ment of the plot, the greatest excellence of a dramatic piece is the happy display of character. The unity of action (which is the only one I allow) must be here strictly preserved. In common life we observe men at different times swayed by different humours and passions; yet still there is a discriminating character; there is a turn of mind which evidently distinguishes one man from another. In dramatic representation this unity of character must be nicely preserved; so that a spectator (if blindfold) ought to distinguish the personage who speaks, even without any reference to the voice of the actor. The character should extend through the whole piece; he must not be a different man at the beginning from what he proves in the end. A contrast of characters has been recommended by critics, and in comedy it has certainly an excellent effect, as when the miser is opposed to the prodigal, the fop to the sloven, the loquacious to the sententious. But this does not appear so essential to tragedy, though Mr. Addison, in his Cato, has apparently studied to put all his characters in contrast.

A great error of all our modern tragic poets

is making all their characters speak in the same style. They endeavour to mark the character rather by some peculiarity in thought than in the manner of expressing it, whereas both should be observed. Hence their characters are often absurd without being striking, or more frequently are perfectly insipid. Shakspeare possessed that peculiar versatility of talent that his marked characters have not only a peculiarity of thought, but a peculiarity of language. Iago does not express himself like Othello; nor Cassio like either. Hamlet and the King do not speak alike, any more than Hotspur and the Prince. In comedy there is a greater scope for this kind of discrimination; but here it is also miserably neglected, unless where the Irish or Scotch accent can be called in aid of a barren imagination.

The language of tragedy must be dignified, yet not too poetical. We must never forget that it is a representation of nature and of conversation. It must not therefore appear too much studied; for that would destroy the pleasing illusion, which is its greatest charm.

On the same principle I abhor soliloquies. What person in real life, except an ideot or

madman, ever talks to himself? When we see an actor left upon the stage, and addressing the audience, for that in fact he does when he so. liloquizes (as it is improperly called), the illusion is immediately dissipated, and we no longer see the character, but the actor. How Shakspeare came to be guilty of this grand oversight I can scarcely divine. It must have been either from custom or indolence.

For the same reason a tragedy in rhyme can never interest, because it never can furnish any illusion, or make us for a moment forget the author and actors, and imagine it a reality. Our English blank verse approaches so near to prose, that, when well spoken, the difference is imperceptible. Some of the best parts in Shakspeare are indeed in prose; and Lillo's natural and pathetic dramas entirely so. I have already said that the diction should be suited to the character; so it should be to the subject. A play on a modern or domestic topic should not be in blank verse.

Much nonsense has been advanced by the critics in the form of instructions for dramatic writers. Such that no actor should go the stage more than five times; that the per

as,

off

sons of the drama should not exceed a limited number; and that during the course of an act the stage should never be left vacant even for a single moment. All these pretended rules are bravely violated by our English writers; and' really I never could see any just argument for

them.

For dramatic writing we cannot revert further than the Greeks; for I do not concur with Bishop Lowth in regarding Job or the Canticles as dramatic pieces.

Of the Greek writers Eschylus is harsh and obscure; Sophocles more masterly, correct, and sublime; Euripides soft and tender. In the Greek tragedies, for the reason already assigned, the action was simple, and the incidents few. They are commonly founded on the history of their own nation, which should be an advantage to their descriptions. Hercules furnished six, and the Trojan war no less than seventeen subjects for tragedies. Their declamation (like that of the Italian opera), was set to musical notes; and their chorusses changed from declamation to real song. Their actors wore a long flowing robe, and were raised on high buskins, called cothurni; they also wore

masks, which were something like helmets, and were made to represent the persons whose characters they sustained. These masks had large mouths, which, by means of horn or brass plates, the Abbé du Boss ingeniously conjectures, strengthened the voice, and caused them to be heard at a greater distance; but it may very reasonably be asked how would these masks represent the passions? We learn, however, that they had also an expedient for thispurpose; the mask was painted so as to represent different passions on each side, and as the actors stood always in profile, they turned that side to the spectators which was most agreeable - to their present passion! What a contemptible idea does this give us of the Greek theatre, and yet it is the drama of the Greeks that prejudiced pedants wish us to copy! What is still more extraordinary, we are told that sometimes one player spoke and another acted. We must remember, however, that the antient theatres were much larger than the modern ones, consequently the masks were of advantage both to the sight and the hearing; and for the same reason, the spectators could not so easily discern the change of countenance in the actors,