does not possess much dignity; and affording might perhaps be substituted with propriety.

A virtuous man, says Seneca, struggling with misfortunes, is such a spectacle as gods might look upon with pleasure; and such a pleasure it is which one meets with in the representation of a wellwritten tragedy.

The first member of this sentence is harsh and disagreeable. "Such a spectacle as gods might behold with pleasure," seems more harmonious, and the collision of particles, “look upon with pleasure," is thus avoided. My present business is not with the author's sentiments: it may not however be improper to observe that what he advances in the sentence now quoted, can only apply to those tragedies of which the chief personages are virtuous.

Diversions of this kind wear out of our thoughts every thing that is mean and little.

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The word diversions cannot without manifest impropriety be employed to signify the more solemn amusements of the theatre. 66 Diversion," says Dr. Johnson, seems to be something lighter than amusement, and less forcible than pleasure." It has nearly the same signification with sport. The tragical sports of the theatre would be a strange expression.

They cherish and cultivate that humanity which is the ornament of our nature.

This metaphorical language is exceptionable. The act of cherishing and the act of cultivating bear no kind of analogy to each other; and therefore ought not to have been so intimately connected. The proper subject of the former must be possessed of life; that of the latter must be inert matter. With what propriety, then, can the same object be represented as cherished and cultivated?

They soften insolence, soothe affliction, and subdue the mind to the dispensations of providence.

This sentence is smooth and elegant.

It is no wonder, therefore, that in all the polite nations of the world, this part of the drama has met with public encouragement. This sentence requires no particular consideration.

The modern tragedy excels that of Greece and Rome, in the intricacy and disposition of the fable; but, what a Christian writer would be ashamed to own, falls infinitely short of it in the moral part of the performance.

It was formerly observed, that in the members of a sentence where two objects are either compared or contrasted, some resemblance in the language and construction should be preserved. This rule is violated in the above passage. A slight alteration will, in my opinion, improve the sentence: "The modern tragedy excels that of Greece and Rome, in the intricacy and disposition of the fable; but, what a Christian writer would be ashamed to own, falls infinitely short of it in the purity and beauty of the morality."

This I may shew more at large hereafter; and in the mean time, that I may contribute something towards the improvement of the English tragedy, I shall take notice, in this and in other following papers, of some particular parts in it that seem liable to exception. This period is arranged with clearness and perspicuity.

Aristotle observes, that the iambic verse in the Greek tongue was the most proper for tragedy; because at the same time that it lifted up the discourse from prose, it was that which approached nearer to it than any other kind of verse.

This sentence contains a great superfluity of words. The author's meaning may be expressed in the following manner : "Aristotle observes that the iambic verse in the Greek tongue was the most proper for tragedy; because, while it elevated the discourse a degree above prose, it approached nearer to it than any other kind of

For, says he, we may observe that men in ordinary discourse very often speak iambics, without taking notice of it. We may make the same observation of our English blank verse, which often enters into our common discourse, though we do not attend to it, and is such a due medium between rhyme and prose, that it seems wonderfully adapted to tragedy.

In these sentences we shall find little to commend. Taking notice of it, is a feeble and ungraceful close, which might easily have been avoided. In the other period the words, "which often enters into our common discourse, though we do not attend to it," are altogether superfluous. They are nothing more than the repetition of a circumstance of which we are sufficiently apprised, by the application of the remark quoted in the former

sentence.

I am therefore very much offended when I see a play in rhyme; which is as absurd in English, as a tragedy of hexameters would have been in Greek or Latin.

This is a neat period.

The solecism is, I think, still greater in those plays that have some scenes in rhyme and some in blank verse, which are to be looked upon as two several languages; or where we see some particular similes dignified with rhyme, at the same time that everything about them lies in blank verse. I would not, however, debar the poet from concluding his tragedy, or, if he pleases, every act of t, with two or three couplets, which may have the same effect as an air in the Italian opera after a long recitativo, and give the actor a graceful exit.

In the former of these sentences the phrase, "everything about them lies in blank verse,' appears liable to exception; and in the latter the two concluding members are not properly balanced.

