a portly ftature, he had an agreeable countenance, a large nofe, a handfome mouth, and eyes full of fire; the whole effect lively, and marking, and proper to be tranfmitted to pof- terity either in a medal or a bull. He know, as a perfect matter, Les Belles Lettres, hillory, politics, and every other elegant and erudite fludy ; but his great and favourite object was the theatre; for any 3*6 THE STAGE. thing elfe he had neither leifure, nor curiofity. nor 'much eftecm. He (poke, even on fubjects he well underflood, diffidently, and to know the great CORN KILL*; he mult be read. ;J He was grave, but never four; his humour was plain, but never rude ; he was a kind hufband. a fond parent and*- a faithful friend. His temperament in- clined him to love, but never to libertifm. He had a firm and independent mind, without fupplenefs. but was little calculated to make a fortune at a French court*, whofe manners he defpiled. He wa.s fenfible of praife.buthedetefted flattery; diffident of his own merit, and forward to encourage the merit of others. To great natural probity, he joined a fervid but not a bigotted love of religion; and, indeed, inch was his public talents, and his private virtues, that it is diffi- cult to fay which was predominent in this truly great and juflly celebrated character, the man, or the wiiicr. * It is very material to add here; that though CORNEILLE, by the cabals of RICHELIEU, wa> kept out of the French academy till after that minifter's death, yet the whole world have allowed him to have been a brilliant ornament of that fociety, and he \\asat its head when he died. It will be but juftice hereafter to iniert the elegant eulogium of RACINE on this great man, when his brother, T. CORNEILLE, was admitted into the academy as his fiiccdfor. THE END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. ^* -i O UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles ID-URL M mr REC 1 REC'DYRLOCTlOW 0. 'I 976 UNIVERSITY of AT LOS AN< LIBR