CHAP. I. THE ORIGIN OF OPERA, AND ITS ESTABLISHMENT IN FRANCE.

WE shall now find the affairs of the French theatre so blended with the serious and comic opera, and a variety of spectacles branching from those exhibi­tions, that it will be necessary to give an account of their establishment in FRANCE to make this descrip­tion of the drama in that country complete; and as it cannot be denied that music, taken as an em­bellishment, excites and satisfies curiosity in a more gratifying and delightful manner than any other dramatic amusement, I shall beg the reader's pa­tience for a few pages while I speak of that be­witching art, in order to shew how opera originated, [Page 6] and in what manner it established itself in FRANCE and other countries.

It is impossible to trace the origin of music con­sidered as a science. In its literal and extended idea, which the ancients distinguished by the term Har­monica, it was born with the world. The more we search, either into holy writ, or into mythology, the more we shall be convinced that music made up the delight of all countries at all times^*; nay, that it was the sort of order that lent perfection to the chaos in which other sciences were involved; and that was the reason, perhaps, the ancients gave to every art the appellation music.

The Egyptians inform us that music was in­vented immediately after the flood, and the idea of instruments, which naturally implies harmony, are by inumerable authors said to have been of very early invention. MERCURY we are told found a tortoise shell and stretching cords across it formed the lyre. LUCRETIUS says that wind instruments had their origin from the whistling of the wind among the rushes. AMPHION, CHIRON, DEMO­DOCUS, [Page 7] HERMES TRISMEGISTUS, OLYMPUS, and ORPHEUS, are all reported to have been celebrated musicians, and performers on musical instruments; nay, to what perfection must this art have been brought at the time of the Grecian republic, if it be true that TERPANDER set the laws of LYCUR­GUS to music, that he was well acquainted with the modes, and that THALES, and THAMYRUS knew the nature of instrumental music without singing.

But the more we search into this exquisite and endless theme, the more we shall be bewildered with conjecture, though facts stare us in the face. A host of writers on one side contend that the ancients alone knew how to render music facinating, and that the degree of perfection from which it derived that power to which ORPHEUS and others had brought it is lost to the moderns; others contend that the an­cients knew nothing of harmony, and one of them insists that what is called harmony, or the doctrine of combined sounds, was invented by GUIDO ARETINE, a benedictine friar.

Let us examine this. The ancients had instru­ments, and to talk of instruments without the idea of combined sounds, is ridiculous and contemptible. It would be pedantry, and perhaps impertinence here, to speak particularly of twelve or fourteen [Page 8] stringed instruments among the ancients which were struck either with the hand or a plectrum; of six or seven wind instruments, particularly the hydraulic or­gan, the very title of which explains the ingenuity of its construction; and as many pulsatile instru­ments; it is enough to say that we know these in­struments were at that time in use, and, therefore, that harmony, to its fullest extent, must have been known, for no one will be so absurd as to suppose that this great variety of instruments were played on one at a time; but, if it had been so, does not every stringed instrument answer all the purposes of harmony?

Every adventitious accident, from whence pro­ceeds successive sounds, even the creaking of a door, produces the effect of a chord, and therefore leads to combined sounds. Two unconscious watchmen shall cry the same hour in thirds, but this is obvious in a thousand instances; and as to measure, the marching of soldiers, the ringing of bells, the forging an anchor, and the galloping of an horse, will give you all the varieties of common and tripple time. The words

came from the truly lyric soul of DRYDEN; and a lovely and a delicious truth it is. The divine and [Page 9] exquisite beauty of order is music, of which me­lody is like the sun that cheers the universe, and harmony like creation itself that exults and rejoices under its celestial influence.

If it be meant, as some warmly contend, that the ancients in their choruses had but one song, and though there were a variety of voices each distinct voice sung the same individual melody, it does not alter the case. Did the lyre, the psalterium, the tibia, the cornuus, the tympanum, the tintinnabulum, did these join the voices in playing the same song, the same individual melody? 'Tis impossible. Some of these instruments, out of many others then in use, were incapable of it; their contracted scale would not admit of it. No; it was an accompanyment, a dress to adorn the melody; which, like the deco­ration of beauty, by disguising some parts, gave to those that were discerned a superior degree of loveliness.

I'll put this fact in an incontrovertible light. A large congregation shall sing the hundreth Psalm; and though there is the difference of an octave in the voices of men from the voices of women and children, yet they will sing the same distinct indi­vidual melody; and a most delightful melody it is. What follows? They are accompanied by an organ [Page 10] which combines all those harmonious principles we have been speaking of, the full organ even to ab­struseness. What does it signify then whether the voices sing the same melody, or sing in parts? By the introduction of this accompanyment is not the concert full and complete? And, this admitted, who shall say that the ancients were strangers to harmony in music.

I should think it very probable that their music was like their writings, grand, natural, and im­pressive; and, if so, by using less complication, they delighted not surprized the mind, and therefore the simplicity of their harmony, by answering all the best purposes of music, surpassed the inexplicable and distracting system of modern harmonists.

These and a thousand other reasons incline us to believe that dramatic entertainments were invented through the medium of music. Dithyrambics were, as we have seen, actually sung by one person, and we may go further and say that HOMER, HESIOD, and all the ancient poets sung their songs of what nature soever for the amusement of the public^*.

[Page 11]This admitted, something as much in the nature of opera as other dramatic entertainments were in the nature of plays, certainly made at all times a part of the amusements of the theatre; and that sostenuto for which LULLY has been so greatly admired, and which, I dare say, was dull enough, was clearly that sustained sleepy declamatory effect so often com­plained of in the choruses of the ancients.

Opera, however, being in its capability more ex­traneous and less natural as a vehicle to convey re­gular and probable action, was longer than any other species of dramatic production before it took a tone and a form so as to be classed separately and distinct from other stage representations; and it is very pro­bable, though the regular opera had often been at­tempted, it never would have become any thing more than a vehicle for the introduction of dances and decorations, had it not found a sort of AESCHY­LUS in METATASIO.

JOHANNES SULPITIUS, a native of VEROLI, is said to have exhibited operas in the fifteenth cen­tury; and we are told that EMILIO CAVALIERE, in 1590, exhibited two dramas, set to music, in the Palace of the Grand Duke of FLORENCE. We hear also of OCTAVIO RINUCCINI who brought an opera on the theatre at FLORENCE, in 1633, in [Page 12] honour of the marriage of MARY de MEDICIS with HENRY the fourth of FRANCE.

We have seen by VOLTAIRE's account how opera came to be introduced into FRANCE. I shall, therefore, now proceed to relate some par­ticulars of LULLY who presided so long at the head of that entertainment. LULLY was born at FLORENCE in 1633, and died in PARIS in 1687. Being an excellent performer on the violin, he was invited to FRANCE, where he became superintendant of the king's band, and by address and cunning soon introduced himself into all companies. His will was a fiat, not only as to music but almost as to every thing else, though he was very little more than an arrogant pretending buffoon^*.

In speaking of the opera, it will be generally [Page 13] necessary to associate the names of QUINAULT and LULLY. In 1673. they brought out Cadmus, which was performed au Jeu de paulme de Bel Air; but LULLY, ever attentive to his interest, no sooner heard of MOLIERE's death than he set every engine to work to procure a grant from the king of MO­LIERE's theatre. This with very little difficulty he obtained, and Cadmus was the first opera brought out on the theatre of the Palais Royal^*, though some contend that Alceste was the first, which ap­peared in 1674. This, however, is not probable, or if it were, it is hardly worth enquiring into.

Thesée came out in 1675; and on the following [Page 14] year Atys, one of the most celebrated operas of these associates, in which there is certainly some beautiful lyric writing^*. This piece had astonishing success. It was, however, according to custom bitterly at­tacked by DESPREAUX, of whose judgment, as a critic, I cannot give a better proof than that which follows: When this satyrist went to the representa­tion of this opera at VERSAILLES, ‘"put me,"’ said he, ‘"in some corner where it will be impossible for me to hear the words. I admire the music of LULLY, but I have a sovereign contempt for the verses of QUINAULT^†.’

Isis followed Atys in 1677, and Proserpine in 1680, but Persée which came out in 1682, was one of the most famous operas produced by these allies. COR­NEILLE, however, had treated the same subject in a piece called Andromede. A number of fortunate circumstances combined to assist the success of this piece. Among the rest the audience were most agreeably surprised to see the young prince DEI­TRICHTEIN, the eldest son of the prince of that name, grand master of his imperial majesty, dance [Page 15] with an elegance and a grace which gave universal astonishment. He appeared on the theatre masked, as was then the custom, and took alternately the situation of all the principal dancers.

The concourse of people who slocked to see this prince was incredible, and what renders the circumstance still more wonderful is, that though he excelled every other dancer, he had not been taught more than a year.

The king had this opera performed in an oran­gerie, where the disposition of real trees, a foun­tain, and other natural objects, curiously and ju­diciously arranged gave a most delicious effect to the spectacle.

All the beauties of the court were invited, and every possible care taken and expence lavished to shew the merit of the poet and composer to ad­vantage; all which merit LULLY, as usual, took to himself, and received the compliments of the king and the nobility, while the humble QUINAULT stood at a distance, as little noticed as if he had been an indifferent spectator. The words of the king to LULLY were, ‘"that he had never seen a piece where the music was so equally good throughout."’

[Page 16]The very same year a brilliant fete was given to celebrate the birth of the Duke of BURGUNDY. LULLY, upon this occasion gave Perseus gratis, and prevailed upon QUINAULT to introduce a great deal of novelty applicable to the event in honour of which the opera was performed; besides which he put himself to a prodigious expence. He had a triumphal arch, a firework, and a fixed sun of an astonishing magnitude, containing several thousand lamps; after which there was a discharge of mus­ketry, and, to finish all, a fountain that ran with wine, Who, after this, could deny that Perseus was the sole production of LULLY?

Nor were these adventitious circumstances all that gave advantage to Perseus; it begat a spirited controversy, which the ladies very warmly entered into, and insisted that Pheneus's expression that he would rather see ANDROMEDA devoured by the monster, than in the arms of his rival, was void of gallantry, and therefore ought not to be uttered on the stage.

This dispute was so followed up that all the public prints of the times were full of it. No wonder then that an opera, so much praised and condemned, should be the constant topic, and that therefore, either through prejudice, or partiality—motives [Page 17] equally advantageous—all PARIS made a point of attending it.

After Persée came Phaeton, in 1683; Amadis de Gaule, in 1684; Le Temple de la Paix, in 1685; Roland, also in 1685; and Armide, in 1686. Im­mediately after the production of this last opera, QUINAULT, heartily tired of LULLY, retired from the theatre.

It may truly be said, that though the enthusiasm caused by the music of LULLY arose from no other reason than that music had till that time in FRANCE been of the most contemptible kind; yet he merits a large share of praise for reducing it to a sort of slandard, which proved a good ground work for the improvements afterwards made in it by RAMEAU and others. But none of this would have been effected had not QUINAULT started up the only French poet, in spight of the ill nature and the ignorance of BOILEAU, who possessed a true genius for this species of lyric poetry.

These men led very different lives; and while QUINAULT lived honoured and respected, and died lamented and regretted, LULLY was laughed at and despised in his life time, and detested and exe­crated after his death^*.

[Page 18]Among the operas of QUINAULT and LULLY, it was said that Atys was the opera for the king, Armide, for the ladies, Phaeton for the public in general, and Isis for musicians.

Many other operas, written by QUINAULT, and composed by LULLY, were performed with various [Page 19] success^*. At length many of the best authors adven­tured in this species of writing, and MOLIERE, QUIN­AULT, PIERRE, and T. CORNEILLE wrote Psyche in conjunction; and there is another Psyche, which has been pretty generally given to FONTENELLE. At length, when the opera became more established, and RAMEAU was the favourite composer^†, the best geniuses wrote for that spectacle; nay even VOLTAIRE was tempted to adventure in it, and thereby undertook what he himself confesses he did not understand. His Temple de Gloire, an entertain­ment of this kind, not succeeding, he asked an Abbe of his acquaintance how he liked it. The Abbe an­swered [Page 20] he had been at the temple of glory, but the lady did not happen to be at home.

In answer to a friend, whose sentiments were something similar to the above, VOLTAIRE says, ‘"I see I have done a very foolish thing in writing an opera, but the pleasure of working for such a man as RAMEAU hurried me out of all prudence. In considering the extent of his genius, I forgot how much my own was circumscribed, for I now find, if I have any, it is not calculated for the lyric style, and I plainly see I could write an epic poem with more ease than I could fill a canvass. Not that I by any means hold this art in con­tempt; on the contrary, I hold it to be a very re­spectable species of writing, but I now fairly see that I shall never have a talent for it."’

CHAP. II. ITALIAN THEATRE.

AS the Italian theatre, as it always has been called, will hereafter make up a considerable part of French dramatic exhibitions, it will be extremely proper in in this place to give some account of it, and also of all those inferior dramatic objects which branched out from that strange heterogeneous amusement which, like our opera, was originally performed in a language the natives did not understand. Nay till very lately the love scenes, in some of those come­dies, have been occasionally performed in Italian. In 1577, a troop of Italian comedians called Le Gelosi, performed at the Hotel de Bourbon, but they had no fixed establishment, and after some years they were replaced by another, who, in their turn, were suppressed in 1662. It was after this that an Italian troop were permitted to perform alternately with the troop of MOLIERE au petit Bourbon, where they continued till 1697, when the king thought proper to shut up their theatre.

[Page 22]The variety of difficulties the Italian comedians laboured under to procure leave for their perfor­mances, obliged them to exhaust invention for ex­pedients to combat the laws then in force. The first of these expedients was an attempt to evade an ac­cusation of performing regular pieces. This they effected by taking an outline of the plot of the piece, together with all the nicer immediate circum­stances; and having got this perfectly by heart, to supply the dialogue extempore. By this means the same scene was never literally performed twice alike, especially as they frequently changed parts with each other^*.

Notwithstanding this and other expedients, the Italian theatre was shut up for nineteen years, and after this they were so dispersed that it was not ex­pected they would ever again rally in FRANCE. The Duc D'ORLEANS, however, at that time [Page 23] Regent, sent for others, who arrived in PARIS in 1716. He gave instructions to M. ROUILLE, Counseiller d'Etat, to procure the best performers from ITALY. It will easily be believed the task was not difficult. Indeed with such alacrity did they pour in from all quarters, that the company was very soon complete, and the regent, till the Hotel de Bourgogne could be got ready, permitted them to perform at the Palais Royal on such days as there was no opera.

On the eighteenth of May, 1716, they opened their theatre with a piece called L'Heureuse Surprize, and on the twentieth of the same month their esta­blishment was announced by an order from the king. The first day of the following June they took possession of the theatre of the Hotel de Bourgogne, under the title of the comedians in ordinary to his Royal Highness Monsieigneur le Duc D'ORLEANS, Regent, and that prince dying, on the second of De­cember, 1723, the company obtained the title of the KING's Italian comedians in ordinary, with a pension of fifteen thousand livres. This obtained, they put the king's arms upon the Hotel de Bourgogne, and above it, in black marble, this inscription in letters of gold.

HOTEL des comediens Italiens ordinaires du Roi, [Page 24] entretenus par sa Majésté rétablis a Paris en l'annee M,DCC,XVI.

The theatres that were erected at the Fairs, St. Germain, and St. Laurent, though an inferior kind, were nevertheless productive of great improvement in dramatic humour; and also bringing forward actors and actresses of great and particular merit. English travellers at that time flocked with pleasure to see the buffoon and grotesque acting of DOMINIQUE in Harlequin, the simple and naive deportment of BELLONI in Pierrot, the humour and finesse of Madamoiselle de LISLE in the waiting maids, the pleasant awkwardness of DESGRANGES in Scara­mouch, the singular figure of PAGHETTI, in old men, and the noble and modest air of Madamoiselle MO­LIN, in the characters of wards and daughters.

In all countries the best writers have been, at different times, ill treated by managers. LE SAGE, D'ORNEVAL, PANNARD, PIRON, and BOISSY led the way for almost a total desertion of the theatre, in favour of the fair; which boasted at length the added names of FAVARD, ANSEAUME, DOMINI­QUE, LE GRAND, FAGAN, DELAFOND, PONTAU, VADE, and SEDAINE. The trifles they produced being excellent in their kind, and in a style per­fectly different from the general run of dramatic [Page 25] entertainments, and also produced by some of the best writers, made the fairs, for forty years, the first object of amusement in FRANCE.

The theatres feeling severely the effect of their own inferiority, were obliged to have re­course to a number of expedients, if not to sup­press the pieces performed at the fair, at least to lessen their value. For this purpose they were per­petually teasing the magistrates, who, at different times, upon being properly applied to, issued several mandates to forbid such parts of the performances as were most likely to be applauded^*.

This only served to stimulate their exertions, and to rouse them to fresh ingenuity. Being forbidden to perform in dialogue, they were, for some short time, reduced to exhibit every thing by gesture, through which they severely and successfully ridi­culed their enemies. They could not hope, how­ever, to perform long in this manner to any great advantage; and, therefore, applied to the sydnies [Page 26] and the doctors of the royal academy of musicians, who permitted them to perform short pieces, partly dialogue, and partly songs, and occasionally as­sisted by dances.—These spectacles were called the Comic Opera, of which species of amusement the admirable author of Gil Blas may be considered as the father.

Flattered with the great success he had met with on the stage, and irritated with the avarice and folly of the managers, he devoted himself entirely to this slighter species of dramatic employment. Many of his pieces were in great measure written from mo­tives of revenge, and such were generally parodies of the new tragedies, which no sooner appeared on the theatre, than they were humourously and suc­cessfully ridiculed at the fair. The best authors smarted, and most severely too, under this teasing rod of criticism. Among the rest, Mr. VOLTAIRE, in the business of his Semiramis, certainly felt it with the greatest keenness^*.

[Page 27]These comic writers, however, drew on them­selves, by the severity of their satires, a host of ene­mies, and were forbid to perform any pieces in which there was either speaking or singing. This only convinced the world that they were complete adepts in their business; for, immediately setting their wits to work, they invented a species of amuse­ment [Page 28] which, from its extraordinary novelty, had the greatest success. It was written in the strongest manner, and thus performed:

Two actors came on the stage with as many rolls of parchment as there were speeches in the scene they were to perform. These rolls were numbered, and on each, written in large characters, what they had to say. These they alternately displayed, which, being read by the audience, exhibited, in very la­conic terms, some witty colloquy, especially as these writings in great measure consisted of humorous apologies for their being under the necessity of having recourse to so incomplete an expedient.

When the audience had seen enough of this visual dialogue, large rolls of canvas were so dis­played by two figures of boys, who seemed playing in the air, that the spectators could completely read the words of a song, As soon as it became com­pletely visible, the orchestra began a well known air, which some actor, placed either in the parterre, or the boxes, began to sing. The audience soon took the hint, and after a time it was no uncommon thing for the whole of the spectators to join in every chorus.

The matter was, in proportion to the singularity [Page 29] of the exigence, most wonderfully managed; but, after all, it is very evident that they laboured under the greatest disadvantages; and, at length, by the e [...]ishment of the regular Italian comedians in 17 [...], who were joined by some of the best per­fo [...]mers at the fair, this memorable era of humour and pleasantry on the French stage, became ap­parently extract; but it, however, left such traces of real humour, fertile imagination and happy sa­tire, that there has been scarcely a comic opera written since in FRANCE, that has not kept in view the species of intrigue invented by this extra­ordinary set of ingenious men^*.

Before we quit the subject of the fair, it is pro­per to say it began with puppets. After this ap­peared wild beasts, but it is curious to remark that a lion or a tiger was not considered as the smallest [Page 30] rarity, if he could not perform some comical tricks. After these came giants who must also be buffoons, otherwise they had no attention paid them. On this account, the common animals which we see every day were the greatest favourites. Dogs, cats, and monkies, did more than the best actors and actresses that ever appeared, and these for a time were put out of countenance by slight-of-hand men, tumblers, and rope-dancers.

It must, however, be remembered, to the ho­nour of the fair, that it gave birth to the most elegant dancing in FRANCE. Madmoiselle de LISLE, who joined the most refined taste and exe­cution in serious dancing to the most charming sprightliness in demi-character, and the strongest con­ception and discrimination in dances of character and expression, may be reckoned among the earliest proofs that the French were born eminently to rival all other nations in that accomplished—I will not, however, here say how far useful—art.

Madmoiselle SALLE, who caused so long the admiration of PARIS, and at length retired with the applause of her country, was also an Eleve at the fair. Madmoiselle RABON, that very celebrated dancer, was also bred up at the fair; and as for singers, it was the nursery of the theatre.

[Page 31]Among other dancers who performed with great celebrity at the fair, was the father of our famous GRIMALDI. He had then just fled from ITALY. He was called, for distinction, Iron Legs; and sup­posed to be the best jumper in the world: for even the taste of FRANCE, in its own proper profession has been at times vitiated. He once jumped so high that he broke a chandelier; a piece of which hitting the Turkish ambassador, who was in the stage box, he considered this conduct as a premeditated affront, and complained to the French court of the outrage. But the most extraordinary circumstance concerning him was his being put in prison for in­decency on the FRENCH STAGE, which is a circum­stance, when we consider the licence used there, most peculiarly extraordinary.

The French were certainly for a time insatuated with GRIMALDI, but after the unlucky business of his imprisonment for indecency^*, he began [Page 32] to lose ground, and at length was obliged to stroll into FLANDERS, where, however, he proved a source of riches to his confederates, for the Flan­derkins, as he added legerdemain and other tricks to his jumping, thought him some supernatural being^*.

[Page 33]I have said that the regular Italian comedy was re-established in 1716. Such an impression. how­ever, the performances at the fair made, that the Ita­lians on their return were, for a time, obliged to perform on that very spot, in order to give an original colour to their representations; and thus, by degrees, they stole on the notice of the public, who, such is the force of custom, relished those amusements no where but at the place they were originally given.

The circumstance of performing the pieces of the fair arose from this: When first this troop be­gan to be established at PARIS, they performed no­thing but pieces entirely Italian. The ladies who [Page 34] did not understand that language, no longer fre­quented the theatre. The gentlemen finding them­selves deserted by the ladies, and thus the great channel of gallantry stagnated, also kept away. Seeing this, the Italians had recourse to the pieces anciently performed at the Italian theatre, which were a jumble of half Italian and half French. What had formerly pleased, however, was no longer relished, and they were, at one time, upon the point of returning to ITALY. What follows is the substance of a speech spoken by Harlequin to the audience.

This speech had the desired effect; the public interested themselves in the affairs of the comedians, and some of the best authors having advised them to perform the most celebrated among the pieces given at the fair, they very soon got into reputation. At length, many writers of eminence lent their assistance, and their children, as they had predicted, grew up, and were most accomplished actors. Indeed the re­putation of the Italian theatre eclipsed that of the French. to which St. FOIX, MARIVAUX, and other eminent authors did not a little contribute.

A circumstance which happened about this time went a great way towards establishing the reputation of the Italian theatre at PARIS. The convalescence of the king after a dangerous illness, gave occasion for every exertion of loyalty throughout the king­dom; but the spirit of the Italians was very re­markable; they erected a most magnificent transpa­rency before the Facade of their theatre; they built up a temporary stage on the balcony over it, whence their band did not cease to play, or their troop to dance, during the greatest part of the night; and as the whole tendency of their performance was to com­pliment [Page 37] the king, and congratulate the people on his recovery, as many as could be collected on the spot joined their shouts of Vive le Roi in time to the music, as often as it was introduced; and that their mirth might not want an incentive, cisterns of wine were placed in a convenient manner, to supply the populace.

On the day that Te Deum was sung at Notre Dame, the Italians recommenced the rejoicings. The transparency erected before their theatre was so masterly both in conception and execution, that it is really worthy of particular description:—Within a circular decoration, consisting of symbolical orna­ments, was painted the temple of IRIS, surrounded with a beautiful rainbow, on which appeared the goddess with all her attributes.

The illuminations which accompanied this grand picture formed three arcades, supported by pilasters, all of the rustic order. Between the arcades Vive le Roi was suspended in large characters. Above the pilasters were placed four pyramids, ornamented with streams of fire^*, which gave an unspeakable effect. The inside of the temple was entirely transparent, [Page 38] and nobly designed, as well as the rainbow and the figure of IRIS.

In the middle of the temple was placed a por­trait of the king, under a figure of APOLLO, sur­rounded with his ordinary symbols. Over his head the words POST NUBILA PHOEBUS, and on the two sides of APOLLO were the figures of Peace and Plenty. From the extremity of the erection were carried two pyramids, which completed the grandeur of the whole to a degree of wonder; they were of themselves fifty-two feet high, and at the base fifty feet wide, tapering, as they ascended, to a point.

To enumerate all the prodigious variety of de­vices which were contained in the paintings on the pyramids would take up much more room than I ought to allow. It is enough to say that they were all transparent, and distributed about in the most fanciful and charming order, being interlaced with innumerable lamps, placed before reverberators. To the BRUNETTIS, father and son, famous Italian painters, was confided the execution of the whole, who had now brought scenery in FRANCE to that perfection which has ever since made it the ad­miration of all other nations.

These comedians also gave upon these occasions [Page 39] three new pieces, called the Illumination, the Village Wedding, and the Sincere Revels. They were written by PANNARD, and performed with all the success that could be expected from an event so naturally interesting. From this circumstance it happened that the king was ever after called LOUIS le bien aime, those words being a quotation from a speech in one of the pieces.

CHAP. III. ACTORS.

ANCIENTLY in FRANCE we have seen that all the authors were actors. The Trouverres, the Trou­badours, the Pilgrims, and even the Priests pe­sonated different characters; and we find them at the head of their respective companies acting, sing­ing, or posturing, according to the nature of the spectacle they undertook to exhibit. In the My­steries, the Confraternity of the Passion, were all ac­tors. When the Mysteries had yielded to the Mo­ralists, the performers were partly the priests and partly the laiety. By the time the Children of Sans Souci joined this confedracy, and they were forbid to perform any other than profane subjects that had a moral tendency, the priests retired from the stage, and the laiety had exclusive possession of it.

The retirement of the priests seemed to be the signal for improvement. The tragedies of JODELLE and the rest must have boasted much more regular actors than the rhapsodies that preceded them; de­clamation, [Page 41] however, was all that yet could be ex­pected. It should seem, indeed, that till then the employment of an actor had never been considered as a profession of itself, for we are told, and particu­larly by MAROT, who died before JODELLE, that a man, whose epitaph he had written, of the name of SERRE, was the first regular actor^*.

As to women, we have seen JODELLE obliged to personate his own Cleopatra; and, if credit can be given to the best French authorities, a woman of the name of BEAUPRE was the first actress in FRANCE, who might certainly have performed in the pieces written by HARDY, but not earlier, for she was very old and had retired from the stage before CORNEILLE brought out Melite. She is reported to have said to CORNEILLE that times were changed; for that before he wrote the pieces were miserable, and the performers excellent, but that since he had written, the pieces were excellent, and the per­formers miserable.

[Page 42]We have the names of PONT ALAIS, GRINGORE, and others who must have been cotemporaries of SERRE, for they are reported to have assisted in the Mysteries, and being excellent buffoons, they were perpetually quarrelling with the priests. Instead of announcing their amusements by bills it was then the custom, as we have formerly seen it in ENGLAND, to beat a drum about the streets; and these men having done so one day to the great annoyance of a priest, who was preaching, and who had a grudge against them, he came out of the church and demanded how they came to be so audacious as to beat a drum while he was preaching. ‘"I may as well ask you,"’ said PONT ALAIS, ‘"how you came to be so audacious as to preach while I was beating my drum; we are both following our occupations."’ The priest, how­ever, to shew who had the upper hand, complained to the magistrates, and the actor was imprisoned for six months^*.

We have the names of other actors before HAR­DY, but we know little of their merit. During his time, however, at the head of a numerous company we find TURLUPIN, GAUTHIER, GARGUILLE, HAUDOIN, BONIFACE, CAPITAINE, and others, [Page 43] who are said to have been very celebrated; but it should seem by this that the productions of HARDY, which were generally called tragedies, must have been full of buffoonery; for TURLUPIN, who, from 1583 to 1634, was a principal performer in that com­pany, was a mere buffoon, The word turlupinade taken from his name, having been from that time to this incorporated into the French language as a term implying a filly jest.

GARGUILLE succeeded TURLUPIN, and HAU­DOIN, GARGUILLE, exactly in the same steps. The latter is said to have learnt so much of the jargon of physicians by performing doctors and apothecaries on the stage, that he retired to MELUN without the smallest knowledge of physic but technical terms, and there made a fortune in quality of physician.

All this, however, seems to have been reformed when CORNEILLE began to write for the stage; for, notwithstanding the handsome compliment of Madame BEAUPRE, and her predelection for the buffoonery just described, which she was pleased fa­cetiously to call good acting, BELLEROSE, the hero for whom CORNEILLE wrote, and who, about 1685, became manager of the company at the Hotel de Bourgogne, gave so new and so natural a turn to dra­matic representation, both in tragedy and comedy, [Page 44] that, followed up by CHEVALIER, GUERON, BRE­COURT, and others, mummery and buffoonery soon gave way to truth and nature, ^*

To these succeeded MONTFLEURY, LA FLEUR, LA THUILLERIE, MONDORY, LA THORRIL­LIERE, JODELET, DU PARC, and his wife, CHAMP­MELE, and his wife, RAISIN, BEJART, and his wife and daughter, Madmoiselle DESCEILLETS, BEAUCHATEAU, and at length the great BARON, who was called the French Roscius. These and others of inferior rank made up the companies Au Marais, at the Hotel de Bourgogne, and the Palais Royal.

MONTFLEURY was a man of family and page to the Duke of GUISE. He was held in great consi­deration by persons of rank. The Cardinal de [Page 45] RICHELIEU in particular undertook the care and expence of his wedding, He had very brilliant abilities as an actor, and we have already seen that his exertions cost him his life^*.

LA FLEUR, who took the situation of MONT­FLEURY after his death, was an admirable actor, and in a more extensive way than his predecessor. He is reported to have been the first who possessed what the French call des entrailles; that is to say, the art of feeling to make others feel. He married the daughter of an actor called GROS GUILLAUME, and left a son who became a celebrated performer under the name of LA THUILLERIE.

MONDORY, a performer in tragedy, sustained a respectable situation, au Marais. He was seized with an apoplexy, as he was performing the part of Herod in the Mariamne of TRISTAN, and survived but a few days.

LA THORILLIERE was a man of family, and was a captain in the cavalry, but thought proper to [Page 46] leave every other occupation to follow the profession of an actor. He was remarkable for performing equally well the parts of kings and peasants. He left behind him a son and a grandson, both of whom were actors.

JODELET was an admirable comic actor. His features were so marked and so grotesque, that when­ever he appeared he excited loud bursts of laughter, of which he seemed perfectly unconscious. His hu­mour was very peculiar, and the authors, to give force to their characters, accommodated themselves to it. Hence several of the pieces of that time were named after this actor; witness, Jodelet Maitre et Valet, Jodelet Souffleté, and others.

DU PARC succeeded JODELET. His success was at first doubtful, though his merit was acknow­ledged; but, having performed an original part, a kind of utterer of bon mots, he hit upon a humour so whimfical that he became a great favourite. He died the same year in which the world lost MO­LIERE. He had long, however, left the Palais Royal, having followed his wife to the Hotel de Bour­gogne, as we have seen, through the connivance of BOILEAU and RACINE.

CHAMPMELE was a very mediocre performer, [Page 47] but he is celebrated, if celebrity may be that way acquired, for fathering other people's pieces, and other people's children. There were five or six pieces given to him, which appeared in the works of others, in particular La Coupe Enchantee, and Je vous prends sans Verd, both of which are among the productions of LA FONTAINE, and Delie, which was undoubtedly written by VISE; but for the merit of these pieces, FONTAINE might have been ashamed of his part; and, as to VISE, it is no great matter whether he wrote Delie or not, for he was as dull as CHAMPMELE.

As to the other accommodating part of his cha­racter, winking at his wife's infidelity, who was an incomparable actress, and a beautiful woman, I can only say he deserves no pity, for every man of that convenient description, ought to have an unfaithful wife. The lady is said to have dealt her favours pretty liberally. We have seen RACINE in love with her, and we are told that he was succeeded in her affections by the Count de CLERMONT TON­NERRE. This gave rise to an epigram, which, as it is impossible on account of the names, to render with any effect into English, I shall transcribe as it is.

[Page 48] Madame CHAMPMELE is said to have been en­dowed with very extraordinary talents, together with a most consummate knowledge of the world. Her manners were uncommonly elegant, and her con­versation sweet and amiable. Her house was the rendezvous for men of distinguished merit; but it has been said by way of pleasantry, that notwith­standing so much temptation, except in the instance of her little slip with TONNERRE, she was constant to DESPREAUX, RACINE, LA CHAPELLE, VA­LINCOUR, LA FONTAINE, and—her husband.

It is said that CHAMPMELE meditated a singular revenge on his rivals, which induced BOILEAU to write the following epigram:

CHAMPMELE, we are told, outlived his mother and his wife, and soon afterwards died in the following extraordinary manner. Coming out of the church of the Cordeliers, where he had been to put up two requiems for his departed mother and wife, the priest demanded the money. CHAMPMELE gave him a piece of thirty sols, the requiems being ten sols [Page 49] a piece, ‘"No,"’ said he, ‘"keep that to pay for my requiem and instantly dropped down and ex­pired."’

RAISIN was an actor of infinite merit. He was equal to any style of comedy. He was called PROTEUS, not more for his facility of changing from part to part than for the variety he threw, into the part itself. To these superior talents he united an excellent understanding, and inexhaustible gaiety and good humour. He was an admirable teller of a story, and his company was coveted by all ranks; a circumstance proving in him that talents are as dangerous as they are enviable, for the pleasures he courted were the cause of his death.

BEJART was himself but an indifferent actor, but his wife was a woman of great theatrical talents, and shrewd and penetrating judgement. We have seen that MOLIERE, when he left the Illustrious theatre to go into PROVINCE, chose her for his guide in his theatrical conduct. She, having before been accustomed to regulate a country company. Her attention to him and his interest was so much to his satisfaction that he married her daughter; who, under their instructions became a celebrated actress, and an excellent singer.

[Page 50]Some have endeavoured to sully her character, and I am the more particular in mentioning this on account of having read an English history of MO­LIERE, where calumny is unsparingly dealt out on the head of this poor woman. The French, how­ever do her justice, not one of whom, at least that I have seen, and my perquisitions have been pretty industrious, have hinted at any thing against her re­putation. It is true she married four or five years after the death of MOLIERE, but her general con­duct in his life time, and the noble trait of duty, tenderness, and respect to his memory, which we witnessed at the time of his funeral, must in every candid mind acquit her of any infidelity towards a man whose alliance with her was a proud and en­viable distinction, and whose affectionate and friendly attention to her and her family was warm and unre­mitting throughout his life.

Madmoiselle DESOEILLETS was an actress of considerable merit. She was the original Hermione in RACINE's tragedy of Andromache, and performed the part with wonderful force and energy. CHAMP­MELE, however, who came after her, and who had more pathos and feeling, succeeded so greatly that DESOEILLETS confessed herself conquered, which being told to the king he said it was a mistake, for that they both performed the part admirably; but [Page 51] to represent it to perfection, DESOEILLETS ought to play the two first acts and CHAMPMELE the three last.

BEAUCHATEAU was a respectable actor, and had a son who gave promise of uncommon talents both as an author and a performer; but at the age of fourteen he came to ENGLAND, where he ab­jured the Roman Catholic religion, and afterwards travelled into PERSIA, and was never after heard of.

It will be proper here to speak of BARON, but to follow him through his career would lay me un­der the premature necessity of introducing POISSON, D'ANCOURT, and a number of other actors, an ac­count of whom had better come when we have ex­amined those pieces in which they performed. As BARON, however, was cotemporary with many of those who are mentioned in this chapter, I shall speak of him previous to his quitting the theatre in 1691, when he retired with a pension of a thousand crowns.

This performer is allowed infinitely to have surpassed all who had gone before him. To strong natural conception he added a solid and decisive un­derstanding; his figure was noble, his voice clear and powerful, his deportment was graceful and ma­jestic, [Page 52] his manner varied and accommodating, and he never violated art unless to adorn nature. ‘"The rules,"’ said he, ‘"forbid us to list the hands above the head, but if passion carries them there it is right; nature knows better than the rules."’ ROUS­SEAU says that BARON gave new lustre to the beau­ties of RACINE, and threw a veil over the defects of PRADON.

BARON was certainly an actor of most extra­ordinary talents, which he availed himself of every opportunity to ripen and perfect. Bred up under the eye of MOLIERE, it was impossible not to benefit materially by the admirable precepts of so excellent a master. This added to those gifts, with which by nature he had been abundantly endowed, qualified him for every stile of acting; and, except in what we call low comedy, a line he never at­tempted, he was allowed eminently to excel all others.

BARON wrote several pieces for the theatre, which have a smartness and something very passable, but nothing more. His dialogue is lively, and his scenes are varied; and having mixed a good deal in society, his characters are generally natural; but they are rather sketches than plays, traits than scenes; and though taken abstractly they produced stage [Page 53] effect, yet their flimsyness and want of consequence rendered their success weak, and their duration transitory.

A French author says that the public never allow a man merit more than in one way, and that though the writings of BARON ought to have ensured him reputation, yet these meaner pretensions are so lost in the splendour of his talents as an actor that, rather than be obliged to admire them, they don't chuse to acknowledge them at all. For my part I cannot see this, though I must confess it is a doctrine that ever has been held; for the more a man va­riously succeeds the more he must naturally be an object of public admiration; and this is particularly noticeable in MOLIERE, whose splendid talents as a writer, have never lessened his reputation as an actor.

I am afraid the friends of BARON have attempted to give him an overstrained reputation more suitable to his vanity, which was insufferable, than propor­tioned to his talents. It was his common ob­servation that every hundred years produces a CAESAR, but that it takes two thousand to produce a ROSCIUS^*. BARON's father was an actor, and his [Page 54] mother an actress; he had also a son of promising talents, who died very young; and though from the intermarriages of this family, as will hereafter be seen, many members of the theatre were produced, he deservedly stood at the head of it, and will ever be considered as a man of wonderful talents.

CHAP. IV. FRENCH THEATRE TO THE DEATH OF RACINE.

AT the time of MOLIERE's death, and soon after of CORNEILLE's final secession from the stage, RA­CINE ruled with almost undisputed sway in tragedy, having no competitors worthy consideration, except T. CORNEILLE, CAMPISTRON, and BOURSAULT; except we should mention FONTENELLE, whose works for the theatre, like those of LA FONTAINE, were written more for amusement than professionly. The vapid PRADON must be noticed merely for the sake of form.

Comedy after the death of MOLIERE was almost wholly sustained by T. CORNEILLE and BOUR­SAULT; till, in 1686, D'ANCOURT brought out his Fonds Predues ^*, so extremely difficult was it to [Page 56] attain any thing like the standard MOLIERE had set up.

