The Sun.
London, England, 1825-02-10 00:00:00

FOR THE SUN.

THE DRAMA-(LETTER

Ma. EDlTon—Very different, Sir, from Air.
LACY'S are the sentiments and opinions of the critics of oppo-
sition on the subject of our Drama. Whilst the one demands
(and denounces the dramatists of his day for not producing
them) more plays like Macbeth or Othello, Julius Cmsar or
Venice Preserved; the other, with equal admiration of Shaks-
peare, deprecates all imitation of, or interference with, the poets
of the Elizbethan age. " The demand," say they, " for works
" of original genius, the craving after them, the capacity for
" inventing them, naturally decay, when we have models of
" almost every species of excellence already produced to our
" hands. When this is the case, why call out for more? When
" we have Shakspeare, we do not want more Shakspeares : one
" Milton, one Pope or Dryden, is enough."—Again,
" Instead of striving to revive the spirit doh} English lite-
rature, which is impossible, unless we could restore the same

state of things, and push the world back two centuries in its
" course, let us add the last polish and fine finish to the
" modern belles-lettres. Instead of imitating the poets or prose
" writers of the age of Elizabeth, let us admire them at a dis-
" tance. Let us remember, that there is a great gulph be-
" tween them and us—the gulph. of ever-rolling years. Let
" them be something sacred, and venerable to the imagination.
" But let us be contented to serve as priests at the shrine of
" ancient genius, and not attempt to mount the pedestal our-
" selves, or disturb the sanctuary with our unwarranted pre-
" tensions." a

When authorities disagree, what daring individual shall pre-
tend to decide ? lam not sanguine enough to expect that the
masterly delineation of the passions of ambition and jealously,
embodied in Macbeth or Othello,will be easily copied or rivalled
by any dramatist of this, or of a future day. Neither am I
altogether willing to relinquish " all imitation of the poets or
prose writers of the age of Elizabeth," or rest contented, with
" admiring them at a distance." To the first, therefore, (under
favour,) I should feel dispose 4 to say—" Beware, sir, of de-
" manding to much." To the second,—" Pray, gentlemen,

" do not despair."
" The " tragic vein," I hope, is neither wrought out, nor
exhausted ; and the " wit of man," may yet discover an occa-
sional subject, on which to exercise its original powers. Our
Dramatists, too, may safely enough be permitted a familiar in-
tercourse with the works of those writers who, "depicted jea-
lousy, rage, ambition, love, madness, in their most striking
forms of picturesque contrasts." For, if they (our pramatists )
are prohibited from this intercourse, and follow the injunctions
of the Critic—the " last polish" will, I am afraid, he the " last
finies," to that which is already over-polished—their dr.tmas
A considerable time has now elapsed, since our play-bills and
advertisements, ceased to announce to the public, that, on Mon-
day next, his Majesty's servants, would perform the play of
Faiistus—or, 77se Witch—'Tis pity she's a whore—or, The
Parliament of Love. With the exception (to speak practically),
of some twenty-five Plays, three-fourths of which are Shak-
speare's, and none of them acted as they were written ; the volu-
minous remainder of the labours of the fathers of the English
Stage, are as.pdpetually banished from the boards of the modern
Theatre, as the tragedies of Sophocles or Seneca, or the Come-
dies of Aristophanes or Plautus. Then, if they are thus pre-
cluded, if the Dramatists of the age of Elizabeth and her suc-
cessor, with a few exceptions, be to the living theatre a dead
letter, and to our writers—" unless to admire at a distance," a
sealed book, ourselves, had better become " another Osmyn to
burn and spare not," assured that the law (of logic) is on our
side, and that by the issue of the conflagration, we are morally
certain of corning off gainers, because, " the work of extenua-
tion, and thelvotie of regeneration would then go on kindly to-
gether." 1-
It must yet be admitted, that amidst the various and cnntend-
ing opinions and decisions of Critics, the Dramatist, has an un-
certain and perplexing course to steer. I marvel, after all, for
what reward it is, that he yields to the inspirations of Melpo-
mene, and gives " his days and his nights to the volumes of
Shakspeare." is it to be judged and rewarded by the Manager
"'berattied" by -the Critics, or neglected (if no worse treatment
befall him) by the public ?
The nice and intricate discrimination and delineaCon of cha-
racter, and the command of language in the phraseology of the
stage, is a study distinct from the art of ode-writing ; from
epic, didactic, descriptive, amatory, logical, or Spenserian
poetry. Indeed, the talent for both is seldom possessed by the
same individual. Shakspeare was but a very sorry rhymer.
Lee and Otway aspired not to the name. Sampson Agonistes,
reminds us of the uniform and severe tones of the Paradise.
Lost—not of the observer and painter of Nature. On the stage,
Thompson was puerile and cold ; whilst the sweetness and im-
provisttorial facility of Byron's verse, served only, by contrast,
to sink him as a dramatist in public estimation.
Much is demanded of, much is expected from, the Dramatist
of the day. But until Managers, Critics, and the Public are
agreed as to what they want, know their own minds, and some
of them change their plans of procedure, we may demand and
expect in vain. Let the Dramatist write for the Manager—his
bantling dies with the season. If for the world and posterity—
it cannot (ten to one) be introduced to the Public through' the
medium of the Theatre.

Public taste, in its treatment of works for the Stage, is not
unfrequently fickle, capricious, and unjust. But, let some
44 mighty master" appear,
.and the medal is quickly reversed.
Taste then 'becomes docile, submissive, yielding, approving,
and applauding. Like a spoilt child, Taste must be com-
manded and led, or it turns wayward, imperious, and tyrannous.
At present, ivewant the " master," and by consequence suffer
from the tyranny of the pupil.

"Virginitis is a modern. drama ; and, upon the whole, en-
titled to co,-ntilendation. It shows us what can be done by a
Dramatist, who is not a poet. Ilere we have something of
the bold delineation of the passions, brit nothing of the flowing
line of the elder writers. We look for, hut find not, even the
smooth versification—the elevated soliloquies of Cato, or the
measured tones of the lost Calista. Thdugh the dialogue is
spirited and better than the speeches, it is not by its language
that this Tragedy has succeeded upon the stage, and pleases in
,
the closet. Of all the difficulties that cross the path of the
dramatic
ptableangday§: layguage (as I have already
she wn) ticis aspirant t
It is for this reason, that the
rllaia moat
ofap
faults of style in the play of Virgiaius, should be passed over
with gentle correction. With more of the political tempera-
ment, had the Author sounded his tuning-hammer, and pitch-
ed his style on a higher key—had he imitated the diction of the
Shaksperian, Rhetoric, or Poetic school, he would have to-
tally and irretrivably failed.
Mr. Knowles, however, with better judgment, studied the
living wage:--the mechanical part of his art; and, by adapting
the character of his hero to the style of acting of a certain po-
pular performer, became, in a degree, and to a certain extent,
a successful dramatist. The school of acting alluded to is, in-
deed, different from that in which our Garricks and our Kern_
files won their laurels. Nevertheless, such is the merit of Vie-
ginius, that the character most now descend from one perfor_