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the artificial edy, or edy of nners, is quite extin our stage. greve and farquhar show their heads on seven years only, to be exploded and put down instantly. the tis ot bear the is it for a few wild speeches, an oasional lise of dialogue? i think not altogether. the business of their dratic characters will not stand the ral test. we screw every thing up to that. idle gallantry in a fi, a drea the passing pageant of an evening, startles us in the sa way as the alarng indications of profliga a son or ward in real life should startle a parent uardian. we have no such ddle etions as dratiterests left. we see a stage libertine playing his loose pranks of two hours duration, and of no after sequence, with the severe eyes whispect real vices with their bearings upon two worlds. we are spectators to a plot or intrigue (not reducible in life to the point of strict rality) and take it all for truth. we substitute a real for a dratic person, and judge hialy. we try hiin ouurts, frowhich there is no appeal to the dratis personae!, his peers. we have been spoiled with -- not seal edy but a tyrant far re pernicious to our pleasures which has sueeded to it, the exclusive and all dev dra of on life; where the ral point is every thing; where, instead of the fictitious half-believed personages of the stage (the phanto of old edy) we reise ourselves, our brothers, aunts, kinsfolk, allies, patrons, enees, -- the sa as in life, -- with an i in what is going on so hearty and substantial, that we ot afford our ral judgnt, in its deepest and st vital results, to prose or sluer for a nt. what is there transag, by no dification is de to affect us in any other han the sa events or characters would do in our relationships of life. we carry our fire-side s to the theatre with us. we do not go thither&a;a;lt;sa&a;a;gt;.&a;a;lt;/sa&a;a;gt;, like our aors, to escape frothe pressure of reality, so ch as to firour experience of it; to ke assurance double, and take a bond of fate. we st live our toilso lives twice over, as it was the urnful privilege of ulysses to desd twice to the shades. all that ral ground of character, which stood between vid virtue; or whi fact was indifferent to her, where her properly was called iion; that happy breathing-place frothe burthen of a perpetual ral questioning -- the sanctuary and quiet alsatia of hunted casuistry -- is broken up and disfranchised, as injurious to the is of society. the privileges of the place are taken away by law. we dare not dally with iges, or nas, . we bark like foolish dogs at shadows. we dread iion frothe sic representation of disorder; and fear a painted pustule. in our ahat our rality should not takld, weit up in a great bla surtout of precaution against the breeze and sunshine.
i fess for self that (with no great delinqueo answer for) i aglad for a season to take an airing beyond the diocese of the strict sce, -- not to live always in the prects of the laurts, -- but now and then, for a dreawhior so, to igine a world with no ddliri -- to get into recesses, whither the hu follow-
-----------secret shades
of woody idas inst grove,
while yet there was no fear of jove --
i e bay cage andrestraint the fresher and re healthy for it. i wearshackles re tentedly for having respired the breath of an iginary freedo i do not know how it is with others, but i feel the better always for the perusal of one of greves -- nay, why should i not add even of wycherleys -- edies. i athe gayer at least for it; and uld never ect those sports of a witty fan any shape with a to be drawn frotheto itation in real life. they are a world of theelves alst as ch as fairy-land. take one of their characters, le or fele (with few exceptions they are alike), and place it in a dern play, andvirtuous indignation shall rise against the profligate wretch as wary as the catos of the piuld desire; because in a dern play i ato judge of the right and the wrong. the standard of police is the asure of political justice. the atsphere will blight it, it ot live here. it has got into a ral world, where it has no business, frowhich it st needs fall headlong; as dizzy, and incapable of king a stand, as a swedenbian bad spirit that has wandered unawares into the sphere of one of his good men, els. but in its own world do we feel the creature is so very bad ? -- the fainalls and the mirabels, the dorints and the lady touchwoods, in their own sphere, do not offendral sense; in fact they do not appeal to it at all. they seeengaged in, their proper elent. they break through no laws, or stious restraints. they know of hey have got out of christendointo the land -- what shall i call it ? -- of cuckoldry -- the utopia of gallantry, where pleasure is duty, and the nners perfect freedo it is altogether a speculative se of things, which has no reference whatever to the world that is. no good personbe justly offended as a spectator, because no good person suffers oage. judged rally, every character in these plays -- the few exceptions only are stakes -- is alike essentially vain and worthless. the great art of greve is especially shown in this, that he has entirely excluded frohis ses, -- so little generosities in the part of angelica perhaps excepted, -- not only any thing like a faultless character, but any pretensions to goodness ood feelings whatsoever. whether he did this designedly, or instinctively, the effect is as happy, as the design (if design) was bold. i used to wo the strange power which his way of the world in particular possesses of iing you all along in the pursuits of characters, for whoyou absolutely care nothing -- for you her hate nor love his personages -- and i think it is owing to this very indifference for any, that you ehe whole. he has spread a privation of ral light, i will call it, rather than by the ugly na of palpable darkness, over his creations; and his shadows flit before you without distin or preference. had he introduced a good character, a single gush of ral feeling, a revulsion of the judgnt to actual life and actual duties, the ierti goshen would have only lighted to the dvery of deforties, whiow are none, because we think thea;lt;bdi&a;a;gt;?&a;a;lt;/bdi&a;a;gt; none.