As to the rincings of BOISROBERT's muddy hypocrene, they had evaporated long before; and long before had ceased the drolls of SCARRON; which, though admirable in their way, were in com­mon with a multitude of other mixed productions crushed by the powerful genius of MOLIERE. BEN­SERADE had so injured himself by his disputes with this truly celebrated man, that he thought it more prudent to write sonnets and epigrams, and obtain patronage among the great, than bring out plays and risk the decision of the public; and as to BOYER's left handed fame, it ought to be consigned to oblivion with the impertinent prattling of VISE, who only made himself celebrated by censuring what he could not imitate. CHAPELLE was just as much of a writer as a musical amateur is of a leader of a band, and even LA FONTAINE, deservedly celebrated as he ever will be, and particularly for those writings which he so solemnly abjured^*, would [Page 57] render the indispensible necessity of mentioning him here an irksome duty did it not give opportunity [Page 58] of acknowledging his incomparable merit in every part of his productions except those written for the stage.

I have already said of BOURSAULT that his comedies, during the time of MOLIERE, having been the offspring of feuds and controversies, in which he was always conquered, possessed consi­derable merit, but were seldom interesting, because they spent their force against the resistance opposed by this powerful competitor. Le Medecin Volant, Le Mort Vivant, and Les Cadenats, were of a des­cription too weak to cope with those pieces of MO­LIERE, to which they were opposed; but, as if the existence of that father of comedy had been the enchantment which held the genius of BOURSAULT spell-bound, no sooner did that existence cease, but, like a spirit emancipated from confinement, this au­thor's merit began to be acknowledged; of which truth, as in many other instances, it will be impossible for me, in consequence of so much matter, which will now press on me, to mention more than some leading particulars.

In 1679, BOURSAULT brought out Le Mercure Ga­lant, and Germanicus, which last had before appeared under the title of La Princesse des Cleves. The first of these pieces abounded with true comic humour, and the other with harmony, pathos, and strength. VISE, [Page 59] the author of a Journal called Le Mercure Galant, who was triumphantly ridiculed in this comedy, notwithstanding we have seen him formerly join BOURSAULT in ridiculing MOLIERE, complained to the court against his old friend. The court referred him to the General of the Police, who said he could not find in his conscience to suppress the piece, it was so entertaining; but that, to meet the matter half way, he would issue a behest to call it La Co­medie sans Titre, in order that, if it was not a just satire, nobody might find it out.

As to Germanicus, it had prodigious success. CORNEILLE in the academy spoke of it in the highest terms, and said, among other things, that it wanted nothing but the name of RACINE to be considered as one of the best tragedies on the the­atre. This RACINE considered as a sarcasm, and he, therefore, was never afterwards cordial with COR­NEILLE.

Marié Stuart, Phaeton, Meleagre, Mots a la Mode, Esope a la Ville, and Esope a la Cour, make up the re­mainder of BOURSAULT's works, which being writ­ten upon different occasions, and for different pur­poses, had of course various success. The two Aesops are certainly not calculated for interesting effect, being thronged with fabulous applications; [Page 60] the Fables, however, are written with great beauty, point, truth, and interest; and have ever been held in admiration, though they have been over and over again attempted both here and in other countries with but indifferent effect on the stage.

Esope a la Ville nevertheless succeeded greatly during its first run; which, indeed, in some measure, was owing to the presence of mind of the celebrated RAISIN, who performed the part of AESOP. Find­ing that the audience began to tire at this perpetual repetition of fables, though they greatly admired the fables themselves, he came forward and told them that he plainly perceived, among them tokens of discontent; but the fact was that the author, de­termined to bring AESOP on the stage, would have failed in portraying the truth of his character if he had made him do any thing but repeat fables. ‘"This character,"’ said he, ‘"as all characters should be, is drawn naturally; and I can only tell you that if good fables, which are generally considered as the essence of dramatic pieces, should be deemed an imperfection in the piece before you, we had better stop here, for I have yet eleven or twelve fables to repeat and all as good as those you have heard."’ The loudest and most universal applause succeeded, and the piece from that moment was con­sidered [Page 61] as a work of great genius and a brilliant ornament to the theatre.

Let us look after T. CORNEILLE. Darius, brought out in 1655, Le Geolier de soi-meme, in 1659, Le Galant Double in 1660, and Stilicon in the same year, had none of them more than passable success; but in 1661, Camma, which subject was suggested by FOUQUET, and recommended by the great CORNEILLE to his brother when he returned to the theatre, shews that fortune with T. COR­NEILLE was always in extremes; for the Hotel de Bourgogne, where it was represented, was so thronged and that repeatedly both in the front and behind the scenes, that there was scarcely room for the actors to perform their parts.

The concourse of people who came to this tra­gedy induced the actors, who had exhibited till then only on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Fridays, to add Thursday to their nights of performance; and this afterwards became a custom during the run of any piece that had extraordinary success.

Pyrrhus performed in 1661, Maximien in 1662, Persée et Demetrius in 1662, Antiochus in 1666, and Le Baron D'Albikrac in 1668, had each a creditable degree of success. Laodice, brought out the same [Page 62] year, did not succced so well^*. Annibal in 1669, La Comtesse D'Orgueil in 1670, and Theodat in 1672, shared that sort of fate usually experienced by this author, when fortune was not in her most generous mood. Ariane, produced in the same year, though an indifferent piece was well received on account of the admirable acting of Madame CHAMPMELE, and has frequently been revived since. This is the play that induced BOILEAU to give T. COR­NEILLE the name of the Younger Brother. COR­NEILLE is said to have written this tragedy in seven­teen days.

Achille in 1673, and Don Caesar D'Avalos in 1674, did tolerably well, but this author determined to rouse the public, had recourse in his next piece, Circe, which he brought forward in 1675, to ma­chines and decorations. This answered his expec­tations for the performance ran forty nights in suc­cession, and was freqently afterwards repeated during the season; and CORNEILLE, determined to strike while the iron was hot, in the same year produced [Page 63] L'Inconnu, a piece upon the same principle, which had a prodigious number of representations, of which the first thirty were at double price.

Le Festin de Pierre, brought out in 1677, was nothing more than MOLIERE's comedy under that title put into verse, and of course rendered more unnatural. Le Comte D'Essex, produced in 1678, was performed with success, and has been often re­peated.

La Devinèresse, performed in 1679, and Bra­damante in 1695, are all that now remain of the dra­matic pieces written by T. CORNEILLE. He is said, in La Devinèresse, to have called in the assistance of VISE; this is not very probable. It was performed forty-seven successive times to prodigious houses^*.

This last was not one of those meteors which now and then burst forth to irradiate the reputation of this author; not that it ought to be taken for granted that his productions of that description were his best; [Page 64] on the contrary they seem to have owed their fame principally to capriciousness, a quality very apt to cherish what is superficial and pass over sterling merit.

T. CORNEILLE also wrote for the theatre two operas under the titles of Psyche, and Medee; nei­ther of which had great success, probably owing to LULLY. Having lost QUINAULT, the only poet who knew how to give advantage to his music, the cloven foot appeared; for with all his vaunting that his music had made QUINAULT a poet, it fairly proved by his ill success after that writer's retire­ment, that the beauty of QUINAULT's poetry had made LULLY a musician.

I have been the more particular in this account of the works of T. CORNEILLE, because they are very frequently confounded with those of his bro­ther; an error that ought clearly to be pointed out. There certainly was a wide distinction between the two men; caused by the simple fact that the genius of the elder brother was infinitely superior to that of the younger, If, however, the works of one may truly be called great, those of the other may fairly claim the title of respectable; and nothing can prove this more fully than his making head in the extraordinary way we have sometimes seen at the [Page 65] time when his brother's brilliant success must have been a great obstacle to his reputation.

Some of the beauties of the great CORNEILLE were strong conception, grandeur of mind, and true delineation of character, T. CORNEILLE could only boast conduct, regularity, and theatrical effect. Hence the cause sometimes of sudden and unex­pected success. In other respects his pictures, which were admirable on the side of design, were faint on the side of colouring. His diction is unequal and weak, and only confirms the facility with which he laboured; always a dangerous circumstance, and that seldom permits an author to attain any thing beyond mediocrity, unless, through impulsive ge­nius, the mind be inspired with ideas so replete with truth and force, that it may be said they are rather transmitted than written.

CAMPISTRON, a writer of respectable consi­deration, next claims our attention. He was born at TOULOUSE, in 1659, and died of an apoplexy in 1723. CAMPISTRON was a nobleman by birth; and to the happiest dispositions for a pursuit of literature, received a most perfect and correct edu­cation. His taste for poetry led him to PARIS, where RACINE became his guide in his dramatic [Page 66] career. CAMPISTRON became the imitator of his preceptor; but, though he equalled him, and some­times excelled him in the conduct of his pieces, he always fell short of the beauty of his versification.

Owing to his birth, his talent for poetry, and the protection of the Duke de VENDÔME, he possessed several considerable employments, and was called on to fill a seat in the French Academy^*.

[Page 67]In 1683 he brought out his tragedy of Virginie, which gave his name the stamp of reputation. He closely allied himself with RAISIN, the actor, at whose house he lived in the continual society of all the men of talents and genius of that day; so that he had the advantage of their united opinions before he produced any thing to the public.

Arminius came forward in 1684. At this time the French taste was guided by the caprice of Ma­dame de BOUILLON, who was considered as the arbiter of the public judgment, She had taken a whim to patronize a very indifferent tragedy, called Teléphonte, written by CHAPELLE. In conse­quence of this Arminius was thrust into a corner; CAMPISTRON, therefore, withdrew his piece under the idea of improving it, and having made a few im­material alterations, he dedicated it to Madame de BOUILLON, after which time it was universally followed.

Andronic was brought out in the following year, and had such prodigious success that for the first twenty nights the prices of admittance were doubled; and, when after that they had reduced them to their usual standard, they were again obliged to double them for a considerable time; and even then they [Page 68] could scarcely keep the theatre clear enough to give the actors place for their performance.

Alcibiade, performed also in 1685, had not the success of any of those pieces which preceded it. CAMPISTRON was accused of having borrowed the subject from the Themistocle of DU RYER, but this was not the truth; or, if it had been so, it was not a sufficient reason for the coolness with which the public received it, for the most celebrated authors have at all times taken the same liberties; and when­ever this has been done to advantage, those pro­ductions have been uniformly considered as an ad­ditional value to the public stock of literature. The real fact was that CAMPISTRON not having had sufficient time to prepare his play, it came out in a more unfinished state than any of those the public had before seen.

Phraate produced in 1686, was so bold a picture of the times that CAMPISTRON roused all PARIS against him. It was performed but three times, and afterwards suppressed with all possible haste lest the incensed party should have had influence enough to send the author to the Bastile.

Phocion performed in 1688, had very indifferent success. The public had not forgot Phraate. This [Page 69] induced CAMPISTRON to turn his mind to a subject which he thought would conciliate all parties. He, therefore, in 1690, brought forward Adrien, taken from the History of the Church; but the public, as little desirous of seeing religion on the stage as po­lities, gave this christian tragedy, as it was called, a very heretical reception.

CAMPISTRON, however, was determined to stick to scripture; and, therefore, in his tragedy of Tiri­date, which was exhibited in 1691, the very delicate subject, from the Second Book of SAMUEL, of the amour of AMNON and his sister TAMER, was intro­duced on the theatre, under the veil of profane history. This tragedy had but little success; and, though it has been at different times revived, its reception was always so little in its favour, that it would have been better for the author and the pub­lic if it had been at once consigned to oblivion.

Actius, brought out in 1693, is so little known, and its sate so little remembered, that a French author says it is entirely lost to the world except the following line:

Pompeia. This tragedy was published in the works of CAMPISTRON, but its original success is [Page 70] not known. His comedies will come more pro­perly hereafter; we have, therefore, nothing now to prevent our leaving the course fairly open to RA­CINE, expect the necessity of noticing PRADON, who was the same sort of thorn in RACINE's side that BOURSAULT had been in the side of MOLIERE; with very distinct and different pretensions, however, BOURSAULT having possessed great genius, and every literary requisite, except a classical education, and PRADON having boasted very little from nature without any education at all^*.

But there were so many authors of that time of the same description in PARIS, that PRADON, if he had relied on mere patronage without setting himself up as the rival of RACINE, might have quietly en­joyed some partial reputation, and a good deal of profit; but his conduct in society was like that of a fool in company: He was perpetually betraying his ignorance in his loquacity, instead of prudently concealing it by remaining silent. The consequence was, that he drew on his head all the vengeance of RACINE's admirers, and particularly that of [Page 71] BOILEAU; by which means he was perpetually loaded with literary disgrace. In short, had he not vainly and ridiculously compared himself to RA­CINE, his name would not have been held in such contempt; or in other words, had he been modest as a man, he would have been considered passable as poet; but to speak of RACINE.

We have seen in what manner the Mithridate ^*, and the Iphigene of RACINE, conquered the Pul­cherie, and the Surene of CORNEILLE. It will now be proper to speak of the remaining pieces of RA­CINE, which are Phedre et Hypolite, Esther, and Athalie.

Against Phedre et Hypolite, which came out in 1677, the whole force of PRADON's friends was drawn up in martial array; not only with a deter­mination to suppress this play of RACINE, but to establish another under the same title written by PRADON. Among this party Madame DESHOU­LIERES, a celebrated writer, was supported by the Duchess of BOUILLON, the Duke of NEVERS [Page 72] her brother, and many other persons of distinction. The consequence was that RACINE's play had but very indifferent success, and that of PRADON was lifted to the skies.

Every industry was used to humiliate RACINE and exalt PRADON. The boxes, to PRADON's play, were taken for several nights together; so were those to the play of RACINE, and paid; but they were locked up and left empty, that the house might appear as if it were deserted. At the same time parties were hired to line the two parterres and to applaud one play and hiss the other. But the most curious instance of their caprice was, that RACINE was execrated for bringing out a piece upon so indecent a subject, when the same circum­stances, equally reprehensible in PRADON, was, in his favour, not only passed by but commended. It was said that to raise this cabal it cost this illustrious party fifteen thousand livres.

This business at last became very serious. Ma­dame DESHOULIERES wrote a sonnet with a view to humiliate RACINE and BOILLAU. They sus­pecting this sonnet to have come from the pen of the Duke of NEVERS, answered it by another, con­serving the same rhimes, in which they treated the Duke with great severity. He replied by a third, [Page 73] still keeping the same rhimes, and finished by a de­claration that he would cane them both in the the­atre before the public. ^*

This, however, upon reflection he thought pro­per to decline; for, his cause not being a very good one, and RACINE and BOILEAU having been that year chosen by the king to write the history of his reign, he was apprehensive by this vindictive spirit he might incur the king's displeasure; which con­jecture turned out to be well sounded, for the king having noticed this unhandsome treatment to RA­CINE from first to last, sent for the Duke himself and represented to him that he not only injured the [Page 74] cause of literature, an object of consequence in all civilized states, by protecting dunces to the prejudice of men of talents, but that in this particular instance he had insulted two men of merit, whom he himself had taken under his royal protection, and to whom it was his resolution to shew every possible counte­nance and attention.

Notwithstanding this ample justice done to the reputation of RACINE, the humiliation of having so despicable a competitor as PRADON, and that it should be possible that the public could hesitate a moment between their different merits, determined RACINE, at all times excessively vain, and feelingly irritable, instead of exulting in his triumph, and treating the whole business with the ineffable con­tempt it deserved, to retire at once from the theatre. In vain did BOILEAU, that kind friend, whose malignant spirit had led RACINE into all sorts of scrapes, entreat him, in his seventh epistle, to re­enter on his dramatic career. He persisted stub­bornly till twelve years afterwards, when he brought out Esther from motives of piety.

Madame de MAINTENON, disgusted with the pieces which were performed by her young scholars at her convent of St. CYR, prevailed, with some difficulty, on RACINE to undertake some religious [Page 75] subject to be represented by these young ladies. RACINE, after raising many difficulties, consented at last, and wrote the tragedy of Esther, which was performed, during the Carnaval at St. CYR, and afterwards at VERSAILLES before the king.

Madame de SEVIGNE calls this RACINE's chef d'oeuvre. ‘"This poet,"’ says she, ‘"has here sur­passed himself. He loves his GOD as he loved his mistresses. He is as warm on holy subjects as he was on profane. All is beautiful, grand, written with dignity."’ VOLTAIRE, however, does not happen to be of this opinion. ‘"It seems to be,"’ says he, ‘"very extraordinary that Esther had universal success, and that Athalie, though performed but two years afterwards, by the same persons, had none at all. The case was entirely the reverse when these pieces were performed at PARIS long after the author's death, and when prejudice and partiality had also died away. Athalie was represented then, as it ought to be, with transport; and Esther was received with coldness, and soon forgotten. The fact was; that, at this latter period, there were no servile courtiers who complaisantly acknowledged Esther in Madame de MAINTENON, or malignantly saw Vashti in Madame de MONTESPAN, or Hamon in DE LOUVOIS; or, above all, the persecution [Page 76] of the Huguenots in the proscription of the He­brews. The impartial public saw nothing in it but a stupid and improbable story. A ridiculous prince, who had lived six months with his wife without knowing what she was, who commanded a whole nation to be murdered without the least pretence^*, and who afterwards hanged his fa­vourite with as little reason."’

Esther again roused RACINE's enemies; whose malignity, in revenge for the satire thrown out against them by BOILEAU, was so indesatigably exercised, that from a variety of representations of the circumstance to Madame de MAINTENON, she was taught to believe that she relaxed the morals of her young pensioners by suffering them to ex­hibit any thing dramatic, even though on religious subjects. Desirious, however, to hear Athalie, es­pecially after RACINE had taken so much pains to please her, she consented that the young ladies should repeat the play in the presence of the king in a plain antichamber, and without theatrical dresses. A piece, thus deprived of the advantages of dresses, scenery, and decorations, and upon such a serious [Page 77] subject, could not possibly succeed to any extra­ordinary degree; which circumstance, perhaps, escaped VOLTAIRE. The king, however, was so well content that he conferred on RACINE the charge of one of his gentlemen in ordinary.

I shall now go as shortly as possible into an ex­amination of RACINE, of whom more, perhaps, has been said by the French than of any other poet that ever had existence, and certainly more, infinitely more, than his merit will bear out.

VOLTAIRE, who know as well that he was unable to write verse with the same tenderness, the same beauty, and the same harmony as RACINE, as he did that in eloquence, force, and animation, he could greatly excel him, risked nothing in those rap­turous declarations which the world have taken for honest candour, and self denying impartiality. These are his words, on the delineation of RACINE's cha­racter of Phedre. ‘"This,"’ says he, ‘"is the chef d'oeuvre of the human mind, and the eternal but inimitable model for the labours of all those who would write verse."’ This, in Mr. VOLTAIRE's opinion, seems to stamp RACINE as the first of poets; but does it stamp him as the first of dramatic writers? At another time, when he was speaking with great enthusiasm of the poetry of RACINE, he [Page 78] was asked by a friend why he had not given the world the eulogium of that poet as well as of the great CORNEILLE. ‘"It is already done,"’ said VOLTAIRE, ‘"we have nothing to do but to write under every page, fine, pathetic, harmonious, sublime!"’

Why did not VOLTAIRE add touching, cha­racteristic, important, philosophic? Because these are always to be found in CORNEILLE, often in VOLTAIRE, and seldom in RACINE.

The basis of enthusiastic admiration has seldom much solidity. The harmony of numbers, the en­chantment of language, a happy precision, a finished elocution; all these captivate and entrance the mind; but when we are told by reflection, or if we are too far gone to reflect, by a candid and finished critic, that all these qualities are no more than a fe­licitous variation of the idiom of a particular tongue, it is impossible not to confess that, in all this superfi­cial deception, simplicity, nature, and the heart have been egregiously outraged; and, if this is not the case, how comes it that RACINE has never been translated? I answer, because it would take a poet, ay, and a great poet, to translate RACINE; whereas a common linguist might translate SHAKESPEAR, or even CORNEILLE, into any of the living languages.

[Page 79]What does all this say, but that, seduced by this inimitable elegance, we shut our eyes to faults much more material and important than the beauties we have been able to discover. There is a wide dis­tinction between a great poet and a great author; between RACINE, for instance, and CORNEILLE. Where is there in RACINE the painting, the variety, the depth, the grandeur, the elevation, the force, the majesty that pervade the writings of CORNEILLE? These are not to be found in study, and unfortu­nately RACINE had no other communication with the Muses. I own that CORNEILLE fails in style and taste; but style and taste are weak and effemi­nate literary requisites. How such superficial ex­pressions fade away at those more substantial epithets, truth, and nature. I own the writing of COR­NEILLE is sometimes hard, incorrect, perplexed, and rude; but I strip off this rind and instantly flows a nourishing juice that warms my heart and cheers and exhilerates my spirits.

The fact is that we find in CORNEILLE a mo­ralist, a philosopher, a legislator, and yet a poet. Love, pity, pride, ambition, cruelty, remorse, re­pentance, mercy, clemency, are only so many shades which, with the assistance of a thousand intermediate tints, he colours the picture of human nature. RA­CINE, only a poet, depicts nothing but love in all its various vicissitudes. To love all the other [Page 80] passions are subservient; and, as if this were not enough, his Cupid is now and then a petit maitre and apes all the manners of the French court^*.

Whenever CORNEILLE has availed himself of history, he has taken the circumstances and invented appropriate language for his personages. If RA­CINE wrote Phedre, Britannicus, and Athalie, he contented himself with versifying EURIPIDES, TA­CITUS, and the Scriptures. But the great fault of RA­CINE, and that which shews he was by no means a master of dramatic construction, is his having given to love the first rank in his tragedies; whereas reli­gion, general honour, patriotism, and other important public duties, though confirmed, conciliated, and endeared by love, to render the construction of a play grand and interesting, ought always to be the primary consideration.

The very eulogists of RACINE lose themselves in attempting to draw a comparison between him and CORNEILLE, They tell you that CORNEILLE [Page 81] is like a statue that strikes you by the grandeur, the pride, the force, and the vigour of its form; that RACINE is a picture, sweet, tender, delicate, na­tural, and animated, which through the eyes touches the heart. CORNEILLE a torrent that rises up with violence and precipitates itself with impetuosity; RACINE a majestic river whose grand and peaceable course conveys delight and expands fertility. COR­NEILLE an audacious eagle that loses itself in the clouds and seizes the thunder of JUPITER; RA­CINE a tender dove that sails beautifully through the air to the groves of IDALIA, from whence it returns training the car of VENUS.

That firmness of mind, that consciousness of ex­cellence, that certainty of superiority necessary to form a great author, upon all occasions failed RA­CINE. He flew, but he did not soar; he always pleased the ear, but he seldom reached the heart; he every where delighted the imagination, but no where touched the soul. That which cheated you into an idea of perfection often flattened into dull monotony, and fancied sublimity, perpetually dwindled into measured numbers.

This mental weakness was manifest in all his conduct as a man. He was not contented with [Page 82] fancying himself the greatest writer that ever had existed, but he fancied he knew every thing better than every body. When he found himself so greatly favoured by Madame de MAINTENON, who, by the way, had only encouraged his muse to humiliate her rival Madame MONTESPAN, he actualty projected a plan of finance, which he thought would work a complete reformation in the legislature. This plan was put on paper and confided to his patroness, in whose hands LOUIS the fourteenth found it; who not only soundly rated the lady for her officiousness, but warmly inveighed against the temerity of the poet. ‘"How,"’ said he, ‘"because this man can write harmonious verse, does he think he knows every thing? and because he is a good poet does he fancy himself a great minister?"’

It was the great misfortune of RACINE that he considered the perfection of versifying the perfection of writing; to which BOILEAU, who seemed like one of those evil genuises that under the mask of kindness lure men to a precipice and then laugh at them as they are precipitated down, did not a little contribute. Thus when he thought he had immor­talized himself by any work which the public re­ceived coldly, the shock was too much for his spirits. ‘"Though I own,"’ said he to BOILEAU, ‘"nothing delights me so much as public applause, the least, [Page 83] the most contemptible criticism, always gives me more pain than the warmest praise ever gave me pleasure."’ Is this a great man, a sublime ge­nuis!

Many traits in the life of RACINE, his epigrams, and above all, his preface to Britannicus, where with a heart swelling and a mind stung with envy, he endeavoured with the most bitter irony to turn the greatest part of CORNEILLE's pieces into ridicule, discover in RACINE that pityful littleness of mind, that caustic and irascible spirit which HORACE at­tributes to all poets, whom he pleasantly calls the choleric race.

This perpetual discontent and eternal irritability abridged his life. After the business of his im­proving the finance, Madame de MAINTENON gave him to understand that the king was so little satisfied with him that he had better not appear at court till the storm was blown over; determined, however, to be convinced, he appeared before the king, who took no notice of him. This severe humiliation he could not brook; he, therefore, retired to his native country, where he is said to have lingered a twelve-month in a most, distracted state of mind, and then to have died on the twenty-first of April, in 1699, of a broken heart.

[Page 84]Faithful to the immutable dictates of sacred truth, let us not withhold a fair tribute of praise to RACINE. As a poet he has been unfortunately spoken of to the exclusion of all others. If his friends had not been so warm in his praise, his works would not have demanded so critical an investigation, and he would have been accorded his own fair legiti­mate portion of commendation, without the ne­cessity of shewing by comparison how inferior he was to those he is said to have excelled.

In its general sense, RACINE certainly did not belong to the first class of writers, which must be indispensibly composed of men of original genius; nor did he more in its particular sense; the art he exercised being of a secondary nature.

The classes of writers, particularly considered, may be divided into a large number; at the head of which stands first, the epic, second, the dramatic, and soon after the lyric poet; but any number of any one of these particular classes may belong to the first class of writers, taken generally, if possessed of original genius^*.

Thus RACINE, having neither possessed original [Page 85] genius, nor written epic poetry, cannot generally, nor particularly, be classed otherwise than as a se­condary writer. His labours, however, are both ingenious, and meritorious; and will ensure him a large portion of fame with all those who consider taste and style as the standard of literature; but, I believe, they are few writers who would not rather, like CORNEILLE, be esteemed by the wise, admired by the judicious, and emulated by men of genius; than, like RACINE, be the criterion of the fashion­able, the wonder of the inexperienced, and the idol of the ladies.

CHAP. V. DANCOURT, AND OTHER AUTHORS TO CREBILLON.

HAVING principally spoken of tragedy in the last chapter, in order that RACINE might be more pro­perly before the reader, I shall now return to the time when DANCOURT gave a new turn to comedy; certainly an imitation of MOLIERE, but beyond all question, as far as it went, in every respect an im­provement; for, by aiming at less of the ARISTO­PHANES, his satire is more general and less of­fensive.

DANCOURT was born at FONTAINBLEAU, in 1661, he was educated under Father DE LA RUE, a Jesuit; who finding him a young man of excellent understanding, did all in his power to retain him as a member of that fraternity. He, however, de­clared for the bar; but, finding that study too straitened and dry for the vivacity and penetration of a genius like his, he finally determined for the [Page 87] stage, where he made so great a progress, that like MOLIERE, he became director of the theatre.

Though DANCOURT brought out no less than fifty-two pieces, besides six or eight others attributed to him, his subjects lie in a small circle, round, which he perpetually turned. Tricksters of every description he had a most happy knack of exposing; and, to employ this talent, he found an inexhaustible source of materials in painting the manners of middling life, and the cunning of those who are kind friends and good neighbours, except upon those oc­casions when interest renders them callous to ge­nerosity and insensible to good fellowship.

These ordinary feelings and actions of mankind which pervade every order of society, he most happily pursued even to the lowest peasants. If his scene was a village, or even a mill, the subtilty, with which interest teaches men to betray those they appear to love, was no less refined than if his cha­racters had been financiers, or procureurs; and, in­deed, in painting rustic manners no man ever was so happy. His clowns are so simple, and so natural, yet so fine and so cunning, and manage their intrigues with such keen dexterity, that in interest, a statesman might envy the art and adroitness of BLAISE, and [Page 88] in love a woman of fashion might be proud to emu­late the coquettry and capriciousness of BABET.

The lightest circumstance furnished him with an idea for an entertainment. An adventure, a fashion, a proverb, became a subject of moment, dramatised by DANCOURT. His pieces are all light, but they are ingenious, regular, managed adroitly, and with­out embarrassment. His dialogue is natural, lively, rapid, full of gaiety, and sparkling with wit; written, five plays excepted^*, which are by no means the best of his works, in prose, a strong proof of his good sense. Not that he was unequal to the task of writing poetry; for his pieces are sometimes in­terspersed with little songs, masques, and divertise­ments, which are written very neatly, and which, upon the whole, rank his genius somewhere be­tween PRIOR and VANBRUGH; which last, what­ever his obligations were to nature, was, as I shall hereafter particularize, also highly obliged to DAN­COURT.

[Page 89]The pieces of DANCOURT which have best established his reputation, are La Femme D'intrigue, Le Chevalier a la Mode, Les Bourgeoises a la Mode, and the Agioteurs. These, except the last, are pieces of five acts, and for conduct, truth, colour­ing and spirit, no comedies can be better managed, nor characters drawn. His secondary class are La Maison de Campaigne, La Parisienne, Le Tuteur, La Foire de Bezons, Le Galant Jardinier, and five or six others; in all which the circumstances are strong, the characters natural, and the dialogue lively and unaffected.

A third sort are those picturesque trifles, ad­mirable in their way, where he has availed himself of any temporary circumstance. Such are La Lo­terie ^*, Les curieux de Compeigne ^†, Le Mari Re­trouvé ^*, [Page 90] Le Vert Galant ^†, and several others. His [Page 91] fourth class, but by no means his worst, are pieces generally of one act, containing a neat unaffected plot, spiritedly begun, well followed, and roundly finished. Among these we find La Gazette, L'Opera de Village, Les Vendanges, Le Moulin de Javelle, Les eaux de Bourbon, Les Vacances, Colin Maillard, and about eight more.

It has been said that what REGNARD was to MOLIERE in the higher style of comedy, DAN­COURT was to the same degree in farce. Nothing can more clearly prove his good sense than this re­mark, for that part of MOLIERE's works which ap­proaches nearest to farce, is by infinite degrees his best; and it would have ill suited the bent of DAN­COURT's genuis to have attempted any thing of a grander kind. As it is, by diversifying, extending, and, indeed, improving this lighter species of dra­matic amusement, his pieces have ever been de­servedly celebrated; had he attempted any thing more he might have been respectable, but he never would have been popular.

It has been laid to DANCOURT's charge, that he foisted on the public the works of other people as his own; but the same thing has been said of every author of merit that ever existed. In support [Page 100] of these accusations against DANCOURT it is in­sisted that, being a manager of a theatre, and con­stantly in possession of a variety of new pieces, he appropriated such as he thought proper to his own use, and having kept copies of them, returned them to their different authors as improper for repre­sentation.

This assertion, however, stands upon very feeble ground indeed, and seems to have originated from that envy which, the poet tells us, pursues merit as its shadow. There is no piece of DANCOURT, let the materials be ever so slight, that is not touched with the hand of a master. How could he then reap advantage from the essays of novices? For he is not accused of robbing a single adept. Indeed the best name they can produce, and almost the only one, to corroborate this improbable assertion, is that of SAINTYON, who is suspected to be the author of Le Chevalier a la Mode, and Les Bour­ge [...]isis a la Mode—two comedies of considerable merit in point of construction the latter being al­most, word for word, our admirable play of The Confederacy—and known to be the author of Les Facons du Temps, and Danae, two pieces which, though touched up by RICCOBONI and DOMINIQUE, and pussed by BOURSAULT's celebrated VISE, who [Page 101] was paid for his pains, were considered by the pub­lic as most contemptible productions.

Those who can read with judgement will very easily see that the works of DANCOURT are uni­formly written by the same person. They are col­lected into nine volumes with the greatest care by his friends, who one should suppose would have made these distinctions had they been necessary; and they bear the signature of DE LA MOTTE, whose duty it was to sign the privilege of the king, and whose advice, both for the sake of truth and out of care for the reputation of DANCOURT, whom he admired, would of course have been to pub­lish no more than was legitimately his. I shall hereafter resume DANCOURT as an actor and a manager.

REGNARD, a respectable writer, who is said to have divided the genuis of MOLIERE with DAN­COURT, certainly not only chose the worst and the most difficult part, but that to which he was un­equal. The higher style of MOLIERE's comedy is in verse, and unfortunately for REGNARD in such verse as he was incapable of writing. He did right, however, for had he chosen that part which DAN­COURT improved, he would have been worse off. VOLTAIRE, who loves to afford left handed praise, [Page 102] says that he who is not pleased with REGNARD is not worthy to admire MOLIERE. The truth is, that had REGNARD never heard of such a writer as MOLIERE, he would have been a better writer him­self. Every man should use his own faculties such as they are, and scorn the servility of imitation^*.

REGNARD, who was born of rich parents in 1657, in the early part of his life visited many of the courts of EUROPE. In one of his voyages in the MEDITERANEAN, he was taken by a Corsair and sold afterwards for fifteen hundred livres. His master carried him to CONSTANTINOPLE, where he was a long time a slave; finding means, however, to inform his friends of his situation, they paid his ransom, and he returned to FRANCE, bringing with him his chains; which, in imitation of AESOP, and other [Page 103] great men, he preserved to remind him of his former adversity.

REGNARD, between 1688 and 1695, brought out six pieces at the ancient Italian theatre^*. These were none of those in which he copied MOLIERE, but if they had been any of them they would have done him but little credit, for they were flunzy enough, and their success was so little to the repu­tation of their author, or DOMINIQUE, who pro­duced them, that there is an anecdote of his erasing some of them from his stock catalogue.

His pieces for the French theatre, amounting to eight, have more pretensions to merit, particu­larly Le Joueur de Bal, Le Distrait, Democrite, and Les Menechmes; but even these are full of de­fects; [Page 104] having but little original in them, and being written in dull monotonous verse, with little energy and less interest. The Distrait makes a better figure in BRUYERE, Democrite is a strange jumble of improbability, and Les Menechmes, originally from PLAUTUS, is altered very little for the better from ROTROU. Upon the whole Le Joueur is his best comedy, which has interest, situation, and character enough to give it consequence, were it not for the negligent, heavy, and prosaic verse in which it is written.

DUFRESNY was an author of considerable merit. His pieces, upwards of thirty in number, are ge­nerally an irregular jumble, careless, and negligent, and yet they are not without ingenuity, sprightliness, and nature. Their grand fault is indecency, which, however, in FRANCE, has seldom impeded the suc­cess of dramatic representations of the ligher kind, nay, some of those which have been performed on the Boulevards, have, if I may so express myself, no other merit.

It is very well known that DUFRESNY was de­scended from HENRY the fourth. That king hav­ing had an amour with a woman who was called LA BELLE JARDINIERE, the consequence of which was the birth of DUFRESNY's grandfather. LOUIS [Page 105] fourteenth did not dissemble the fact; but, on that account, afforded him his particular countenance and protection.

It is astonishing how variously gifted this man was, and yet how little he knew. He had a taste for poetry, painting, sculpture, architecture, and agriculture; but his great delight was music; and, though nothing could beat into him the smallest comprehension of its theoretical principles, yet he made many melodies, which are printed at the end of his works, and which evince a musical mind if he had known how to have put it into action. His method was when he had invented his tune to sing it to GRANDVAL, who as well as an actor was a musician, after which GRANDVAL wrote it down and added the accompanyments.

As extraordinary things are said of his know­ledge of design; in which he used no pencil, nor crayon, but a pair of scissars, fashioning every kind of animate and inanimate object with the most cri­tical symetry and taste. Models for sculpture he formed in the same extemporaneous manner with clay and wax; and his knowledge of agriculture, which he is very gravely said to have inherited from [Page 104] [...] [Page 105] [...] [Page 106] his great grandmother, was, both as to ornament and utility, uncommonly great and extensive.

The gardens of MIGNAUX, near POISSY, those in the FAUXBOURG, SAINT ANTOINE, called Du Moulin and Le Chemin Creux, those of the Abbe PAJOT, near DE VINCENNES, are proofs of his superior taste and judgement in this study. LOUIS the fourteenth, determined to make the gardens at VERSAILLES surpass in grandeur and magnificence every thing of that kind seen before, submitted his plan to DUFRESNY, who suggested many material alterations with which the king was greatly pleased; but objected to them on account of the prodigious expence that would be incurred had the plan been carried into execution. He, however, to shew DU­FRESNY how much he admired his spirit and taste, made him controller of his gardens.

This projector afterwards was at the head of a glass manufactory which had prodigious success. With all these fortunate advantages, however, DU­FRESNY was always behind hand. This induced him, when he had brought this manufactory to perfection, to sell his concern in it for a very moderate sum, which circumstance coming to the ears of the king, he obliged those who had taken advantage of his [Page 107] necessity and ingenuity to allow him three thousand livres a year. His extravagance, however, knew no bounds, and it was not long before he agreed with his partners to give up the annuity for a given sum, on which the king was heard to say, ‘"that the public treasury would not content DU­FRESNY^*."’

Many of his dramatic pieces, only two of which L'esprit de Contradiction, and Le Lot Supposè, suc­ceeded in his life time, have been revived at dif­ferent times either at the Italian theatre, or the Fairs; but though the major part of them are printed in his works, they have now been banished the theatre for many years.

[Page 108]POISSON, whom I shall speak of here only as an author, brought forward, between 1661 and 1680, nine pieces, seven of which are each in one act, one is in five acts, and the other in three. It is not so much the number of pieces, or their estimation, in point of weight and consequence, that entitles the performances of POISSON to particular mention here, as the simplicity and nature in their style by which they are distinguished.

His personages are, like those of DANCOURT, chosen from the middle order of society, whose tone and language he has happily caught; and, though it must be confessed that his pieces are fee­ble, on the side of invention, they are designed with that intelligence, and executed with that fa­cility, which evince judgement and experience in their author.

He is considered as the inventor of the character of CRISPIN, and these pieces are evidently written to support that character, which he always per­formed himself. Its outline is light pleasantry, in­sinuating flattery, perpetual importunity, one who meddles with every thing, is attached to nothing, and who seems more interested in proportion as the circumstance is contemptible. These qualities he has woven into his pieces and characterized by in­numerable [Page 109] tints and shades to shew off the finesse of his acting, in which he was supposed to excel all other performers. La Fou de Qualité, which he de­dicated to LANGELY, the fool of LOUIS the four­teenth, Les Faux Muscovites ^*, and two or three others, may rank fairly by the side of those pieces written by DANCOURT. I shall hereafter speak of POISSON as an actor.

The pieces of LE NOBLE are of so little celebrity that I should pass over that author entirely but for the rank in literature he otherwise held, and for those strange adventures which arose out of his singular conduct.

