VERY government, fay the poli

ing towards corruption, from which it must be rescued at certain periods by the refufcitation of it's first principles, and the re-establishment of it's original conftitution. Every animal body, according to the methodick phyficians, is, by the predominance of fome exuberant quality, continually declining towards difeafe and death, which must be obviated by a seasonable reduction of the peccant humour to the juft equipoife which health requires.

In the fame manner the ftudies of mankind, all at leaft which, not being fubject to rigorous demonftration, admit the influence of fancy and caprice, are perpetually tending to error and confuhon. Of the great principles of truth which the firft fpeculatifts difcovered, the fimplicity is embarraffed by ambiti ous additions, or the evidence obfcured by inaccurate argumentation; and as they defcend from one fucceffion of writers to another, like light transmitted from room to room, they lofe their ftrength and fplendour, and fade at laft in total evanefcence.

The fyftems of learning therefore must be fometimes reviewed, complications analyfed into principles, and knowledge difentangled from opinion. It is not always poffible, without a clofe inspection, to feparate the genuine fhoots of confequential reafoning, which grow out of fome radical poftulate, from the branches which art has engrafted on it. The accidental prefcriptions of authority, when time has procured them veneration, are often confounded with the laws of nature, and thofe rules are fuppofed coeval with reafon, of which the firft rife cannot be discovered.

Criticifim has fometimes permitted fancy to dictate the laws by which fancy ought to be restrained, and fallacy to perplex the principles by which fallacy is to be detected; her fuperintendence of others has betrayed her to negligence of herfelf; and, like the ancient Scythians,

Juv.

by extending her conquefts over distant

her flaves.

Among the laws of which the defire of extending authority, or ardour of promoting knowledge, has prompted the prefcription, all which writers have received, had not the fame original right to our regard. Some are to be confidered as fundamental and indispensable, others only as ufeful and convenient; fome are dictated by reafon and neceffity, others as enacted by defpotick antiquity; fome as invincibly fupported by their conformity to the order of nature and operations of the intellect; others as formed by accident, or inftituted by example, and therefore always liable to difpute and alteration.

That many rules have been advanced without confulting nature or reason, we cannot but fufpect, when we find it peremptorily decreed by the ancient mafters, that only three speaking personages should appear at once upon the age; a law which, as the variety and intricacy of modern plays has made it impoffible to be obferved, we now violate without fcruple, and, as experience proves, without inconvenience.

The original of this precept was merely accidental. Tragedy was a monody or folitary fong in honour of Bacchus, improved afterwards into a dialogue by the addition of another fpeaker; but the ancients, remembering that the tragedy was at firft pronounced only by one, durft not for fome time venture beyond two; at laft, when cuftom and impunity had made them dar ing, they extended their liberty to the admiffion of three, but reftrained themfelves by a critical edict from further exorbitance.

By what accident the number of acts was limited to five, I know not that any author has informed us; but certainly it is not determined by any neceffity arifing either from the nature of action or propriety of exhibition. An act is only the reprefentation of such a

part

part of the bufinefs of the play as proceeds in an unbroken tenor, or without any intermediate paufe. Nothing is more evident than that of every real, and by confequence of every dramatick action, the intervals may be more or fewer than five; and indeed the rule is upon the English ftage every day broken in effect, without any other mifchief than that which arifes from an abfurd endeavour to obferve it in appearance. Whenever the fcene is fhifted the act ceafes, fince fome time is neceffarily fuppofed to elapfe while the perfonages of the drama change their place.

With no greater right to our obedience have the criticks confined the dramatick action to a certain number of hours. Probability requires that the time of action fhould approach fomewhat nearly to that of exhibition, and those plays will always be thought moft happily conducted which crowd the greatest variety into the leaft fpace. But fince it will frequently happen that fome delufion must be admitted, I know not where the limits of imagination can be fixed. It is rarely observed that minds, not prepoffeffed by mechanical criticism, feel any offence from the extenfion of the intervals between the acts; nor can I conceive it abfurd or impoffible, that he who can multiply three hours into twelve or twenty-four, might image with equal ease a greater number.

I know not whether he that profeffes to regard no other laws than those of nature, will not be inclined to receive tragi-comedy to his protection, whom, however generally condemned, her own laurels have hitherto fhaded from the fulminations of criticifm. For what is there in the mingled drama which impartial reason can condemn? The connexion of importantwith trivialincidents, fince it is not only common but perpetual in the world, may furely be allowed upon the ftage, which pretends only to be the mirrour of life. The impropriety of fuppreffing paffions before we have raised them to the intended agitation, and of diverting the expectation from an event which we keep fufpended only to raise it, may be ipeciously urged. But will not experience fhew this objection to be rather fubtle than just? Is it not certain that the tragick and comick affections have been moved alternately with equal force, and that no

plays have oftener filled the eye with tears, and the breast with palpitation, than those which are variegated with interludes of mirth?