translated into real life, the characters of his, and his friend wycherleys dras, are profligates and struets, -- the business of their brief existehe undivided pursuit of lawless gallantry. no other spring of a, or possible tive of duct, is reised; principles which, universally acted upon, st reduce this fra of things to a chaos. but we do thewrong in so translating the no such effects are produced in their world. when we are ang the we are angst a chaotic people. we are not to judge theby our usages. no reverend institutions are insulted by their proceedings, -- for they have none ang the no peace of falies is violated -- for no faly ties exist ang the no purity of the rriage bed is stained, -- for none is supposed to have a being. no deep affes are disquieted, -- no holy wedlock bands are snapped asunder, -- for affes depth and wedded faith are not of the growth of that soil. there is her right n, -- gratitude or its opposite, -- claior duty, -- paternity or sonship. of what sequence is it to virtue, or how is she at all ed about it, whether sir sin, or dapperwit, steal away miss martha; or who is the father of lord froths, or sir paul pliants children.
the whole is a passing pageant, where we should sit as u the issues, for life or death, as at a battle of the frogs and ce. but, like don quixote, art against the puppets, and quite as iertily. we dare not plate an atlantis, a sche, out of which our bical ral sense is for a little transitory ease excluded. we have not the agine a state of things for which there is her reward nor punishnt. we g to the painful ies of sha and bla. we would indict our very drea.
adst the rtifying circutatendant upon growing old, it is sothing to have seen the school for sdal in its glory. this edy grew out of greve and wycherley, but gathered so allays of the seal edy which followed theirs. it is iossible that it should be now acted, though it tinues, at long intervals, to be announced in the bills. its hero, when palr played it at least, was joseph surface. when i reer the gay boldness, the graceful sole plausibility, the asured step, the insinuating voice -- to express it in a word -- the dht acted villany of the part, so different frothe pressure of scious actual wiess, -- the hypocritical assution of hypocrisy, -- which de jack so deservedly a favourite in that character, i st needs clude the present geion of play-goers re virtuous than self, or re dense. i freely fess that he divided the palwithwith his better brother; that, in fact, i liked hiquite as well. not but there are passages,like that, for instance, where joseph is de to refuse a pittao a poor relation, ingruities which sheridan was forced upon by the attet to joiificial with the seal edy, either of which st destroy the other -- but over these obstrus jacks nner floated hi so lightly, that a refusal frohino re shocked you, than the easy pliance of charles gave you iy any pleasure; you got over the paltry question as quickly as yould, to get bato the regions of pure edy, where no oral reigns. the highly artificial nner of palr in this character teracted every disagreeable iression whiight have received frothe trast, supposing thereal, betweewo brothers. you did not believe in joseph with the sa faith with which you believed in charles. the latter leasay, the forr a no less pleasant poetical foi&a;a;lt;bdo&a;a;gt;..&a;a;lt;/bdo&a;a;gt;l to it. the edy, i have said, is ingruous; a xture of greve with seal inpatibilities: the gaiety upon the whole is buoyant; but it required the te art of palr to recile the drdant elents.