LE NOBLE was born at TROYES, in 1643, of a family of distinction, and was given, entirely through his merit, a charge of procureur general of the [Page 110] parliament of METZ. He enjoyed for some years a brilliant reputation and a large fortune, when he was all of a sudden accused of forgery, conveyed to the Chatelet, and condemned to make amende ho­norable, and to be banished for nine years. He ap­pealed against the sentence, merely to gain time, and in the mean while he was committed to the Conçergerie.

GABRIELLE PERREAU, known by the name of LA BELLE EPICIERE, was at that time in the same prison, where she had been sent by her husband for infidelity and other ill conduct. She was hand­some, and LE NOBLE, not insensible of her charms, undertook to be her advocate. She in return was not ungrateful. A handsome man, with a lively and sensible imagination, and who spoke and wrote to admiration, was the very object to her mind. They lived together upon the most familiar terms till an apprehension of a living witness of their inter­course obliged them to take measures to prevent a discovery.

LE NOBLE bad prolonged the proceedings with great address both against her and himself; and, upon this emergency, he managed that she should be received into a convent to lie in as a pensioner. In this situation he concerted his measures so cun­ningly [Page 111] that when she was able to go out, he evaded the vigilence of his keepers and retired to an obscure part of PARIS, where she soon joined him, first leav­ing the child behind her as a present to the holy sisters of the convent. They were soon routed, obliged to leave PARIS, and lived for some years an errant and a vagrant life, during which time the lady brought him two more children.

At length he was taken, again put into prison, and immediately condemned to make the amende honorable in the chamber of the Chatelet, and to be banished the kingdom for nine years, and at the same time his lady's cause was determined, which decision released her husband from all charge upon her ac­count, and obliged LE NOBLE to provide for her and her three children. What degree of ignomi­nious punishment he sustained we are not told, but one should suppose it was as slight as the nature of the circumstance would admit, for he was permitted after a short banishment to return to FRANCE, where he figured away with incredible reputation as a writer.

His troubles, however, had no power to restrain his irregularities. He continued incorrigible the whole of his life, and, at length, died in consequence of his dissipation, at the age of sixty eight, and was [Page 112] buried at the expence of the parish, after having gained the booksellers a hundred thousand crowns. His works, which are published in twenty volumes, are upon various subjects, and generally well written. Among them are to be found four dramatic pieces; which, like those of FONTENELLE, and LA FON­TAINE, seem to have been more the fruits of leisure hours than the employment of that time which he devoted to the assistance of his literary reputation. Their titles are Esope, Les Deux Arlequins, Tha­lestris, and Le Fourbe.

The swarm of inferior authors who infested the theatres and inundated the public about this period, every one a MOLIERE in imagination, I shall nei­ther have room, nor have I inclination to intro­duce. I cannot, however, pass by BRUEYS and PA­LAPRAT, who wrote in conjunction several pieces for the theatre. BRUEYS was born in PROVENCE, in 1640, and was bred up a Calvanist. He made himself remarkable early in life by writing against BOSSUET's Exposition de la Foi. That prelate in combating his reasons converted him, and when he had become a Roman Catholic he was altogether as zealous against the Protestants as he had been for­merly strenuous in their favour. He was, however, ill calculated for disputes of this kind, and, there­fore, left theology for the theatre.

[Page 113]PALAPRAT was born at TOULOUSE, in 1650. As a poet he had a lively and pleasant imagination, and as a man he was candid, ingenuous, and un­offending. Alike unconscious of his philanthropy, or his wit, he was kind to others for his own gratification, and he delighted the world while he thought he was instructing himself; thus if THEMISTOCLES asked, when his hearers laughed, if he had said a foolish thing, PALAPRAT might have asked with the same simplicity as his hearers admired him, ‘"What have I said worthy of attention."’

The similitude of dispositions and merit in BRUEYS and PALAPRAT pointed them out to each other as proper associates in literature. They brought out, in conjunction, a great number of pieces. Le Grondeur is said to be superior to any thing in MOLIERE. This, however, is saying too much of it, though it cannot be denied that it is full of whimsical pleasantry and well conducted intrigue. Le Muet is imitated from the Eunuch of TERENCE, but certainly written with much more warmth than its model. L'Important de Cour, which neither wants fire nor humour, is however wrongly named; for the principal character is not by any means a person of importance, but a pityful provincial pretender, [Page 114] who awkwardly apes courtly manners without un­derstanding them.

Le Force du Sang, L'Opiniatre, Les Empyriques, Les Quiproquo, and Les Embarras du derriere du The­atre, have all some pleasant passages. L'Opiniatre is in verse, and, therefore, hard and dry, and though full of action, it has no humour. The principal character is a mere chalk drawing. Upon the whole L'avocat Patelin is the best piece produced by these associates, and is a meritorious attempt to restore the ancient farce originally invented by the Children of Sans Souci, and greatly encouraged at the time of FRANCIS the first, and which, without doubt, MO­LIERE had frequently in his eye^*.

These are the most material of those pieces which [Page 115] were brought out by these friends, for friends they strictly were; induced, one would think, by a re­markable parity in their genius, dispositions, ha­bits, and manners, nay, even their bodily infirmities, which rendered them a constant prey to doctors, and particularly to the nephew of BRUEYS, a man of medical celebrity^*. Thus equal in reputation, in simplicity, and in credulity, they lived upon the kindest terms for many years. At length, not without strong regret on both sides, they parted. PALAPRAT followed the fortune of VENDÔME into ITALY, and BRUEYS retired to MONTPELIER, where he died at the age of eighty-three, having survived his friend only a year.

CHAP. VI. CREBILLON AND THE STATE OF TRAGEDY TO VOLTAIRE.

CREBILLON, who stands at the head of those dra­matic writers that immediately succeeded RACINE, now claims our attention; he being the only author who knew how to make advantage of the occasion that then presented itself of emulating the reputation of CORNEILLE and RACINE, without imitating either of them.

CREBILLON was born at DIJON, of an ancient and noble family, in 1674, and died at PARIS in 1762. He was intended by nature to pursue in literature a career of his own, which was the more fortunate for him as CORNEILLE had appropriated to himself the majesty, and RACINE the tender­ness of tragedy. He disdained to follow their steps, perhaps less impelled by choice than compulsion; genius seldom balances; it decides. It projects less than it executes.

[Page 117]CREBILLON, determined to chuse a sure road, struck into the path that AESCHYLUS had trod be­fore him; which he pursued with a strength and a regularity that AESCHYLUS never knew. His style was all nerve, all force; it had neither the elevation of CORNEILLE, nor the elegance of RACINE. He preferred astonishment to admiration, strength to harmony, and his male and vigorous pencil seldom drew any but terrible objects. It was a tyrant who, while he exacted your obedience, made you trem­ble in his presence.

CREBILLON's first tragedy, Idoménée, was brought out in 1705. The public balanced at the bold style in which it was written, and complained against the fifth act. It was withdrawn and a new fifth act written, when its success was prodigious^*.

Atree et Thyeste, produced in 1707, gave CREBILLON's reputation stronger footing. Never­theless the boldness of his style induced the au­dience on the first night to pause on its merits. It was impossible to blame, but they knew not to what degree to applaud judiciously^†. It [Page 118] grew, however, on the public and became a great favourite.

Electre came out in 1708, with much reputation, but Radamiste et Zenobie, lifted the same of CRE­BILLON to that height where it has ever since de­servedly been placed. It is certainly one of the chef d'oeuvres of the French theatre, and the astonish­ing success it met with was greatly its due^*. In his next piece, Xerxes, brought forward in 1714, he was less happy. It had but one representation. When it was over he asked for the parts from the actors and burnt them before their faces, saying, ‘"I was in the wrong, the public have undeceived me."’ There is good writing in this piece, but the author killed almost all the characters; a circum­stance [Page 119] at which the French have always with justice revolted.

Semiramis came out in 1717. This is the play which, as we shall hereafter see, VOLTAIRE took for the model of his tragedy under that title, and which induced so many squibs and epigrams at his expence. It had considerable success when CRE­BILLON first produced it. Pyrrhus, performed in 1762, was a tragedy written upon a new model; and, therefore, did not greatly succeed. CREBILLON had been reproached with introducing so much cruelty on the stage, that he, therefore, resolved to try his hand at tenderness. We are told he worked for five years at this tragedy, and, at last, though it had its particular merits, the audience gave but little credit to them, because written by a man who, instead of the pathetic, had been ac­customed to produce the terrible.

As Catalina, CREBILLON's next piece, was not produced till 1748, at which time he might be con­sidered as cotemporary with VOLTAIRE, I remit a further account of him till that time; when, as far as it may be necessary, I shall also notice his son.

LONGEPIERRE, who was celebrated for three tragedies under the titles of Medee, Electre, and [Page 120] Sesostris, was a proof how extremely difficult au­thors found it to steer, like CREBILLON, wide of CORNEILLIE and RACINE, and yet succeed. Search­ing for the beauties of SOPHOCLES and EURIPIDES, they forgot the age in which they were writing. Medée, which is said to have been superior to COR­NEILLE, is full of declamation, cold, unequal, and prolix. Electre, from which piece, however, VOL­TAIRE has not disdained to borrow some circum­stances in his Oreste, is a Greek dressed in a French habit, a statue of PRAXITELES disfigured by a modern bungler; and, as for Sesostris, it was per­formed but once, and was never printed^*.

[Page 121]LA GRANGE CHANCEL, who wrote with con­siderable celebrity, would have ensured himself a more brilliant fame had he not servilely followed RACINE, who, indeed, was his preceptor in the art of letters; if it be not a profanation to call that an art which is incapable of being taught by any other preceptor than nature.

LA GRANGE was born near PERIGUEUX, in 1676, and he died at PARIS, in 1760, having ren­dered himself remarkable for employing his pen from nine years old till within two years of his death. Having been puffed up with early success, he ventured at some indiscreet satires, for which he was confined in the Islands of Saint MARGUERITE, whence, after a year, he contrived to escape; and, by means of friends which he conjured up wherever he went, he was kindly received by the king of SARDINIA, and afterwards he rendered himself useful to the king of SPAIN.

The Spanish nobles, jealous of this distinction, planned his destruction, and it was with the utmost difficulty he escaped assassination. Finding that SPAIN was no place for him, he embarked for AM­STERDAM. There he procured an introduction to [Page 122] the Ambassador of AUGUSTUS, king of POLAND, who finding him full of political intelligence, took him to POLAND at his return, where AUGUSTUS invited him to his court and made him considerable presents.

After the death of those he had satirized, who had been his persecutors in FRANCE, he ventured to return to his native country. The ministers of state very soon courted his alliance, know­ing that the intelligence he must have gathered by his intimate knowledge of the affairs of foreign courts would render him of infinite service to them in the prosecution of their views. This party he readily embraced and, after that, he lived safe, fa­voured, and opulent.

His writings, which are full of genius and inex­perience, are a mixture of temerity and fear. Every thing is ventured, nothing prepared. Love and hatred, fury and moderation, are violently dragged in without motive or management. Insults are com­mitted and pardoned, anger is kindled and extin­guished, nobody knows why. Soaring after the sub­lime he seizes the bombast; and studying for the beautiful he is lost in the bathos. His grandeur is burlesque, and his simplicity puerility.

[Page 123]The severity of these truths, however, would not have attached to the writings of LA GRANGE, had he like CREBILLON disdained imitation. His first piece Adherbal, brought out in 1694, and written when he was only fourteen years of age, is spoken of as an astonishing attempt for such a youth, and very probably he might have claimed the merit of an original writer had he not suffered his fancy, at that tender season when the mind takes and retains im­pressions, to be so cramped and lamed as to have little power afterwards to exercise its natural functions^*.

[Page 124]Three years afterwards, was produced Oreste et Pilade, which is said to have been written by LA GRANGE from a plan drawn by RACINE. It was performed a few nights and then kept back on ac­count of the death of the celebrated CHAMPMELE, after which it was wholly withdrawn.

In 1699, appeared Meleagre, which, however, succeeded but indifferently, and in the same year he brought forward Athenais, which piece was at­tacked by LE NOBLE and others, and warmly de­fended by its author; and the little success it had seems to have sprung from this controversy.

Amosis in 1701, Alceste in 1703, Ino et Melicerte in 1713, and Sophonisbe in 1716, are all the re­mainder of those pieces written by LA GRANGE before VOLTAIRE. Amasis was violently attacked, and it must be confessed was very vulnerable; Alceste was said to be no more than a plan from RACINE filled up by LA GRANGE—indeed we are [Page 125] told that RACINE left in the possession of LA GRANGE many of those plans, some of which were partly written in prose, and those fragments which are published in his works lend probability to the report—Ino et Melicerte had no success, and So­prionisbe is remembered by nothing but four re­markable lines^*.

LA FOSSE attempted what CREBILLON after­wards perfected. Like him he had a strong mind; full of grandeur and dignity; but probably, fear­ing to attack so revolting a style of writing as terror which requires more strength and suror than majesty and tenderness, and is yet subordinate to both, he strove in vain to imitate AESCHYLUS; till, finding how difficult it is to be original, he at length contented himself with copying CORNEILLE as servilely as LA GRANGE had copied RACINE; so that, during the interval between CAMPISTRON and CREBILLON, tragedy languished under the [Page 126] feeble support of these shadows of two men, one of whom had given it life and vigour, and the other polish and refinement.

LA FOSSE wrote four tragedies, in which it is plain to be seen that CORNEILLE was the Phoebus to whom he condescended to become the Phoeton. These tragedies were called Polixene, brought out in 1696, Manlius Capitolinus in 1698, Thesee in 1700, and Corésus in 1703. Of all which plays it has been said, but of Manlius Capitolinus in par­ticular, that CORNEILLE might not have been ashamed of being known as the author; but this is going a great deal too far; for, though they con­tain many passages that reflect a respectability on the writer, they are upon the whole heavy, dull, and uninteresting; and evince the certain painful, difficult, and unfruitful result of their pursuits, who fetter genius, and study to be natural.

Both LA GRANGE, and LA FOSSE, owe their re­putation, such as it was, and consequently the notice taken of them here, to the adventitious circumstance of appearing at a time when they could comfortably consider themselves respectively as representatives of CORNEILLE, and RACINE, merely because they had no formidable opponent. And now, un­less I were to substitute writings for literature, and [Page 127] names for merit, I see nothing to prevent my coming immediately to that remarkable era in French dramatics when the united abilities of so many men of great and extraordinary talents brought the stage in that country into decided reputation in all its various branches under the powerful influence of VOLTAIRE.

CHAP. VII. STATE OF THE FRENCH THEATRE ON TO THE YEAR 1730.

FLUCTUATING, timid, irresolute, and unsettled, as the French stage was at this period, nothing, per­haps, could have raised its reputation to any pitch of excellence but the appearance of the only man who seemed born to render his country that service. Tragedy had been thitherto considered under three distinct heads; the grand, the tender, and the ter­rible; and these had separately been carried as far as possible by CORNEILLE, RACINE, and CRE­BILLON. No man had dreamt that the French had never seen a real tragedy, a species of production which to be perfect must involve a union of these three great essentials, till VOLTAIRE, born with little genius, and less intuition, but endowed with a judgment almost equal to the happiest efforts of both, plainly shewed not only the practicability but the necessity of this measure, by fairly stepping be­fore [Page 129] his three celebrated countrymen, and building a lasting reputation for himself with the valuable materials they had left behind them.

It cannot, however, be denied that his fame is fair, honest, and legitimate; for though, had these authors never lived, he would have been at a loss how to have exercised those talents which had not been given to inspire him with invention, though greatly to perfect the inventions of others; as he possessed himself of the essence of their respective merits, as those merits were rendered more brilliant in his hands, their ap­propriation more respectable, and as those he added gave them a consequence and a rank they had not been able to support alone, we cannot refuse him the praise due to exertions so highly meritorious.

But this is not all the length justice obliges us to go. VOLTAIRE added to tragedy a colouring, a harmony, a fire, a variety, till then unknown to it. He did more. The tragic poets had contented themselves with rendering vice odious; he rendered virtue amiable. His productions are the panegyric of humanity, and his moral appeals to all hearts.

VOLTAIRE was born at PARIS, November 30, 1694. He brought out on the French theatre [Page 130] twenty-eight plays, five of which appeared during the interval that will occupy this chapter. The first of these, performed in 1718, was Oedipe. The suc­cess of this tragedy was brilliant beyond all ex­ample. He had, however, great difficulty to get it accepted by the actors, and he submitted to alter it out of compliment to their opinion several times, whether for the better or the worse cannot now be discovered; but it was considered very complete in all its requisites when it did appear^*.

Artémire produced in 1720, had no success, and was withdrawn by its author so suddenly and so [Page 131] completely suppressed, that solicitous as the pub­lishers of VOLTAIRE's works have been to collect his whole writings, bad and good, it is not known exactly what shape it wore upon its first represen­tation. The most material parts of it, however, were afterwards taken into Mariamne, which was performed for the first time in 1724. This piece did not succeed to any great degree the first season, but when it was altered and brought forward on the following year under the title of Herode et Mariamne, it experienced very solid and confirmed success^*.

[Page 132]The next piece of VOLTAIRE was L'Indiscret, a comedy in one act and in prose. Its success is not known. It was very probably written from some complimentary motive, and with no great view to fame. Nothing more appeared of this author till 1730, when he brought out Brutus ^*. In this tra­gedy VOLTAIRE completely overshot his mark. Fired with the spirit of English liberty, which with so much adulation he had in ENGLAND defined to be a medium between tyranny and democracy, and which the Romans attempted but never could at­tain, its essence so evaporated in his passage from DOVER to CALAIS, that in Brutus, written avowedly to promulgate the principles of British patriotism, he introduced all the levelling sentiments of a re­public, and expected the French to tolerate, under [Page 133] a despotic monarch, what would have revolted the English under a limitted one.

The consequence was that the parterre ex­pressed, at the first representation of this piece, the loudest indignation; and, when they heard the fol­lowing lines from the mouth of TITUS,

there was a general tumult. The piece, however, had its partizans, and those it offended contented themselves with barely staying away from it. It, nevertheless, so injured the reputation of VOL­TAIRE that he did not recover it till he brought out Zaire, which might be called the first complete tra­gedy in all its parts ever performed on the French stage.

As I mean to draw up the most celebrated of those numerous authors who at this time attracted the notice of the public, and make them pass along in the view of the reader, I shall follow up VOL­TAIRE with DE LA MOTTE, a man of great genius, and a most finished poet.

DE LA MOTTE wrote for the French theatre, the Italian theatre, and for the opera, and always [Page 134] respectably; but his poetic works, and particularly his odes, gave his fame the most substantial and permanent confirmation. He was born at PARIS in 1674. and died in 1731; so that his whole public history may come in here.

DE LA MOTTE from his earliest youth had a strong propensity to poetry, and a remarkable talent for declamation. This induced him to get by heart every thing that was celebrated, in which he was assisted by a memory so quick and so tenacious, that facts are averred of its effects almost beyond credibility^*.

[Page 135]DE LA MOTTE was an extraordinary character. He had scarcely made himself known but, without any apparent cause, he all of a sudden retired to the monastry of DE LA TRAPPE; but the celebrated Abbe DU RANCE, unwilling to deprive the world of a young man of such promise, refused him the habit under a pretence that he was too young to sustain all the rigid and severe discipline of that austere order. After this he attached himself to the theatre, not without some casuistical qualms as to the propriety of how far his conduct was recon­cileable to the duty of a true christian.

But his conduct all through life was, it must be confessed, fanciful and irresolute. Having passed a long series of years in composing most beautiful verse, he finished by decrying poetry as an unna­tural species of writing. He compared versifiers to slight-of-hand-men, who pass grains of millet through the eye of a needle, in which exploit there is no other merit than the difficulty; and, to prove the truth of this assertion, he turned his tra­gedy of Oedipe into prose, which he had before written in verse. This, however, drew on him a volley of epigrams which he was too much a phi­losopher to answer, though the best of them was infinitely below the worst of his poetry; but I [Page 136] shall wind up his character after I have enumerated his pieces.

The tragedies of DE LA MOTTE are Macha­bees, performed in 1721, Romulus, in 1722, Ines de Castro, in 1723, and Oedipe, in 1726. When DE LA MOTTE produced Machabees, he kept himself aloof as the author. In consequence of this the play was immediately attributed to RACINE; but as the truth got wind, those wise critics gradually pretended that upon maturer consideration they had found, by comparing one author with the other, that it could be written by nobody but DE LA MOTTE^*.

Romulus was greatly successful, and excited much curiosity, both from the public and the dif­ferent authors. Parodies, at the Italian theatre, and the fairs, were at that time the test of dramatic success. Romulus was parodied at the Italians by DOMINIQUE, under the title of Arlequin Romulus, [Page 137] and at the puppet shew by LE SAGE and FUZELIER, by the name of Pierrot Romulus. The parodies, however, were damned, and the success of the tra­gedy confirmed.

Inés de Castro had still greater success than Ro­mulus. Never piece attracted so many spectators and so much criticism^*. It is written in verse, but certainly too prosaic; for DE LA MOTTE, though he complied with the custom of other writers, could never reconcile to himself that characters on a the­atre ought to address each other in any other style of language than that in which, according to their rank, they usually speak^†.

Oedipe, which piece DE LA MOTTE wrote in [Page 138] verse against his own opinion, had but little success for that very reason; and, when he turned it into prose, it did not succeed at all. This induced him to defend his conduct; which it must be confessed he did very ably, for, indeed, he was upon good ground. VOLTAIRE replied to him; and, as he had a real regard for DE LA MOTTE, used in his arguments every possible politeness and delicacy. DE LA MOTTE, under the pleasantest irony, couched his arguments in the same terms, and this called forth innumerable squibs levelled at these polite enemies. Madame DACIER mixed in the dispute; but, disdaining VOLTAIRE's, or any body's polite­ness, this female ARISTOPHANES reprobated in un­qualified terms every requisite of the drama but its barbarity, which one should naturally suppose is not a requisite. It finished by DE LA MOTTE's leaving the theatre.

DE LA MOTTE wrote for the French theatre two comedies, and five for the Italian theatre. The subjects are principally taken from the Tales of DE LA FONTAINE, or rather from those whence they were taken by him. They are most of them per­formances of merit, for, indeed, it was impossible for DE LA MOTTE to write ill, but they are cer­tainly the most inferior of his works. His operas, twelve in number, are clearly upon the whole [Page 139] the best of his dramatic writings; for, though as to the general requisites of opera writing, QUINAULT stood certainly before all other French poets, though far behind METASASIO, yet, for the true, grand, extended idea of lyric writing, DE LA MOTTE was infinitely superior to them both, of which his incomparable odes are an incontro­vertible proof. DE LA MOTTE's operas were com­posed by various musicians, among whom were CAMPRA, DESTOUCHES, MARAIS, COLASSE, and LA BARRE.

DE LA MOTTE was loved and esteemed both in public and in private the whole of his life. His genius was brilliant, his understanding commanding, and his manners amiable, to which his writings bear ample testimony. They are the effusions of a great mind regulated by a found judgment. Alike a stranger to rancour or adulation, not a single line of satyric severity has escaped from his pen, nor has he, though his heart teemed with philanthropy, and though it was his delight to praise, in one single in­stance condescended to flatter^*.

[Page 140]DESTOUCHES demands our next attention, on whom it will be the less necessary to enlarge, be­cause almost the whole of his productions have been in one form or another exhibited on the English theatre, and will, therefore, of course require an investigation in their place. He was born at TOURS, in 1680, and bred up to arms, in which profession he so distinguished himself that he grew into great esteem with his superiors.

In 1717, the DUC D'ORLEANS, then Regent of FRANCE, sent him on an embassy to ENGLAND, where he was employed on negociations for three years, and where, no doubt, he greatly improved himself as a dramatic writer, his comedies, though heavy, and sometimes insufferably tiresome, being constructed more upon the English plan than any thing French which had gone before them. Le Tambour Nocturne in particular, is almost a literal translation of the Drummer.

His works, which are published in ten volumes, consist of twenty-two comedies, and some divertise­ments and detatched scenes. His first piece, Le Curieux Impertinent, appeared in 1710, which was [Page 141] followed, before he came to ENGLAND, by L'Ingrat, L'Irresolû, Le Medisant, Le Triple Mariage, and L'Obstacle Imprevû. The first piece he produced after his return to FRANCE, was Le Philosophe Marie ^*, this was succeeded by L'Envieux, and Les Philosophes Amoureux, which are all that ap­peared of this author till 1730.

What DESTOUCHES ought principally to be commended for is his endeavouring to give the French stage a consequence that it had before been a stranger to; but, in cutting up frivolity, he has lost sight of humour. His principal character is always a colossal statue, by the side of which the subordinate personages stand like mere pigmies, and are totally lost in our contemplation of the grandeur and stupidity of the primary object; which after all would no more attract our attention than any other monstrous figure, did not some accommodating LY­SIMON, or GERONTE, like a wild beast-man, play off its singularities and explain its extraordinary qualities.

[Page 142]It must not, however, be denied that in DES­TOUCHES there are many beauties; in his intrigue he is happier than MOLIERE, and in his moral more chaste than REGNARD, for between these two he seems ambitious to place himself. He is, however, too dry, too sententious; and, if the observation may be permitted, too wise, and too regular. He is generally without saillies, or embellishments; which, when rigourously judged, are sometimes frivolous and misplaced; yet, when judiciously in­troduced, they enliven the mind and warm it to a more willing acknowledgement of the pleasure of truth.

MARIVAUX, whose writings claim the highest praise for their ingenious, bold, and meritorious tendency, started like a true genius with a deter­mination to become original. He went, however, in some respects upon a false principal. Having most uncommon powers of language, and fancying his predecessors had exhausted all that it was possible to do with character, he resolved to turn entirely to subjects of intrigue; which, in proportion as they admit of variety to infinity, lose known and ac­knowledged manners, and, therefore, wander out of of nature's sight.

'Tis too much to attempt to analyze the heart. [Page 143] Pleasant traits, pretty thoughts, new situations, agreeable repartees, and lively sailies, are all thrown away when they are used to betray motives, instead of develop actions. MARIVAUX goes for the applause of the mind instead of the heart; the pro­vince of comedy is to command the applause of both. Full of genius, he exposes nothing but in­genuity; certainly fraught with finesse, with delicacy, with grace, and with sentiment; but, nevertheless, frequently tiresome, and often almost inexplicable. The French are remarkable for saying a great deal without interest, upon nothing; MARIVAUX has the knack of making the nothing, on which he says a great deal, interesting.

MARIVAUX brought out on the French and Italian theatres thirty-six pieces, generally in three acts and in prose; thirteen of which were performed before 1730. They seldom had success at starting, and it was his usual observation that he considered it more flattering to his reputation that they should please on repetition than at first. Many of them, however, never recovered the blow, and it is pro­bably owing to the extraordinary, the inconceivable ingenuity they contain, that any of them kept the stage for a length of time. I shall say more on this subject when I shew that some of the English poets have read MARIVAUX as well as DESTOUCHES.

[Page 144]Circumscribed as I am I must now take up au­thors in a much more summary way than either their merits or my wishes incline me. LE SAGE, FUZFLIER, and D'ORNEVAL, who ran the same career, may properly be mentioned in this pl [...], LE SAGE, claiming every way the pre-eminen [...] ▪ and being so well known in ENGLAND by G [...] ▪ BLAS, and LE DIABLE BOITEUX, it will be mo [...] unnecessary that I should enlarge on his genius and writings.

LE SAGE wrote ten pieces for the French and Italian theatres, and twenty for the fairs, besides those he had a hand in together with FUZELIER and D'ORNEVAL. They all go for a fair and lively exposition of folly, and many of those per­formed at the fairs are either parodies of celebrated plays at that time performed at the regular theatres, or neat satires on temporary subjects. His pieces for the theatre are too much in the Spanish style, except two or three, which are admirably levelled at the reigning absurdities of those times, of these La Tontine, and Turcaret, are the most remarkable.

FUZELIER wrote at different times for all the theatres, and brought out twenty pieces single handed, and as many in conjunction with LE SAGE and D'ORNEVAL; which last, though he greatly [Page 145] assisted those associates, is not reported to have written any thing without them.

It will be proper to mention DOMINIQUE, ROMAGNESI, the two RICCOBONIS and LE GRAND together; for as they wrote respectively, or in con­junction, for the Italian theatres, from subjects either taken from Italian canvasses, or approved by them all, it would be difficult to distinguish their separate merits. There are nearly a hundred pieces to be traced in which all these had a hand.

PANNARD, PIRON, CAROLET, and others, also contributed at this period towards the prodigious fund of amusement which attracted the attention of the public at the Italian theatre and the fairs, while BOISSI, LA FONT, BOINDIN, LA CHAUS­SEE, BEAUCHAMPS, DE LA RUE^*, and others, did their best to make a stand at the French the­atre against VOLTAIRE, DE LA MOTTE, and [Page 146] DESTOUCHES; but, as I have done with none of those mentioned in this chapter, except DE LA MOTTE, whose manners, and whose merits were an honour to his country, I shall, as I go on, re­sume such points concerning them as I may con­ceive likely to instruct or amuse the reader.

CHAP. VIII. CONTINUATION OF THE FRENCH THEATRE TO 1745.

AS the works of VOLTAIRE now form the prin­cipal feature of the French drama, I cannot do better than, through the medium of enumerating those, give every collateral particular relative to the other authors his cotemporaries; for to speak particularly, limitted as I am, of every author and play that my documents furnish me with, would be little more than to set down names and dates.

Eryphile produced by VOLTAIRE, in 1732, had no success^*. It was, therefore, withdrawn and [Page 148] brought forward as we shall see under the title of Semiramis. The changes necessary for the oc­casion were not very difficult, for the two subjects are perfectly the same. His next piece was Zaire, a tragedy performed in 1732, of which I regret I have not room to speak the eulogium, but a proper opportunity will occur when this performance under the title of Zara shall be spoken of as one of the ornaments of the English theatre^*. This piece, in addition to the popularity it atchieved for itself, brought forward the famous DUFRESNE, and the celebrated Mademoiselle GAUSSIN, who performed the parts of Orasmane and Zaire.

Adelaide du Guesclin, brought out in 1734, was the next production of this author. It had been performed before under the title of Adelaide; and, having had but mediocre success on either of these occasions, it was, as we shall see. afterwards pro­duced [Page 149] under the title of the Duc de Foix ^*. Alzire appeared in 1736. The same engines were set to work to decry this piece as had been used to injure Zaire. The real author was said to have been a man of the name of LE FRANC. VOLTAIRE, in reply to this calumny, said that some person in­structed as to the subject of his piece might have suggested it to Mons. LE FRANC, in which case he was welcome to treat it; and, if it proved better than that which he had submitted to the public, he should be happy to forget the unkindness in pro­portion as he should be obliged to applaud the merit of the piece. ‘"I shall always adopt this con­duct,"’ added he, ‘"for I don't like paper wars.^†"’

L'Infant Prodigue appeared the same year with success. It was written in verse. It is said that if VOLTAIRE had not been afraid of the journalists he would have struck into prose. It would have been a noble advantage if he had, for there can be [Page 150] no doubt but VOLTAIRE's prose is the best in the French language, and he would, in that case, have completed DE LA MOTTE's laudable plan.

Zulime was brought out in 1740. We are told that this piece was considerably altered after it was out of VOLTAIRE's hands, and to this circumstance is ascribed its having had but little success. La Mort de Caezar, a tragedy in three acts, was brought forward in 1743. The characters are entirely men, conse­quently the plot, having nothing to do with love, is rude and revolting. Its success was in proportion.

Mahomet was performed for the first time in 1742. This idol of the French was withdrawn after the third representation by authority, and the author informed that he would be denounced if he suffered it to be performed again. VOLTAIRE, however, having employed all his credit, Cardinal de FLEURY issued a new order for its appearance; nevertheless the actors were afraid of incensing the Procureur Ge­neral, and it was kept back till 1751, when it came forward with most extravagant success, and has al­ways been considered by the French as the best written play in all the works of VOLTAIRE^*.

[Page 151] Merope came out in 1743. This subject had been treated by GILBERT in 1643, by CHA­PELLE, again by LA GRANGE CHANCEL, and at different periods by other poets under various titles, VOLTAIRE's play is beyond all question the best, and its reception was equal to its merit.

The pieces of DESTOUCHES, after 1730, are Le Glorieux, La Fausse Agnes, Le Tambour Nocturne, Le Dissipateur, L'Ambitieux et L'Indiscrette, La Belle Orgueilleuse, L'Amour Usé, Les Amours de Ragonde, L'Homme Singulier, La Force du Naturel, Le Jeune Homme a L'Epreuve, and two or three others. Of all these the success was so uniform, except in one or two instances, that it will be unne­cessary to say more here than that DESTOUCHES was deservedly considered as a very reputable author.

DESTOUCHES generally lived in retirement on an estate purchased near MELUN. His custom was when he had finished a piece to take it to PARIS, and after it had been represented for the first time, to return again into the country. He died much beloved and respected at the age of seventy four.

The remainder of the pieces brought out by MARIVAUX, need not be particularized. They consist of twenty two comedies and one tragedy, [Page 152] which was called Annibal, many of which succeeded with persons of taste and discernment, but were ge­nerally withdrawn after a time to form the delight of the closet, where they are beyond measure charming. MARIVAUX lived esteemed, and died regretted at the age of seventy five.

DE LA MOTTE, DESTOUCHES, and MARIVAUX, were members of the French academy. DE LA MOTTE succeeded T. CORNEILLE, DESTOUCHES was chosen in the place of CAMPISTRON, and MARIVAUX was elected at the death of the Abbe de HOUTEVILLE^*.

[Page 153]St. FOIX, a most accomplished and elegant writer, unfortunately for the cause of literature dealt in nothing but trifles; trifles, however, only in size, for, in value, they were inestimable. St. FOIX was too independent both in mind and cir­cumstances to drudge regularly for the theatre, otherwise there cannot be a doubt but he would have brought comedy in FRANCE to the truest perfection. Full of novelty, yet full of nature, with a correct knowledge of every dramatic re­quisite, and a most penetrating judgement to give those requisites effect, his dialogue, nobly simple, agreeably playful, and deliciously interesting, the whole domain of Thalia seemed open to his view, in which he was permitted to range for fancy, and variety.

He had the peculiar and masterly merit in all his dialogue of concealing the writer. His cha­racters uttered those sentiments with which nature [Page 154] inspired them, and uttered them in nature's lan­guage; St. FOIX had nothing to do with it. Every thing seemed extemporaneous, because it was full of the heart, and what immediately arose from honest truth, and conscious reflection. These and many other requisites St. FOIX most eminently possessed; which, if they are so evident in the specimen he has given, written for amusement at his hours of leisure, his productions must have been valuable indeed had he devoted his whole time to them; and this is par­ticularly confirmed by the fertility of his invention, and the strength of his discernment; for, in twenty-two pieces he gave to the French and Italian thea­tres, though every plot is peculiarily original and greatly interesting, no two plots have in any respect the smallest resemblance of each other.

The pieces of St. FOIX, before 1745, were Deucalion et Pyrrha, Pandore, L'Oracle, L'Isle, Sauvage, and Les Graces, and now I shall leave the works of FAVART, ANSEAUME, MARMONTEL, SEDAINE, and many other celebrated writers, whose productions about this period first made their appearance, together with all that remains to be said of those whom I have not yet done with, to give a brief account of the opera, such particulars of the Italian theatre as may conduce to round my general history of it, to speak of actors, of dancers, of [Page 155] musicians, and of farce writers; after which I shall regularly wind up my history of the French stage with a further account of their best writers, and such necessary remarks on them and their merits as may serve hereafter for a comparative elucidation of the dramatic art in ENGLAND.

CHAP. IX. THE OPERA.

HAVING brought the opera forward to the death of LULLY and the secession of QUINAULT, I shall as briefly as possible give such further parti­culars concerning it as may serve to assist my future account of it when I come to speak of its esta­blishment in ENGLAND. Brief, indeed, I must be; for, besides those operas already mentioned, I reckon more than two hundred, good and bad, that were brought out from their establishment up to the year 1773.

In these operas authors of all descriptions had a hand, from T. CORNEILLE, DE LA MOTTE, MARMONTEL, ROI, DANCHET, and even VOL­TAIRE, to LE ABBE PELLEGRIN, BERNARD, MON­DORGE, BRUERE, and CAHUSAC, down to many others of much more inconsiderable talents. Some of the musicians I have already named; to these may be added ROYER, MATHEAU, MOURET, MON­TECLAIRE, and many others who were, at length, completely eclipsed by RAMEAU. It should not, however, be forgotten that the celebrated PHI­LIDORE, [Page 157] whose music was almost as famous as his chess, composed an opera called Ernelinde written by POINSINET.

RAMEAU, who was born in 1683, was induced by his passion for music, and his thirst after im­provement to visit ITALY very early in life^*. There he had formed his taste upon PERGOLESE, JOMELLI, GALLUPPI, CORELLI, and all that string of celebrated composers who exactly at that time had brought music to the highest degree of perfection. It must be understood, however, that it was not by their instruction, but merely by listen­ing to their admirable compositions, that he became so astonishing a musician. Never did he receive from any man a single lesson on harmony. Nature and his own strong mind were his preceptors; and so well was he taught by such insallible instructors that he at length became a harmonic legislator; a musical LYCURGUS; to the justice of whose laws the whole tribe of composers have implicitly bowed obedience.

The French were so enthusiastically attached to [Page 158] that dull monotonous style of music introduced by LULLY, that it was with the utmost difficulty RA­MEAU could prevail upon even the most indifferent writers to supply him with words, and he was fifty-five years of age when he promised the Abbe PEL­LEGRIN, a poor resource by the by, a large sum of money to write Hypolite et Aricie, which was performed in 1733. It was at first damned, but being again brought forward at the instance of some persons of discernment, it so opened the eyes, or ra­ther the ears of the nation, that a new character was from that hour given to the musical taste of the French. ^*

After this, authors were solicitous enough to write for RAMEAU. MONDORGE, BRUERE, CA­HUSAC, and AUTREAU, were all employed by him. At length VOLTAILE, who has told us he went out of his way to oblige a man of such talents, wrote for him Le Temple de la Gloire, which was followed by [Page 159] Pygmalion, written by DE LA MOTTE, and com­posed by LA BARRE in 1700. but reset by RAMEAU in 1746. After this he had the good fortune to be assisted by the pen of MARMONTEL, who wrote for him four pieces, by which time the French opera had arisen to its highest degree of persection.

After all, the opera in France, admirable as the talents of RAMEAU were, never equalled, or even approached the Italian opera. The vast theatres of VENICE, MILAN, and other places gave a style and a magnificence to the scenery greatly beyond the scenery of the French. The advantage of [Page 160] setting Italian words to Italian music, such music especially as was produced by the joint labours of so many wonderful composers, again threw the French opera at an immense distance. In short in nothing but the dances, by the way a mere apendage to the opera, have the French excelled, but in these they have ever excelled all EUROPE^*.