I do not however think it fafe to judge of works of genius merely by the event. The refiftlefs viciffitudes of the heart, the alternate prevalence of merriment and folemnity, may fometimes be more properly afcribed to the vigour of the writer than the juftness of the defign: and instead of vindicating tragicomedy by the fuccefs of Shakespeare, we ought perhaps to pay new honours to that tranfcendent and unbounded genius that could prefide over the paffions in fport; who, to actuate the affections, needed not the flow gradation of common means, but could fill the heart with inftantaneous jollity or forrow, and vary our difpofition as he changed his fcenes. Perhaps the effects even of Shakespeare's poetry might have been yet greater, had he not counteracted himself; and we might have been more intereffed in the diftreffes of his heroes, had we not been fo frequently diverted by the jokes of his buffoons.

There are other rules more fixed and obligatory. It is neceffary that of every play the chief action fhould be fingle; for fince a play reprefents fome tranfac tion, through it's regular maturation to it's final event, two actions equally important muft evidently conftitute two plays.

As the defign of tragedy is to inftruct by moving the paffions, it must always have a hero, a perfonage apparently and inconteftably fuperior to the reft, upon whom the attention may be fixed, and the anxiety fufpended. For though of two perfons oppofing each other with equal abilities and equal virtue, the auditor will inevitably in time choose his favourite, yet as that choice mult be without any cogency of conviction, the hopes or fears which it raifes will be faint and languid. Of two heroes acting in confederacy against a common enemy, the virtues or dangers will give little emotion, because each claims our concern with the fame right, and the heart lies at reft between equal motives.

It ought to be the firft endeavour of a writer to diftinguish nature from cuftom; or that which is eftablished because it is right, from that which is right only Y y z

because

because it is established; that he may neither violate effential principles by a defire of novelty, nor debar himself from the attainment of beauties within his

view, by a needlefs fear of breaking rules which no literary dictator had authority to enact.

with fome contempt that prefence of attention and eafinefs of addrefs, which the polite have long agreed to celebrate and efteem, yet I cannot be perfuaded to think them unworthy of regard or culti vation; but am inclined to believe that, as we feldom value rightly what we have never known the mifery of wanting, his judgment has been vitiated by his happinefs; and that a natural exuberance of affurance has hindered him from difcovering it's excellence and ufe.

This felicity, whether beftowed by conftitution, or obtained by early habitudes, I can scarcely contemplate without envy. I was bred under a man of learning in the country, who inculcated nothing but the dignity of knowledge, and the happiness of virtue. By frequency of admonition, and confidence of affertion, he prevailed upon me to believe, that the fplendour of literature would always attract reverence, if not darkened by corruption. I therefore purfued my ftudies with inceffant induftry, and avoided every thing which I had been taught to confider either as vicious or tending to vice, becaufe I regarded guilt and reproach as infeparably united, and thought a tainted reputation the greateft calamity.

At the univerfity, I found no reafon for changing my opinion; for though many among my fellow-ftudents took the opportunity of a more remifs difcipline to gratify their paffions; yet virtue preferved her natural fuperiority, and thofe who ventured to neglect, were not fuffered to infult her. The ambition of petty accomplishments found it's way into the receptacles of learning, but was

my care but the means of gaining or imparting knowledge.

This purity of manners, and intense. nefs of application, foon extended my renown, and I was applauded by thofe whofe opinion I then thought unlikely to deceive me, as a young man that gave uncommon hopes of future eminence. My performances in time reached my native province, and my relations congratulated themselves upon the new honours that were added to their family.

I returned home covered with academical laurels, and fraught with criticifm and philofophy. The wit and the scholar excited curiofity, and my acquaintance was folicited by innumerable invitations. To pleafe will always be the with of benevolence, to be admired muft be the conftant aim of ambition; and I therefore confidered myself as about to receive the reward of my honest labours, and to find the efficacy of learning and of virtue.

The third day after my arrival I dined at the houfe of a gentleman who had fummoned a multitude of his friends to the annual celebration of his weddingday. I fet forward with great exultation, and thought myself happy that I had an opportunity of difplaying my knowledge to fo numerous an affembly. I felt no fenfe of my own infufficiency, till going up ftairs to the dining-room, I heard the mingled roar of obilreperous merriment. I was however difgufted rather than terrified, and went forward without dejection. The whole company rofe at my entrance; but when I faw fo many eyes fixed at once upon me, I was blafted with a fudden unbecility, I was

quelled