e

duction of love stories.

No solid reason, how

ever, can be assigned for this predominancy of . love upon the stage. Indeed it not only limits the natural extent of tragedy, but degrades its . majesty. Mixing it with the great and solemn revolutions of human fortune, tends to give tragedy the air of gallantry and juvenile entertainment. Without any assistance from love, the drama is capable of producing its highest effects upon the mind.

Beside the arrangement of his subject, and the conduct of his personages, the tragic poet must attend to the propriety of his sentiments. These must be suited to the characters of the persons, to whom they are attributed, and to the situations, in which they are placed. It is chiefly in the pathetic parts, that the difficulty and importance of this rule are greatest. We go to a tragedy, expecting to be moved; and, if the poet cannot reach the heart, he has no tragic merit; and we return cold and disappointed from the performance.

To paint and to excite passion strongly, are prerogatives of genius. They require not only ardent sensibility, but the power of entering deeply into characters. It is here, that candidates for the drama are least successful. A man, under the agitation of passion, makes known bis feelings in the glowing language of sensibility. He does not coolly describe what his feelings are; yet this sort of secondary description, tragic poets often give us, instead of the primary and native language of passion. Thus in Addison's Cato, when Lucia confesses o Portius her love for him, but swears that she

will never marry him; Portius, instead of giving way to the language of grief and astonishment, only describes his feelings;

Fix'd in astonishment, I gaze upon thee,
Like one just blasted by a stroke from heaven,
Who pants for breath, and stiffens yet alive
In dreadful looks; a monument of wrath.

This might have proceeded from a bystander, or an indifferent person; but it is altogether improper in the mouth of Portius. Similar to this descriptive language, are the unnatural and forced thoughts, which tragic poets sometimes employ, to exaggerate the feelings of persons, whom they wish to paint, as strongly moved. Thus, when Jane Shore on meeting her husband in distress,and finding that he had forgiven her, calls on the rains to give her their drops, and to the springs to lend her their streams, that she may have a constant supply of tears; we see plainly that it is not Jane Shore that speaks; but the poet himself,who is straining his fancy, and spurring up his genius, to say something uncommonly strong and lively.

The language of real passion is always plain and simple. It abounds indeed in figures, that express a disturbed and impetuous state of mind, but never employs any for parade and embellishment. Thoughts, suggested by passion, are natural and obvious; and not the off spring of refinement, subtilty, and wit. Passic neither reasons, speculates, nor declaims; i language is short, broken, and interrupted The French tragedians deal too much in re finement and declamation. The Greek trage

dians adhere most to nature, and are most pathetic. This too is the great excellency of Shakspeare. He exhibits the true language

of nature and passion.

Moral sentiments and reflections ought not to recur very frequently in tragedy. When unseasonably crowded, they lose their effect, and convey an air of pedantry. When introduced with propriety, they give dignity to the composition. Cardinal Wolsey's soliloquy on his fall, is a fine instance of the felicity with which they may be emyloyed. Much of the merit of Addison's Cato depends on that moral turn of thought which distinguishes it.

The style and versification of tragedy should be free, easy, and varied. English blank verse is happily suited to this species of composition. It has sufficient majesty, and can descend to the simple and familiar; it admits a happy variety of cadence, and is free from the constraint and monotony of rhyme. Of the French tragedies it is a great misfortune, that they are always in rhyme. For it fetters the freedom of the tragic dialogue, fills it with a languid monotony and is fatal to the power of passion.

With regard to those splendid comparisons in rhyme, and those strings of couplets, with which it was some time ago fashionable to conclude the acts of a tragedy, and sometimes the most interesting scenes; they are now laid aside, and regarded not only as childish ornaments, but as perfect barbarisms.

B.

GREEK TRAGEDY.

THE plot of Greek tragedy was exceedingly simple; the incidents few; and the conduct very exact with regard to the unities of action, time and place. Machinery, or the intervention of gods, was employed; and, what was very faulty, the final unravelling was sometimes made to turn upon it. Love, one or two instances excepted, was never admitted into Greek tragedy. A vein of morality and relig ion always runs through it; but they employed less than the moderns, the combat of the pas sions. Their plots were all taken from the ancient traditionary stories of their own nation.

Eschylus, the father of Greek tragedy, exhibits both the beauties and defects of an early original writer. He is bold, nervous, and animated; but very obscure, and difficult to be understood. His style is highly metaphorical, and often harsh and tumid. He abounds in martial ideas and descriptions, has much fire and elevation, and little tenderness. He also delights in the marvellous.

The most masterly of the Greek tragedians is Sophocles. He is the most correct in the conduct of his subjects; the most just and sublime in his sentiments. In descriptive talents he isalso eminent. Euripides is accounted more tender than Sophocles; he is fuller of moral sentiments; but he is less correct in the

conduct of his plays. His expositions of his subjects are less artful; and the songs of his chorus, though very poetic, are less connected

with the principal action, than those of Sophocles. Both of them, however, have high merit, as tragic poets. Their style is elegant and beautiful; and their sentiments for the most part just. They speak with the voice of nature; and in the midst of simplicity they are touching and interesting.

Theatrical representation, on the stages of Greece and Rome, was in many respects very singular, and widely different from that of modern times. The songs of the chorus were accompanied by instrumental music; and the dialogue part had a modulation of its own, and might be set to notes. It has also been thought, that on the Roman stage, the pronouncing and gesticulating parts were sometimes divided,and performed by different actors. The actors in tragedy wore a long robe; they were raised upon cothurni, and played in masks; these masks were painted; and the actor by turning the different profiles, exhibited different emotions to the auditors. This contrivance, however, was attended by many disadvantages.

FRENCH TRAGEDY.

IN the compositions of some French dramatic writers, tragedy has appeared with great lustre ; particularly Corneille, Racine, and Voltaire. They have improved upon the ancients, by introducing more incidents, a greater variety of passions, and a fuller display of characters. Like the ancients, they excel in regularity of