The performances at PARIS derived great re­spectability from their regulations by the order of the king. After the death of LULLY, who had at least the merit of being a strict disciplinarian, the opera relaxed greatly from the regularity and good order that had been before kept up. This induced the king, in 1713, to issue an arret consisting of eighteen articles, which enacted that the director of the Royal Musical Academy should chuse the best possible performers both vocal and instrumental, and also performers for the ballets; no one, however, to be received without the approbation of the in­spector general. That a school for music and dancing should be established where all performers should be taught gratis.

[Page 161]That the different merits of the performers being ascertained and by them acknowledged, they should receive such parts as were provided for them with­out murmuring, upon pain of being deprived of a month's pay for the first omission, and of being dis­charged for the second. Their duty both towards one another, and towards the public, is next very pro­perly pointed out, the portion of the profits equitably appropriated, a fund established for such as may have performed fifteen years, not as a charity but as a reward for past services, and another fund, by way of encouraging emulation to be at stated periods di­vided among all those who may have best discharged their duty towards their employers and the public.

It is next ordered that, during all recesses, the per­formers, without distinction, shall be put upon half pay; afterwards that the authors and composers of all operas shall be paid in proportion to their success on every night as far as thirty representations, provided the opera is performed so many nights in succession. The examination of all operas to be impartial, and no measure, either for or against authors, musicians, or performers, of any description, to be taken with­out a memorial drawn up and well attested for the perusal of the inspector general, who shall audit all accounts and regulate, in conformity to the will of the king, all matters respecting the management of [Page 162] the opera; the accounts of all denominations to be constantly settled the last day of every month.

Persons were, in consequence of this new regu­lation, immediately appointed, and it was, without variation, ever afterwards kept up. In 1773, the appointments stood thus: REBEL at the head of the musical academy, FERRET and PARANT principal conductors of the singing school, the two GARDELS regulators of the dancing school; among the prin­cipal male singers were GELIN, LARRIVEE, DU­RAND, LE GROS, MUGUET, TIROT, and LAINEZ; the principal female singers were LARRIVEE, AR­NOULD, DUPLANT, BEAUMESNIL, ROSALIE, DU­RANC, 1 CHATEAUNEUF, and GIRARDIN, and there were about thirty others employed in choruses and other inferior stations.

VESTRIS was the ballet master, who was also principal dancer with GARDEL and DUBERVAL. Next came a train of figurants; then the principal women, who were PESLIN, GUIMARD, HEINEL, and ASSELIN, and then the figurantes and supernu­meraries amounting to about fifty. The list was closed by the names of those who performed in the or­chestra to the number of sixty-four, so that the whole company, including all descriptions of persons em­ployed, must have consisted of at least two hundred.

CHAP. X. ITALIAN THEATRE.

I SHALL now look after such authors and other persons as were concerned in the Italian theatre, and interested in that conduct, and those circum­stances which grew out of it after its establishment in 1716.

It has been seen that the actors at the fairs, hav­ing the advantage of performing entirely in French, became very formidable rivals of the Italians, who were, in conjunction with the French comedians, continually making interest to throw every possible rub in their way. The public, however, tired of seeing them thus persecuted, took the matter up; and, after it had gone through a number of hands, some of whom had been ruined in the contest, FRANCISQUE and LALAUZE, were glad to sell the concern to PONTEAU, who wrote a number of things in conjunction with FUZELIER, PANNARD, CARO­LET, GALLET, and L'AFFICHARD, and he had in­fluence enough to obtain from the musical aca­demy [Page 164] permission to call his performance L'Opera Comique.

From this time forward these whimsical pieces grew mo [...]e and more into repute, A history, or an anecdote describing any of their former persecu­tions, a parody of a bad tragedy, in short any tem­porary whim, dramatized by LE SAGE and his fol­lowers, who all wrote with wonderful pleasantry, was a thousand times more welcome to the public [...]han those pieces, half French and half Italian, sung through the nose, or those, entirely French, spoken through the nose, at the regular theatres, The con­sequence was they became too formidable; and, in 1742, were suppressed, with this qualification, how­ever, that the performers should be incorporated with the Italians.

The inferior description of performers, nevertheless, such as had been interlocutors at the puppet shews, or rope-dancers, or tumblers, or, in short, any of those for whom it was impossible to find any em­ployment in a regular theatre, still hovered about the fairs, and were permitted, or rather suffered to perform there, and on the Boulevards, such drolls and farces as were within their capacity, with a view to assist and relieve those tricks and seats they ex­ercised as their proper profession.

[Page 165]Among these the famous NICOLET, so well known upon the Boulevards, cut the most conspi­cious figure. This man fairly took up the ancient farces, of which I shall not have a better opportu­nity to give an account than this. They were cer­tainly the origin of that prodigious number of pro­verbs, and pieces in one act, which have spread them­selves through FRANCE, either in private societies, or on the stage. They were without doubt originally the productions of the Children of Sans Souci, and at that time they contained, probably, either the burlesque of the Greek satires, or the asperity of the Roman, or, perhaps, a mixture of both; but, being neglected by them for works of greater magnitude when they joined the Confraternity of the Passion, these farces were suspended, and would have been altogether lost if some of the buffoons had not afterwards restored them; who, not being sufficiently informed to imi­tate Greeks and Romans, made a shift to invent a great deal of drollery by ridiculing the folly of their own countrymen.

Of these PATHELIN, TABARIN, GUILLOT GORJU, GAUTIER GARGUILLE, GROS GUIL­LAUME, and TURLUPIN, were the principal. The last three were journeymen bakers, and friends from their infancy. It is difficult to ascertain whether these farces, which they performed upon their own [Page 166] account, were exhibited during any recess, or whe­ther they left the company to which they belonged, but it is certain they were in the early part of their lives, all actors in HARDY's plays, and the other ex­hibitions of that time.

For the purpose of performing these farces they took a small tennis court, near le porte St. Jaques, which they converted into a theatre. The price of admittance was two sous and six deniers. They had such success that the company of the Hotel de Bour­gogne complained of them to Cardinal RICHELIEU; who, being fond of every thing dramatic, sent for them to perform before him in the Palais Royal, which was then called his palace. They satisfied the Cardinal so well that he would not forbid their per­formance^*. This so emboldened them that they [Page 167] grew more and more scurilous and personal; till GROS GUILLAUME, in one of their farces, coun­terfeited a certain magistrate so perfectly that he issued a warrant to take them all up. GROS GUIL­LIAUME was put in prison, where he shortly after­wards died. His companions made their escape, but it is said they had been such sworn brothers and friends all their lives, and had promised so faithfully to stick by each other, that when, GARGUILLE and TURLUPIN heard of their friend's death they fell ill and soon afterwards followed him. They were very old, the youngest of them being nearly eighty.

This sketch may serve to shew whence the farces performed on the Boulevards originated, the humour and style of which MOLIERE, DANCOURT, and others had very frequently in view, and, indeed, all the writers for fairs. These having selected all the valuable parts, nothing remained for the exhibitors on the Boulevards but grossness and filth, which cer­tainly they have ever thrown about pretty profusely^*.

[Page 168]The names of Harlequin, Pantaloon, Scara­mouche, and the rest of the pantomime characters, are supposed to have been either the real or adven­titious titles of those who first performed them. The original Harlequin is said to have been a young per­former among the Italians at the time of HENRY the third; who being retained by the president HARLAY, was called by his companions, according to the Ita­lian custom of giving the master's name to the ser­vant, Arlequino; a name that DOMINIQUE, GHER­ARDI, CARLIN, and others ever after went by. The names of Mezetin, Pantaloon, and several of the rest are said to have been real; and thus, what­ever might be the subject, or whatever the scene, you saw the pieces always performed as it were, by one family. This bad custom spread itself through all their comic writings, which we see stuffed with Damons, and Gerontes, and Lysimons, and Erastes, out of number, instead of those appropriate names by which we distinguish the variety of characters that are introduced in our comedies.

After the junction of the Italian theatre with the comic opera, they mustered very powerfully. CA­MILLE, an admirable Pantaloon, brought with him his daughter; a most accomplished and beautiful woman. ‘"A large volume,"’ says my author, ‘"could not contain half the verses that were written [Page 169] in her praise."’ She was an actress as well as a dancer, and admirable in both capacities. CLAIR­VAL was an excellent singer and a sound actor. CARLO VERONESE also brought out his daughter, CAROLINE, who performed the Colombine, that is to say, the chambermaid, for all the Harlequins at the Italian theatre were valets, and all the Colom­bines chambermaids; she had almost as many verses written in her praise as CAMILLE: Some of them by MARMONTEL, who was in love with her.

To Madame FAVART, whose merit in public, and whose character in private life cannot be spoken of too highly, I lament that it is not in my power to do the justice she merited. She sung charmingly, and performed with delicacy, truth, and sentiment. She was a perfect musician, and played admirably on the harp. All these qualifications her husband availed himself of in the characters she performed, which he wrote purposely for her, and to which she gave so much grace and nature that her manner has been ever since the standard of imitation. In her private life she was a tender wife, and mother, and a faithful and affectionate friend.

THEVENARD and THEVENAU were two ad­mirable singers. THOMASSIN was a good Harlequin, OCTAVE, who acted, danced, and played upon eight [Page 170] instruments, was a great favourite, and STICOTTI was an excellent Pierrot; but the arrangement of the Italian theatre, in 1773, which I shall now bring for­ward, will shew the state of the company, and how well it was regulated.

It is premised, say these laws, that the company are under the immediate protection of the king, and must render account to him of their conduct through the superintendant of his menus plaisirs, and the gen­tlemen of his chamber. The organ, through which all applications, reports, and appeals are to be con­veyed, to be composed of three performers called Semainiers, or weekly inspectors, chosen by a ma­jority out of the company. These inspectors are to have different departments. The first is to take care of the registers, to examine the receipts, and dis­bursements, and to act in every respect as guardian and treasurer. He is to convoke all assemblies, and regulate with the consent of a majority of the com­pany, the business of the week; which, having been properly digested, is to be announced by the bills to the public, and without good cause to the contrary, literally carried into execution.

The second inspector is to examine the state of the company, the stock list of performances, the merits of the performers, their forwardness as to the dis­charge of their duty; to see after the state of the [Page 171] decorations, to take care at performances and re­hearsals, that every decorum is observed, and that nothing is neglected by actors, singers, dancers, pain­ters, or members of any other description, that may render their exertions worthy the patronage of the king, and the encouragement of the public.

The third inspector is to watch over the conduct of the other two, to render an account of every thing that passes to the intendant Des Menus, and to instruct the company as to what orders he receives in consequence from court, and whether the pro­ceedings of the company are approved or disap­proved of by the king.

These inspectors are to remain in office three weeks, and, during that time, to serve respectively each office; the whole company, on every Saturday morning in full assembly, receiving an authentication of their fidelity in the discharge of their several trusts, and being at liberty to examine their conduct, on which they may pass a vote of thanks or censure, each performer voting according to the order of his or her reception in the company; at which assembly the king's pleasure is to be made known, and resolu­tions taken as to their future plans and operations; at all times strictly adhering to these regulations.

Distributing of parts, forseits, recompences over [Page 172] and above the common appointments, and first ap­pearances are regulated as equitable as every thing else; but these, the duty of the performers, and other particulars, I shall reserve till I lay them by the fide of the English regulations. I cannot, how­ever, pass by the treatment of authors.

All authors, who think proper to send pieces to the theatre, are to direct them to the second se­mainier, who is to report the instructions which those authors shall think proper to send with their per­formances to the company. If the author wishes to be concealed, they are to observe inviolable se­crecy. If it should be the opinion of the company that the piece ought to be read notice is given and the author invited, who may either read his piece himself or chuse that performer from the company who he conceives will do it the greatest justice. The company are forbid to applaud or condemn, and the author is requested, after the reading is over, to retire that the opinions of the actors may be given without restraint.

The debate then begins, and it is put to the vote whether the piece shall be received or not; with the determination the second semainier acquaints the author; who, if he thinks proper, may insist upon altering his piece and submitting it to a second reading, and, if then he should remain dissatisfied, [Page 173] he may ultimately insist, through the third semainier, of appealing to the intendant of Des Menus.

The profits of the author are, for a first piece, a ninth of the house during the whole of the first run, which shall not be interrupted upon any account till the receipt shall twice together be under a thousand livres. The profits, on pieces of two acts, are a eighteenth, and on pieces of one act, a twenty-fourth of the receipt, subject to the same regulations^*.

In 1773, the principal performers where, men, CARLIN, ZENNUZZI, COLALTO, LA RUETTE, CLAIRVAL, CAILLOT, VERONESE, TRIAL, CA­MERANI, and others; women, DESGLANDS, LA RUETTE, BERARD, BEAUPRE, TRIAL, ZANERINI, BILLIONI, COLOMBE, and others. Actors, retired on pensions from the king, DESBROSSES, THO­MASSIN, TOUVOIS, GAILLARD, DEMERY, ROUS­SEL, DESORMERY, MOREL, and LECLERC. Ac­tresses, BACELLI, GAULT, LEFEVRE, GAILLARD, and DU FAYEL. Ballet master DE HESSE. Prin­cipal dancers, men, BERQUELAURE, and HAMOIRE, women, LEFEVRE, and HAMOIRE, and sixteen figurants and figurantes. The orchestra contained twenty-eight performers.

CHAP. XI. AUTHORS, AND THE FRENCH THEATRE TO THE DEATH OF VOLTAIRE.

CREBILLON will now stand forward; who, in 1748, and at the age of seventy four, brought out Catalina, after labouring at it more than twenty years. It was greatly admired, and in particular the three first acts, notwithstanding the turn VOLTAIRE had given to tragedy. There were, however, in it some incongruous things, and it would not probably have obtained that notice from the public it met with, had not Madame POMPADOUR taken it under her pro­tection and presented the actors with superb dresses for all the characters.

Le Triumvirat came out in 1754, at which time CREBILLON was eighty. It had very respectable success, and though his enemies, among whom may be reckoned his son, spoke of it as a plagiary from the rest of his works, and among others from a tragedy called Cromwel, which had been fordidden to appear, it certainly did no discredit to his repu­tation^*.[Page 175] CREBILLON was received at the academy in 1731, and delivered his preliminary discourse in verse. He was very much respected through life. At his funeral attended all the public bodies and private individuals who were esteemed for literary pursuits. Every mark of honour and respect was paid him, and the king at his private expence or­dered for him a handsome monument.

Among the remaining authors, exclusive of those already mentioned, who wrote for the stage during the life of VOLTAIRE, at the French theatre, we find FONTENELLE, BRET, MOISSY, PALISSOT, BELLOY, FAGAN, GRESSET, LA GARDE, MER­CIER, DE MORAND, and a variety of others, and at the Italian theatre FAVART, ANSEAUME, SEDAINE, and many more.

FONTENELLE, whose arduous and meritorious [Page 176] labours did so much service to the cause of literature in FRANCE, was the nephew of the great COR­NEILLE. Among his dramatic pieces, which alone are entitled to notice here, and which were written like those of LA FONTAINE, rather for amusement than fame, are two or three of considerable merit. Not one, however, can be called perfect. There reigns every where in them a powerful and persuasive style, always ingenious, and often seducing, but there is an affectation of explaining self evident sen­timents different from other authors; a weakness of expression that injures the strength of the sentence. 'Tis a painted giant, a Hercules dressed like a petit maitre; a fault, in short, that every judicious reader will see and ought to complain of, for unfortunately the faults of a great man are always dangerous, be­cause they are always imitated; and, what is worse, are easily imitated by those who have not capacity to imitate his perfections.

I wish I could with equal propriety enlarge upon the other publications of FONTENELLE, which are replete with instruction and delight; and by which, through a long and laborious life, he de­servedly kept a brilliant reputation. To his honour, however, and the perpetuity of his fame, the literary world are competent to speak his eulogium, and to enumerate all the particulars of those distinctions [Page 177] which were heaped on him by the suffrages of the French Academy, the Academy des Belles Lettres, and the Academy of Prussia; of all which societies he was a valuable member. He died at PARIS at the age of a hundred in 1757.

BOISSI wrote a great number of pieces for all the theatres; but they are negligently and slovenly written, and on mere chit chat subjects, therefore, though they served well enough to expose and correct temporary folly, they have nothing in them from which may be expected a permanent repu­tation. His first pieces, after a time, were generally reduced to farces, and sometimes to one act^*; and, after the whim, or the absurdity they were meant to laugh at, had gone by, they were heard of no more.

BRET produced several comedies for the French theatre, which are written with an elegant facility, natural, just, and give proof of no mean knowledge in the dramatic art. PALISSOT speaks of this au­thor in very handsome terms, and praises him in [Page 178] particular for his pieces called La Double Extra­gance, and Le Faux Genereux, in which there are certainly some admirable circumstances. The first of which he says ‘"is written in the true style of comedy, and the other is full of great tenderness and real interest."’

MOISSY, who produced eight or nine pieces, generally with success, was an easy, elegant, and na­tural writer. His style is flowing and lively. He was accustomed to mix with the highest characters in real life, which enabled him to paint genteel man­ners with great truth of colouring, but as there is in genteel company generally too much vapidity, he often wants force, humour, and interest^*.

PALISSOT was a writer of considerable emi­nence. He attempted a tragedy at nineteen which was received as a work of great promise. The situations were interesting, and the style was natural, and pure; but when he considered the extreme difficulty of entering the lists with VOLTAIRE, he [Page 179] very sensibly turned his hand to comedy, where he had a larger field to range, and where he might more freely exercise that pointed and satyric vein which best suited his genius.

Having made up his mind, he determined to become another ARISTOPHANES; and, that he might be the more conspicuous, he went to the very fountain head for materials. His first comedy that became popular was called Les Originaux, and brought out at NANCY, in LORRAINE in 1755. In this play, without mincing the matter, he boldly drew the character of ROUSSEAU; not individually as to his person or his manners, but as his mind ap­peared in his writings. The adherents and disciples of ROUSSEAU, who were numerous, particularly in that town, presented a memorial to the king of POLAND, duke of LORRAINE and of BAR. in which they prayed vengeance on the head of the author. The storm was violent, but it was short. PALISSOT triumphed, and this opposition only served to make him more popular, and encourage him to pursue a career for which his victory had shewn he was so qualified.

In 1760, PALISSOT brought out Les Philosophes, which contained some most cutting and pointed satire at all those who were advocates for the fanciful [Page 180] and dangerous doctrines of ROUSSEAU, VOLTAIRE, and other authors of that stamp^*. Its success was beyond every thing that had been before represented on the French theatre. The actors, through the interest of VOLTAIRE and the rest, were induced to raise a clamour against it, and Madmoiselle CLAIRON, at the head of a party, entered a protest alledging that it ought not to be performed because it contained personalities. The drift of this, how­ever, being plainly seen upon an appeal, an order was issued for its representation.

The accounts of the French authors say that all the works of CORNEILLE, RACINE, MOLIERE, CREBILLON, and VOLTAIRE put together, never attracted such a concourse of spectators, or ex­cited [Page 181] so many cabals as this single play^*. It being clearly discovered, however, that the parties against it were interested persons, or suborned at their in­stance, the favourers of the piece took up the quarrel as their own; and, after a long and warm altercation, its triumph was decided. It must, however, be con­fessed that it was a bold undertaking; for this piece did not attack merely a single character, infamous, or ridiculous; but a sect, numerous, powerful, and celebrated.

By some means or other, however, PALISSOT was silenced; for, though we hear of a comedy, called L'Homme Dangereux, into which he is said to have thrown as much vigour and as much humour as into Les Philosophes, and another, called Les Courtesannes, of a still severer cast, nothing more of his worth notice was actually represented.

BELLOY, a very proper author to follow PA­LISSOT, gave like him one piece of uncommon [Page 182] celebrity. It was called Le Siege de Calais, and its very extraordinary success was entirely owing to its being the first French play purely historical. With very great art and management, he contrived to make not only the times which he portrayed re­semble the times in which he wrote, but the per­sonages^*. This tragedy had such astonishing suc­cess that the author was called for four times on the first night of its representation, and once on every other during its run^†. It was performed three times at court, the author was presented in person to all the royal family, he dedicated his play to the king, who gave him a gold medal, ordered the con­troller general to pay him a considerable sum, and exhorted him to continue writing upon French historical subjects.

Le Siege de Calais was performed in every town [Page 183] throughout FRANCE; the inhabitants of CALAIS presented BELLOY with a gold box, and placed his portrait in the Hotel de Ville; the military voted him their thanks from the generals down to the ranks, and the celebrated Count D'ESTAING caused the play to be printed at St. DOMINGO, and distributed through all the French West Indian Islands; and yet, after all, posterity will know but little of BELLOY except this event. It was one of those freaks in which the French fancied they were patriotic; for his Zelmire, stolen from METASTASIO and VOLTAIRE, and but little regarded, Titus, performed but once^*, Gaston et Bayard, which was received with reluctance by the actors, and indifference by the public, and Pierre le Cruel, which was performed at ROUEN because they would not hear it out at PARIS, are but poor vouchers for the same of BELLOY, especially as the two last were produced after the Siege of Calais.

FAGAN, an author of considerable merit, but whose indolence would not suffer him to avail him­self of the genius he possessed, produced for the French theatre, the Italian theatre, and the fairs, [Page 184] about twenty pieces. They are full of inequalities; they are a mixture of perplexed ingenuity; in short they are lumps of ore containing gems which his idleness had not permitted him to separate and polish. Le Rendezvous and La Pupille had the best success.

GRESSET wrote one tragedy and two comedies for the French theatre, which were performed with success; but, being unwilling to engage in that war­fare which generally attends writing for the stage, he is said to have suppressed several others; as far as it went certainly a national loss, for GRESSET was a good writer. His poetry is natural and harmonious; fertile in images, rich in epithets, and never overcharged.

LA GARDE, who wrote three or four pieces with success, was remarkable for being the first who regulated the mode of dressing on the stage, and established what the French call du costume. He was originally intended for the church, and had even taken the habit. The enchanting voice of Mad­moiselle le MAURE, however, enticed him away from the singing at high mass to the singing at the opera. He was well calculated to give directions in the management of the theatre, and to superintend decorations, to set off which, though he was no mean poet, his writings were generally intended.

[Page 185]MERCIER, an author of uncommon merit, and whose regard to the reputation of the stage was sincere and patriotic, and supported with great judgment and good sense, wrote twelve or fourteen pieces for the theatre; only two of which, however, were performed in PARIS. These were called Natalie, and La Brouette du Vinaigrier. His other pieces were performed in almost every part of FRANCE. They are not comedies, but plays; a sort of representation as I have already contended nearer to nature than mere tragedies and comedies; containing circumstances and sentiments that go more immediately to the heart, because they relate to the social duties.

MERCIER, as well as DE LA MOTTE, was a great advocate for prose, because the mind ill ac­commodates itself to the pomp of verse in tender and interesting situations, and prose is the language of nature. His style is uncommonly beautiful, strong, decided, powerful; yet simple, unaffected, and easy. His lowest characters utter noble, great, and philosophic sentiments without stepping beyond the truth of nature, or displaying more than what every heart can feel, and, therefore, what every tongue can express.

[Page 186]MERCIER was certainly a wonderful writer^*, and particularly for the stage. His knowledge of effect is perfect and critical, and he has no cha­racter, no incident, no situation that is not at once a part and an embellishment of the piece. His drift is at all times to inculcate the mild duties of benevolence, and to sooth the mind to sober and substantial happiness rather than rouse it to giddy and transient delight; but all such authors are con­sidered as reformers, and the stage is a dangerous spot to attempt at innovation. I shall have occa­sion when I speak of MOORE and LILLO to resume this charming writer.

DE MORANDE, known more by his singularity than his writings, brought out six pieces of different descriptions, which might have succeeded tolerably had he not perpetually headed cabals, and set him­self against the works of other authors, who, of course, revenged themselves whenever any of his productions appeared. He was a strange excentric character, and one of those who are mistakenly [Page 187] called no men's enemy but their own, for persons of this description in general are pests to society. His pretensions to dramatic fame are very slender, his pieces being generally an incoherent jumble, not, however, in some places without original merit.

MARMONTEL, whose admirable writings are of the most finished kind, not only brought out several pieces himself, but furnished to other authors a va­riety of admirable subjects. His tragedies, though respectable, are by no means equal to his other plays^*. Venceslas, which, as we have seen, was only an alteration from ROTROU, seems to have determined MARMONTEL to stick to comic subjects^†, for which [Page 188] certainly he was more qualified. La Bergere des Alpes, Le Huron, Lucile, Silvain, Zemire et Azor, L'Ami de la Maison, and others, are all in the true style of the comic opera, and written with the same delicacy and nature which pervade his Moral Tales, a work that has been held in such high estimation by the world.

[Page 189]DIDEROT claims a right to be mentioned here, though he wrote but two comedies, one of which, Le Pere de Famille, had considerable success; Le Fils Naturel did not succeed so well. The truth is, DIDEROT and MERCIER wrote too naturally, too cri­tically true, too accurate for the multitude. The situ­ations of their characters were happy; they drew the passions in their most perfect attitudes, and coloured them with a fidelity through which all their various shades were discoverable; DIDEROT, however, much more than MERCIER; and it is upon this ac­count that he is less skilful in the construction of his pieces; for while MERCIER introduces no in­cident, however striking, but what naturally leads to one general interest, DIDEROT, by attempting to create perpetual interest, involves his subject in perplexity. But he would have reformed this had he written more for the stage. The world however, will find their consolation in those other works in which he has improved and embellished literature.

We come now to consider the productions of FAVART, ANSEAUME, and SEDAINE, whose pieces critically ascertained the true province of the comic opera, which, however, never had settled into ab­solute regularity till MARMONTEL's Tales gave an idea of the exact nature of what their plots should be formed. Ninette a la Cour, La Chercheose D L'Esprit, [Page 190] Le Coq de Village, La Rofiere de Salency, La Bohémienae, and many others written by FAVART, boast that natural and simple regularity of which MARMONTEL's Annette et Lubin, and other pro­ductions first gave the idea. Mazet, Les Deux Chaisseurs et la Laitiere, L'Ecole de la Jeunesse, La Clochette, and La Coquette de Village, of ANSEAUME, are again of this description, and so are Le Roi et le Fermier, Rose et Colas, Blaise le Savetier, Le Jar­dinier et son Seigneur, and On Savife Jamais de Tout, of SEDAINE.

Each of these pieces consists of some pleasant subject on which the play and management of the circumstances turn, and out of which such incidents arise as beget interest and lead naturally to a just and proper denouement. The songs in the pieces of these authors are well written; but, upon the whole, those of FAVART are rather the best. There are many other pieces of this nature written by these and other authors, and some of them have been on the English stage; among which are La Fee Urgelle, Les Moissonneurs, Le Tableau Parlant, Le Deserteur, and Richard Coeur de Lion; I shall, therefore, find a better time and place to speak of them.

To return to VOLTAIRE. Nanine, a comedy taken from Pamela, was brought forward by VOL­TAIRE [Page 191] in 1749. This subject was so admired and RICHARDSON so celebrated in FRANCE, that the general cry was to have it on the stage. LA CHAUSSEE tried his hand at it and failed; so did BOISSI. VOLTAIRE, however, succeeded greatly^*, though it must be confessed he has treated the sub­ject very insipidly.

Semiramis was first performed in 1748. This tragedy, having been stolen from CREBILLON, and once before, as we have seen, brought forward with­out success, the whole hue and cry of wits hunted it down without mercy; in consequence of which its reception at some of the early representations was again doubtful. It gained ground, however, and afterwards drew a prodigious concourse of spec­tators to the theatre, who did it the justice it really merited; for, though there are faults in the plan, yet it is strongly written and some of the situations are very affecting^†.

[Page 192]VOLTAIRE's next tragedy was Oreste. It was performed once and withdrawn for eight days, after which, with the help of many corrections, it did tolerably well. Rome Sauvée came out in 1752, it was respectably received. To these succeeded Le Due de Foix, which also gave satisfaction. It is impossible to deny that these three tragedies are greatly written; and that, whatever may be their faults, they confess the hand of a master in every line. A true poet possessed of a male and nervous mind.

L'Orphelin de la Chine, and L'Ecossaise, the first performed 1756, and the other in 1760, will come in among the articles of the English stage. Tancred, also performed in 1760, had considerable success. The subject called forth all the strength of VOLTAIRE's talents, and it must be confessed he has well employed them; but L'Ecueil du Sage, a comedy, produced in 1762; was received very coldly, and had it not been written by VOLTAIRE, would not have been heard through on the first night. Olimpic, a tragedy, brought out in 1764, had better success, but by no means such a reception as some of his former pieces.

Les Scythes, performed in 1767, is a work of considerable merit. The judicious critic will easily [Page 193] discern that it is not only written by a poet, but a philosopher. It did not, however, succeed greatly at first, being like many of VOLTAIRE's plays written in a hurry and taken back for correction^*. His next piece, Les Triumvirs, was damned, owing, it is alledged, to his keeping back his name. Cer­tainly it did not deserve so severe a [...]ate, and it is probable that had he, according to custom, acknow­ledged its faults and corrected them, it might have been made an acquisition to the theatre.

The last piece but one, by VOLTAIRE, was So­phonisbe, performed in 1768. This tragedy was no­thing more than the alteration already spoken of from MAIRET, or rather THEOPHILE VIAUD, from a subject that had been so frequently treated by other authors. It certainly had merit, but had so little no­velty to recommend it, that its success was inconsi­derable, which, perhaps, determined VOLTAIRE to leave the theatre; for, though we find among his works eleven pieces, besides those already enumerated, not one of them was performed except at his private [Page 194] theatre in GENEVA. These are of different dis­criptions, but many of them have great merit, Les Guebres is written with astonishing force and grandeur, Samson, an opera, is most admirably de­signed, and charmingly written^*; and, in Socrate, there is some of the sweetest prose, particularly the love scenes, that can be conceived.

There was, however, another piece which VOL­TAIRE brought with him from FERNEI, when, like a hare, he came to PARIS to die. This was a tragedy called Irene, and it was performed at the French the­atre, during an interval in which he flattered himself he should recover from the severe illness with which he had been attacked on his coming to PARIS, and, [Page 195] indeed, afflicted some time before^*. This was the consummation, not of his glory, as he fondly called it, but of his vanity. Before the piece began, BRIZARD, the oldest of the actors, entered the box [Page 196] and placed a crown of laurel upon his head, which he with an affected modesty attempted to return, at the same time exclaiming, ‘"What will you over­whelm me? Will you kill me with excess of [Page 197] glory?"’ The tragedy was then represented; after this VOLTAIRE's statue was placed on the stage; and, while the actors and actresses crowned it with laurel and performed a most ridiculous and extravagant ceremony, the poet received all the honours of an apotheosis.

Whether this excess of glory, or the excessive importunities of the church, and his friends on one side, who wished him to die a christian, or the fol­lowers of his doctrines on the other, who were so­licitous that he should remain what they called a philosopher to the last, would have atchieved the victory it is hard to say: the conflict certainly ac­celerated his end. Pride, weakness, vanity, morti­fication, regret, fear, and a thousand other warring passions agitated and convulsed his frame; till, at length, a compassionate delirium came to his relief, and he died a warning to speculatists, and an awful example of unavailing compunction. This event happened May 30, 1778, when he was nearly eighty four years of age.

The church having forbid that the remains of this extraordinary man should be buried in conse­crated ground, his relations with difficulty got leave to transport the body to FERNEI; but they managed to procure its burial at an Abbey of BERNARDINES at SCELLIERES, in the diocese of TROYE in CHAM­PAIGNE [Page 198] to which place the news of the prohibition had not reached. The bishop of TROYES, how­ever, got intelligence of the business and sent to forbid the interment, but the order came too late; it was, therefore, agreed that the body should not be taken up, but the bishop laid the chapel under an interdiction, and the prior was deposed^*.

To go over the large field of VOLTAIRE's pro­ductions would be both unnecessary and improper. They are in all recollections and all libraries; and we have nothing to do here with any thing but his dra­matic productions. These, though there is scarcely any thing original in them, are the best his country can boast: a strange but a true declaration. VOL­TAIRE's judgment was strong, faithful, and pene­trating, to a degree of wonder; and his recollection was so vivid that his memory served him in the place of genius. Thus he was any writer he pleased, and better than the writer himself, because he could divest himself of partiality. The observation, I confess, is against all rule, all example, but it is, nevertheless, true in VOLTAIRE; who on every possible subject could make you receive that as his [Page 199] own which he did nothing but borrow and embellish; and, to prove that this is exactly what he thought and felt, his own words are that ‘"originality is no­thing but judicious imitation."’

He moulded CORNEILLE, RACINE, and CRE­BILLON to his own fancy; and, whether the forms he thought proper to make them wear were single or complicated likenesses, the copies were always better than the originals. In Brutus he portrayed CORNEILLE, in Zaire RACINE, and in Mahomet CREBILLON^*. Yet were neither of them injured. ‘"A literary thief,"’ says a wit, ‘"should always murder his man, for what use is life to him after he is become a cripple."’ but whether VOLTAIRE stole a feature from one, or a limb from another, or in what way soever committed his depredations, still the persons plundered sustained no injury; their like the polypus, and their pockets, like the purse of FORTUNATUS, still retained their original pro­portion and value.

‘"My rivals,"’ said he, ‘"accuse me without [Page 200] mercy of having pillaged both the ancients and the moderns, forgetting that they do the same thing. The fact is, we all seek for ornaments which may best embellish the subjects we treat; and, if they could steal to as good a purpose as I do, my now superior roguery would excite no envy, and thus I should hear nothing of their abuse."’

To go further into this would be not only to in­volve these observations in a review of the num­berless disputes, cavils, and heart burnings, from which, owing to insatiable and inordinate vanity, he was never free; but also of those authors, actors, booksellers, academicians, priests, statesmen, in short every possible description of person with whom he was eternally some way or other in hot water. I must, therefore, I own unwillingly, take leave of a subject which I shall hereafter have op­portunity collaterally to resume with saying, that the tragedies of VOLTAIRE, which, as specimens of erudition, are correct, elegant, and classical, as models of dramatic construction, are masterly, art­ful, and judicious, and, as lessons of morality, are beautiful, winning, and exemplary, cannot fail to ensure him a permanent literary fame, while great and extensive knowledge, keen and penetrating judgment, and perfect and refined taste are objects of admiration.

CHAP. XII. MUSICIANS, ACTORS, REGULATIONS, AND THE CONCLUSION OF THE FRENCH STAGE.

FROM the moment RAMEAU reformed the music of the serious opera, the strange, trite, unmeaning jigs that had been dinned in the cars of every fre­quenter of the comic opera, and every passer-by in the streets, began to assume something like me­lody; and, while the style of the more important works of PERGOLESI, GALLUPPI, and their co­temporaries, made up the grandeur of French music, regulated by RAMEAU, the Venetian Ballads and the other lighter music of the Italian Serenatas, and In­termezzos, changed the complexion and gave a de­licacy to the Vaudvilles.

DUNI, following the example of RAMEAU, im­proved the comic opera as RAMEAU has improved the serious opera. He was afterwards followed, among many others, by MONSIGNY, by PHILI­DORE, and, at length, by GRETRY, at which time French music had gone beyond its strength, and the string was stretched till it cracked.

[Page 202]DUNI was chaste and correct, but he seemed to compose tremblingly lest he should be thought an innovator. MONSIGNY, and PHILIDORE, had more spirit, and, catching fire like RAMEAU from the Italian school, threw that genius into a blaze which only wanted such a spark to illuminate it. From these, and from their imitators, came all those French Minuets, Gavottes, Allemandes, and Jigs, many of which, in the Ballad Operas and Dances, made up the delight of the English from thirty to forty years ago. At length appeared PICCINI, who, though a composer of great ingenuity, was really an innovator. This man, by strangling melody with accompanyment, first taught the English to despise the simplicity of GALLUPPI, and afterwards went to FRANCE where he stunned his auditors out of the beauty of RAMEAU, MONSIGNY, and PHI­LIDORE; till unfortunately meeting with his coun­terpart in GRETRY, the French, ever capricious, chose to be surprized rather than delighted, and their musical taste became so vitiated that now they have no musical taste at all.

Without going over the requisites in which the French suppose the merits of their actors to consist, and which had better be considered upon a com­parison with the English actors, I shall content my­self at present with saying that, though they call [Page 203] BARON the French ROSCIUS, and speak with rap­ture of many of their performers, yet they never fail in the same breath to extol GARRICK above all actors ancient and modern.

Indeed little more than declamation could be expected from the representations of characters who discoursed upon their most common affairs in rhime. It is notorious that, before Merope was performed, tragedy was spoken in a manner little short of re­citative, and acted with almost the regularity of a minuet. If a character was to be saved from a pre­cipice, he might break his neck and welcome if he had not patience to stay till his preserver had gone through all the dancing positions. Rage, grief, love and pity were all spoken in the same cadence, and danced in the same measure.

A trait of nature in Madmoiselle DU MESNIL broke the charm. In Merope she saw her son in danger and, fancying herself the character she repre­sented, threw into her face all the agony of a des­pairing mother; and, darting across the stage, cried out, in a frenzy of tenderness and apprehension, ‘"Barbarian he is my son."’ But we shall have lei­sure to speak of their general merits; at present let us talk briefly of them particularly.

[Page 204]From BARON sprung, either immediately or col­laterally, many of the best French actors. He mar­ried Madmoiselle LE NOIR, sister of THORILLIERE and Madame DANCOURT. His son, who has been already spoken of, died young; but he left behind him a son and two daughters, who were all per­formers of merit; the son, in particular, retired with a pension.

DANCOURT appears to have been a sound actor, but his great merit lay in training his company, in which he manifested the strongest good sense. He read remarkably well, and knew how to teach to others the beauties of those authors whose works were confided to his care. He was continually con­sidering in what manner he might render the actors respectable in the eyes of their fellow citizens^*.

[Page 205]In having spoken of POISSON as an author it was impossible to avoid giving an outline of him as an actor. His principal merit was in representing comic parts, and in particular the part of CRISPIN, and other valets in that style. He was very much admired by the court, and LOUIS the fourteenth gave him many proofs of his favour and liberality. POISSON had two sons who performed with some reputation. One of them left behind him two volumes of plays, some of which had tolerable success.

DUFRESNE was an excellent actor, but he was a curious character. By always sancying himself the king or the statesman he represented, he was miserable when after pulling off his trappings he could discover nothing but an actor, born for the contempt of the public, and fated to be excom­municated^*. [Page 206] It is said that in the hands of BEAU­BOURG and others, who succeeded BARON, the art of acting had degenerated; but that, when DU­FRESNE appeared, be restored all its excellence with added graces of his own.

