THE BRITISH THEATRE.

and hopes that too much refinement
will not banith humour and character
from ours,
as it has already done
from the French theatre. Indeed the
French comedy is now become so ve-
ry elevated and fentimental, that it
has not only banished humour and
Moliere from the stage, but it has ba-
nished spectators too."

Though there is much reafon to be-
lieve, that the concluding affertion in
the foregoing paragraph is altogether
apocryphal, the cafe is nevertheless
widely different with the English ftage,
for highly to the honours of the pre-
fent times, no pieces receive any en-
couragement from us, which are not
evidently written in favour of mora-
lity, and which do not moreover in
the fable materially intereft us for the
fate of fome principal characters.-
The comedies of Dryden, Wycherly,
Vanbrugh, and Congreve, notwith-
tanding the luxuriancy of their
wit, and the abundance of their hu-
nour, are almoft banished, and in-
deed banished very juitly from the
theatre; we have too much under-
ftanding, thank God, in these times to
be charmed with obfcenity because it
may be brilliantly expreffed, and we
have too much fhame to encourage the
infamous licentioufnefs of the literary
blafphemer, who formerly dared to
crack his jeft upon the divinity.-
This is a refinement of modern tafte;
but furely a pen to which morality has
fuch obligations, as it has to Doctor
Goldfimith's, will not argue that our
refinement has been carried too far;
or affirm, that our tafte becomes de-
praved in proportion as we manifeft
an averfion to be profligate.

The friends of humour will however fay, that there can be no harm whatfoever in circulating the univerfal laugh, provided this laugh is circulated with innocence; granted; but furely a writer, who undertakes the most difficult, the most noble task in the whole circuit of literature, fhould alpire to fomething of a pofitive excellence in his work, and not fhelter himself poorly behind the negative merit of being entirely harmless. The great end of the ftage fhould be to mingle inftruction in fuch 2 manner with amufement, as conftantly to intereft the fpectators in the cause of virtue,

Feb,

and abilities fo extenfive as Dr. Goldfmith's, are but meanly employed, when they labour more earnestly to promote a fmile, than to advance the moft exalted purposes of humanity.— Dr. Goldfmith has talents, he has extraordinary talents, and had he been lefs attached to the now almott exploded dramatic writers of the last century, he would doubtlefs have produced a work no les honourable to himfelf than advantageous to his country; but his paffion for humour has been too ftrong for his good fenfe, and he has carried his admiration of it to fuch an extravagance, as fcarcely to have a circumftance in his piece which can lay any unquestionable claim to the title of originality. The character of Croaker for inftance, and all the incidents relative to Leontine and Olivia he has borrowed from Le Grondeur-The Good-natured Man, he has taken from L'Ami tout le monde

Lofty, and every thing that relates to. him, from L'important de la cour. -His bailiffs are to be found, and better drawn, in Racine's Les Plaideurs; the fcene where the Good-natured Man efpoufes the different opinions of Mr. and Mrs. Croaker is the only thing in Moliere's L'Avare which Fielding has not tranflated; and the fcene where he folicits Mifs Richland in favour of his friend Lofty, will be fouad in Le Di pateur by Dr. Touche.

Character and humour are undoubtedly very effential requifites in dramatic compofition, where they encrente our amulement, or add to our inftruction; but the writer who thinks nothing befides thefe two ingredients are neceflary to fupport the reputation of his piece, will find himfelf miferably miltaken when be fubmits it to the ferious confideration of the public. --I mult again repeat, that intereft is the very effence of writing in this walk of literature-we cannot be inftructed at a theatrical reprefentation, unleis our paffions are affected; the picture mut be lifeless which is not calcu lated to work upon our hearts, and Shakespear himself would be fcarcely, fuperior to the machineft that contrives a pantomime, if an unmeaning laugh was all he excited in his audi

tors.

Having thus confidered the Goodnatured Man, with more attention

1768.

