walks off. Touched by these delicate manners, he wishes to marry her lawfully, and to repudiate his wife. Still, to omit no expedient, he employs a magician, who utters invocations (on the stage), summons the infernal spirits, and brings up a troop of Spirits; these dance and sing voluptuous songs about the bed of St. Catharine. Her guardian-angel comes and drives them away. As a last resource, Maximin has a wheel brought on the stage, on which to expose St. Catharine and her mother. Whilst the executioners are going to strip the saint, a modest angel descends in the nick of time, and breaks the wheel; after which the ladies are carried off, and their throats are cut behind the wings. Add to these pretty inventions a twofold intrigue, the love of Maximin's daughter, Valeria, for Porphyrius, captain of the Prætorian bands, and that of Porphyrius for Berenice, Maximin's wife; then a sudden catastrophe, three deaths, and the triumph of the good people, who get married and interchange polite phrases. Such is this tragedy, which is called Frenchlike; and most of the others are like it. In Secret Love, in Marriage à la Mode, in Aureng-Zebe, in the Indian Emperor, and especially in the Conquest of Granada, everything is extravagant. People cut one another to pieces, take towns, stab each other, shout lustily. These dramas have just the truth and naturalness of the libretto of an opera. Incantations abound; a spirit appears in the Indian Emperor, and declares that the Indian gods "are driven to exile from their native lands." Ballets are also there; Vasquez and Pizarro, seated in "a pleasant grotto," watch like conquerors the dances of the Indian girls, who gambol voluptuously about them. Scenes worthy of Lulli', are not wanting; Almeria, like Armide, comes to slay Cortez in his sleep, and suddenly falls in love with him. Yet the libretti of the opera have no incongruities; they avoid all which might shock the imagination or the eyes; they are written for men of taste, who shun ugliness and heaviness of any sort. Would you believe it? In the Indian Emperor, Montezuma is tortured on the stage, and to cap all, a priest tries to convert him in the meanwhile.2 I recognize in this frightful pedantry the hand 1 Lulli (1633-1687), a renowned Italian composer. Armide is one of his chicf works. -TR. 2 Christian Priest. But we by martyrdom our faith avow. Montezuma. You do no more than I for ours do now. To prove religion true, If either wit or sufferings would suffice, some cavaliers of the time, logicians and hangmen, who fed on controversy, and for the sake of amusement went to look at the tortures of the Puritans. I recognize behind these heaps of improbabilities and adventures the puerile and worn-out courtiers, who, sodden with wine, were past seeing incongruities, and whose nerves were only stirred by startling surprises and barba rous events. Let us go still further. Dryden would set up on his stage the beauties of French tragedy, and in the first place its nobility of sentiment. Is it enough to copy, as he does, phrases of chivalry? He would need a whole world, for a whole world is necessary to form noble souls. Virtue, in the French tragic poets, is based on reason, religion, education, philosophy. Their characters have that uprightness of mind, that clearness of logic, that lofty judgment, which plant in a man settled maxims and self-government. We perceive in their company the doctrines of Bossuet and Descartes; with them, reflection aids conscience; the habits of society add tact and finesse. The avoidance of violent actions and physical horrors, the meed and order of the fable, the art of disguising or shunning coarse or low persons, the continuous perfection of the most measured and noble style, everything contributes to raise the stage to a sublime region, and we believe in higher souls by seeing them in a purer air. Can we believe in them in Dryden? Frightful or infamous characters every instant drag us down by their coarse expressions in their own mire. Maximin, having stabbed Placidius, sits on his body, stabs him twice more, and says to the guards: "Bring me Porphyrius and my empress dead : I would brave heaven, in my each hand a head.” i Nourmahal, repulsed by her husband's son, insists four times, using such indecent and pedantic words as the following: All faiths afford the constant and the wise, And yet even they, by education sway'd, In age defend what infancy obeyed. Christian Priest. Since age by erring childhood is misled, Montezuma. Man, and not err! what reason can you give? ... -The Indian Emperor, v. 2. 1 Tyrannic Love, iii. 5. 1. When dying Maximin says: "And shoving back this earth on which I sit, I'll mount, and scatter all the Gods I hit." ... "And why this niceness to that pleasure shown, You must be mine, that you may learn to live." I Illusion vanishes at once; instead of being in a room with noble characters, we meet with a mad prostitute and a drunken savage. When we lift the masks the others are little better. whom a crown is offered, says insolently: "I take this garland, not as given by you, But as my merit, and my beauty's due." Almeria, to Indamora, to whom an old courtier makes love, settles him with the boastfulness of an upstart and the coarseness of a kitchenmaid: "Were I no queen, did you my beauty weigh, None of these heroines know how to conduct themselves; they look on impertinence as dignity, sensuality as tenderness; they have the recklessness of the courtesan, the jealousies of the grisette, the pettiness of a chapman's wife, the billingsgate of a fishwoman. The heroes are the most unpleasant of swashbucklers. Leonidas, first recognized as hereditary prince, then suddenly forsaken, consoles himself with this modest reflection: "Tis true I am alone. So was the godhead, ere he made the world, 1 Aureng-Zebe, v. 4. 