We will pass by among the men LA NOUE; who, though he inherited but few requisites from nature, was an actor of great general merit; LE GRAND, who, though a good actor, and by no means a bad author, was neither a BARON nor a MOLIERE; MONTMENY, who was merely carressed as the son of LE SAGE, and QUINAULT, who as well as a good actor, was a passable musician, and many others; and we will hurry over, among the women, the names of JOUVENOT who retired with a pension; GAUSSIN, who was the original ZAIRE; LE COUV­REUR, an elegant and accomplished woman, and an admirable actress in tragedy; MAUPIN, who was an excellent actress, who in partiality to her own sex was a perfect SAPPHO; who frequently [Page 207] was mistaken for a man, and who sought a duel and set fire to a convent; the three sisters of QUIN­AULT neither of which was destitute of merit; DUCLOS, who was many years celebrated in tra­gedy; DUBOIS, who retired with a pension; DAN­GEVILLE, in whose praise for forty years all the journals, all the histories of the theatre, all the dra­matic annals were so lavish even to the quantity of several volumes: these and many more we are con­strained to pass by that we may take a view, a very transient one however, of that celebrated set of actors and actresses who kept up the reputation of the theatre during the reign of VOLTAIRE, and who were upon its establishment in the year 1775.

LE KAIN, who was the dramatic eleve, and the intimate friend of VOLTAIRE, had many difficulties to surmount before he stood a chance of success. Both his figure and his voice were against him; but by a most extraordinary and lively sensibility, after a greal deal of art and perseverance he overcame all these natural defects. His acting was like a well painted scene; the touches were mere daubing but the effect was astonishing^*. The whole of this [Page 208] actors life was consecrated to VOLTAIRE; nay, that he might be complaisant to the last, though but forty-nine years of age, the actor left the world within a few weeks of the poet.

PREVILLE was certainly an admirable actor through all the round of comedy; and it is natural to suppose, by all the accounts we have of him, that he was the best the French stage ever knew. It was ever the custom to keep a French performer close to his role; and as we say, once a captain always a captain, so one might say of a French actor, once CRISPIN always CRISPIN. But PREVILLE performed every kind of comic part, and always happily. His merit alone was the cause of their reviving almost all the comedies of MOLIERE; and to the new characters which were written, whether FREEPORT in L'Ecossaise, FIGARO in Le Barbier De Seville, MICHAUD in the Partie de chasse, D'Henry IV. or any other of these various cha­racters of which he stampt the reputation, it is im­possible to deny but that he had as much good sense as versatility^*.

MOLE performed in hard, honest, blunt characters [Page 209] with great truth and justice. He was a dif­ferent figure, and much more a Frenchman, but those who recollect YATES may, from that recol­lection, form an idea of MOLE's acting. I do not suppose the Misanthrope, Le Homme Singulier, Le Glorieux, and other parts of that description were ever so respectably performed.

BELLECOUR, who was originally a painter and a scholar of WANLOO, left the brush for the buskin. He first, however, appeared in tragedy, but his own good sense pointed out the true bent of his talents, and he stood high in reputation in 1775 as a comic actor^*.

BRIZARD was an actor of considerable merit. The advantages of a noble and graceful figure, and a clear and powerful voice, were heightened in him by a susceptible mind, a strong understanding, and a cor­rect education. He was born to represent the heroes of the great CORNEILLE; and, perhaps, in The Roman Father, and indeed all other descriptions of dignified tragedy, no French actor has gone beyond him^†. He enjoyed many years a splendid repu­tation, [Page 210] and then retired to a beautiful retreat, where he built himself an elegant house, and filled it with pictures of his own painting.

DUGAZON, an actor of gaiety and address, fol­lowed the steps of PREVILLE; running, however, more into caricature. When PREVILLE retired with his wife, which happened at the time the theatre lost BRIZARD, DUGAZON got on wonderfully; and being named Professor at De L'Ecole Royal de De­clamation, he attained a very high situation in his profession^*.

DESESSARTS seems to have been in comedy something in the style of what BRIZARD was in tra­gedy; by no means, however, his equal; for though the Lisimons and the Gerontes of the French are parts that require good sense and a critical under­standing, yet they do not want such power and ex­ertion as the old men in tragedy. There was, how­ever, an amiable and benevolent manner in DESES­SARTS that gave great respectability to those kind of characters; and, though his acting was not the prominent feature of the picture, yet it was the happy middle tint without which the picture could have had no prominence at all.

DAUBERVAL, AUGE, BOURET, DALAINVAL, [Page 211] and MONVEL, were all actors of respectability. Having, however, gone beyond my prescribed bounds, I shall for the present let them pass by and speak of LA RIVE, an actor of the highest celebrity, who seized the dramatic crown from the head of LE KAIN. LA RIVE, profiting by the instructions of the incomparable CLAIRON, and a long attention to the indefatigable labours of LE KAIN, came on the stage at once an accomplished actor.

Nature that had done but little for LE KAIN, had done every thing for LA RIVE. His figure, voice, manner, were not only correct and engaging, but they were precisely what those requisites should be in an actor. They were in themselves interest­ing, but, under the controul of that mind which ac­tuated them, they were irresistable. LA RIVE with these advantages gave an added force to the splendor that tragedy had acquired under LE KAIN. LE KAIN, having every thing to acquire, laboured with the instructions and assistance of VOLTAIRE, and his own strong mind and excellent understanding, till he attained perfection almost in opposition to nature; while LA RIVE, instructed by CLAIRON, studied and imbibed the perfection of LE KAIN, and trusted to nature to perform the rest.

In speaking of the principal French actresses I [Page 212] shall begin with Madmoiselle DUMESNIL; for, though VOLTAIRE says he was charmed with CLAIRON till he saw superior merit in DUMESNIL, yet it is certain that the latter performed in PARIS in 1737, and that CLAIRON, except in some few trifling parts which she acted at the Italian theatre, was not celebrated till 1743, the very year when DUMESNIL astonished the public by a display of extraordinary talents in Merope. DUMESNIL had a stronger mind and more nature than CLAIRON; CLAIRON more art and management than DUMES­NIL. One declaimed with judgment, the other uttered with feeling. Upon the whole, I know not if the reader can have a better idea of them than by a recollection of Mrs. CRAWFORD and Mrs. YATES, in ALICIA and JANE SHORE.

Madmoiselle RAUCOURT, and Madame VES­TRIS, properly follow DUMESNIL and CLAIRON. The first was an impassioned and enthusiastic actress, who is said to have given to Medea and other bold and violent characters a spirit and a warmth that had never before been thrown into them; the other, who was the scholar and intimate friend of CLAIRON, kept close to her style and manner in which she often equalled and sometimes excelled her. Mad­moiselle HUS was an actress in a more extensive style, but not so excellent as either of the others. [Page 213] She was well received, however, both in tragedy and comedy.

The leading comic actresses were Madame BEL­LECOUR, Madame DUGAZON, and Madmoiselle CONTAT. Madame BELLECOUR continued on the stage a great number of years, and was always re­ceived with the greatest applause and admiration. The names of PREVILLE and BELLECOUR were inseperable; they constantly performed in the same pieces and with the same reputation. Madame DUGAZON performed incomparably characters of simplicity; not that this was her only merit, for parts of more intelligence, where deportment and demeanour were more essential, and which were distinguished by art and cunning, received at her hands every justice the most sanguine author could wish; and if in PREVILLE and BELLECOUR, there appeared a faint resemblance of KING and ABING­TON; in DUGAZON and his wife might be discerned a likeness of WOODWARD and ELLIOT.

As for Madmoiselle CONTAT, she performed universally in comedy, and undertook the cha­racters that had been personated by Madame PREVILLE, Mlle DANGEVILLE, and Mlle D'OLIGNY; just as Mad. DUGAZON succeeded Mlle LUZI, and Mlle FANIER. I should with pleasure pay a more elaborate tribute to her merit, [Page 214] as well as to the rest of those whose names will pre­sently appear upon the establishment at the year 1775, but that I have already exceeded the bounds I had prescribed myself for a display of the stage in FRANCE.

The regulations of the French theatre were ex­tremely similar to those of the Italian theatre. In 1757, the king revoked all former laws and esta­blished new ones more to the interest and comfort of the performers; who, in the same manner as the Italians, possessed the property and divided the profits, after submitting to such just and necessary provisoes as were very sensibly and equitably laid down for them.

These were drawn up entirely upon the same principle, and carried into effect in the same manner as the others. The semainiers, treasurers, and all who were entrusted with the regulations, were obliged, as before, to submit their conduct to the Intendant Des Menus, to be reported for the in­spection of the king, who took them immediately under his patronage. So that to be further par­ticular would be only to repeat what has been seen already. In 1775 the company stood thus:

Actors. LE KAIN, BELLECOUR, PREVILLE, BRIZARD, MOLE, DAUBERVAL, AUGE, BOURET, [Page 215] DALAINVAL, MONVEL, DUGAZON, and DESES­SARTS. Actors retired on pensions. BELLEMONT, PONTUEIL, COURVILLE, SEGUIN, and REYMOND. Actresses. DUMESNIL, DROUIN, BELLECOUR, HUS, PREVILLE, MOLE, DOLIGNY, LUZI, FA­NIER, SAINTVAL, DUGAZON, VESTRIS, LA CHAS­SAIGNE, and RAUCOURT. Actresses retired on pensions. BONIOLI, and St. GERVAIS.

Composer and ballet master; DESHAYES, first dancer DESNOYERS, principal dancers GUIAR­DELLE, VICTOR, and HENRI. First female dancer CONSTANCE CHOLET, principal female dancers ADELAIDE, SOPHIE, and NOZIERE. To which were added six figurants and six figurantes, and six supernumeraries. The band consisted of twenty-five performers.

Thus have we taken a view of the French stage from its commencement to the time when it had at­tained the highest pinnacle of its reputation; from which moment it has ever since gradually declined. This subject is equal to a much larger scope and extent than I have been able to afford it, otherwise I might have been more just to a greater number of authors, musicians, actors and others; whose various merits and reputations deserve a more competent though not a more impartial historian.

[Page 216]We have seen, however, enough to shew, through a long serious of years, genius and merit struggling with every kind of difficulty, and the most merit­orious exertions offered up as a sacrifice at the shrine of caprice. We have seen one Cardinal turn actor, and another fidler. We have seen Kings and Princes dancing at the Opera, and we have seen the con­sistent French, with the King Queen and Royal Fa­mily at their head, shed tears at the same play yes­terday in the form of a tragedy, at the theatre, and to day laugh at it, in the form of a droll, at the fair. We have seen priests transform themselves into actors and use nonsense and obscenity in the pulpit, and we have seen actors, in good sound sense, ridi­cule priests on the stage^*. We have seen dancers, [Page 217] tygers, and flying horses, trample upon genius, taste, and literature. In short we have seen LA SERRE, a miserable book-duster, triumph over the great CORNEILLE; PRADON, a supercilious dunce and a pliant tool, conquer the tender RACINE; and DU BELLOI, who for subscribing to inordinate French vanity, was first honoured with every mark of dis­tinction and afterwards left to die in extreme in­digence, obtain a complete victory over the truly celebrated VOLTAIRE.

Let us now turn our eyes to ENGLAND.

CHAP. I. TENDENCY OF THIS WORK.

THE English reader will now see that I have so long kept him at a distance from his native country only that it may be the more dear to him on his re­turn. The traveller, who has crossed seas and tra­versed empires to seek for objects of wonder and admiration, cherishes the recollection of the plea­sure and instruction he has received, only in pro­portion as it fits him for enjoyment in the bosom of his family.

So, if I have endeavoured in ATHENS to trace the dramatic art from the rude bards at the time of THESEUS to the polished writers at the fall of GREECE; if I have described exotic manners trans­planted [Page 220] to ROME, and there pining through a sickly and rickety existence; if I have deplored the buf­fooneries of ITALY, where the heterogeneous fa­ragoes of the Romans were caricatured; if I have wondered at the astonishing fertility and redundancy of the Spanish drama, like a tree too luxuriant to be pruned, and charged with too much fruit to ripen; if I have smiled at the boorish farces of the Dutch, and if I have given more at length the origin and progress of the French stage, in which so many men of extraordinary abilities greatly distinguished them­selves; I have done this to prove, upon a compara­tive review, the superiority of our theatre at home.

If I held up AESCHYLUS, LIVIUS ANDRONI­CUS, and CORNEILLE, it was to place SHAKESPEAR upon higher ground; if I instanced ROSCIUS and BARON, it was to shew the pre-eminence of GAR­RICK; and this motive has been my guide in every instance; nor have I shrunk from the best com­mendation I could procure for authors, actors, mu­sicians, or any other of those descriptions of enter­prizers, who in so many ways are necessary to pro­mote the success of a theatre, because I fear not to enter the lists with them all, clad as I am in English armour.

But though I intend to dispute the subject point [Page 221] by point, I do not mean to pay my country so ill a compliment as to contend for superiority in those subordinate requisites which are the mere trappings, the sumpter horses of the drama. While these are decorous and keep their station in the back ground, let them relieve, which they will meritoriously, the nobler attractions of the stage: speaking the pro­priety of its conductors, and the good sense of the audience. But when the pageant becomes the object instead of the hero, I call it no longer the triumphal entry of ALEXANDER but of his ele­phants. Let the stage have dances; let it have scenery; let it have spectacles; but never let these trench upon the rational pleasure and the solid instruction conveyed by tragedies and comedies. In the first let the French excel, be the other the province of the English^*.

Upon this ground I start; and, since it has been asserted with great confidence by the writers of other countries, that the dramatic art arrived to no per­fection [Page 222] in ENGLAND till it had been perfected by all its neighbours, and since our own writers have very tamely acquiesced in this calumny, I shall, for the first attempt of this kind, begin my task by en­deavouring to rescue the English stage from so much obliquy, and shew that we are in every thing antecedent to the French, and, perhaps, every other people but the Spaniards; and that there are vestiges of the dramatic art traceable in this country long before the fall of the Roman empire^*.

CHAP. II. CONJECTURES CONCERNING THE DRAMATIC ART IN BRITON BEFORE THE ROMAN CONQUEST.

WITHOUT examining whether this island ever was a part of the Continent, or by what other means it became peopled, it is impossible not to concur in a belief that the Britons were originally Gauls. But, if it be allowed only that they had a free com­munication and intercourse with the Gauls, it is abundantly enough to establish a proof that they imported their amusements as well as their mer­chandize; and, if the Gauls, who were clearly a motley people collected from all nations, adopted the manners, studies, and pleasures of the Egyptians, the Greeks, and the Romans, how is it possible that the Britons could avoid imbibing the same propensities?

It is not pretended that the Druids were originally British; on the contrary they are considered as an itinerant body who insmuated themselves among the Gauls, the Germans, and the Britons, and who, pro­bably, [Page 224] came originally, from ASSYRIA and EGYPT, into such countries as would harbour them; and, as they have been considered in this part of the world in the same light with the Gymnosophists among the Indians, the Magi among the Persians, the Chaldeans among the Assyrians, and the Philosophers among the Greeks, it is very unlikely that the instruction they came to impart was so austere as entirely to preclude amusement.

Indeed that this was one part of their mission there cannot be a doubt. They consisted of four classes; priests, augurs, instructors of youth, and poets. Here we have clearly the bards, who sung to their harps the acts and atchievements of heroes, and whe­ther it was among the Britons they first established this art, or brought it soonest to perfection, it must certainly have been in high esteem, for the word bard, if we may rely on a number of authorities, is purely British and derived from bardus, which signi­fies a singer.

We have histories of the Welch bards, and the Irish bards; and if there were only, by way of authority, that astonishing specimen of uncultivated genius the poems of OSSIAN, written in the second or third century, who can deny, the eminent poetic talents of the Scotch bards; and, upon a consideration of this, [Page 225] how naturally will the names of HOMER and HESIOD occur to the mind, since the Celtic history as well as the Grecian had its foundation in poetry.

But to put it another way. The Druids either travelled for knowledge, or it was brought home to them from its parent countries; and, when so ac­quired, it was incorporated among the pursuits and improvements of the hardy Britons. They knew geography, which not only comprehends a measure­ment of the globe itself, but every one of its com­ponent parts; which originated in CHALDEA, passed into EGYPT, improved in PHOENECIA, and grew celebrated in GREECE^*. They practised astrology, an art characteristically Egyptian; the pupils of which art have infested the world. Had the Greeks or the Romans hardly a single camp where the astro­logers and the soothsayers did not act their parts as naturally as the buffoons and the musicians? Geome­try, which again took root in EGYPT, and afterwards passed into GREECE was another of their studies; and to these we are authorized to add theology^†, astronomy, natural philosophy, and politics.

[Page 226]Are these the probable studies of an austere people shut up in an obscure nook at a part of the world far distant from that where these sciences originated? What use was the doctrine of surveying coasts and harbours, dividing and subdividing the world, or the art of prophecying the fall and rise of em­pires, or the principles and elements of extension, to men who limited their pursuits to the little island of MONA? No. It will not bear any other con­struction than that the druids, originally wanderers, after combating schisms in their native countries, set up their rest among other nations, more likely to tolerate their opinions, and venerate their doctrines.

No part of their character, however, concerns the subject on which our attention is employed, except as it relates to their having been denominated bards, but in that capacity it is as fair to consider their hymns in their sacrifices to JUPITER and MERCURY as perfectly dramatic as the hymns of the ancient Greeks in praise of BACCHUS, or the Egyptians in honour of ISIS and OSIRIS.

If it be now allowed me that the Druids came [Page 227] originally from EGYPT my remark is so came music; so came all those arts which have enlighted the world. Drawings, gems, coins, monuments, columns, pyramids retain the forms of instruments invented by the Egyptians; the properties and effects of which, with very little variation, are the same as many of those now in use among Europeans^*.

[Page 228]History, both sacred and profane, is full of ac­counts in which musicians led on troops and ani­mated them to victory; and scarcely do we find any of these in which the ancient Gallic, German, and British Druids are not mentioned; who are said to have been not only priests but musicians, a part of whose profession it was to animate their countrymen to the fight. How far back this ob­tained, or to what degree of perfection it arrived, it is not possible, or if it were, is it material to trace. Certainly these customs existed before the Christian aera. The Druids had schools where bodies of students assembled. In these schools young men were brought up to learn arts and languages, and, parti­cularly, Greek; and it is remarked that they learnt a great number of verses by heart. By whom written? Certainly by HOMER, HESIOD, AESCHY­LUS, [Page 229] SOPHOCLES, and EURIPIDES. What then did they learn? Dramatic poems; plays, even from HOMER; for I will not concede that the Iliad and the Odyssey are any other than dramatic poems in narrative.

This whole fabric then must fall to the ground, or it must be allowed that the Druids knew the dra­matic art, or at least were in possession of the pro­ductions of those who did know it, in as high per­fection as any thing it had attained before SHAKES­PEAR. How far they exercised it is certainly lest to conjecture. Revolutions annihilate customs and obliterate their records. Were it not for the Scrip­tures, a knowledge of the early arts and improve­ments of the Hebrews would probably have been lost when they were led captives to BABYLON^*; and, had not the Grecian arms carried the Grecian arts to the remotest corners of the earth, the name of that great empire would have been extinguished with the empire itself. SPAIN, therefore, when it was overrun with the Goths, and Britons, when it was invaded by the Romans, having been merely imitators of other nations, lost all the vestiges of those arts they had learnt in the sudden wreck of their general fortune.

[Page 230]Having taken bold ground, I shall I hope be pardoned if I go a little farther in searc [...] of pro­bable argument to bear out, not what I have ad­vanced, but what I have submitted. BRITAIN, before the invasion of JULIUS CESAR, was divided into twenty-seven sites or countries, each governed by a king or a queen, among whom were found at that time many famous for arts and arms. Can it be credited that the quarrels, the valour, the gal­lantry, the intercourse, the intermarriages of this ar­istocracy could possibly have taken place without poetical celebration.

It is infallible that they had the means of cele­brating sacrifices^*, victories, and other ceremonies and festivals; and, therefore, they did celebrate them; probably in the manner of the provincial poets afterwards in FRANCE; and it is feasible that their dramatic representations, if there were any, not being yet tainted with the licentiousness of the Romans, were modelled by the purity of the Greeks; since they knew Greek long before they [Page 231] knew Latin^*. These are conjectures, however, not assertions▪ probabilities, not certainties; but since it is difficult to prevent the mind from leaning to­wards [...] belief of their spirit, if not their letter, they will not by the candid reader be considered here as an intrusion.

CHAP. III. FROM THE INVASION OF THE ROMANS TO THE SAXON HEPTARCHY.

AT the time of the Roman invasion we begin to be more decided. CAESAR, who was himself a play­wright, hardly invaded BRITAIN without his mimes. His ambition was as much to be considered in quality of author as conqueror, and we have seen him permit ACCIUS to treat him with indifference that he might the easier obtain a place in a literary assembly. Nor was this derogatory even to CAESAR. The world at this moment contemplate his writings with more pleasure than his conquests, though his clemency was equal to his courage.

From the instant the Britons had an intercourse with the Romans, they imitated them in every thing. The perpetual disputes concerning their tributes during the reigns of CAESAR and AUGUSTUS, oc­casioned visits to ROME, where the sons of the best families vied with each other in Roman accomplish­ments. With these they returned and became ob­jects [Page 233] of imitation to their countrymen; and, though the Druids strenuously interfered, the poison was imbibed, and licentiousness soon took place of simplicity and hardihood.

The very mention of the Augustan age suggests an idea of amusements, and particularly of theatrical amusements, which that emperor so largely encou­raged. Strangers flocked to ROME to see those stupendous theatres, already described, and to wit­ness the exhibitions given in them. Britons followed the examples of others; and, though in their con­tinual struggles with the Romans they scarcely se­cured themselves a home and a residence, yet they beguiled their misfortunes naturally enough with the sports and relaxations of their neighbours, and for the performance of these they are actually said to have had a theatre.

During the reign of TIBERIUS, at which time they enjoyed more quiet, civilization gained ground; they permitted commercial intercourse to every part of the island, and they imitated the manners of the Romans as faithfully and as servilely as we have seen the Romans imitate the manners of the Greeks.

In these times reigned CARACTACUS, the war­like [Page 234] like king of the SILURES, GALGACUS, the worthy king of CALEDONIA, and PRASUTAGUS, king of ICENE, over which province his wife, the famous and unfortunate BOADICEA, afterwards became queen. These and their adherents were now among the few who resisted the licentiousness of the Ro­mans, and propped the declining reputation of the Druids^*; but the hardy and warlike spirit of the Britons was no more. The struggle was in vain. The rapacity, the insolence, and the corruption of the Romans had too much vitiated the manners of [Page 235] the inexperienced Britons. CARACTACUS, be­trayed by CARTISMANDUA, the lustful wife of VINUTIUS, king of the BRAGANTES, was led a captive to ROME to grace the triumph of CLAUDIUS; BOADICEA, in the reign of NERO, after sustaining with her daughters every possibly indignity and dis­grace, lost a battle, in which fell eighty thousand of her adherents, and afterwards poisoned herself^*; and the Druids, who had wholly retired to their island of MONA, were surrounded and exterminated.

[Page 236]If the Britons had any amusements that bore a likeness to the drama before the Roman invasion, that circumstance completely overturned them by adding amusements of a different complexion, which again were prevented from gaining ground from the perpetual wars in which they first lost their dignity as a nation, and afterwards degenerated into poverty and misfortune; for the Romans hav­ing once made a complete conquest of the island, [Page 237] they so neglected the means of its internal defence, that after the death of AGRICOLA, it became an easy conquest to the Picts and Scots, who were, at length, routed by VORTIGERN, when he called in the assistance of the Saxons who conquered BRITAIN, after it had been five hundred and twenty eight years governed by the Romans, and twenty-eight years after that in a state of complete anarchy.

CHAP. IV. FROM THE SAXON HEPTARCHY TO THE NORMAN CONQUEST.

AMIDST frequent gleams of certain light, we must still wander in the gloom of conjecture; yet, if our enquiries are no more than ingenious, they may entertain even though they should not convince; and it may be worth while to cherish probability on a theme in which we interest ourselves, rather than let the whole sink to oblivion and so withhold a clue from other enquirers, who by being better in formed may be more successful.

The question is whether or not it be of any mo­ment to know if the dramatic art existed at all in this country prior to the sixteenth century, before which time it certainly attained no considerable degree of celebrity; but we are upon a subject in its nature calculated to excite curiosity, and, I fear, if authors were precluded from exercising a little conjectural speculation, ancient history of every sort would be involved in a very inconvenient predicament; its [Page 239] whole foundation, sandy as it is, being no more than tradition.

From my own part I am willing to believe and I think this inclination rational enough, that the only reason amusements and their nature have never been faithfully recorded in this country is because no actual government began to be settled here till ALFRED; and that even his laws and regulations were not permanently carried into effect till king JOHN. The history of this kingdom before the conquest consists of nothing more than a series of conflicting struggles for power and authority, in the commemorating of which the historian naturally finds himself so involved and perplexed, that, had he the pen of HOMER, he could not give it in­genuity enough to describe differently the various battles he has to deplore, much less the different heroes who fell in those battles; and, admitting this, what accurate account can we expect of the sub­jects of their relaxations whose occupations were restless ambition and destructive glory.

Amusements, nevertheless, they must have had; it would be childish to deny it; and it is clearly within probability that, previous to the Roman con­quest, these amusements consisted of such poetry and music as they imbibed from the Greeks, as it [Page 240] is evident that after the arrival of JULIUS CAESAR they partook of the dramatic and other sports and spectacles of the Romans.

After these wanton plunderers had subdued this country, despoiled it, defaced it, and left no vestiges of their insatiable lust of power but the miseries caused by its ravages; they basely forsook its de­fenceless inhabitants, now enervated by oppression, as a prey to the first band of insurgents that might think proper to invade them. The land became a scene of blood-shed and confusion; till, after a va­riety of sanguinary conflicts, it began to lift up its head and flatter itself with protection under the Saxon heptarchy.

During all this while, however, neither poetry nor its attendant music slept. The only difference was that groves and recesses witnessed those numbers, and those strains, in terms and sounds of complaint and lamentation, which before, in sprightly and triumphant measure, had delighted courts and ani­mated armies. Its fire was smouldering among the embers, but not extinct. A remnant of the luck­less Druids still were scattered up and down, parti­cularly in CALEDONIA. These required neither records for their poetry nor notation for their music. Tradition supplied the matter and memory gave it utterance.

[Page 241]These, as the times became less furious, gra­dually emancipated from their hiding places; and as it had been long customary for every chief to have his bard, for what would have been ACHIL­LES without HOMER, the Saxon kings, in the midst of their restless contentions, by which they at length became united, glad enough to lean to whatever might soften the horrors of war and intro­duce, even in the rudest state, something like civi­lization, encouraged these bards to sing those ex­ploits they had atchieved, or to invent for them attri­butable atchievements to make them respected in the eyes of their dependants, or else to stimulate them to great actions, and their dependants to an ad­miration of them, by the stories of kings and heroes which for ages had been handed down by tradition.

Nor were VORTIGERN, and those other Britons who after inviting the Saxons became their oppo­nents, more averse to listen to the poetry of the bard or the music of the harp. The carousels and all the barbarous sports which made up the cours plenieres of the French, immediately after the ex­stinction of the Roman empire, no doubt pervaded BRITAIN; and the Round Table, and the Tourna­ments in the court of ARTHUR, which were exactly the French entremets, give incontestible proofs of this.

[Page 242]The atcheivements of ARTHUR were sung by the bards, of whom MERLIN is said to have been the chief;^* and, if we go forward and come to [Page 243] ALFRED, we shall not only find him an excellent poet but an accomplished musician; and what won­der in a prince of his rare talents, who had been bred up at the court of ROME at a time when ITALY grew celebrated for poetry and music; more than a hundred years after CHARLEMAGNE had gleaned in that country the materials to found an academy in his own, and only a hundred and about fifteen years before that very GUIDO ARETINE, who is falsely said to have invented music, though it must be truly acknowledged that he was of very consi­derable advantage to it as far as relates to measure and regularity.

But what need to go so forward as ALFRED, or even ARTHUR, to shew when poetry and music were known in BRITAIN? Did not another Prince so early as the third century, sing the wars of the Scotch and the Irish with all the beauty and majesty of HOMER? Where can you find among the Greeks [Page 244] more picture, more dignity, more pathos, than in the writings of OSSIAN, the son of FINGAL? Are not those poems full of matter that relate to times long before they were written? And are they not replete with that Grecian sweetness and sublimity so well known to the Druids, and so well imparted in the education of their Princes? Nay, are they not full of those grecisms with which the Druids im­proved the Celtic tongue; and, finally, are not many of them written in dialogue, and, therefore, perfectly dramatic.

As to ARTHUR, the Knights Companions of the Round Table were warriors and poets; so were those of RAIMOND BERENGER, in PROVENCE, to whom they have been often compared; and, so com­pletely has it been settled that the amusements in BRITAIN and those in PROVENCE were exactly the same, that the only dispute, a matter of no moment to us, has been which has boasted the pre-eminence; in point of time certainly those in BRITAIN, for ARTHUR lived seven hundred years before BER­ENGER. I do not effect to deny that the accounts of the provincial poets are full of contradiction and liable to particular objection, but this is rather an establishment of the general fact; for, as we know of the dramatic entertainments of GREECE and ROME, and above all that ROME swarmed with [Page 245] mimes and actors of most extraordinary merit at the time of the dissolution of the empire, it is im­possible but that they spread themselves wherever they could find an asylum, and that, having an im­mediate intercourse with ENGLAND they visited us as well as their neighbours.

From ARTHUR to ALFRED, by which time upwards of three hundred years had elapsed, and the different kingdoms of the Saxon heptarchy were consolidated into one state, amusements, except such as stimulated heroes to great actions, of course waited on occasion, and could not be encouraged; but, during those intervals when peace gave pause to the tuba recta^* and the tympanum, and wel­comed the harp and the ribible, during these oc­casions, we hear variously of the progress of music which was, according to circumstances, silenced for a time in different counties.

St. AUSTIN, who it has been said brought choral [Page 246] music into ENGLAND, certainly to make his mission more welcome, the purport of which was to con­vert the Saxons to Christianity, brought with him forty Monks, the greatest part of whom were fingers; and, so well did Pope GREGORY know that this was the best medium through which he could effect his purpose, that a succession of fingers came over, among whom was one of the most celebrated in ITALY^*.

All this will abundantly prove, for it is seriously wrong to instance too much extraneous matter, that ALFRED opened his eyes in a country where music was well known and generally practised, and with this pleasant circumstance he seems to have been particularly delighted; for, when he was sent very young to the court of ROME, he omitted no op­portunity [Page 247] of improving himself in more arts than the art of reigning, among which poetry and music seem to have been his favourites; and, though his literary productions consist of many volumes, yet music was certainly his darling study. BALE, SPELMAN, and others, tell us that he most industri­ously encouraged music throughout the kingdom; that he invited musicians into the country, and par­ticularly one GRIMBALD, of whom the French writers have spoken very warmly. This musician had been useful to ALFRED in his way to ROME, and he was treated very honourably at the court of that monarch whose entertainments he regulated.

It cannot now be denied that some of those amusements must have been dramatic, at least as much as any of the masques and interludes which were written by BEN JONSON, and performed in the court of queen ELIZABETH; for, if they were merely choral what had the harp to do with them? And how could they be any other than works of fancy and variety when the king himself was the best harper in the band, as it evidently turned out afterwards when he assumed the form of a common minstrel in the Danish camp, where he must have conformed himself to the personating every kind of character to avoid detection, since he remained many days and was obliged to conciliate favour from [Page 248] the lowest to the highest, in the character of a vagabond and a hireling.

From the moment ALFRED sat down in pro­found peace and perfect security, he with the most indefatigable industry began to extend civizilation, and to make his name as famous for arts as it had been for arms. He found his subjects, in conse­quence of such a succession of struggles, sunk into the grossest ignorance and barbarism. He, there­fore, as we have seen, invited celebrated scholars from all parts of EUROPE, and became himself the stimulus for their education. He was a very vo­luminous author, and he founded the University of OXFORD, or at least restored it, where every literary and musical study were encouraged. The arts flourished under him. He became their natural and acknowledged patron. The trees and stones followed him like another ORPHEUS; and, as AU­GUSTUS said he found ROME brick and left it marble, so ALFRED might have said he found ENGLAND timber and left it brick and stone; which for the country and the time was a proportionable improve­ment. Not only the necessaries but the luxuries of life were now enjoyed by the Britons, for which, voyages were made even to the MEDITERANIAN, and other ports; but nothing satisfied him so much as the cultivation of the politer arts. A writer says, [Page 249] whom ALFRED well knew and encouraged, that ‘"a great city should not only be commodious and serious, but also merry and sportful^*;"’ and this is afterwards quoted by FITZSTEPHEN after the Roman conquest when he speaks of the drama at that time.

ALFRED translated from the Greek and thus knew SOPHOCLES and EURIPIDES, ARISTOPHANES and MENANDER^†, and, therefore, with his accom­plished knowledge must have been a correct dra­matic critic. As this is true, and as all authors have been lavish in the praise of his own poetry and music, and, indeed, whenever a prince has been held up as an example for the world's imitation ALFRED has been the darling theme, it cannot be questioned that he made it his study to procure inoffensive [Page 250] amusements for the leisure hours of his people, that so their minds might more willingly embrace such useful pursuits as in following the example of their king, might worthily secure that peace and hap­piness which, not more the greatness than the cul­tivation of his mind, had, after so many severe conflicts and fluctuating vicissitudes, so nobly esta­blished^*.

[Page 251]After the death of ALFRED, the liberal arts, and of course the stage, very soon received a violent check, and those improvements, which had been made in every branch of study during the last three years, the only period in the reign of ALFRED that [Page 252] the kingdom enjoyed profound peace, for want of such a patron were neglected. EDWARD's quarrels with ETHELWALD engrossed his attention too much to give any object place in his mind but arms. Had ALFRED's second son, ETHELWARD, who inherited his father's genius for letters, succeeded him, 'tis very probable the dramatic art might then have been ascertained. He, however, whatever his in­clination might be, found it probably very difficult to establish the arts in so turbulent a reign under so turbulent a king; he, therefore, retired and spent a short life in various studies, and in particular phi­losophy and theology.

ATHELSTAN was a king as little likely to pro­mote the arts as EDWARD. He had foreign and domestic enemies; and, in spight of all his efforts, licentiousness grew to such an intolerable height that EDMUND, his successor, who thought he should put a stop to it by extending the rigour of the penal laws, was massacred for his pains by a thief. ED­RED, who was little more than a Regent, and who suffered himself in the most turbulent times to be blindly led by DUNSTAN, by which means the monks ruled the kingdom, and would have turned it into a papal province had he not died, gave also poor encouragement to the arts. There are, never­theless, many reasons to suspect that during this and [Page 253] the preceding reign the mysteries, or perhaps miracle-plays, which will be fully described hereafter, origi­nated, or rather were revived, for it is extremely difficult to say when they originated.

Before DUNSTAN, the monks were secular priests. They had the education of youth and taught in families as well as in schools; and we have always found, that in order to enforce edu­cation, something in the nature of these miracle plays was performed, in which there had been per­petually a contention between the priests and the lay brothers. It is, therefore, very probable that, when DUNSTAN in the plenitude of his power established the benedictine order, and endeavoured to render every thing completely ecclesiastical, these plays performed by the secular monks were put down, or rather suspended, in one form or another; for, as many of these lay brothers did nothing more than become monks under monastic restriction, it is very unlikely, though the place of action might be altered, that the farce itself did not go on; espe­cially as St. DUNSTAN himself was a very good actor, particularly in pantomime, witness the un­merciful manner in which he took the devil by the nose.

It is also difficult to disbelieve that the pranks [Page 254] DUNSTAN played poor EDWY, and the wanton and unmanly indignities which through him were offered to his innocent and lovely queen, could have passed without comment; especially as in spight of his power he had not yet extirpated the secular clergy, who were both able and willing, for the sake of de­cency, and in justice to their injured king, to ex­pose such insolence and rapacity; and that they did expose it by some means of this kind is not at all improbable, when we know that not more than eighty years afterwards, as we shall see in its place, a play was introduced in the common sports of the people in derision of HARDICANUTE's coronation^*.

[Page 255]EDGAR, whose own story, including his mar­riage with ELFRIDA after the murder of her husband, has been more than once made the subject of a play, is known to have countenanced magnificient enter­tainments, and, therefore, he no doubt encouraged plays. 'Tis hardly to be supposed that he whom the monks permitted to practice every scandalous and treacherous art while they called him the most perfect of mankind, had not his minstrels to feed his vanity. His carrying off the nun, which the priests piously permitted, and his breach of hospitality, by means of which his mistress, ELFLEDA, was palmed upon him, are of too romantic a cast not to have called for celebration; besides he notoriously suf­fered his people to take, in every thing, their own course; by which means, though his own reign was undisturbed, the consequences fell heavy on his [Page 256] successor, the unfortunate EDWARD, whose unquiet reign was terminated by his stepmother, ELERIDA, who caused him to be assassinated that she might place her own son, ETHELRED, upon the throne.

ETHELRED, the offspring of ingratitude, pro­fligacy, and murder, spoke his origin in all his actions; in consequence of which, dissention, folly, and vice stalked through the kingdom, and were no doubt reflected by satire's mirror. Owing to this the Danes grew so powerful that, when ED­MUND IRONSIDE succeeded to the defence of the kingdom, he had scarcely a kingdom to defend.

ETHELRED was another NERO to BRITAIN, He bribed the Danes many times to retire, who al­ways returned in exultation. He permitted continu­ally a Danish army in the kingdom, and thereby sub­jected it to a thraldom such as it had experienced in the hands of the Romans at the time of BOADICEA. The same rapacity, the same prosligacy, the same infamy prevailed. Alarmed, therefore, for the con­sequence, and advised by EDRICK, with whom he is said to have shared some of the money the people gave to bribe the Danes, he caused a general massacre of them throughout the kingdom.

This of course roused the Danes, who breaking [Page 257] through all treaties, came so powerfully upon him, that he first retired to NORMANDY, but returned upon the death of SWEYN, who had occupied the English crown six weeks.

ETHELRED's imbecility, cowardice, and folly, however, had by this time made him an object of detestation to his subjects; and he finished an in­glorious reign, in the midst of difficulties, which his son EDMUND vainly struggled with great courage and perseverance to dissipate; till, after a single combat between EDMUND and CANUTE, which was advised by the very EDRICK who had been the parasite of ETHELRED, and who afterwards mur­dered EDMUND to present CANUTE with his head, the kingdom was by agreement divided in two.

During all these contentions we hear of sports but nothing more. The priests seem to have been silent. I shall, therefore, urge no further proba­bilities of the existence of interludes, or other dra­matic amusements at that time than the proofs which will be presently advanced that they were well known at the death of HARDICANUTE.

The reign of CANUTE, which passed entirely in reconciling jarring opinions, he at all times em­bracing [Page 258] that conduct most likely to conciliate the affection of the people, was certainly favourable to amusements. He built churches, endowed mo­nastries, and appointed revenues for the celebration of mass. Nay, he made a pilgrimage to ROME, from whence it would have been useless to return without something to instruct and amuse. These arts, which he used to flatter his subjects were returned with the grossest adulation; this gave rise to the well known story of his reproving the tide in the presence of his courtiers. The nation, however, was immersed in barbarism; and, though he was greatly esteemed for his power and his virtues, he succeeded but little in polishing the manners of his people.