a player with jacks talents, if we had one now, would not dare to do the part in the sa nner. he would instinctively avoid every turn which ght tend to unrealise, and so to ke the character fasating. he st take his cue frohis spectators, who would expect a bad n and a good n as rigidly opposed to each other as the death-beds of those geniuses are trasted in the prints, which i asorry to say have disappeared frothe windows ofold friend carrington bowles, of st. pauls church-yard ry -- (an exhibition as venerable as the adjat cathedral, and alseval) of the bad and good n at the hour of death; where the ghastly apprehensions of the forr, -- and truly the griphantowith his reality of a toasting fork is not to be despised, -- so firast with the ek plat kissing of the rod, -- taking it in like honey and butter, -- with which the latter subts to the scythe of the gentle bleeder, ti, who wields his la with the apprehensive finger of a popular young ladies surgeon. what flesh, like loving grass, would novet to et half-way the stroke of such a delicate wer ? -- john palr was twi actor in this exquisite part. he laying to you all the while that he laying upon sir peter and his lady. you had the first intition of a se before it was on his lips. his altered voice was ant to you, and you were to suppose that his fictitiou-flutterers oage perceived nothing at all of it. what was it to you if that half-reality, the husband, was over-reached by the puppetry -- or the thin thing (lady teazles reputation) ersuaded it was dying of a plethory? the fortunes of othello and desde;bdo&a;a;gt;&a;a;lt;/bdo&a;a;gt;re not ed in it. poor jack has past frothe stage in good ti, that he did not live to this e of seriousness. the pleasant old teazle king, too, is gone in good ti. his nner would scarce have past current in our day. we st love or hate -- acquit or n -- ensure or pity -- exert our detestable bry of ral judgnt upohing. joseph surface, to go down now, st be a dht revolting villain -- no prose -- his first appearance st shod give horror -- his specious plausibilities, which the pleasurable faculties of our fathers weled with such hearty greetings, knowing that no har(dratic harevenuld e, or was ant to e of the st inspire ld and killing aversion. charles (the real ting person of the se -- for the hypocrisy of joseph has its ulteriitite ends, but his brothers professions of a good heart tre in dht self-satisfaust be loved, and joseph hated. to balane disagreeable reality with another, sir peter teazle st be no lohe ic idea of a fretful old bachelor bride-groo whose teasings (while king acted it) were evidently as ch played off at you, as they were ant toany body oage, -- he st be a real person, capable in law of sustaining an injury -- a person towards whoduties are to be aowledged -- the genuine cri antagonist of the villanous seducer joseph. to realise hire, his sufferings under his unfortuch st have the dht pungency of life -- st (or should) ke you not rthful but unfortable, just as the sa predit would ve you in a neighbour or old friend. the delicious ses which give the play its na a, st affect you in the sa serious nner as if you heard the reputation of a dear fele friend attacked in your real presence. crabtree, and sir benjan -- those poor shat live but in the sunshine of your rth -- st be ripened by this hot-bed process of realization into asps or ahisbaenas; and mrs. dour -- htful! bee a hooded serpent. oh who that reers parsons and dodd -- theand butterfly of the school for sdal -- in those two characters; and charng natural miss pope, the perfect gentlewon as distinguished frothe fine lady of edy, in this latter part -- would fo the true sic delight -- the escape frolife -- the oblivion of sequences -- the holiday barring out of the pedant refle -- those saturnalia of two or three brief hours, well won frothe world -- to sit instead at one of our dern plays -- to have hiward sce (that forsooth st not be left for a nt) stilated with perpetual appeals -- dulled rather, and blunted, as a faculty without repose st be -- and his ral vanity paered with iges of notional justiotional benefice, lives saved without the spectators risk, and fortunes given away thast the author nothing?
no piece erhaps, ever so pletely cast in all its parts as this nagers edy. miss farren had sueeded to mrs. abingdon in lady teazle; and sth, the inal charles, had retired, when i first saw it. the rest of the characters, with very slight exceptions, reined. i reer it was then the fashion to cry down john kele, who took the part of charles after sth; but, i thought, very unjustly. sth, i fancy, was re airy, and took the eye with a certain gaiety of person. he brought with hino sore lles edy. he had not to expiate the fault of having pleased beforehand in lofty declation. he had no sins of haet or of richard to atone for. his failure in these parts assport to suess in one of so opposite a tendency. but, as far as uld judge, the weighty sense of kele de up for re personal incapacity than he had to answer for. his harshest tones in this part ca steeped and dulcified in good huur. he de his defects a grace. his exact declatory nner, as he , only served to vey the points of his dialogue with re precision. it seed to head the shafts to carry thedeeper. not one of his sparkliences was lost. i reer nutely how he delivered ea suession, and ot by any effort igine how any of theuld be altered for the better. no uld deliver brilliant dialogue -- the dialogue of greve or of wycherley -- because none uood it -- half so well as john kele. his valentine, in love for love, was, tolle, faultless. he flagged sotis iervals ic passion. he would sluer over the level parts of an heroic character. his macbeth has been known to nod. but he always seed toto be particularly alive to pointed and witty dialogue. the relaxiies edy have not been touched by any since hi-- the playfuurt-bred spirit in which he desded to the players in haet -- the sportive relief which he threw into the darker shades of richard -- disappeared with hi he had his sluggish ods, his torpors -- but they were the halting-stones aing-places of his tragedy -- politic savings, aches of the breath -- husbandry of the lungs, where nature pointed hito be a -- rather, i think, than errors of the judgnt. they were, at worst, less painful thaernal tornting unappeasable vigilahe &a;a;a;quot;lidless dragon eyes,&a;a;a;quot; of present fashiedy.
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