1. Dryden thought he was imitating Racine, when six lines further on he makes Nourmahal say: "I am not changed, I love my husband still; And all your father shines more bright in you." Racine's Phèdre (2. 5) thinks her husband Theseus dead, and says to her stepson Hippoly tus: "Oui, prince, je languis, je brûle pour Thésée: Je l'aime... Mais fidèle, mais fier, et même un peu farouche, Charmant, jeune, traînant tous les cœurs après soi, Tel qu'on dépeint nos dieux, ou tel que je vous voi. Il avait votre port, vos yeux, votre langage; Cette noble pudeur colorait son visage." According to a note in Sir Walter Scott's edition of Dryden's works, Langbaine traces this speech also to Seneca's Hippolytus. -TR. 2 The Indian Emperor, i. 2. Aureng-Zebe, v. 2. 1. And better served himself than served by nature. To exercise my virtue." 1 Shall I speak of that great trumpet-blower Almanzor, painted, as Dryden confesses, after Artaban, a redresser of wrongs, a battalion-smiter, a destroyer of kingdoms ?3 We find nothing but overcharged sentiments, sudden devotedness, exaggerated generosities, high-sounding bathos of a clumsy chivalry; at bottom the characters are clods and barbarians, who have tried to deck themselves in French honor and fashionable politeness. And such, in fact, was the English court: it imitated that of Louis XIV. as a sign-painter imitates an artist. It had neither taste nor refinement, and wished to appear as if it possessed them. Panders and licentious women, ruffianly or butchering courtiers, who went to see Harrison drawn, or to mutilate Coventry, maids of honor who have awkward accidents at a ball, or sell to the planters the convicts presented to them, a palace full of baying dogs and bawling gamesters, a king who would bandy obscenities in public with his half-naked mistresses, such was this illustrious society; from French modes they took but dress, from French noble sentiments but high-sounding words. IV. The second point worthy of imitation in classical tragedy is the style. Dryden, in fact, purifies his own, and renders it more clear, by introducing close reasoning and precise words. He has oratorical discussions like Corneille, well-delivered retorts, symmetrical, like carefully parried arguments. He has maxims vigorously enclosed in the compass of a single line, distinctions, developments, and the whole art of special pleading. He has happy antitheses, ornamental epithets, finely-wrought compari 1 Marriage à la Mode, iv. 3. 1. * The first image I had of him was from the Achilles of Homer, the next from Tasso's Rinaldo, and the third from the Artaban of Monsieur Calpranède.”—Preface to Almanzor. 3 "The Moors have heaven, and me, to assist their cause" (i. 1). "I'll whistle thy tame fortune after me" (3. 1). He falls in love, and speaks thus: Tis he; I feel him now in every part; Like a new lord he vaunts about my heart, Surveys in state each corner of my breast, While poor fierce I, that was, am dispossess'd" (3. 1). 4 See pp. 140 and 141 of this vol. Compare the song of the Zambra dance in the first part of Almanzor and Almahide, 3. 1. For rhyme differs sons, and all the artifices of the literary mind. What is most striking is, that he abandons that kind of verse specially appropriated to the English drama which is without rhyme, and the mixture of prose and verse common to the old authors, for a rhymed tragedy like the French, fancying that he is thus inventing a new species, which he calls heroic play. But in this transformation the good perished, the bad remains. in different races. To an Englishman it resembles a song, and transports him at once to an ideal and fairy world. To a Frenchman it is only a conventionalism or an expediency, and transports him at once to an antechamber or a drawing-room'; to him it is an ornamental dress and nothing more; if it mars prose, it ennobles it; it imposes respect, not enthusiasm, and changes a vulgar into a high-bred style. Moreover, in French aristocratic verse everything is connected; pedantry, logical machinery of every kind, is excluded from it; there is nothing more disagreeable to well-bred and refined persons than the scholastic rust. Images are rare, but always well kept up; bold poesy, real fantasy, have no place in it; their brilliancy and divergencies would derange the politeness and regular flow of the social world. The right word, the prominence of free expressions, are not to be met with in it; general terms, always rather threadbare, suit best the caution and niceties of select society. Dryden sins heavily against all these rules. His rhymes, to an Englishman's ear, scatter at once the whole illusion of the stage; they see that the characters who speak thus are but speaking puppets; he himself admits that his heroic tragedy is only fit to represent on the stage chivalric poems like those of Ariosto and Spenser. Poetic dash gives the finishing stroke to all likelihood. Would we recognize the dramatic accent in this epic comparison ? "As some fair tulip, by a storm oppress'd Shrinks up, and folds its silken arms to rest; Hears, from within, the wind sing round its head, So, shrouded up, your beauty disappears: Unveil, my love, and lay aside your fears, The storm, that caused your fright, is pass'd and done." 1 What a singular triumphal song are these concetti of Cortez as he lands: I The first part of Almanzor and Almahide, iv. 5. 2. 20 |