HAROLD, whatever improvements CANUTE had been able to make, soon overturned them. As if conscious of a very short reign, he introduced dissi­pation more than enough into it for a long one. It is not easy to say whether he or his brute of a bro­ther was the most dissolute and contemptible. One lived hated and dispised three years, and the other but two. The first died a prey to remorse for treachery towards ALFRED, a descendant of the Saxon kings, and the murder of him and his fol­lowers; and the other expired amidst his beastly revels through plenitude and drunkenness.

[Page 259]We have upon this occasion clearly a proof of the existence of plays and interludes; for HARDI­CANUTE was held in such contempt by his subjects, that a play was written after his death in derision, and it for a long time was annually performed by the title of Hock Holiday ^*.

[Page 260]From this time forward we see by every symptom that the English encouraged interludes of various kinds. EDWARD the Confessor, who restored the Saxon line, having but slender and distant pretensions to the crown, and having been bred up in the court of NORMANDY, introduced French manners, and, therefore, facilitated the conquest. At no period of the world were there stronger contentions for pre-eminence in music than at this. BERNO, Ab­bot of RICHENOU, ODO, of CLUNI, GAF­FURIUS, GLAREANUS, and ten or twelve other writers, whose names are now before me, give us long accounts of this emulation which prevailed both in ITALY and in FRANCE. The Abbays, of CORBIE, of RHEIMS, and of CLUNI, were the great seminaries for musical instruction in FRANCE. To these, young monks were sent from ENGLAND to be taught by REMI D'AUXERRE, WIGERIC, [Page 261] bishop of METZ, NOTKER LE BEGUE, and others, who were not only famous musicians but celebrated writers; till, at length, about the time of the conquest of ENGLAND, appeared GUIDO ARE­TINE, who, though he invented nothing of music itself, so regulated it and reduced it to practise, that the art certainly benefited greatly by his im­provement^*.

This being the case, and French manners being every day introduced into ENGLAND, at the very moment too when the troubadours with their sir­ventes and tensons were overrunning NORMANDY, is it possible to deny that interludes, satires, and farces, of some description, were known at that time in ENGLAND? Here then we will halt; for as HAROLD who, if he could be said to have reigned, was merely an usurper, nothing more can be traced of a new complexion to prove the fact which I am striving to establish, and which I have no doubt, by the corroboration of future circumstances, will be made perfectly clear.

CHAP. V. FROM THE NORMAN CONQUEST TO EDWARD THE THIRD.

WE are now come to a period when it will be less difficult to ascertain the true nature of those dramatic entertainments which were performed early in ENGLAND. The turbulent disorders that had so long convulsed the kingdom having been in great measure shook off at the conquest, amusements, which no doubt had been at different intervals al­ternately discontinued and renewed, began to be established upon a more permanent footing. It also became more an object to authors to notice them; and, owing to this, we thereabout begin to get cer­tain intelligence that various dramatic pieces were exhibited, and in particular mysteries, such as we have seen, though at a much later date, so anxiously followed in FRANCE.

The NORMAN conquest was effected in 1066; and, not more than thirty-seven years afterwards, the priory of St. BARTHOLOMEW, in Smithfield, [Page 263] was erected by a man of the name of RAHERE, who was called the King's Minstrel, and whose monument is now to be seen in that church in the north side of the chancel. This man kept a com­pany of fidlers; and, he so insinuated himself into the good graces of HENRY the first early in that reign, that he gained from the king the manor of AIOT, in HERTFORDSHIRE, where, going from one extreme to another, he became religious and was the first prior in his own priory^*

As this priory, which was destroyed by HENRY the eighth, was erected in 1103, and after RAHERE had run his career as a minstrel, it cannot be denied that minstresly had been long well known and in great repute^†. It must have taken him some years [Page 264] to have made his fortune; and then that profession must have been pretty well respected by which a man could honestly make a fortune at all. But comments will become every moment more unne­cessary, for we shall soon have facts to bear out our argument.

While RAHERE at the head of his company was making his fortune by the interludes, which his en­tertainments certainly were, the priests, who also, perhaps, wished to make fortunes, were very busy in their attempts to establish the mysteries. In the [Page 265] eleventh century, and if early in the eleventh cen­tury, before the conquest, GEFFROI, a French monk came over here and was made Abbot of St. ALBANS. This monk, being intrusted with the edu­cation of youth, made his scholars act this kind of tragedies, one of which was called The Miracles of St. Catherine.

The different accounts of this man, and this fact, agree so perfectly that it will be worth while to dwell on the subject a little longer. GEFFROI, a Norman by birth, as we are told by French and English authors, was sent over by Abbot RICHARD to undertake the direction of the school at St. AL­BANS. He arrived too late and went to DUNSTA­BLE, where he taught in the Abbey, and set about performing this miracle play there. He afterwards got into the situation originally intended for him, and his scholars at St. ALBANS, acted this and, doubtless, other entertainments of the same nature, for which purpose the sacristan lent them copes from the neighbouring Abbey, at St. ALBANS, to dress their characters.

Monsieur L'EXTANT thinks that this was an attempt towards the revival of dramatic entertain­ments all over EUROPE. Nothing can be stronger [Page 266] than this. We have seen that the priests in FRANCE performed sacrilgeous farces full of the grossest in­delicacy, and so offensive against religion and all de­cency, that CHARLEMAGNE was obliged to sup­press them in the eighth century. A period more than a hundred years before ALFRED. Does it not appear very feasible then that they had been known here? Might not ETHELRED, an honest heathen, have been shocked at the shameful mummery of the christian priests, and, therefore, have put down PUTTA and his followers? Who certainly understood the trade of acting, otherwise they would not have strolled about afterwards as trou­badours.

St. AUSTIN by the same token might have in­troduced some irregularities into this kingdom, es­pecially as many of his monks were Italian singers, a description of characters which even to this mo­ment have never been remarkably celebrated for having imported much virtue among us. It must be recollected that he came here with extreme re­luctance, the feelings of the Saxon heathens having rather revolted at the Devil's dances performed in the churches, which St. AUSTIN with all his sanctity, perhaps, was not able wholly to suppress; to which supposition his having previously determined to gain their hearts by tickling their ears rather than ap­pealing [Page 267] to their understandings, lends great pro­bability.

The idea of L'EXTANT, therefore, that GEF­FROI's miracle play, or plays, for it is very unlikely that he performed but one, was a revival of those entertainments is very fair. They had been, not only in ENGLAND and in FRANCE but all over EUROPE, at different times, according as they con­formed to decency and morality, or grew into li­centiousness, permitted and suppressed. Nothing, therefore, can be more probable than that they had undergone an interdiction about the time of the conquest, either for improper conduct, or owing to the troubles of the times, and that GEFFROI, a Norman, came over with the Normans and revived an amusement which he thought would be welcome to a people who wished for a little relaxation after the convulsions the kingdom had sustained.

STEPHEN, who seems never to have had that truncheon out of his hand which was his only weapon of defence when he was dethroned, had virtue enough to have promoted the arts; but, owing to the turbulence of the nobles, who looked with a jealous eye on that freedom which HENRY had granted the people, his efforts at civilization were like a whisper in a tempest.

[Page 268]But this was not the case with HENRY the se­cond, his successor, who, being sole monarch of ENGLAND, and possessor of more than a third of FRANCE, did not fail to transplant here those amuse­ments which were then the delight of the Continent. Nor was BECKET any more behind hand with him than WOLSEY with HENRY the eighth, for he passed through a variety of profligate pleasures before he wore sackcloth next his skin, and daily washed the feet of thirteen beggars.

The unbridled gallantry of HENRY, of which we have many more proofs than that of ROSAMOND, put to death by ELEONOR, who was herself re­pudiated by her first husband LOUIS the seventh for incontinency, and who was daughter of Count VENTADOUR, a provincial poet, was good food for poetry which he certainly encouraged. Nay, his two sons, RICHARD and GEOFFRY, whose undutiful conduct broke his heart, were both, as we shall pre­sently see, troubadours.

But, to prove that the drama was now not only well known but that it was considered a subject of sufficient consequence for celebration, an elaborate work was written early in the reign of HENRY which speaks, not only of interludes performed at the theatre, but of plays upon more holy sub­jects, [Page 269] in which were represented the miracles wrought by Our SAVIOUR's disciples, and the fortitude and constancy of those blessed martyrs. Now had this author noticed these matters as a discovery, a thing that was invented or brought into ENGLAND by the Normans, we might have ground to believe that no­thing dramatic, at least nothing worth notice, had been known in ENGLAND before. But this is not the case. He does not speak of these matters as novelties but only as a part of those amusements which had been long known and followed.

To say that this book was published to tell the inhabitants of LONDON, or, indeed, any part of the kingdom, that miracles were then performing, and that they then supplanted interludes would be non­sense. No man needed any such information. He might mean that these mysteries which at that time continued to be performed had, when they were re­vived, put by the interludes, which was no more than the old quarrel between the priests and the laity; but nothing can be more clear than that this work alludes to the interludes of RAHERE, certainly performed during the reign of WILLIAM RUFUS, rigid as his character was, which, when RAHERE retired, were suspended for the miracle plays of GEFFROI.

[Page 270]His words are, ‘"instead of interludes performed at the the theatre,"’ from which we are obliged to infer that it had been customary to perform inter­ludes, and at a theatre, for, probably, a long time before the conquest, but that at the time he speaks of, those interludes gave way to more holy re­presentations; clearly alluding to RAHERE and GEFFROI.

Of what materials those interludes were com­posed, or on what sort of theatre they were repre­sented, it is not very easy to determine; nor, in­deed, is it very essential. The theatre, however, implies some regular place, some well known situa­tion, frequented and tolerated; and the amusements were probably a mixture of those performed by the the trouveres and the troubadours in PROVENCE, adopted according to circumstances to the English taste by those minstrels who ever since ALFRED had been encouraged to visit ENGLAND from ITALY.

At any rate 'tis plain to be seen that religion did for ENGLAND what it had done for FRANCE; and, in proportion as WILLIAM abolished the trials by ordeal, the camp sights, and all those savage practices which had been held in such veneration by the Saxons, the priests took the opportunity of incul­cating [Page 271] morality by dramatic representations of those holy facts, the parade of which has oftener made proselytes than the doctrine.

This will shew in almost an indubitable light that those arts which ALFRED protected, and, to pro­mulgate which he, like other princes of all times, became a writer and a performer, and which we have traced through almost the whole of the Saxon heptarchy, obtained here as well as in ITATY and as in FRANCE; and that, fluctuating according to cir­cumstances, they were sometimes sacred and some­times profane.

RICHARD COEUR DE LION succeeded to HENRY the second; who, not more than a hundred and twenty years after the conquest, was, as we have seen, celebrated in PROVENCE as a poet and a per­former, and so was his brother GEOFFRY. We have a great variety of authorities for this, corro­borated by circumstances which we cannot easily doubt; and which, after all, was not wonderful in RICHARD, for it was only taking after his mother's family.

The whole intelligence concerning this business is clogged with contradiction and absurdity; but it is, however, universally allowed that he resided in [Page 272] PROVENCE, probably in the court of GISBERT the second Count^*, and that he wrote sonnets and other poetry. Some of which are complaints against his barons for suffering him to remain in captivity. These were addressed to the princesses of the court, and some of them are now to be found in ancient authors. The authorities for all this rest upon CRESCEMBINI, MATHEW PARIS, RYMER, FA­VINE, BEAUCHAMP, and many others; who, how­ever they may vary in immaterial particulars, all agree upon the general fact^†.

From FAVINE, we have the interesting intel­ligence [Page 273] of his being released from captivity through the assistance of BLONDEL, who was bred up in his court, and with whom he had been accustomed to sing songs in dialogue. This BLONDEL, who was a native of NESLE, and had been from his infancy a trouverre, followed the fortunes of RICHARD; and, when by the treachery of the duke of AUSTRIA he was confined, he sought with every possible di­ligence for his master, pursuing still his occupation of minstrel, in hopes that some intelligence by good fortune might reach the king through which he might work out his release. By an unexpected chance he happened to come near the castle where his master was confined; who, upon hearing without the wall one half of a well known song, and recollect­ing perfectly the voice of BLONDEL, sung the other [Page 274] half himself that their intelligence might be mutual. This hint was enough for BLONDEL. He, return­ing privately to ENGLAND, informed the barons where their king was imprisoned, who immediately set about, and at length accomplished, his release.

In addition to these and other proofs that RICHARD was actually and to the fullest extent one of the provincial poets, I have a variety of autho­rities that cannot be questioned. Nevertheless, to shew the fact as strong as possible, and also that his poetical propensity greatly forwarded the dramatic art in ENGLAND, besides BLONDEL, FOUQUET, and others, that FAIDIT, of whom we have seen BEAUCHAMP the panegyrist, and whose works con­tain the rudiments of regular tragedy, which PA­RASOLS afterwaids is said to have perfected, came to ENGLAND with RICHARD, and it was imme­diately upon this that, not only at the English court but in all families of distinction, interludes and other performances in the style of sirventes and tensons were performed, both by performers hired for the purpose and by the great themselves; which was so customary, say BEDE and others, that such as were not capable of joining were ne­cessitated to retire^*.

[Page 275]From this time these amusements were not only tolerated in the capital, but they were encouraged throughout the kingdom; for, though these min­strels were considered as vagabonds, in common with fencers, bearwards, &c. yet many instances of favour were shewn to them all, and well it might be so; for the gentry constantly mixed in their sports. It is on this account, probably, that they have been on so many occasions entitled to the pro­tection [Page 276] of the law. Ever since the time of king JOHN to this hour, in all the laws for the regulation of amusements, there is an exemption in favour of the minstrels of CHESTER^*, and ever since JOHN of GAUNT, in favour of those of TUTBURY, in STAFFORDSHIRE^†.

[Page 277]Though we have plainly seen that JOHN, whose reign was equally remarkable for wickedness and weakness, countenanced dramatic amusements, yet the arts certainly materially declined during that period. HENRY the third, however, must have in­evitably restored them, for he married ELEONOR, daughter of BERENGER, that provincial nobleman and troubadour, who has been already noticed. He invited her relations and friends to reside in EN­GLAND, lavished on them costly and extravagant presents, manifested the greatest fondness and af­fection for them, gave them places of trust and emolument, and married them to sons and daughters of the English nobility^*.

[Page 278]He made a Poictevin bishop of WINCHESTER, [Page 279] sent over his mother for other provincial strangers, and at last was so fond of acting these kind of farces, that he severely exasperated his people against him; and, had not his gallant son EDWARD towards the end of his long and turbulent reign, checked the unbounded and proffigate licentiousness of his in­ternal enemies, it would have been impossible for him to have sat quietly on the throne.

EDWARD the first, who conquered the Welch, and afterwards rendered himself celebrated by com­pletely subduing the Scotch, though he had a great and noble soul was but little at leisure to cultivate the arts. The great hinge on which history turns is war; and thus, especially if they should be har­rassed by internal war, we find the histories of all nations involved in a series of sanguinary disputes, while the milder and more beneficent attractions, which ought to characterize human nature, become subordinate considerations, and it is on this account that the relaxations which nature and reason permit are so difficult to be ascertained. Great men, in the exercise of that ferocity taught in camps, sometimes forget that clemency is the warrior's best virtue.

[Page 280]So it happened to EDWARD; who, from a mistaken and miserable notion that it would be good policy to exterminate with the Welch every trace of their greatness, massacred every poor un­fortunate bard that could be found. Upon another occasion he paid as little respect to the clergy; for, though he had no design upon their lives, he had upon the means whereby they lived. When the Pope exonerated them from paying most heavy taxes which were levied on them, EDWARD refused them his temporal protection, so that they were virtually outlaws, and continually robbed and plun­dered by the peasantry, who had permission to com­mit these outrages with impunity.

Thus neither sacred nor profane actors stood much chance of encouragement. Dramatic amuse­ments, however, certainly at intervals went on and particularly those which were tolerated by JOHN, and performed by the minstrels of CHESTER. These were played at Whitsuntide, and the different companies of traders were employed three days in the representation of them.

These dramas were taken from the Old and New Testament, and were full of the grossest bus­foonery. Each company had its particular play. The Creation was performed by the Drapers; [Page 281] Abraham, Melchisedec, and Lot, by the Barbers; The Salutation and Nativity, by the Wrights; The Three Kings, by the Vintners; The Fall of Lucifer, by the Tanners; The Purification, by the Blacksmiths; The Deluge, by the Dyers; The sending of the Holy Ghost, by the Fishmongers; Moses, Balack, and Balaam, by the Cappers; The Oblation of the Three Kings, by the Mercers; The Shepherds feeding their Flocks by Night, by the Painters and Glaziers; The Killing of the Innocents, by the Goldsmiths; The Temptation, by the Butchers; Christ's Passion, by the Bowyers, Fletchers and Ironmongers; Jesus and the Lepers, by the Corvesaries; Descent into Hell, by the Cooks and Innkeepers; Antichrist, by the Clothiers; The Ascension, by the Taylors; The Blindmen and Lazarus, by the Glovers; The Resurrection, by the Skinners; and The Day of Judgment, by the Websters.

If this were taken literally, we should see all the inhabitants of CHESTER in the capacity of actors; but it is more probable that, as CHESTER was a pri­vileged place for these dramas, the different com­panies employed certain actors to perform such pieces as were respectively allotted to them. But these by no means entirely made up all the dramatic performances of the CHESTER actors, for they had [Page 282] interludes upon profane subjects; and, in particular, several which related to earl RANDLE, by whose interest, as we have seen, they originally became a privileged company regulated by a king, or manager^*.

If EDWARD, the first, gave but little encourage­ment to the arts, his son, unlike his father in every other respect, was equally unlike him in this; for led about by his favourite GAVESTON, and after­wards by the SPENSERS, he went to the other ex­treme and encouraged every thing that was licen­tious. In this strange, irregular, unquiet, and dis­solute reign, however, nothing could be expected to the honour of any human pursuit. Both EN­GLAND and FRANCE, familiar with the horrid slaughter committed by the Saracens and Christians in the crusades, and the fantastic and extravagant manner in which they celebrated their atchieve­ments [Page 283] on their return, knew not, whether in their pleasures or their cruelties, how to be barbarous enough. The Queen's unbridled passion for MOR­TIMER encouraged the profligacy of both; and, after the mutual abandoned pleasures and merciless butcheries which were finished by the king's shock­ing and detestable murder, no wonder if so many loose and disorderly persons infested the kingdom, that it became necessary in the following reign to restrain all kind of licentiousness, and in particular the licentiousness of actors.

CHAP. VI. FROM THE VAGRANT ACT OF EDWARD THE THIRD, TO THE REGULATION OF THEATRES BY QUEEN ELIZABETH.

THE continual struggles between holy and profane theatricals, fluctuating sometimes in favour of the clergy, and sometimes in favour of the laity, ar­rived, at length, to such a profligate pitch, that, ex­actly as in ROME and in FRANCE, it was thought expedient to suppress these representations altoge­ther; not, however, in the Roman manner by the punishment of death, nor in the French manner by menacing damnation, but in the true Grecian way by the discipline of the carts tail; for, early in the reign of EDWARD the third, and about two hundred and fifty years after the conquest, it was ordained by an act of parliament, ‘"that a company of men, called vagrants, who had made masquerades throughout the whole city, should be whipt out of LONDON, because they represented scanda­lous things in little alehouses, and other places where the populace assembled."’

[Page 285]The necessity of this shews incontestibly that these scandalous doings had long been common, and that, whatever temporary checks they might have received from former kings, they had now got to such an ungovernable degree of licentiousness that it required that serious intervention to stop their progress. The operation of this interdiction was the same in ENGLAND as in FRANCE. Inter­ludes upon profane subjects were either performed, by slealth or in private families, upon certain festi­vals, at weddings, or other splendid entertainments. These, we are told, were exhibited ‘"by ingenious tradesmen and gentlemens servants,"’ no doubt hired minstrels, and that they were splendid or otherwise, according to the condition of the person for whose entertainment they were performed; that they were only permitted, and always tacitly, when they exposed vice or represented noble deeds in former times.

And here it will be necessary to go a little into the spirit of the literature of those times, in order to see what those interludes were. During the long reign of EDWARD the third, gallantry and elegance characterized his court; the Order of the Carter was established, and the repeated victories against the French introduced, with their king and his re­tinue, who were prisoners in ENGLAND, every im­provement [Page 286] that the French had imbibed from their neighbours, or taught themselves.

The character of EDWARD was to give a polish to bravery, and to soften the rigour of courage with the mildness of generosity; and, however, ferocious the English are thought to have been at that time, the single trait of that modest dignity, that noble forbearance, that generous solicitude in EDWARD the Black Prince, when, though young, ambitious, and enterprising, he threw off every quality but beneficence in consoling and solacing his prisoner the king of FRANCE, is enough to shew that the English were then capable of that refined honour which has never, to the same pure, disinterested, and uncontaminated degree, been the distinguishing characteristic of any other people.

This struggle, however, between valour and be­nevolence, engrossed the whole attention of the times. The arts and sciences were, therefore, little known. The gallantry of the English was confined to the exercise of open and manly exploits, without a knowledge of the stratagems of war; and, if it had not been that the savour of some mistress was in­dispensibly necessary as a stimulus towards a con­quest at a tournament, a politeness and an attention to the fair would have but little marked the conduct [Page 287] of the court of EDWARD. Nay, perhaps, that pro­vocation lady SALISBURY's garter would have been but a slight inducement to the establishment of that order, had it not given an opportunity of reviving ARTHUR's round table^*.

This of course checked materially the progress of literature; nor would it probably have been much regarded had not a memorable combination of talents at that time distinguished themselves throughout EUROPE. DANTE, who was the pane­gyrist of the most celebrated troubadours, and whose writings have a polish unknown before his time; PETRARCH, the scholar of DANTE, whose poetry, [Page 288] thanks to love and LAURA, had an inimitable tender­ness in it; and BOCCACE, the scholar of PETRARCH, who gave the Italian tongue that sweetness and grace which has ever since distinguished it from all other languages; spread their genius, their fancy, and their elegance, to every people capable of im­bibing them.

ENGLAND of course caught their influence, and CHAUCER, who was certainly a better poet than either of these, and who has been held up by the English in the same degree of veneration as HOMER was with the Greeks, and VIRGIL with the Romans, was endowed with every susceptibility to add what­ever he thought requisite of their refinements to his own admirable talents. But this would be ex­traneous did it not tend to prove something dra­matic; to do which we have only to instance the De­cameron of BOCCACE, and the Canterbuty Tales of CHAUCER, which contain an inexhaustible fund for all that can be done in comedy, and unequivocally serve to shew that the drama was not only always known but always considered as the best vehicle for descriptive poetry; because the subjects of the tales in the Decameron, or at least many of them, are taken from authors of former ages and adopted to the times and manners of the country in which BOC­CACE wrote.

[Page 289]This is again the case with CHAUCER; who, though he took subjects from BOCCACE which BOCCACE had borrowed before, has given us a picture of our own times and manners so clearly that not a single character has escaped him; and the various shades and distinctions of his descriptions are so nice, so critical, and so true to nature, that no poet whose delineations of human life are faith­ful could avoid, though he had never read CHAU­CER, being in some degree his imitator; and what lesson after all do we learn from this but that nature is always the same, has been always described; and, however affections and passions, through the modes of times and manners may vary her operations, yet the motives that regulate the mind are constant and invariable.

After this it would be folly to say that CHAUCER could not have written a comedy, or that BOCCACE could not, or that any of those more ancient writers could not, who furnished from writers still more ancient the source whence they drew their pro­ductions. We have hitherto seen that authors have always borrowed of each other, and we shall never see to the contrary; and, whether the thing itself be a vehicle in which characters are introduced and contrasted through the medium of narrative, or [Page 290] whether those characters are personated, the only distinction is that both are dramatic, but that only one is dramatized. and, therefore, that either pos­sesses all the requisites of the dramatic art.

If then every thing dramatic was comprized in the works of CHAUCER, and if LANGELAND's Visions, a celebrated work, and also some writings of GOWER, both cotemporaries of CHAUCER, were in the same spirit, it is impossible but that the authors of inter­ludes at that time must have availed themselves of such models, especially as those authors were so nu­merous, and in point of merit so obscure; and thus CHAUCER, a courtier, and a great man, GOWER a divine, and LANGELAND a disciple of WICKLIFF, gave their works that turn which was most likely to entertain the great and the erudite, rather than amuse disorderly persons in little alehouses. But to return.

As the act for the punishing of vagrants was not in its spirit intended to check any thing that might encourage the growth of morality, for surely no­thing could be wiser than to suppress scandalous things performed in alehouses, the clergy of EN­GLAND, feeling like the clergy of all other coun­tries, that instruction comes more welcome to the mind when it is received through the medium of [Page 291] amusement, prepared a stock of religious tragedies after the model of GEFFROI; which there can be no doubt had continued to be tolerated from the time that the itinerant interludes were suppressed.

The priests who were too cunning to incur a whipping, established their sacred dramas exactly as GEFFROI had done his; and, as they were many of them heads of schools, their scholars naturally became their actors, which it is impossible to blame for they were by this means taught at once religion and elocution.

A petition to king RICHARD the second, in 1378, from the scholars of St. PAUL's school, puts this matter out of doubt; for it shews that the re­ligious plays had not only been long performed but that their success and celebrity were so great as to have induced others to attempt the same species of entertainment. The petition prayed his majesty ‘"to prohibit a company of unexpert people from representing the History of the Old Testament, to the great prejudice of the said clergy, who bad been at great charge and expence to represent it publicly at Christmas."’

This, as SHAKESPEAR says, denotes a soregone conclusion. It positively implies that these clergy, [Page 292] by some means or other had obtained an exclusive right to perform these mysteries; for upon what other presence could they petition the king to pro­hibit these opponents; and this right of theirs must also have been pretty stable, otherwise such a per­emtory petition might have shaken it. But what are these persons they wish to put down? Why a set of ‘"unexpert people,"’ novices, innovators, who had not like these priests been long established and celebrated as performers of mysteries, or, as they call it, of ‘"the History of the Old Testament."’

Does not this clearly prove that, as this com­pany of holy actors were expert at their profession in 1378, the mysteries had been regularly performed in ENGLAND at St. PAUL's school, more, perhaps many more, than twenty years before they were per­formed in FRANCE in the Bourg of St. MAUR, where we first hear of them in 1398. Nay, is it not very likely that, in 1378, these clergy had per­formed as long, with as good success, and were as firmly established as the Confraternity of the Passion, when as innovators they began to look with a jea­lous eye on the clerks of the Bazoche; for we shall see that no longer than twelve years after this pe­tition, these mysteries were not only performed at Clerkenwell, but attended by all the nobility and gentry.

[Page 293]The accounts we have of this business are, that the parish clerks of LONDON performed these mysteries, first at Skinner's Well, and afterwards at Clerkenwell, or Clerk's Well; which place took its name from this circumstance. This, however, taken literally, is a very strange conjecture. The parish clerks of LONDON, I believe, have never been very celebrated for elocution, and then they are by no means a community. It is, therefore, much more feasible that these clerks were lay-bro­thers of the church, such as minor-canons, who to this day in cathedrals sing themselves into their stalls just as counsellors eat their way to the bar.

These might have called in the assistance of gra­duates and choirmen, by which union we have in­stantly a number of performers whose habits of edu­cation give us a better idea of literary merit than, without offence to the parish clerks, who seem to have been grossly libelled in this business, we should be likely to find in a set of old gentlemen, from whom nothing more could be expected than to say Amen with a good grace. Nor can any thing impeach the probability of this conjecture, for the designation of every clergyman at this moment is clerk from the deacon to the prelate; and, in its extended clerical sense, it implies all chantors.

[Page 294]These gentlemen, being generally in the vigour of life, were very likely to excite the attention that we are told was actually paid them; for, whatever might have been the opinion of the clergy they so greatly prejudiced at St. PAUL's school, it turned out at last that they were so expert as to keep all the dramatic reputation to themselves.

The clerks of the Bazoche, which were no other than the lay clergy, and the clerks of Clerkenwell will now appear so uniformly upon the same foot­ing, that their conduct and its operation were exactly alike. They continued the mysteries only till they had carried their point; till, in proportion as the pub­lic taste became more polished, and they grew weary of representing miracles from the Old and New Testament, they introduced the moralities, in which, by personifying virtues and vices, instead of saints and martyrs, they insinuated a love of moral and so­cial duty by appealing to the affections of the mind^*.

These moralities were not, however, at times, [Page 295] without a mixture of religius circumstances and characters. In short, they were sometimes wholly religious, sometimes wholly mythological, and sometimes both. Innovations, however, of various kinds were attempted, all which were of course imitated throughout the kingdom. At length HAY­WOOD, HENRY the eighth's jester, and his adherents, like the children of Sans Souci, introduced inter­ludes representing the manners of persons in common life. From these resulted something like regular plays which excited so much curiosity that the whole kingdom swarmed with actors, till, at length, after many fruitless attempts to suppress them, they were entirely put down by queen ELIZABETH with a view to select such parts of this chaos as might form a natural theatrical world.

But to trace the steps that led to this regulation. RICHARD the second having countenanced the mysteries at Clerkenwell, HENRY the fourth, his successor, who had reason enough to keep the peo­ple in good humour that they might the easier forget by what means he came at the crown, permitted this indulgence to the fullest extent, for he was frequently present at these exhibitions with the queen and all the nobles of his court, and particularly to witness a performance which lasted eight days, and which took its story from the creation of the world.

[Page 296]This toleration was, however, of course very much abused, for the people became so mad after these mysteries that they were presently performed all over the kingdom. We hear of theatres upon wheels, exactly like the cart of THESPIS, being drawn about COVENTRY and other places, in which the fairs exhibited scenes, and represented pageants upon Corpus-Christi day; the stories always from the Old and New Testament, and composed in En­lish rhime.

There is a manuscript in the Cottonian library from which we learn the arguments of forty pa­geants or gesticulations, representing all the histories of both the Old and New Testament, from the creation to St. MATTHIAS the apostle. Among the latter we find The Annunciation, The Nativity, The Visitation, The Resurrection, and The Ascension; Nay, The Assumption, and Last Judgment. All these were performed in a style, of which we shall by and by see some specimens, infinitely unworthy and beneath the sacred subjects they treated; a cir­cumstance which will clearly shew that these my­steries were performed very early when we com­pare them to those written by BALE, SANDYS, and others who wrote in the sixteenth century.

These various performers were called wastors, [Page 297] master-rimours, minstrels, and players of interludes, who had overrun the kingdom and reached even to WALES; and it was enacted that none of these, nor any other vagabonds, should be sustained or suffered in the land of WALES or elsewhere, to make com­moiths or gatherings upon the people; by which it may be understood that they gave notice to all within such a district that they performed for money. Among the appellation, other vagabonds, were, pro­bably, included fencers, bearwards, and mummers; which last description at different times have been known to infest the kingdom. Their custom was to dress themselves in a grotesque manner and to dance, mimic, and shew tricks of legerdemain, all which the English had retained ever since the mimes of the Romans, for it is remarked that they went about masqued and disguised, and were frequently guilty of many lewd and outrageous disorders.

This interdiction seems to have had some effect for a time; for we find here, as in FRANCE, when printing was known and books began to multiply, which was in the reign of HENRY the sixth, litera­ture became more refined, and the only deviation from the mysteries and moralities, except among such as chose to run the risk of offending against the law, was a sort of revival of the entrements; for we [Page 298] scarcely ever hear of the reception of princes or noble persons but that pageants on stages erected in the open streets, made a part of the entertainments. We gather from an ancient manuscript at COVENTRY, called the old leet book, that on the feast of the ex­altation of the Holy Cross, MARGUERITTE, the queen of HENRY the sixth, with her young son prince EDWARD, came there and was welcomed with many pageants and speeches^*.

In the next reign, as the same book inform us, the young prince EDWARD, son to king EDWARD the fourth, came to COVENTRY, and was received in the same manner^†, and there were many more [Page 299] entertainments of this description in various parts of the kingdom that might be noticed; but I shall content myself with mentioning only one of a later date and in a more magnificent style. It was occa­sioned by the marriage of prince ARTHUR, eldest son of king HENRY the seventh, to the princess CATHERINE of SPAIN, whose entrance into LON­DON was very grand and splendid. The pageants were many and costly, and the speakers represented various characters, such as St. CATHERINE, St. URSULA, a Senator, Noblesse, Virtue, an Angel, king ALPHONSO, JOB, BOESIUS, and others^*.

[Page 300]Though these strange faragoes wore very little how­ever [Page 301] the resemblance of plays, the interludes, which had been variously performed in defiance of the law, gave no mean idea of them; and these, when HENRY the eighth meditated the demolition of the monasteries, received such sanction and encourage­ment from HEYWOOD; who, being the king's jester, was permitted to change the face of theatrical amusements, as gave the mysteries, and moralities too, a severe shock, from which they never after­wards recovered.

It is true that in the reign of HENRY the eighth there was an act against mummers, but it was soon understood to extend only to such as wore masks; and, as the disposition of the times was to second [Page 302] every proceeding against priests, this very act served to check the moralities and encourage the inter­ludes; for the priests, or representers of moralities, were now called stage players, and it is probable these performances would have been from that mo­ment totally done away had not an attempt been made to revive them in the reign of queen MARY; who, however, gloomy and superstitious as she was and willing to abet priests, did not much encou­rage them; nor, if she had done so, could she have been materially serviceable to them, her reign being so short.

In the mean time, furnished with what HEY­WOOD had written and procured, the interludes grew very much upon the public; till Gammer Gurton's Needle, written not long after the Pageant just now described, which, though low, was very nearly a regular comedy, fairly shaped these inter­ludes into plays. But this was not all; for dra­matic writers, who perfectly well knew their art began, upon the fall of the mysteries and moralities to appear. HENRY PARKER, son to sir WILLIAM PARKER, is said to have written several tragedies and comedies; JOHN HOKER wrote a comedy, called Piscator, or the Fisher Caught; but of these and others who succeeded them, I shall hereafter [Page 303] give a particular account; in the mean time I shall pursue the history of the theatre generally.

As the darling wish of HENRY's heart was to establish the Protestant religion, no wonder he did every thing in his power to suppress the influence of the Roman Catholics; and, as he well knew that by striking at their dominion over the minds of the people by means of these amusements he should complete that reform which, perhaps, would not have been entirely effected by pulling down the mo­nasteries, he encouraged all such plays as tended to promote his designs and interdicted all others; which very plainly appears by an act passed in the twenty-fourth year of his reign, called an Act of Parliament for promoting true Religion, in which there was a clause restraining all rimours, or players, from sing­ing in songs, or playing in interludes, any thing that should contradict the established doctrines.

This struck at the mysteries at once; which at all times, by representing The Creator, Our Saviour, and the Saints and Martyrs, had been considered as profane and blasphemous. The moralities were also weeded of all that had the same dangerous tendency, and, therefore, became so fame that the interludes, which were soon formed into tragedies [Page 304] and comedies, gave the public a truer taste for the stage.

The only evil to be apprehended from this was the increase of actors, and the inclination of the public to run after them. It appears evidently that dramatic writers who well knew their profession lived at that time and soon after, for among others we are told of EDWARD FERRYS, who was cele­brated in the time of EDWARD the sixth, and ‘"who,"’ says his panegyrist, ‘"was a man of no less mirth and felicity than JOHN HEYWOOD, but of much more skill and magnificence in his metre; and, therefore, wrote for the most part to the stage in tragedy, and sometimes in comedy, or interludes; wherein he gave the king so much good recreation, as he had thereby many good rewards."’

The actors now having full opportunity to re­present any thing even upon profane subjects that was not immoral, exactly as it happened some time after in FRANCE, became numerous as they became celebrated, and would, perhaps, have established the drama upon a firm and permanent footing, had not the gloom thrown over the nation during the short but sanguinary reign of MARY, forced them, [Page 305] like so many timid hares to cover, to escape from those inquisitorial blood hounds, who, perhaps, might have thought proper to misconstrue their re­presentations of vice and folly into heresy.

No sooner, however, did the English horizon emancipate from that obscurity with which it had been dimmed by the horrid and sanguinary bonfires in Smithfield, than all the social blessings that the people had so ardently panted for were sought with double relish. The reform of HENRY, though meritorious, had been enforced; the reformation of ELIZABETH was voluntary. Never, perhaps, was there such an epoch in the annals of the world. The whole nation was in smiles. Their sovereign, born to bless and protect them, was received as a benediction from heaven. Oppression was no more. Moderation was restored. Learning and the arts acknowledged their congenial soil, and the land in a few years received the polish of centuries.

ELIZABETH had too much good sense to restrain plays. She did not chuse, however, to let them run riot; but still they were checked with a very sparing hand, till the licentious use made of this lenity obliged her seriously to set about a reform in [Page 306] the theatre as she had done in the church. We are told that plays became the occasion of much sin and evil, that great multitudes of people of both sexes, resorted to those plays; and that, on account of their being acted on Sundays, and festivals, the churches were forsaken, and the playhouses thronged.

We are further told that great inns were used for this purpose which had secret chambers and places, as well as open stages and galleries; that in those places maids, and the children of good ci­tizens, were inveigled and allured to secret and illicit intercourse; that these players uttered unchaste and unworthy sentiments, and were guilty of many other enormities. In short, after the playhouses were ta­citly permitted, in process of time they became little better than brothels. It was, therefore, thought expedient first to suppress plays entirely; but, as it was evident that amusements of this nature upon a well regulated plan, might be rendered a benefit to society instead of an evil, the lord mayor, sir JAMES HAWES, by the command of the queen, issued an act of common council to this effect:

• 1. That no play should be openly enacted within the liberty of the city wherein should be uttered [Page 307] any words, examples, or doings of unchastity, se­dition, or such like unfit and uncomely matter, under pain of forfeiture of five pounds for every such offence.
• 2. That no inn-keeper, tavern-keeper, or other person whatsoever within the said liberties should permit such play to be performed within his house, or yard, which should not first be perused and al­lowed by the lord mayor and court of aldermen.
• 3. That no persons should be permitted to per­form but such as were allowed and approved of by the lord mayor and court of aldermen.
• 4. All such persons to be bound in a penalty to the chamberlain of LONDON.
• 5. No play to be performed on any Sunday, or holiday, under the penalty of five pounds.
• 6. All performers allowed, approved of, and licenced as aforesaid, to pay for the use of the poor in the city hospitals, such sums as the lord may or and the court of aldermen should approve of, or otherwise lose their licence.
• 7. All sums levied to be applied as above, for [Page 308] which, upon refusal, the chamberlain of LONDON might sue in the mayor's court.

These laws, which were made in 1574, were not strictly observed; for the licentiousness of plays encreased, and they were thought dangerous to re­ligion, to the morals of the people, and to the state. The theatres were so crouded that they were sup­posed to promote infection in times of confluent sickness, therefore, after much debate upon the sub­ject they were wholly suppressed.