Besides that we see a diversity of numbers in some parts of the old tragedy, in order to hinder the ear from being tired with the same continued modulation of voice.

The conjunction that is introduced without any propriety: by the insertion of it, this sentence, instead of seeming complete, has rather the appearance of a detached member. Why, in the present instance, old should have been preferred to ancient, it is not easy to discover.

For the same reason I do not dislike the speeches in our English tragedy that close with an hemistich, or half verse, notwithstanding the person who speaks after it begins a new verse, without filling up the preceding one; nor with abrupt pauses and breakings-off in the middle of a verse, when they humour any passion that is expressed by it.

This sentence is devoid of correctness and elegance. To speak after an hemistich, is certainly a very uncouth expression. The latter part of the period has a kind of mutilated appearance: one would be led to suspect that I am not displeased with had formerly occupied the place of I do not dislike; and that when the author made the correction, he forgot to adjust the whole of the "For the same reason I am not displeased with the speeches in our English tragedy, &c. nor with abrupt pauses and breakings-off in the middle. of a verse," &c. It would perhaps have increased the smoothness of the period, without detracting from its significance, had it been permitted to close at the word passion.

sentence.

Since I am upon this subject, I must observe that our English poets have succeeded much better in the style, than in the sentiments of their tragedies.

Since I am upon this subject, I must observe that These words, introduced without any apparent necessity, occasion a slight ambiguity. While they seem to refer to what was stated in the last sentence, they may also refer to the general subject of which the author is treating.

Their language is very often noble and sonorous, but the sense either very trifling or very common.

This sentence is perhaps capable of being improved: "Their language is often noble and sonorous, while the sense is either very trifling or very common.'

On the contrary, in the ancient tragedies, and indeed in those of Corneille and Racine, though the expressions are very great, it is the thought that bears them up and swells them. For my own part, I prefer a noble sentiment that is depressed with homely language, infinitely before a vulgar one that is blown up with all the sound and energy of expression.

Great is an epithet which critics do not commonly apply to expressions. The metaphorical language which occurs at the conclusion of this passage, is somewhat ludicrous: an object may be blown up with wind, but never with sound.

Whether this defect in our tragedies may arise from want of genius, knowledge, or experience in the writers, or from their compliance with the vicious taste of their readers, who are better judges of the language than of the sentiments, and consequently relish the one more than the other, I cannot determine. But I believe it might rectify the conduct both of the one and of the other, if the writer laid down the whole contexture of his dialogue in plain English, before he turned it into blank verse; and, if the reader, after the perusal of a scene, would consider the naked thought of every speech in it, when divested of all its tragic ornaments: by this means, without being imposed upon by words, we may judge impartially of the thought, and consider whether it be natural or great enough for the person that utters it, whether it deserves to shine in such a blaze of eloquence, or shew itself in such a variety of lights as are generally made use of by the writers of our English tragedy.

A great variety of circumstances is here introduced with accuracy and precision. In the second sentence we find means employed as a noun of the singular number; a usage which Johnson and Lowth* do not explicitly approve. On the other hand, Campbellt and Priestley contend for its propriety; and their opinion is supported by the authority of Addison, Pope, Robertson, Goldsmith, and many other writers of eminence. It is certainly more agreeable to the general analogy of the English language, as well as to the etymology of the word, to vary it in the singular and the plural form; but our ears are too much habituated to the common practice, to relish the phrases by this mean," "by that mean.'

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I must in the next place observe, that when our thoughts are great and just, they are often obscured by the sounding phrases, hard metaphors, and forced expressions in which they are clothed. Shakspeare is often very faulty in this particular.

*Lowth's Short Introduction to English Grammar. See likewise Dr. Crombie's Etymology and Syntax of the English Language. + Campbell's Philosophy of Rhetoric.

Priestley's Rudiments of English Grammar.

Many other instances are to be found of awkward combinations of the indefinite article with nouns of a plural form. The subsequent passage occurs in Gibbon's History:-"When he reluctantly accepted the purple, he was above fourscore years old: a last and valuable remains of the happy age of the Antonines." "There is no necessity for using such a phrase as this, as its place could have been well supplied by relic or remnant.