THE BRITISH THEATRE.

than we should perhaps have fhewn to
a writer of lefs reputation than Dr.
Goldfmith, we shall now make an ob-
fervation or two upon the prologue,
which is written by his very learned
friend, Dr. Johnfon, as it has been
mentioned with uncommon admira-
tion by the friends of its justly cele-
brated author-"Tis juftly remarked
that nothing can ever be beautiful in
ferious pieces of poetry which is not
evidently founded upon good fenfe;
if this be the cafe, as we are apt to
think it is, we are extremely appre-
henfive that the prologue under our
confideration is more indebted to the
eftimation in which Dr. Johnfon is
univerfally held, than to an extraordi-
nary merit which can be attributed
to this particular performance. In
the first place, he endeavours to draw
a comparison between the fituation of
a poet on the first night his play is re-
prefented, and the fituation of a can-
didate for parliament at the time of
a general election-This, unhappily
for Doctor Johnson, was recently done
by an author infinitely his inferior
both in erudition and abilities, in the
prologue to the Widowed Wife; fo that
he has not even the claim of origina-
lity to boat; and then as for the good.
fenfe of his little compofition we beg
leave to fubmit it to the confideration
of our readers-

Preft by the load of life, the weary mind
Surveys the general toil of human kind;
With cool fubmiffion joins the labour-
ing train,

And focial forrow, lofes half its pain:
Our anxious bard, without complaint,
may share

This bustling feafon's epidemic care.
Like Cæfar's Pilot, dignify'd by fate,
Toft in one common ftorm with all
the great;

Diftreft alike, the statesman and the wit,
When one a borough courts, and one
the pit.

The bufy candidates for power and fame,
Have hopes, and fears, and wishes, juft
the fame;

Difabled both to combat or to fly,
Must hear all taunts and hear without
reply.
[their rage
Uncheck'd on both, loud rabbles vent
As mongrels bay the lion in a cage:
Th' offended burgefs hoards his an-
gry tale
[may rail,
For that bleft year when all that vote

61

Their fchemes of fpite the poet's foes
difmifs
[may hifs.
Till that glad night when all that hate
This day the powder'd curls and gol-
den coat,
[vote.
Says fwelling Crifpin beg'd a cobler's
This night, our wit, the pert appren-
tice cries,

Lies at my feet, I hifs him and he dies.
The great, 'tis true, can charm th’elect-
ing tribe;
[bribe.
The bard may fupplicate, but cannot
Yet judg'd by thofe whofe voices ne'er
were fold,
[gold;
He feels no want of ill-perfuading
But confident of praife, if praise be due,
Trufts without fear, to merit and to you.

Without remarking particularly on the verfification of the foregoing prologue, which, to fay the truth, is not uncommonly excellent, we must intreat the reader to tell us the meaning of it? In one place, Dr. Johnson, with a politenefs of a very extraordinary nature, fays, that on the poet as well as on the ftatefman

Loud rabbles (that is, the audience) vent their rage

As mongrels bay the lion in a cage. In another place fays the prologue writer:

This night, our wit, the pert apprentice

cries

e;

Lies at my feet, I bifs him and he dies."
And in a third place we are told,
The great 'tis true, can charm th’elect-
ing tribe
[bribe."
The bard may fupplicate, but cannot
From thefe paffages an unreflecting
reader would be apt to think the poor
poet in a very, miferable fituation; and
he might alfo be apt to imagine the
loud rabble, the pert apprentice, and ac-
knowledged poverty, very formidable
enemies for an author to encounter
-But if we only go on a little far-
ther, we fhall find our good natur'd
apprehenfion is wholly without foun-
dation, for their neither is a loud rab-
ble, nor a pert apprentice: on the con-
trary, the audience are the best natured
people in the world; and the happy
bard, fo far from wanting money to
bribe with, is to be-

"-Judg'd by thofe whofe voices
"ne'er were fold,
[gold,
"He feels no want of ill-perfuading
"But confident of praife, if praise be
« due,
[to you."
"Truits without fear, to merit, and
For

ACCOUNT OF

LIONEL and CLARISSA.

Sir John, a fhort time before this interview, offers bim a fmall eftate be Lad lately purchased.

Account of Broadstreet Ward.