Upon a representation, however, of the queen's players and the players of noblemen and gentle­men, it was again permitted that they might hold themselves in readiness to play at weddings, and other festivals; at private houses, or the lodgings of any nobleman, gentleman or citizen, where no correction of money was to be made from the au­dience, but not in public assemblies; but this to­leration was soon extended again in favour of the queens players; who were, however, to be re­stricted to the laws formerly issued in the mayoralty of sir JAMES HAWES.

They were, however, forbid to commence their entertainments till the deaths should be for twenty days together under fifty a week, and they were im­mediately [Page 309] to leave off when they should again amount to more than that number; all which was under an idea as before that the crouds at the the­atres promoted infection. No plays were to be performed on a Sunday, or a holiday till after evening prayer, nor then after dark; nor to con­tinue longer than to give the auditors time to return home before sun set, or at least before dark; and this indulgence at last was extended to the queen's players, but no more of them were to enjoy at than those whose names were notified in the lord trea­surer's letters to the lord mayor, and the justices of MIDDLESEX and SURRY, and even those her ma­jesty's players were forbid to divide themselves into different companies; and for breaking any of those orders their toleration was to cease.

But all this was not sufficient to keep them within bounds; for their plays were sometimes so offensive to virtue and morality, and so full of abuse of dif­ferent persons that they were now and then stopt and prohibited; till, at length, they so completely set the laws at defiance that HART, the mayor, in 1589, complained to the lord treasurer, and by his autho­rity, as there were many companies belonging to noblemen, sent for all the players in town without exception and forbid them to perform till further orders.

[Page 310]These further orders were, however, very soon issued, for there were presently three established theatres, which were known by the names of the Theatre, the Fortune, and the Curtine, where we are told they performed comedies, tragedies, inter­ludes, and histories, both true and feigned; and it is reasonable to suppose that after this last prohibition they pretty well conformed to the regulations en­joined them, for only eight years afterwards an act passed in which are these words.

‘"That all persons that be or utter themselves to be procters, procurers, patent gatherers, or collectors for goals, prisons or hospitals, or fen­cers, bearwards, common players of interludes or minstrels wandering abroad (other than players of interludes belonging to any baron of this realm, or any other honourable personage of greater degree, to be authorized to play under the hand and seal of such baron or personage) all juglers, tinkers, pedlars, and petty chapmen wandering abroad, &c. These shall be adjudged and deemed rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beg­gars, and punished as such."’

I have given the spirit of the whole clause to shew in what company strolling actors were placed. The exemption in favour of the actors retained by [Page 311] barons and higher persons, clearly went to all those who performed in LONDON; and, as we know not of any further prohibition, owing, of course, to the very rapid improvement of the stage under that galaxy of merit which appeared about this time to enlighten literature, no wonder it soon attained such perfection as classed the English theatre infinitely forwarder than any other in the world.

CHAP. VII. MYSTERIES AND MORALITIES.

BOTH for the sake of historical intelligence and to gratify particular curiosity, I shall now look after the mysteries, moralities, and interludes, and shew in what way by graduating from religion to mytho­logy, from mythology to allegory, and from alle­gory to nature, they at last improved into tragedies and comedies.

Having given so particular an account of the nature of the mysteries and moralities in FRANCE, it will be less necessary to dwell upon those that were performed early in ENGLAND. They may, however, here as there, be distinguished into mira­cles, such as were anathematized in FRANCE by SULLI, and brought forward in ENGLAND by GEFFROI, mysteries, which were performed by the Confraternity of the Passion, and the boys of St. PAUL's school, and moralities which were improve­ments [Page 313] introduced by the English and French so­ciety of clerks.

For proof of the miracles and that they obtained very early, we have not only The Miracle of St. Catherine, by GEFFROI, but accounts of others that were performed in different parts of the kingdom, answering exactly to RABELAIS's story of VILLON, who the reader may remember had a curious ad­venture with the Cordeliers of POITOU. We are told of Guary Miracles which were performed in CORNWALL, and that many people flocked from great distances to see them, ‘"for,"’ says the author, who wrote in the reign of ELIZABETH, and was then giving an account of what he considered as antiquities, ‘"they had therein devils and devices as well to delight the eye as the ear."’

These guary miracles, one of which was called The Creation of the World, and another Mount Calverie, were performed upon the principles of the original Grecian amphitheatre, in temporary build­ings formed in the open fields, the diameter of the inclosure being generally about fifty feet; and, it is extremely probable, the custom being certainly very ancient, this might be the kind of theatre spoken of so confidently and in so unqualified a [Page 314] manner at the time when, according to BOADICEA, NERO introduced fiddling into BRITAIN.

As to the mysteries, the very titles of them prove that they came from the same source whence our neighbours derived theirs. The Possion of Our Saviour, which the French confess to have been written so early that they know not with whom it originated; The Conception, The Incarnation, and others, to a very large number, shew sufficiently we were not behind hand in these religious farces. There are a great many of them extant, some few of which it will be necessary to touch upon; but, as it would clog up the narrative to seek for those of which we cannot possibly know any thing except by conjecture, it will be better at once to come to such as have been acknowledged by well known authors, but who after all appear to have drawn them from a very remote source.

Of these authors one of the most respectable is BALE. He was born in 1495, in SUFFOLK, and at twelve years old went to the monastery of Carmelites at NORWICH. He afterwards studied at Hulme Ab­bey in NORTHUMBERLAND. and was from thence removed to CAMBRIDGE. He became a Protestant, and was in consequence persecuted by the Roman Catholics, but he was protected by lord CROMWELL. [Page 315] However, on that nobleman's death, he took shelter in HOLLAND, where he wrote, or probably trans­lated, most of his dramatic productions. He was re­called in the reign of EDWARD the sixth, and given the living of BISHOP's STOKE, in HAMPSHIRE. He was afterwards named to the See of OSSORY, where he strenuously exerted himself to reform his priests and abolish mass; in consequence of which some of his servants were murdered, and his own death was plotted. He, therefore, made his escape in a small boat and was taken by the captain of a Dutch man of war, who stript him of all his money and ef­fects. From HOLLAND he retired to SWITZER­LAND, where he continued during the reign of queen MARY. When ELIZABETH came to the throne, he returned to ENGLAND, but could never be prevailed upon to return to his see, but preferred rather being a prebend of CANTERBURY, where he died in 1563, the year before SHAKESPEAR was born.

BALE wrote seventeen dramatic pieces, of which those under are the titles Of Gods Promises, The Baptism of Christ, The Temptation, Christ when he was twelve Years Old, Of the Lord's Supper, Of the Passion of Christ, Of the Resurrection, Of Lazarus raised from the Dead, Of Simon the Leper, are mysteries; The Treachery of the Papists, The Im­postures [Page 316] of Thomas Becket, Against those who adul­terate the Word of God, and The Corruptions of the Divine Laws, are moralities; Upon both Marriages of the King, Against Momuses and Zoiluses, Of John of England, and The Image of Love, are plays.

All these performances, except three of the mysteries, are lost to the world. These, however, are pretty well preserved, and, as I shall presently instance in one of them that BALE was a man of sound learning, and by no means for his time a bad poet, we have great reason to believe that his plays were greatly superior to that insufferable nonsense Gammer Gurton's Needle—which, by the way, though execrably written, is a perfect play, and not without humour—or any of those other faragoes which the human mind can hardly afford belief, were written only forty years before SHAKESPEAR's productions began to illumine literature.

The mystery I allude to is entitled, A tragedy or interlude manyfesting the chese promises of God unto man by all ages in the old lawe, from the fall of Adam to the incarnacyon of Christ. This piece holds out a positive proof that BALE, and therefore, of course, other writers of that time, well knew the an­cients, for it is not in five acts, a number which, if we are well informed, the ancients never used but [Page 317] seven acts in which their pieces were often written; and to make the similitude more perfect, each act finishes with a chorus performed as the choruses of the ancients were by voices and instruments; the aggregate length also as well as the proportion of the different divisions is exactly managed upon the Greek model, for their tragedies in seven acts do not contain more matter than is generally found in three acts of any English tragedy. The Oedipus Tyrannus of SOPHOCLES, which is one of the longest of antiquity, has not so many lines by two hundred and fifty, including the choruses, as one of our shortest^*.

[Page 318]As to the writing of this piece it is crude enough, but as it is full of those beautiful sentiments which every where pervade the scriptures, and evidently written by a good man and a philosopher, it cannot by any means be considered as an indifferent per­formance; at the same time there is something shock­ing in introducing the Creator threatening ADAM, commanding NOAH. blessing ABRAHAM, instructing MOSES, promising DAVID, encouraging ISAIAH and sanctifying JOHN the Baptist, and yet the whole forms a complete plot beginning with original sin and finishing with man's redemption.

It is very probable, as I hinted before, that this piece was a translation, for I now shall speak of an­other which I have by me as it was originally printed with a preface and dedication, a good deal illustra­tive of this probable fact that most of the ancients translated, or imitated from something still more an­cient. This piece is a mystery written by SANDYS, and called Christ's Passion.

[Page 319]SANDYS, who we are told was a very accom­plished gentleman, was youngest son of EDWIN, archbishop of YORK, and born in 1577, this my­stery, therefore, that he translated was of course never performed, but I mention it to shew the anti­quity of that kind of spectacle. In his dedication, which is to the king, he speaks of it as coming im­mediately to him from the pen of GROTIUS, and to GROTIUS from APOLLINARIUS and NAZIAN­ZEN, two ancient fathers of the primitive church. In this preface are these words^*:

‘"The tragedy of Christ's Passion was first written in Greek by APOLLINARIUS, of LAODICEA, bishop of HIEROPOLIS, and after by GREGORY NAN­ZIANZEN."’ Though this now extant in his, is, by [Page 320] some, ascribed to the former; by others, accounted supposititious as not agreeing with his strain in the rest of his poems: which might alter that particular upon the imitation of EURIPIDES. But HUGO GROTIUS, of late, hath transcended all on this ar­gument: whose steps afar off I follow.

As this piece, though much more irregular as to its conduct, is better written than that of BALE, I suspect it to have been of greater antiquity, espe­cially as this is the subject which the French are not able to trace to its source. Thus, to reconcile this apparent solecism, the plot, which is crude and incongruous, has remained without alteration, and the style, by getting into different hands has ac­quired a brighter polish. The subject is much better calculated for representation than the other, the characters, one excepted, being less revolting. The choruses, however, which are chiefly performed by Jewish women, are not managed according to any rule. They are not like those before AESCHY­LUS, which contained the main action, nor after when they only relieved the main action. They seem rather what SOPHOCLES introduced, and EU­RIPIDES afterwards altered; for, though they are not primary objects, they certainly were composed of characters which had relation to the principal [Page 321] interest of the piece. I mention this to shew that all these writers had the ancients in view in every thing.

SANDYS, however, so far conformed to the fashion of the times in which he wrote as to adopt five acts in preference to any other given number; and, if the prodigious length of the speeches did not tire the reader intolerably, and more the spectator, the whole being little more than a succession of mo­nologues, the historical facts attending upon that event and the situation of the characters, particu­larly of PILATE, who is made to feel as a man while he acts as a governor, would give the piece a consequence and an interest that might not disgrace later and more perfect productions.

We can trace these mysteries to a variety of au­thors, most of whom appeared to have translated their plays from either the Greek, Latin, Italian, French, or German; but, as the subject requires to be no farther treated than merely to prove the ex­istence and antiquity of these amusements, I shall be as brief as possible.

JHAN PARFRE wrote, or translated, in 1512, a mystery called Candlemas Day; or, the Killing of [Page 322] the Children of Israel, RADCLIFF wrote Dives and Lazarus, Job's Affliction, The Burning of Sodom, The Delivery of Susannah, and The Fortitude of Judith. WAGER lived in the reign of ELIZABETH, and is called a learned clerk. He wrote The Life and Repentance of Mary Magdalen. A mystery, or religious tragedy, was translated from the Ita­lian of BOSSENTINUS by HENRY CHEEKE, called Freewill, where is set forth, in manner of tragedy, the devilish devices of the Popish religion. PEELE, of whom it will be necessary presently to speak, wrote The Love of King David and Fair Bathsheba, with the tragedy of Absalom; and GOLDING translated Abraham sacrificing his Son Isaac from BEZA.

Many more authors might be named, and many more pieces, which, though the authors are un­known, were entered at Stationer's Hall. There is scarcely, however, a play but manifests from some circumstance or other that it came from some­thing written antecedent to the time in which it ap­peared; and, as I shall hereafter be able more parti­cularly to ascertain the origin of the moralities, and the old tragedies and comedies, and we shall then find from circumstances a full confirmation of this fact, it may not be amiss to take leave of the my­steries by giving a short specimen of their language.

[Page 323]In BALE's mystery of God's Promises is the following colloquy between the CREATOR and ADAM. I take the passage at hazard.

In SANDYS's tragedy of Christ's Passion will be found this passage, the first that came in my way.

From these specimens the reader will easily form an idea not only of the two writers but of the man­ner in which these subjects were generally treated. BALE's mystery, written clearly by a divine, was [Page 327] one of that description performed by the priests. SANDYS gave himself the latitude of a poet, and, therefore, though his piece is on a sacred subject, the characters suit the laity. This was one shadow of that distinction by which the mysteries gradually changed into moralities, a species of entertainment, however, intolerably dull though frequently well written; for, though allegory requires the powers of a poet, example alone enforces the practice of virtue from the stage. A metaphor may convince me through the medium of imaginary characters that clemency is a beautiful virtue, but let me be shewn an actual instance of it by some circumstance like the introduction of TITUS, and I instantly see not only its beauty but its practicability.

The moralities were generally written to serve some temporary purpose. Sometimes they enforced public opinions, as the comedy of Good Order, written by SKELTON; sometimes to promote obedience and conformity to the laws like that called The New Custom, the author not known, written expressly to vindicate and promote the Re­formation; sometimes, especially when they were written for families. they recommended an attention to the ordinary pursuits of life, and illustrated the ad­vantages of social duty; of this class were The Diso­bedient Child, by INGELAND, a very early writer, [Page 328] and Acolastus; or, the Prodigal Son, by PALSGRAVE. The ground work of which pieces we have seen in the early part of the French stage particularly Aco­lasius, which came from the celebrated play of RUTEBEUF, from which so many authors have pil­laged, and among them VOLTAIRE. PALSGRAVE, however, who was chaplain to HENRY the eighth, seems to have had a Latin play written by FUL­LONIUS, in his idea and in his style he endeavoured to imitate both PLAUTUS and TERENCE.

Others of these moralities promoted learning, and the principles of education, such are the nature of the Four Elements, supposed to be written by RASTALL, which among other branches of in­struction illustrates many points of natural phi­losophy and necromantia, compiled by SKELTON, first in Greek, afterwards translated into Latin, and then into English, for the use of those who might with to learn different languages.

The laudable drift, therefore, of these per­formances, of which these may serve as a few proofs, is very apparent, but the world wanted to be amused as well as taught, and this led to the introduction of plays; which, being undertaken by scholars per­fectly well acquainted with the ancients, we instantly observe, whatever other requisites they may want, [Page 329] the early comedies and tragedies are astonishly regular for the time.

But to dwell a little longer upon the moralities. These strange representations were so managed, that, though they consisted of a great variety of characters, they might be performed by four or five persons. In one of them called All for Money, which was described as ‘"a moral and pityful comedy plainly representing the manners of men and the fashion of the world,"’ the characters are Theo­logy, Science, Art, Money, Adulation, Godly Ad­monition, Mischievous Help, Pleasure, Pressed for Pleasure, Sin, Swift to Sin, Virtue, Humility, Charity, All for Money, Damnation, Satan, Pride, Gluttony, Learning with Money, Learning without Money, Money without Learning, Neither Money nor Learning, Moneyless, Moneyless and Friendless, Nychol, Gregory, Graceless, Mother Crook, Judas, Dives, William, and the two Wives; but as not more than two of these characters, or at most three, were ever on the stage at once, and when they generally disappeared they were seen no more, several parts were taken by one person without any injury to the piece.

I have instanced here one of the latest, on pur­pose [Page 330] to shew that, as the mysteries became partly moralities, so at last the moralities became partly plays; for Nychol, Gregory, Graceless, Mother Crook, &c. are not allegorical but real characters. On the contrary in those of an earlier date, one of which is called Every Man, we find the Creator in company with Death, Fellowship, Kindred, Know­ledge, Strength, and Beauty. Before this morality we find the following advertisement:

‘"Here begynneth a treatyse how the hye Fa­ther of Heven sendeth dethe to somon every creature to come and gyve a counte of theyr lyves in this worlde; and is in maner of a moralle playe."’ But it is extremely difficult to trace the moralities to their source. RASTALL, a famous typographer from 1500 onward to 1536, when he died, either wrote, revived, or translated many of them. All those to which no authors' names are affixed, it is natural to suppose are of this description. SKELTON, poet lauret to HENRY the eighth, is the earliest name we can find, who, besides those that have been noticed, wrote Magnificence, a goodly interlude and a mery. The Negromansir, printed in 1504, and the comedy of Virtue.

The story of the Negromansir, which was per­formed before HENRY the seventh and his nobles [Page 331] on Palm Sunday, greatly to their edification no doubt, was the trial of SIMONY, which is supposed to be a female. One of the characters quotes SE­NECA and St. AUSTIN, and tells this lady to offer the Devil a bribe. The Devil, who enters with a large beard, rejects her offer with the utmost in­dignation, and swears that she shall be fried and roasted in sulphur with MAHOMET, PONTIUS PI­LATE, the traitor JUDAS, and king HEROD. The last scene is a view of Hell where the Devil dances with the Necromancer till, after tripping up his heels, he leaves him in astonishment, and disappears in smoke and sulphur.

After SKELTON we have MEDWALL, chaplain to MERTON, cardinal and archbishop of CANTER­BURY, who wrote a morality called Nature; GAS­COIGNE, who translated a morality from ARIOSTO, called Supposes, and wrote another called The Glasse of Government; WOODS, who produced The Con­flict of Conscience; TARLETON, author of The Seven Deadly Sins; and others besides those of BALE already mentioned. But there are many published by RASTALL which are supposed to have been of a very early date indeed; among these may be reckoned Gentlynese and Nobylite, Impacyente Poverte, Manhood and Wisdome, The Marriage of Wit and Science, and several others.

[Page 332]Perhaps it may be wrong to dwell so minutely on the subject of these representations. Many of which were miserable trash, and the best but fanciful and fantastic rhapsodies, calculated, one should think, more for drolls and puppet-shews than to make up the delight of kings and courts; but, as they served to insinuate morality under this homely and grotesque form, which alone the people were willing to approve, they so far fulfilled the purposes of the stage, and sobered the public mind into that degree of discrimination which taught the English to admire perfection on the theatre sooner than any other nation after the Greeks.

It is impossible to conceive any thing fuller of im­piety than the mysteries taken literally; but it must be remembered that the ostentateous ceremonies of the church which have pretty well kept pace with them have ensured an attention to the church itself, which perhaps, would have been vainly enjoined by ad­monition, or compelled by severity. What wonder then the priests should act in concert with the play, ers? It cannot also be denied that private duty, en­forced by either the persuasions, or the menaces of a parent, or a preceptor, seldom exhibits any other than a melancholy prospect of success; but, when instruction wears the lovely form and assumes the alluring garb of pleasure, youth is [...]lattered into [Page 333] duty, and cheated into virtue. The stern vizor of rigour falls off and the face of reason appears chear­ful and complacent.

It is on this account, awkward rude, and boorish as they have managed it, I cannot find reason to doubt that the world at all times, and this of course as well as every other country, have adopted some insinuating mode similar to this to ensure by mild­ness an attention to social intercourse and mutual interest which menace could never have effected; and, whether sports, music, dancing, reciting, or singing of poetry, relating histories, true or invented, or any others of these numerous tubs with which human creatures, as well as whales, must be amused, have at any time prevented depredations, averted insurrections, and secured the bounds of good fel­lowship, the whole has been stage effect, and, therefore, virtually an encouragement of the dra­matic art.

Will it be insisted that if there had been no amusements of that kind which we now call tra­gedies and comedies, the theatre, properly speaking, would have had no existence? No such thing can be advanced. Mysteries and moralities were tra­gedies and comedies as far as they went; for, though the mind accommodates itself better to imitate [Page 334] virtue by a review of the actions of those with whom history has brought us acquainted, or to shun folly through an exposition of those absurdities apparent to us in the actions of our common acquaintance, yet the drift of the other amusements was the same; the times, however, were not polished enough to promulgate instruction in any other form, and, there­fore, they held out symbol instead of certainty.

CHAP. VIII. INTERLUDES AND REMARKS CONCERNING THEM AND THEIR AUTHORS.

THE term interlude is so indefinite, and has been so variously appropriated, that it has at times ap­plied to every species of dramatic entertainment both sacred and prophane. There can be no doubt but that its fair vernacular sense is some farce, or other stage performance, introduced between in­tervals at feasts; therefore, when it came to have a fixed and determinate signification, it had not the smallest resemblance to what was originally under­stood as interlude.

In companies it has been the custom to give a song and a toast alternately; nay, in clubs we shall still find telling stories, preaching Quakers sermons, repeating scenes from plays, imitating puppets, dressing a fist like an old woman and make it apparently sing a song in character, and a prodigious number of modes of mumming in this way. These [Page 336] are interludes as far as they go, and fairly give an idea of what were those amusements performed in little alehouses which occasioned the Vagrant Act of EDWARD the third.

Nothing, therefore, of the dramatic kind taken in this sense is so ancient as interlude. The tragedies and comedies of the Greeks, as they have been con­sidered according to their original sense of religious and pastoral, the Fescennines of the Romans, the Jornadas of the Spaniards, the Canvasses of the Ita­lians, the Sirventes and Tensons of the French, and the irregular mixture of them all among the En­glish, were interludes; a term meaning pieces per­formed theatrically to amuse and instruct sometimes large, and sometimes select companies; nor were they till HEYWOOD, and those other authors about his time, considered in a fixed and distinct sense signifying a regular dramatic piece one shadow only from a play; for, as the m [...]steries promulgated re­ligion through the medium of impiety, and the moralities taught social duty by the personification of those virtues men ought to imitate, and those vices they ought to avoid, the interludes, such as they were understood to be at that time, consisted of characters which really existed, who discoursed on subjects most proper to enforce the duties which prudence, reason, and even policy recommended.

[Page 337]So far they were dramatic entertainments, but still they were not plays, for the moral was enforced by precept and not by example. A representation of characters in real life which were immediately concerned in the interest of the action that was going forward, which, as they contributed to bring about the ends of justice and morality were re­warded, and which, as they thwarted and perverted those ends were punished, was a species of theatrical amusement, then entirely unknown, though all the essential requisites of it had been always the drift of whatever had been brought forward, yet will this militate against any thing already here asserted, for it is impossible to contend that because an art had not arrived to perfection it had not, therefore, been exercised.

It may not now be amiss to blend with those in­terludes some particulars concerning the men who wrote them, among whom the name of JOHN HEY­WOOD stands most conspicuous. He seems to have been a man of great wit and pleasantry, and very well calculated to innovate as he did upon the my­steries and moralities; but, his mind being too ex­tensive, and his genius too volatile to buckle to the trammels of a university education, he neglected to polish those talents which, nevertheless, he was cer­tainly [Page 338] endowed with, and, therefore, probably he was not considered as a person of sufficient conse­quence to effect a complete reform.

His abilities were, however, held in considerable respect, and he became by his pleasant and agreea­ble wit a great favourite with many eminent men of that time, and particularly with sir THOMAS MORE, who delighted in his company, and introduced him to the princess MARY, through^* whom he became the jester and so much the favourite of king HENRY the eighth, that he highly rewarded him says [Page 339] an author, for the mirth and quickness of his conceits."

HEYWOOD, however, was not a sincere ad­herent of HENRY, for he was a bigotted Roman Catholic, and, therefore, in his heart attached him­self closely to the interest of MARY; to whom, when the Protestants were burning in Smithfield, he used to relate facetious stories, even at the time when she was on her death bed, by way of chasing the gloom that naturally hung on her guilty mind for having wickedly sacrificed so many martyrs; and thus we see the difference of the reward of a servile and accommodating servant and a noble and ho­nourable one. HEYWOOD was carressed by HENRY for laughing at him in his sleeve, and treating him with duplicity, while MORE whose honour nothing could impeach, and whose magnanimity nothing could dismay, lost his head in return for his fidelity.

After cajoling HENRY, crouching to EDWARD, and deifying MARY, HEYWOOD, fancying that the generosity and honesty of sentiment, revived by ELIZABETH and the Protestant religion, might de­tect his hypocricy and so procure for him a merited punishment, thought it prudent to quit the king­dom. He died at MECHLIN, in BRABANT, about [Page 340] 1565, the year after SHAKESPEAR was born. His pieces, though they were called plays, are all inter­ludes, such as they have already defined. They here were all of them published in 1533, and are six in number, besides two others, called Pindar of Wake­field. and Philotas, which are attributed to him but not believed to be his.

HEYWOOD's six plays are, A Play between Johan the Husband, Tyb the Wife, and sir Johan the Priest; which seems to be taken from one of the Tales of BOCCACE, which is ludicrously imiated by LA FONTAINE. A Mery Play between the Pardoner and the Friar, the Curate and Neighbour Prat. The Play called the Four P's; being a new and a very mery Interlude between a Palmer, a Pardoner, a Poticary. and a Pedlar. A Play of Genteelness and Nobility. A Play of Love. A Play of the Weather.

These interludes, for so they all are, manifest the character of the man who wrote them. They seem by very subtle reasoning between certain personages to try the public opinion, and that under an idea of depicting local and temporary manners, of which CHAUCER's Canterbury Tales stand for the outline, and which ever were and ever will be virtually the same.

[Page 341]PALSGRAVE, who wrote Acolastus, was a man of very extensive knowledge. He flourished in the reigns of HENRY the seventh, and HENRY the eighth. He was born in London, and there re­ceived the first rudiments of learning. He was afterwards celebrated at CAMBRIDGE for logic and philosophy; but his own country and his own language did not satisfy his thirst after learning; he, therefore, went to FRANCE, where he became so admired, not only for his general talents but his proficiency in par­tic [...]lar in the French tongue, which he gave a purity and an elegance to which the natives of FRANCE had till then been a stranger,^* but when the treaty of marriage was on foot between LOUIS the twelfth and Princess MARY, sister to HENRY the eighth, PALSGRAVE was pitched upon to teach her the French language. LOUIS, however, died very [Page 342] soon after his marriage, and PALSGRAVE attended MARY to ENGLAND; where, through her influ­ence, he became so useful in teaching French to the English nobility, that he obtained good church pre­ferment, and was made one of the chaplains in or­dinary to HENRY the eighth. When PALSGRAVE was born, or at what time he died cannot now be traced; but the historical fact of the marriage be­tween LOUIS and MARY, will shew that he was celebrated so early as 1514; and, as he d [...]d not publish his ingenious work in the French tongue till the year 1540, he must have run a pretty long career of favour and reputation.

HENRY PARKER, lord MORLEY, was born in the reign of HENRY the seventh. He was a vo­luminous author, and is said to have written perfect tragedies and comedies, taking the ancients for his model; but, as dramatic pieces do not seem to have been forward enough for this, unless their perfection consisted only of their construction and they were neglected for the trash that, like Gam­mer Gurlon's Needle they contained, it is more ra­tional to suppose that the pieces of this author were interludes.

MORLEY, was a firm adherent of HENRY. He was one of those barons who signed the memorable [Page 343] letter to CLEMENT the seventh, threatening him with the loss of his supremacy in ENGLAND unless he used every possible dispatch to effect the king's divorce. The king did not fail to return this at­tention; for, when MORLEY had a dispute with lord DACRE, of GILLESTAND, for precedence, he so backed his pretensions that, though we are told MORLEY had not right on his side, those pretensions were confirmed by parliament. He is said to have lived in honour and esteem to a very advanced age, and to have enlightened that time with many works of celebrity.

RADCLIFF wrote both moralities and interludes; and began about 1538, at which time many of the monasteries were destroyed, to grow celebrated for interlude, which, like those of HEYWOOD, helped forward that toleration which HENRY had intro­duced. He took the Carmelite's house at HITCHIN, in HEREFORDSHIRE, and converted a part of it into a theatre, where his scholars acted Latin and English comedies that they might acquire confi­dence in public speaking. These pieces, by being written upon the model of the ancients, seem at least some of them, to be nearer to plays than those interludes written by HEYWOOD. The piece called Chaucer's Melebee, is said to have been a perfect co­medy. Their tendency, however, being always to [Page 344] second the king's views in his laudable determination to establish the Protestant religion, RADCLIFF was greatly countenanced and encouraged, and he in consequence lived respected, and died rich.

SKELTON, who among other interludes wrote The Negromansir, of which we have already seen an account, was laureat both at OXFORD and CAMBRIDGE. He was promoted to the rectory of DISS, in NORFOLK; but, having more of the actor in him than the parson, and being calculated rather to write plays than sermons, he made the pulpit a vehicle for the most pointed ridicule and severe farcasm; but this did not satisfy him. He wrote a prodigious number of ballads against the hypocricy of the priests, and particularly the mendicants, and for these irregularities he was suspended by NYKKE, bishop of NORWICH, a rigid man, from exercising the duties of the sacred function.

This disgrace, however, giving him notoriety, became only a spur to his frolicksome pegasus, for he vented his ridicule more and with greater success than ever. Scarcely any of the religious escaped him. At length he had cause to repent his te­merity; for, having severely attacked the dignity of WOLSEY, that powerful and vindictive minister de­termined to make him a severe example. SKELTON, [Page 345] however, got an intimation of his intentions; and, before the officers of justice, who were in pursuit of him, had arrived to seize him, he took refuge in the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey, where he was kindly entertained by Abbot ISLIP, with whom he resided till the day of his death, which happened in 1529.

JOHN BOURCHIER, lord BERNERS, appears to have been a good author, himself, and a patron of many of the wits of his time. He was descended from THOMAS, of WOODSTOCK, duke of GLOU­CESTER. He was Knight of the Garter, and Con­stable of WINDSOR CASTLE under EDWARD the fourth, and became popular for quelling an insur­rection in CORNWALL and DEVONSHIRE, which was headed by MICHAEL JOSEPH, a blacksmith, in 1495, and this recommended him to the favour of HENRY the seventh.

He was a captain of the pioneers at the siege of THEROUENNE, under HENRY the eighth, by whom he was made Chancellor of the Exchequer for life. He was also Lieutenant of CALAIS and the MARCHES. He was appointed to conduct the Princess MARY into FRANCE on her marriage, at which time he became acquainted and wrote in con­junction [Page 346] with PALSGRAVE, and what was very re­markable he enjoyed the confidence and continued in the favour of HENRY eighteen years. He wrote himself but one comedy called Ite in Veneam, but it was principally owing to his patronage that the stage boasted the celebrity it possessed at the time of his death, which happened in 1532^*.

Of the rest of the interlude writers, some of whom also wrote plays, there is nothing that can be col­lected remarkable enough to merit particular at­tention. WAGER, WAYER, WAPULL, UPTON, WOODS, PEELE, and others were writers of this class, and their interludes were generally contro­versies concerning the reformation, which it may be easily conceived always tended to some con­clusion in its favour.

Thus HENRY the eighth, who persecuted priests, encouraged actors; and thus HEYWOOD and SKELTON were cunningly employed to enforce toleration and strip off the mask of hypocrisy from WOLSEY and his dependants. This will presently [Page 347] shew us that plays, properly so called, by partaking more of rational manners, obtained no permanent reputation and decided character till the Protestant religion cleared away those clouds of bigotry and superstition in which pure nature and fair truth had been shrouded and concealed. Interludes began the work, but it remained for plays to perfect it.

CHAP. IX. PLAYS.

IT is generally believed that Gammer Gurton's Needle was the first piece, possessing the requisites of a play, that was performed in this kingdom. This, however, is a very doubtful conjecture, un­less it be allowed that it was written many years be­fore it came from the hands of bishop STILL, who is said to have produced it when he was Master of Arts at CAMBRIDGE. A piece called Dyccon the Bedlam, which was entered at Stationers Hall in 1562, seems to have served for the ground work of Gammer Gurton, and must have been originally written many years before, for such incomprehen­sible nonsense could never have been permitted so long after SKELTON, JOHN HEYWOOD, MEDWALL, lord MORLEY, PALSGRAVE, and JASPER HEY­WOOD, produced pieces much better written; the last of whom translated three tragedies from SENECA.

STILL, however, though he seemed extremely [Page 349] fond of preserving as much of the nonsense as possible, knew very well the true construction of a perfect play; and, though the ridiculous story he had to deal with was no more than GAMMER GUR­TON's loosing the needle with which she was mend­ing her husband's breeches, the coil kept up by this terrible accident, and the intrigues of DICCON, by which they are all set together by the ears, while he gets good fare and is rewarded all the way round; yet all this is truly dramatic as well as the catastro­phe, gradually relieving their fears by the re­covery of the needle, which is found sticking in the breeches, to the great annoyance of HODGE, who in putting them on feels a painful proof of the fact.

As to the play itself, I should conceive it to be a burlesque of the Roman dramatists, and particu­larly of PLAUTUS and TERENCE, for it has all the balderdash of the first and the regularity of the last. It is as indecent, as vulgar, and licentious as the one, and as dull, as insipid, and stupid as the other; in which case, taking the drift of it, the bishop deserves praise instead of censure; for no­thing can be more correctly attended to than are the unities; and who knows but by this scrupulous care, ARISTOTLE and HORACE might not have been marked as the objects of his ridicule as well [Page 350] as PLAUTUS and TERENCE. We at this moment have forgot to relish the admirable humour of the Rehearsal, even though every man of reading knows something of the crude yet valuable plays of DRYDEN. How then shall we be able to judge of the merits of a play at such a distance of time which we acknowledge to be perfect in requisites that some think of an equal value to all the rest^*.

[Page 351]As to the play in question it is worthy of but very little contention, nor is it easy to be accounted for, why so much notice should have been taken of it by a variety of authors, or how it met with suc­cess to the degree which they have asserted, unless, being in the light of an opposition to the interludes, it was considered as an innovation; a circumstance always eagerly caught at in the theatrical state.

That there were several plays before Gammer Gurton's Needle, however, admits of very little doubt. We have an account of a tragedy called Matilda, which was performed before HENRY the seventh, sixty years at least earlier than that comedy. The Andria of TERENCE, a flat insipid piece, Hycke Scorner, which seems to be something like a personification of CHAUCER's Canterbury Tales, and contains a whimsical and humourous display of the vices and follies of the age, interspersed with moral reflections, and indeed if it were properly divided and digested would rank well in the lists of the drama; Thyestes, Hercules Eurens, and Troas, tran­slated from SENECA by JASPER HEYWOOD, Jack Jugler, a strange heterogeneous attempt at a co­medy, [Page 352] and several others, were written before the date which Gammer Gurton's Needle bears.

The comedy of Piscator; or the Fisher caught, written by HOKER, who we are told was a man of fancy and learning, a rhetorician and a poet, also came much earlier; so did lord MORLEY's trage­dies and comedies, which seem to have been tran­slations from the ancients, and indeed many more; some of which rank in no determinate class, not be­ing regular plays but rather something generally dramatic.

At the beginning of the sixteenth century, how­ever, many plays of various descriptions were per­formed; and, among the rest, I find, from HOL­LINGSHED and other authors, one of which is RIC­COBONI, who seems to have picked up good the­atrical intelligence, that, on the seventh of May, 1520, the king caused a masquerade to be prepared, and ordered a stage to be raised in the great hall at GREENWICH, and the king, the queen, and the nobility came there to the representation of a good comedy of PLAUTUS.

This might have been one of the foregoing plays, for, as the English seemed to emulate the Romans in their courage and their various struggles for freedom, [Page 353] so did they in their poetry, witness their admiration of MARTIAL in that poets life time; and those plays were the greatest part of them translations, the co­medies from PLAUTUS and TERENCE, and the tra­gedies always from SENECA, the pomp of whose style seems in all countries to have captivated the early writers.

Yet with all these advantages nothing worthy mentioning, except for the purpose of exciting the curiosity of the reader, and filling up chronology, can be found before SHAKESPEAR. As, however, when I come to that memorable era, I shall have facts enough to bear me out without having any further recourse to conjectures, it may not be un­interesting to piece out this volume with such cir­cumstances relative to these ancient plays and their writers as may serve not only to corroborate past observation, but also to elucidate future enquiry.

Sir JAMES LINDSAY, who we are told first in­troduced plays into SCOTLAND, is said by several authors to have written tragedies and comedies. He was born late in the fifteenth century. He was honourably employed at the court of JAMES the fifth of SCOTLAND, but his dramatic writings were so sharp and so pointed against the licentious­ness [Page 354] of the court and the corruption of the clergy, that he was not only stript of all his emoluments, ex­cept the place of Lion King at Arms, which was conferred on him for life, but it is wonderful, saysan old author, ‘"that he escaped their bloody hands who were so skilful and had such power at that time to shed the blood of honest men and martyrs."’

This author seems to have been an imitator of ARISTOPHANES. His humour was cutting and severe, as well as droll and ludicrous; and his re­presentation of the person held up to ridicule was so like that it was instantly known for some profli­gate courtier or corrupt priest. The abbot of PAISLEY, who was successfully ridiculed in this manner, complained of him to his patron, the earl of ARRON. He, not being powerful enough to resist the influence of the priest, gave up LINDSAY, who, at length, in disgust retired to his paternal estate and sought there that tranquility, as a phi­losopher, which had been denied to him in the world as a courtier and a poet.

JASPER HEYWOOD, who has been already men­tioned as the translator of three tragedies from SENECA, was son to the famous HEYWOOD the in­terlude writer. JASPER seems to have been as strange a character as his father. He studied at [Page 355] MERTON college; where, having been guilty of many unpardonable irregularities, he resigned his gown to avoid a sentence of expulsion. After this he entered into the society of Jesuits at St. OMERS. There he studied for two years and then found himself so qualified for disputation, that he did not cease for seventeen years to promulgate his controversies in SWITZERLAND; when, for his love of the mother church and his zeal against the heretics, he was elevated to the degree of Doctor in Divinity, and the Four Vows.

Pope GREGORY the thirteenth, in 1581, sent him at the head of the Jesuits to ENGLAND; but his intolerable arrogance and pride, in which he affected the imperious consequence of WOLSEY, running into luxury and magnificence more than his means could allow, soon rendered him obnoxious to the court of ELIZABETH; and, perhaps, it is owing to this that he is reported to have been ex­ecuted in her reign. The fact however is, that when some of the Jesuits were condemned, and the rest in danger of the law, ELIZABETH, out of hu­manity, ordered them all to be shipped away and sent out of ENGLAND. HEYWOOD went first to ROME and then to NAPLES, where he became ac­quainted with JOHN PITSEUS, a zealous and bi­goted [Page 356] catholic, who speaks of him in the highest terms of respect and admiration.

Of THOMAS SACKVILLE, lord DORSET, it may not be unentertaining to relate some particu­lars. He is said, in conjunction with NORTON, of whom I shall presently speak, to have written what is called the first English tragedy. SACKVILLE was a student of both Universities. entered of the Tem­ple, and early called to the Bar. His deportment was so manly, his manners so engaging, and his wit so lively, that he was soon considered as an ac­quisition to the state. His father brought him into parliament, at whose death he took possession of a very splendid inheritance.

Soon after this he was knighted, and immediately promoted to a peerage by the title of baron BUCK­HURST. Determined to keep up all the consequence attached to his new dignity, he launched into such magnificence and profusion that, notwithstanding his immense fortune, he very soon suffered material in­convenience, but the tide of preferment followed on him so fast that he was quickly enabled to look above his difficulties. In 1573, the queen sent him am­bassador to CHARLES the ninth, to congratulate that prince on his marriage with the daughter of [Page 357] MAXIMILIAN, and on other state affairs^*. At the court of FRANCE he was received with all the honours due to his own merit and the dignity of his sovereign.

It should seem that ELIZABETH made use of BUCKHURST to play off, first LEICESTER and after­wards ESSEX; for he was sent ambassador to the States General to accommodate some differences that had arisen in consequence of certain conduct in the earl of LEICESTER, at which they had thought proper to take umbrage. In this commission he [Page 358] acquitted himself with great honour and rectitude. There was something in it, however, which pro­voked the resentment of lord BURLEIGH, whose influence was at that time so great with the queen hat BUCKHURST was recalled and confined to his house for nine months^*. On LEICESTER's death, however, his interest at court was renewed to such a degree that BURLEIGH, who perhaps, feared to appear his enemy, feigned to become his friend. He was made Knight of the Garter, sat on the trial of the earl of ARUNDEL, and joined BURLEIGH in negociating a peace with SPAIN, which produced the renewal of a treaty with the States General; which, BURLEIGH having fallen sick. BUCKHURST had all the honour of concluding; and which, as it eased the queen of an expence amounting to a hundred and twenty thousand a year, a large sum at that time, brought him of course into very great savour.

[Page 359]In 1591, he was, at the particular instance of the queen, elected Chancellor of the University of OXFORD, in express opposition to her favourite the earl of ESSEX; and, on BURLEIGH's death, she constituted him lord high treasurer. In the following year he was joined in a commission with sir THOMAS EGERTON, and lord ESSEX, to ne­gociate with the Senate of DENMARK; and when ESSEX libelled the queen, as to her conduct con­cerning IRELAND, when the misguided SOUTH­AMPTON, fuller of friendship and intemperate zeal than prudence and reason, joined that unhappy favourite, BUCKHURST was appointed lord high steward upon the occasion.

JAMES, who before his arrival in ENGLAND had heard a great deal of the honest services and splendid abilities of lord BUCKHURST, scarcely mounted the throne when he renewed that noble­man's patent of lord high treasurer. In the fol­lowing year he created him earl of DORSET, and appointed him one of the commissioners for exe­cuting the office of earl MARSHAL, which, how­ever, he did not long enjoy, for he died sud­denly as he was sitting at the council table at WHITEHALL, on the 19th of April, 1608, aged seventy-two.

[Page 360]As the annals of this country have spoken largely of the character of this nobleman, both as a man and a statesman, in which capacities he seems to have conducted himself most honourably, I shall speak no further of him than as a dramatic author, a distinction equally reputable to him and to the theatre; for it is a remarkable proof of his good sense, in the midst of his great variety of important avocations, to consider the stage as an object worthy his attention and it is a high compliment to the stage that it received such early improvement from a man of such splendid abilities.

The play of Gorboduc, written by SACKVILLE in conjunction with NORTON, which is said to be the first English tragedy, or more properly the first regular English tragedy, is taken from history and highly spoken of by several authors; out of all which praise, however. I shall content myself with selecting the words of sir PHILIP SIDNEY. ‘"It is,"’ says he, ‘"full of stately speeches, well sound­ing phrases, climbing to the height of SENECA's style, and as full of notable morality, which it doth most delightfully teach, and so obtain the very end of poetry."’

NORTON, who is said to have written the three [Page 361] first acts of Gorboduc, was after all, very likely, only the amanuensis of SACKVILLE. He was counsel to the Stationer's Company, and received the fees for such literary works as were entered on their books; and, happening to have been a student with SACKVILLE, was probably assisted in life by that nobleman. His own writings appear to have been not at all dramatic, for he was a sort of enthusiast. He translated religious pieces from the latin, and being a cotemporary of STERNHOLD, and HOP­KINS, and intimate with them, he assisted those no­table poets in their curious version of the Psalms. We are told that NORTON wrote twenty-seven of them himself, and that his initials are prefixed to them; if so, the reader may easily be satisfied as to his poetical abilities.

THOMAS PRESTON wrote a piece called Cam­byses, King of Persia, which would have been but little known had it not been for the notice taken of it and its author by more celebrated men than PRESTON, who was, according to report, a much better actor than a poet. He performed so well in a play called Dido, written by RITWISE, before ELIZABETH in 1564, when she was entertained at CAMBRIDGE; that, as a testimony of her appro­bation, [Page 362] she settled a pension on him of twenty pounds a year^*.

RICHARD EDWARDS, who was born in 1523, who ran very rapidly through a variety of studies, and was early made Master of Arts at OXFORD, was one of the gentlemen of queen ELIZABETH's chapel, and teacher of music to the children of the choir. We are told that he had a patent as manager of a theatre royal in that reign. He was certainly very highly in favour with the queen, who con­stantly attended and very much admired his pro­ductions; of which the pieces known to us are, Damon and Pythias, and Palamon and Arcyte, both of which subjects are familiar to every reader, and shew evidently how much, as we have seen before, [Page 363] that CHAUCER and the other old poets have con­tributed to the celebrity of the theatre.

Damon and Pythias, one of the most affecting and beautiful stories of antiquity, is, considering the time, very dramatically treated by EDWARDS, but Palamon and Arcyte, taken avowedly from CHAU­CER's Knight's Tale, was the greatest favourite with the court. After the first representation of this piece, the queen summoned the poet into her pre­sence and paid him very handsome compliments. She remarked that PALAMON was so justly drawn as a lover, that he must have been in love indeed. That ARCYTE was a right martial knight, having a swart and manly countenance, yet with the aspect of a VENUS clad in armour; that the lovely EMI­LIA was a virgin of uncorrupted purity and unble­mished simplicity; and that, although she sung so sweetly, and gathered flowers alone in the garden, she preserved her chastity undeflowered. EMILIA was the only female part in the play. It was per­formed by a boy of fourteen years old, the son of the dean of Christchurch, dressed like a princess, and the queen was so charmed with him that she pre­sented him with eight guineas. The reputation of EDWARDS was certainly very high during his life which terminated the very year in which he pro­duced with so much success Palamon and Arcyte.

[Page 364]GEORGE PEELE, a most excentric character, was on one account or another very celebrated early in ELIZABETH's reign. He took the degree of Master of Arts at OXFORD, and afterwards be­came in LONDON the city poet, and had the order­ing of the pageants. He is spoken of as a very vo­luminous dramatic writer, and we are told that his works not only succeeded very greatly in his life but that they were read with great pleasure after his death. He is said in particular to have been a good pastoral poet. Upon the whole, however, as it is too frequently the case, he seems to have derived his reputation more from having been the object of patronage to a nobleman, than to the muses, for his merry pranks in which he is classed with SCOGGAN, SKELTON, and DICK TARLETON, all bon vivants, with whom the earl of NORTHUMBERLAND, in imi­tation of ANTHONY with the Roman actors, very often condescended to get drunk, lifted him into a degree of public opinion, which his works do not by any means appear to bear out. In short his pro­fligate manners and irregular life but little qualified him for a knowledge of that morality indispensibly necessary in the composition of a real dramatic entertainment; and it is, therefore, though one of his plays has been ignorantly attributed to SHAKES­PEAR, that the licentious GEORGE PEELE, like his imitators, ROCHESTER and KILLIGREW, is little [Page 365] known but by his jests, ‘"which,"’ an author says, ‘"in literature, may be compared to the tricks or a sharper in society, for they are false, specious and imposing."’

LILLY was in his time so noted a character, for peculiarity is always sure to be notorious, that he has an indispensible right to be mentioned here. He seems as if he had set out, not only with a view to reform the stage, but the English language; which, however, he miserably injured by substituting quaintness for simplicity, and bombast for wit. His aim was to become master of the revels that through the medium of the stage he might promulgate his meditated innovation. He missed it, however, for queen ELIZABETH did not chuse to give him that post; but this did not deter him, for knowing well the affectation of courts, and being a man of con­summate perseverence, he set himself up as a re­former of the English language under an idea of weeding it of obsolete and uncooth expressions; in which task he so well succeeded, that it was as un­fashionable, for a time, in the court of ELIZABETH to be ignorant ot LILLY's Euphuisme, as it was called, as it would be now to be ignorant of the French language^*.

[Page 366]LILLY wrote nine plays, which have all a smack of Euphuism, and were therefore celebrated for their day, for they were all Ephemerons. He is, neverthe­less, highly extolled by some writers as a paragon of [Page 367] literature. BLOUNT calls him ‘"the only rare poet of that time,"’ which observation, as some of his plays were started against some of SHAKESPEAR's, will no doubt be universally credited. ‘"The witty, comical, facetiously-quick and unparalleled JOHN LILLY."’ And in another place matter BLOUNT tells us, inspired no doubt with beauties of Euphuism, ‘"that he sate at APOLLO's table; that APOLLO gave him a wreath of his own bays without snatch­ing; and that the lyre he played on had no bor­rowed strings."’ Thus LILLY, who passed that for wit which he knew to be stupidity, like a bouncer who at last believes his own lies, was flattered, by the same quaintness, the same base coin he had im­posed upon others, into a belief of that merit to which truth and nature vainly laboured to convince him he was an utter stranger.

ROBERT GREEN, would have been considered as an author of merit and held in some esteem had he not, in company with GEORGE PEELE, and the set already mentioned, plunged himself into every species of profligacy and debauchery; leaving a good and beautiful wise to lavish her substance on libertines and prostitutes. We are told that he is the first English poet who wrote for bread; having been obliged, whenever his extravagance threw him to distress, to have recourse to his pen for subsistence. [Page 368] This induced him most shamefully to prostitute his genius; for, knowing that those writings would be surest to sell best which were the most obscene, he gratified the rakes of that age by every species of licentious poetry till he obtained by these worthy labours a considerable income. Penury, however, disease, the indignation of good men, and a con­sciousness of his own infamy, led him into a gradual termination of his miserable and profligate life, which after all finished as it had began; for, a voluptuary to the last, he died by over-eating himself.

Some affirm that he died a penitent, and instance, to prove this assertion, his having written a letter full of contrition to his injured wife, and also two or three publications of the same complexion. The manner of his death, however, the hypocrify con­tained in his recantations, and above all, his total forgetfulness of his wife's distress till he was in the most abject distress himself, are pretty plain proofs that his profligacy was innate and impossible to be eradicated; and that, in proportion as disease im­paired the vigour of his mind, he covered the prin­ciples of a libertine with the meanness of a syco­phant, and the dissimulation of a hypocrite.

GREEN wrote sour plays, and was concerned in several others, all which evince a mind which, had [Page 369] it been rightly turned, would have lent considerable assistance to the cause of literature.

Sir PHILIP SIDNEY, whose writings, public conduct, and remarkable fortunes, very peculiarly distinguished him, demands to be noticed in this place. He was born in 1554. He was elegantly educated, and very early sent on his travels. When he was but eighteen, he narrowly escaped assassina­tion at PARIS during the massacre of the huguenots; at twenty-two he was sent on an embassy to RAN­DOLPH, emperor of GERMANY, from which time he took an active and very often a resolute part as a vigilant statesman. He opposed the queen's mar­riage with the duke of ANJOU, as it is supposed at the instance of his uncle the earl of LEICESTER. The queen, however, appears not to have been very well pleased; for, upon some frivolous, though vio­lent quarrel which he had with VERE, earl of OX­FORD, he was constrained to retire from court.

He was soon, however, recalled, for in 1580 he was knighted; and, immediately bringing his abili­ties into action, he projected an expedition with sir FRANCIS DRAKE against AMERICA, but was again restrained by the queen. She, however, made him governor of FLUSHING, which had then been just [Page 370] put into her possession as one of the cautionary towns, and general of horse.

After this sir PHILIP was permitted to pursue his career unrestrained; for in July, 1586, he sur­prized AXIL, and, by his enterprizing and spirited conduct preserved the lives and the honour of the the English army at GRAVELINE. From these he aspired to other splendid and valorous atchieve­ments, till his same was so great, and so universal, that he was put in election for the kingdom of PO­LAND, which it is supposed he would have carried but for the interference of the queen, who said ‘"she admired his emulation but could not consent to lose his services."’

What could be the radical cause of ELIZA­BETH's strange conduct in relation to this extra­ordinary man, one moment advancing his fortune the next repelling it, is one of those state secrets to which different authors give different motives, but are seldom able to come at the truth. SIDNEY being the nephew of LEICESTER, it is very natural to suppose that he partook of the smiles and frowns with which, according to circumstances, the queen savoured or threatened the uncle. All we certainly know is that her's was a sort of an April kindness, and that it was sometimes her custom to lour and [Page 371] sometimes to shine upon her favourites; for, though she loudly lamented the death of SIDNEY, when covered with glory he gallantly fell in the flower of his age at the battle of ZUTPHEN, when she was told sometime after that her favourite ESSEX had atchieved prodigies of valour, she blamed him for his forwardness, and cried out to BURLEIGH, ‘"why we shall have him knocked on the head like that rash fellow SIDNEY."’

The literary works of sir PHILIP SIDNEY are various, and are allowed to possess considerable merit. His Arcadia, by which he has been most celebrated, ran though eight editions, though not published till after his death. Some esteem his Apology for Poetry as his best performance, and his defence of his uncle, the earl of LEICESTER, has been spoken of as a spirited and sensible production. He wrote one dramatic piece called The Lady of May.

Sir PHILIP SIDNEY has been spoken of dif­ferently by different authors; but this is easily ac­counted for. He was professedly a Maecenas, and it is natural that patronage should in great measure beget praise. This praise however bestowed on the poet has regularly cooled as the man has been for­gotten. He is first extolled, afterwards praised, then [Page 372] commended, and at last abused. Of SIDNEY it has been said by a writer near his time, ‘"that he enjoyed and deserved the most exalted praises of his own age, and would of future ages. That SPENSER reverenced him, not only as a patron but as a master. That so much sweet nature, ex­cellent behaviour, well-digested learning, rare wit, courage, breeding, and other additional accom­plishments of conversation never before met in any one man. That he was a statesman, a soldier, and a scholar; but,"’ says he, ‘"his pen and his sword have rendered him famous enough; for he died by the one and by the other he'll live for ever."’

This is not an exact mode of biographical cele­bration, nor indeed is it very correct sense; but it is panegyric which may take leave, so it be warm and glowing, to be a little absurd, under an idea of shrouding inaccuracy behind the dazzle of ad­miration.

The other author I allude to who, I hope, as he allows no posthumous fame to others has no ex­pectation of any himself, says of sir PHILIP SID­NEY, ‘"that accidents of birth, court favour, and popularity, gild a slender portion of merit. He had great valour, but it was an age of heroes. [Page 373] We have,"’ says he, ‘"a tedious, lamentable, pe­dantic, pastoral romance, which the patience of a young virgin in love cannot wade through; and some absurd attempts to fetter English verse in Roman chains; a proof that this applauded au­thor understood but little the genius of his own language."’ After going on for some time in the same strain, he finishes with saying that ‘"he died with the rashness of a volunteer, after having lived to write with the sang froid of Madmoiselle SCUDERY."’

The fact seems to be that, like BOLINBROKE, HORACE WALPOLE, and many other noble au­thors, who, by their own admirable abilities and their liberal encouragement of cotemporary writers in need of their protection, have left behind them a double claim on the gratitude of posterity, sir PHILIP SIDNEY was not only, as FALSTAFF says, witty himself but the cause of wit in others.

The writings of authors of this description are in general more the fruits of their leisure hours, and a relief from arduous avocations, than a regular em­ployment to which their inclination induce them solely to attend. The works of SIDNEY are full of genius, beauty, and good sense; and, though they [Page 374] may not merit so warm a eulogium as that bestowed on him by the first author I have quoted, they are considerably above that mediocrity into which they are attempted to be lowered by the last.

Many more authors ought to be enumerated who, though they produced pieces during the reign of SHAKESPEAR, started originally before him. Of these, however, little more can be noticed than that they assisted in preparing the stage for that state of perfection towards which it was then verging but which certainly it would never have attained but for the incomparable and unparalleled talents of our immortal bard. It may not be amiss, however, to remark that some of these were men of no mean abilities.

ALEXANDER NEVILL made a very early pro­gress in learning, and at sixteen associated with the celebrated JASPER HEYWOOD in translating the tragedies of SENECA. In this association, NEW­TON, a very learned writer, who was first a school­master, and who, through the patronage of ROBERT earl of ESSEX, became beneficed, NUCE, who is said rather to have attempted plays in the manner of SENECA than to have translated SENECA himself, STUDLY, who was a student at CAMBRIDGE, and [Page 375] afterwards killed at the siege of BREDA under the command of prince MAURICE, were all members. Among this fraternity who worked separately as well as in conjunction, almost the whole of SE­NECA's tragedies were rendered into English, and several others invented; by which efforts the En­glish stage boasted, if not the fancy of GREECE, at least the regularity of ROME.

Besides these were FULWELL, who is spoken of as an ingenious writer, and who produced one piece called Like will to like quothe the Devil to the Collier; LUPTON who wrote a play called All for Money; INGELAND, wrote The Disobedient Child; NASH, who was a companion of GREEN and his disoliate friends, and who but for his pro­fligacy might have ranked well as an author, for he was remarkable for keen and witty satire; KYFFIN, who translated one of the comedies of TERENCE, and who was tutor to the children of his patron, lord BUCKHURST; GOLDING, who translated many celebrated works with great reputation; and several other authors that might be named, besides anony­mous playwrights out of number, whose pieces are entered at Stationer's Hall.

Thus out of a very large mass of materials I [Page 376] have selected such particulars as I considered fully adequate to illustrate all I have advanced relative to the antiquity of the English theatre. I shall now first enquire into the merit of the early actors, and afterwards recapitulate such circumstances as may be yet necessary to go over, in order to give SHAKES­PEAR a clear stage on his first appearance.

CHAP. X. ACTORS.

TO speak of the antiquity of English acting with a view of shewing what it particularly was would be impossible, and even to take it up generally would be to leave it in a very indefinite state. We might say with great truth that ALFRED, RICHARD, COEUR DE LION, and many other princes were actors, that the monks, out of all enumeration, were actors, and that the kingdom at different times swarmed with actors, who were always correctly of the same de­scription, even from the time of the Roman con­quest to the vagrant act of EDWARD the third.

The particular merits of these men, however, will never be known, and some may think it not very ma­terial that they should; were it possible, however, to get at them I should lose no diligence in the search; for, though it is certainly true that the man who merely utters cannot stand the same chance of posthu­mous [Page 378] fame as the man who writes, yet the obligation Was mutual while the actor lived; and I don't see why the poet, whose works he set off, should neglect to celebrate that merit without which he himself would never have been celebrated. What pains have been taken to perpetuate the memory of ROSCIUS! Kings, poets, and philosophers, have written and spoken his eulogium. To RICHARD's being an actor, ENGLAND owed the release of that monarch, and to the adroitness of ALFRED in the same ca­pacity sprung the victory over the Danes.

The similarity of the progress of acting in EN­GLAND and FRANCE has been already noticed. In FRANCE we find no actors celebrated by name till we get at TURLUPIN and his companions intro­duced by the farces of the Children of Sans Souci; and here, though we find a pretty strong contention between the students at St. PAUL's school and the clerks at Clerkenwell, yet till the interludes of HEYWOOD, in which he himself, sir THOMAS MORE, and others assisted, we learn nothing of the particular merits of an actor.

From this time, however, we begin to get pretty well acquainted with them, and find that, either for pleasure or profit that knot of bon vivants which were headed by GREEN, PEELE, and NASH, were [Page 379] all actors. The most conspicuous in the groupe is TARLETON, whose history contains some whimsical particulars. He was brought to town from SHROP­SHIRE by one of the servants of lord LEICESTER, who found him in a field taking care of his father's swine, and was so pleased with his answers that he introduced him to the earl, who astonished at the quickness of his intellects, brought him to court where he became a sort of jester to the queen.

We are told that there were times when ELIZA­BETH preferred TARLETON to all her favourites; that the courtiers paid him the greatest homage, and often employed him to pave the wayv for their kind reception. ‘"When the queen,"’ says an author, ‘"was serious, I dare not say sullen, TARLETON could undumpish her at his pleasure. He told her more of her faults than most of her chaplains, and cured her of her melancholy better than all her phylicians."’

TARLETON was an actor at the Bull in Bishop­gate-street, and performed originally in the play of Henry the Fifth, from which SHAKESPEAR is sup­posed to have collected the materials for his play under the same title. Supposing, however, this report to be truth, it could have furnished him only with a few hints, for it had neither FLUELLIN, [Page 380] PISTOL, the HOSTESS, or any of those excellent characters which we know to have been SHAKES­PEAR's invention, or rather his imitation from nature.

When ELIZABETH, at the solicitation of sir FRANCIS WALSINGHAM, appointed a dozen players to perform at BARN-ELMS, allowing them wages, and liveries as grooms of the chamber, TAR­LETON was made a sort of manager. An old au­thor says, ‘"that for the clown's part he never had his equal.’ Even BEN JOHNSON, who libels actors, could not refrain from applauding TARLETON. In­deed, by all accounts, his humour was of an irre­sistable kind, I suppose something like that of WESTON, for we are told that ‘"the self same words spoken by another would hardly move a merry man to smile, which uttered by him would force a sad soul to laughter"There are many stories related of TARLETON, two of which at least appears to be fabrications. Every one knows that RABELAIS, when he had not a sous in his pocket, contrived to feast sumptuously all the way from PROVINCE to PARIS, by wrapping up brickdust in different papers, and writing on them ‘"Poison for the king, poison for the queen, poison for the dauphin;"’ by which stra­tagem he contrived to be conveyed at the expence of the govern­ment as a state prisoner. A similar story is trumpt up for TARLETON; who, having run up a large score at an alehouse in SANDWICH, made a servant boy accuse him as a seminary priest, and so contrived that the officers of justice when they came in search of him found him on his knees crossing himself. These vigilant ministers of justice, fancying they should make a good thing of this discovery, paid his reckoning and conveyed him to London; but when he came before FLEETWOOD, the recorder, who knew him and recognized in this trick one of the well known exploits of TARLETON, he not only discharged him but courteously entertained him in return for his wit. Another time, when he was in a storm and the passengers were or­dered to throw their most cumbersome luggage overboard, he is said to have requested that he might throw his wife into the sea, which possibly might have happened, and that is all we can say, for it has been a joke for more than two thousand years. By the way, TAR­LETON is said to have reason for wishing to be disencumbered of his wife, for he was a notorious cuckold; nay, they go so far as to say that Cuckold's Point was so named by a waterman as he one day landed TARLETON at that place.."’

[Page 381]TARLETON for some time kept a tavern in Paternoster Row, and afterwards the sign of the Tabor in Grace Church Street, where his humour operated as such an attraction that it was common to have his portrait as a sign^*. OLDYS says that there was a sign in the Borough of a man playing on the pipe and tabor with the name of TARLETON written under it, and that this portrait was a copy of a wooden print which was published at the head of a work called Tarleton's Jests ^†.

[Page 382]He wrote one dramatic piece called The Seven Deadly Sins; and this appears to have been when tired of his debaucheries, he, like GREEN and NASH, pretended to repent of his irregularities; at which time his wit seems to have dwindled into mere scurrility, for, as he grew debilitated with his excesses, he became sour and sarcastic. None es­caped his virulence, not even LEICESTER, and RALIEGH; till, being discarded from court, and growing every day more contemptible in the world's opinion, he died like VOLTAIRE a mixture of im­becility, folly, and irresolution.

SCOGGAN, according to the most probable ac­counts of him, was a wicked wit. He had none of the humour of TARLETON, the sterling sense of GREEN, the satire of NASH, nor the barefaced ri­baldry of PEELE; but he had a cunning that gave him abilities to cope with them all. He would at­tack every man's darling foible and appear to be his master in his own art, by which means, though al­ways needy, he always got praise, confidence, and a [Page 383] good bellyful. If TARLETON laughed at his pau­city of wit, he laughed at TARLETON by making him a cuckold; if GREEN reproached him with his poverty, he took revenge by helping GREEN off with his money; if NASH provoked him by his satire he warded off the shaft by callous indifference; and if PEELE made him useful in the city pageants, he not only feasted well at his expence, but he snacked the fees and pawned the ornaments. Thus his acting was more serviceable to him off than on the stage, where his abilities are said to have been but mediocre. With the assistance, however, of thus playing upon his companions, and now and then on their common patron, the earl of NORTHUMBER­LAND, SCOGGAN topic care, though he got into all their scrapes, to keep himself clear of the conse­quences of them.

Concerning some of the other performers of that time I have already spoken. PRESTON was very celebrated, so was SKELTON, and so were many of the company that performed under the direction of EDWARDS^*. Indeed as to their particular merit [Page 384] it is extremely difficult to arrive at any critical knowledge of them. The specimen I have given of TARLETON's celebrity will, however, prove that the profession of an actor was completely known at that time, for nothing can depict the true merit of comic acting better than the testi­mony of the different poets and critics who have particularly spoken of their admiration of his talents, a very small part of which admiration I have quoted.

This account, however, will serve to shew that actors were at that early period very profligate characters; that they debauched the morals of young noblemen and inexperienced youths of every description; and that whatever morality they might disseminate by their precepts, they cut it up by the roots by their example. This occasioned those decrees of ELIZABETH which were so often al­ternately enforced and broken, and established a necessity for the most vigilant attention on the part of the state lest what was intended to improve and polish public manners should corrupt and dis­grace [Page 385] them. As dramatic amusements gained strength on the side of genius, truth, and morality, the profession of an actor became more respectable, till, at length, during the epoch to which we are hastening, the theatre was so firmly established that it was never shaken again till the troubles in the reign of the first CHARLES.

CHAP. XI. A SUMMARY RECAPITULATION, FROM THE DRUIDS TO SHAKESPEAR.

UPON a review of what I have hitherto written on the English theatre, though many may think the sub­ject unimportant before the birth of SHAKESPEAR, yet I cannot repent of having explored a field full of circumstances material to the elucidation of a popular theme, even at the risk of being censured by cavillers for exciting rather than gratifying curio­sity; for, though the intelligence I have been able to offer is too often shrouded with doubt and ob­scurity, a misfortune, by the bye, constantly at­tendant on every review of lives and actions, yet if it produce no other literary benefit, the national incidents that are naturally interwoven with dra­matic narrative must inevitably give it some in­terest; and, though it is not to be expected that rational men should value this or any other theme merely for its antiquity, yet, the more rational the [Page 387] man, the more he will be induced to allow that the sanction of ages will confirm and establish the im­portance of every thing avowedly and meritoriously constituted for the instruction and delight of the world, and the medium and criterion for the regu­lation of its manners.

If all I have collected of the bards with the Druids at their head, and have thereby shewn that every thing lyric is in its essence dramatic, is im­portant, I have gained my end. It were in vain to argue that it is not to be credited because it is con­jectural. Conjecture from deduction swells into reason, and reason upon such ground grows into truth. If, therefore, the Druids existed, if the Welch bards existed, if OSSIAN led on the Scotch bards, or imitated what in his infancy he had im­bibed from oral tradition, or even if he had never written, but on the contrary, if all that is attributed to him was gathered from Scotch elders and nurses, who, though perfect in the beauties of that poetry they sung, the oldest of them had not the remotest clue to its origin, yet the whole is a mass of such fair probability that no sophistry can shake it; and, therefore, the task, if novel is worthy curiosity, if probable is entitled to attention, and if interesting will be considered as meritorious.

[Page 388]If the Mimes of the Romans came over with JULIUS CAESAR, and that they did, I do not see the smallest reason to doubt, ENGLAND must de­cidedly have then known the dramatic art, or else PACUVIUS, ACCIUS, and LIVIUS ANDRONICUS were ignorant of it. BOADICEA tells us it did, nay, indeed, so does MARTIAL, so that we have both English and Roman authority for it.

After the Romans, the chain is so regular from ARTHUR to ALFRED, and so on through the do­minion of the Saxons, that in the celebration of great actions, carousals, tournaments, and other feasts, we clearly lead the provincial poets, the drift of all whose writings was dramatic. These the rulers, and principal personages of the land, took a delight in encouraging. Public rites, exercises, and amusements, all received the sanction and counte­nance of the great, and were considered of so much advantage to manners, that the priests were content, as in all other countries, to imitate the stage in order to enforce the doctrines of the pulpit.

Had the priests never taken the matter up, and they certainly did take it up from St. AUSTIN forwards, the stage most probably would never have been known at all in ENGLAND till SHAKES­PEAR [Page 389] for, however, the vivacity and perpetual curiosity of the French might induce them to search for every possible minute circumstance to give pompous accounts of an amusement in their country, in which they have so greatly delighted, the more indolent and incurious spirit of English writers, who are pleated more to perform than to celebrate, have, I see not why, certainly passed it by as a matter of little moment, and thereby lost to posterity what made up, and if the remnants of an­tiquity which have been saved from the general wreck may stand as a proof, meritoriously made up the rational delight of our ancestors.

But the grand objection will be, that, however I may speak of dramatic entertainments, nothing ought to be considered in that light but tragedy and comedy. In this enthusiasm in favour of a dis­tinction which originally was very indefinite, the one being in GREECE The Song of the Goat, and the other The Song of the Village, one, therefore, im­plying a particular event, and the other a general amusement, we set up a distinction of our own, and we define tragedy to be a dramatic poem in which some signal action of illustrious persons is repre­sented ending in general fatally^*; [Page 390] which is much nearer the matter, a representation of actions in private life, generally holding up the follies [Page 391] of our neighbours to ridicule to deter the spectators from imitating absurdities which these pieces ex­pose. Therefore we have not invented what was unknown to the ancients, but have merely improved upon their inventions; and in consequence we have not to brag of having rejected their art and esta­blished one of our own; but that, as the world has become more polished, we have availed our­selves of an art belonging to them, which we might probably ourselves have otherwise been ignorant of.

Under this idea we are obliged to admit the an­tiquity of the drama or reject it altogether. Every thing improves as human intelligence grows and ex­pands. This, however, does not alter the original principle. The original principle of the drama was to represent manners in action; and, as far as this point was effected, it ever existed and never altered nor degenerated, but in obedience to times and circumstances.

Let us not, therefore, because dramatic pieces were not written in some peculiar style or manner, [Page 392] because they were not divided into acts, because they were not meted by the same measure, nor poised by the same weight, deny that there is any distinction in the spirit of them anciently, and now. AESCUYLUS knew what they ought to be, and he knew it in full as great perfection as ARISTOTLE, because ARIS­TOTLE stole all his knowledge from AESCHYLUS and his cotemporaries; and, if AESCHYLUS, who imi­tated HOMER, was possessed of this knowledge, it is folly and ignorance to deny that the dramatic art was known at any period in which men of eru­dition existed.

It is upon this principle I insist that the dramatic art existed or was known in this country as early as the Druids, for the Druids studied the Greeks, and who among the Greeks ranked so forward as the dramatic poets?

Thus far have I argued in favour of the dra­matic art on the score of its antiquity; it must be remembered I have not argued on the score of its perfection; but if I had it would not have de­tracted from the value of my reasoning; for, since SHAKESPEAR, we have seen the stage degenerate most miserably; and, if I were inclined to instance periods when the theatre within the last century de­served no more to be considered in a state of per­fection [Page 393] that it did several centuries past, my obser­vations might be thought invidious but they could not be easily attached. Nay, were I put to it, I might avail myself of arguing that a degenerate fall from the pinnacle on which SHAKESPEAR and his cotemporaries placed it in, is more degrading than the imperfect state in which it is supposed to have been sunk before it had the advantage of so great and so shining an example.

If none of these arguments will exculpate me from the heavy charge of venturing historical cir­cumstances which, though highly probable, I cannot positively prove, let me in common with all histo­rians and biographers claim the privilege of avail­ing myself of every thing positive and collateral that could possibly make out my reasoning, of joining admitted facts with rational conjecture, of corro­borating what we believe with what we know, and of gaining credit for having established some little authenticity on a vague and uncertain, though by no means an unimportant, subject, by the assiduous and industrious care with which it has been explored.

Over and above this, let the collaterally historical facts which have sprung from the subject, like agree­able objects that cheat the way on a rugged road, [Page 394] afford some amusement in relief of that jolting which I have given the reader's imagination. I did not profess to go on a turnpike road. There are no mile stones, the way is not measured, it is com­puted; and, if there were ever any direction posts, they have been long ago broken down and des­troyed. It was, nevertheless, a road, and we have come safely through it; and the few vestiges that prove it was formerly frequented, though there may not be much beauty and symmetry in them, have nevertheless an interesting and a picturesque effect. An effect like the productions of CLAUDE, whose ruins seem to assume a venerable complacency communicated by the richness of the setting sun that soberly glows behind them.

By way of companion to this picture, let us turn our eyes to a grey morn full of aerial effect, and giving a cheering promise that the same sun which set so serenely solemn the evening before, shall again display its comforting influence till by a gradual and invigorating encrease of power and ra­diance, it at length gather into a burst of the most dazzling splendour.

In this idea we shall have a fair resemblance of the theatre from the time of HEYWOOD and the interludes. The mysteries, and the moralities, hav­ing [Page 395] gradually declined and, at length, sunk into oblivion, manners in action began to exhibit a dawn of that day in which the objects of nature were at first faintly discerned, afterwards more perfectly seen, and at last acknowledged in all their charms, through the resplendant genius of SHAKESPEAR.

The chaos into which the dramatic art was then crumbled began to ferment and distend itself. BUCKHURST assisted the process; so, with the help of SENECA, did NASH, NEVILLE, NEWTON, STUDLY, NUCE, and the rest, who seem to have been to JASPER HEYWOOD something like what CHAPLAINE and his worthy companions were to RICHELIEU; the translators of TERENCE made the atoms dance a little more, EDWARDS, by the help of CHAUCER and BOCCACE, began to arrange them, PEELE drilled them as well as he could but he gave them too volatile a motion, LILLY led them forward in a kind of minuet but mistook dis­tortion for grace, PRESTON put them into stilts, NORTON made them sing psalms, LINDSEY held up a mirror to shew them their deformity, SIDNEY made them courtly, and others did what they could to move the monstrous heap, seperate it, and mould it into form^*.

[Page 396]Still, however, the work was very imperfect. The rugged and mishapened fragments, as they took all manner of monstrous and distorted forms, ran about in all directions, exhibiting every appearance but nature. By continual and steady perseverance, however, the artificers that had the work in hand began to mould it into better fashion; till, at length, to keep up the allusion, Envy, like the Devil, be­gan to be jealous of this dramatic approach towards order, for we find a book, dedicated to sir PHILIP SIDNEY, by STEPHEN GOSSON, called The School of Abuse, a pleasant invective against Poets, Pipers, Players, Jesters, and such like Catterpillars of the [Page 397] Commonwealth; and another called Plays confuted in five Actions. This book, which is dedicated to sir FRANCIS WALSINGHAM, labours very hard to prove that plays are calculated to promote licen­tiousness and immorality, and, therefore, ought not to be suffered in a commonwealth.

These publications begat a long controversy which was very warmly taken up against GOSSON by LODGE and THOMAS HEYWHOD, which last, we shall hereafter see, according to his own report indeed, wrote, or had a hand, or at least a main finger, his own expression, in two hundred plays. At the time, however, of his entering the lists with GOSSON, he was very young, and it served to help him forward in much the same manner, though the circumstances are not alike, as the dispute with MOLIERE which brought BOURSAULT into notice. GOSSON was attacked very successfully. The dis­pute, however, did general service; for, as there was much to expose in the conduct of the stage and its adherents, so the appeal to sir FRANCIS WAL­SINGHAM, and sir PHILIP SIDNEY, so far called forth their interference, that they examined the abuses, and occasioned them in material points to be rectified.

Thus the labourers in this meritorious work [Page 398] went on in the most strenuous and animated manner, and wrought the better for being watched. If a poet thought he had made a perfect form in a play, a biting and severe satire convinced him, or at least the world, that it was monstrous and unnatural. However he might fancy that his ideas were sub­lime, and his verses flowing and easy, some critic was sure to possess the world with an opinion that his subject was the bathos, that his style halted, and that his measure limped.

These were, however, good symptoms. The warmer the sunshine the more the flies are engen­dered. Crouds of authors begat crouds of critics. Those, therefore, who had written crudely began now to try at writing elegantly. The great difficulty was to shape invention, which many of them had, into regularity. To do this they called in the assist­ance, as we have seen, of SENECA and TERENCE; for, however, in a much earlier period the genius of the Greeks might have pervaded the English taste, we see no visible traces of it at this particular time; nor is there any solecism in this. The priests knew the Greek poets and most carefully chose them for their models; but this continued no longer than during the continuation of the mysteries; for at the moment the English authors improved in one hand into plays, they on the other hand mistook the [Page 399] road as to construction and style; and, therefore, followed the uninteresting and phlegmatic Romans instead of imitating the great and original Greeks.

In this labyrinth were the poets of that time be­wildered, or rather, to keep on with my first figure, in this chaos were they overwhelmed and enthralled. Some fancied that the inflated SENECA would open to them all the arcana of tragedy, and others than in the tame TERENCE consisted all the merit of comedy. Under this influence they forgot the language in which they wrote, the manners of their countrymen, and the particular style in which to ap­peal to their passions and their hearts.

Thus the unwieldy mass they had to move, to concoct, to form, to animate, was too mighty a task for their exertions. It remained that the literary glory of GREECE should be born anew in the bard of ENGLAND. It remained for a genius, great, powerful, and commanding, with the majesty of HOMER, the judgment of AESCHYLUS, the sweet­ness of SOPHOCLES, the philosophy of EURIPIDES, the wit of ARISTOPHANES, and the truth of ME­NANDER, to reconcile so many jarring opinions and to perfect this chaos into a world.

SHAKESPEAR was this genius; and so well by [Page 400] him were these jarring interests reconciled, that all the poets with the assistance of all the critics cannot, up to that time, nor perhaps since, except in his own works, find any tragedy and comedy that appeals so forcibly to the heart, so perfectly sa­tisfies the mind, or indeed that so completely tri­umphs over all candid objection, as Othello, and The Merry Wives of Windsor.

The genius of SHAKESPEAR then was the power that formed this chaos into a world. SHAKESPEAR; who, for his perfecting the dramatic art, deserves the ineffable reverence of ages; and who, for giv­ing light to the theatrical world, might snatch the epitaph from the tomb of NEWTON.