LITERA TURE. - should we therefore proclaim irregularity as our CHA P. future rule? Thus, in Dryden, we may admit XVIII. that such incorrect rhymes as FORM and MAN ---GONE and SOON *, are combined in such beautiful couplets as to make us forget their incorrectness -nay, that without the incorrectness we might have lost the beauty. But does it follow, that these rhymes should be allowed in all succeeding poets? In like manner, who that has beheld the Alhambra in all its glories of gold and azure—with its forests of slender marble pillars, and its fretwork of high emblazoned walls-has not stood entranced before that happy deviation from all architectural rules? But does it follow that we should burn Vitruvius? The argument of Dr. Johnson is, that no dramatic representation is ever mistaken for truth, and that, therefore, as the spectator does not really imagine himself at Alexandria in the first act, there is nothing to startle him at finding the second act transferred to Rome. For the same reason, he maintains that the second act may represent events that happened several years after the first. "The spec tators," says Johnson, " are always in their senses, "and know from first to last that the stage is only a stage, and that the players are only players." "Our thoughtless sex is caught by outward form, "Each has his share of good, and when 't is gone, LITERA- 66 CHAP. But does not this argument, in fact, amount to this XVIII. —that art is not perfect, and that therefore there should be no art at all? Johnson himself, on another subject, has told us that "perfection is "unattainable, but nearer and nearer approaches may be made." * So, likewise, in the stage, the object is complete illusion-to draw the spectator as nearly as possible into the idea that those are no feigned sorrows which he sees-that a real Iphigenia stands weeping before him-that a real Cato has pierced his heroic breast. The success, it is true, always falls short of this perfection, but the nearer it is attained, the more do we applaud. The more tears are drawn from the audience- the more they are induced, either by the genius of the poet or the skill of the player, to identify themselves with the characters upon the stage, and to feel for them as they would for real sufferers:- the closer we attain this point, the closer do we come to the aim which is set before us. Follow out the principle of Dr. Johnson, and you will find no reason left why costume should be rightly observed, why Iphigenia might not appear in a hoop and Cato in a frock coat! If you are not to strive at illusion -we might argue on his own maxims- you need care only for the beauty of the poem and the merit of the recitation, and every thing tending only to the illusion, like dress, may be discarded. Or, * Advertisement to the fourth edition of the English Dictionary. XVIII. how would the argument of Dr. Johnson hold, if CHAP. applied to any other of the fine arts? A painter, A painter, TURE. in like manner, knows that the landscape or the LITERAportrait on his easel will never be mistaken for the real country or the real man, but he knows, also, that it is his business to make them as like as possible to bring us as nearly as he can to mistake them for the reality. Nor does any critic attempt to excuse glaring faults of proportion and perspective by saying, that it would, at all events, be impossible to mistake the painting for the object, and that therefore it was superfluous to labour for illusion. Nay more, Johnson himself seems scarcely persuaded by his own arguments, for, in his Life of Rowe, he condemns that poet for the breach of a rule that can only be defended on the same principle as the unities. "To change the scene, as is "done by Rowe in the middle of an act, is to add "more acts to the play, since an act is so much of "the business as is transacted without intermis"sion." But why seek the illusion in this single point, when you disclaim it in others?-So shifting and uncertain appears the ground, which this great critic, so seldom erroneous in his judgments, has on this subject assumed! If, however, such a question were to be decided by authorities, instead of arguments, I might put into the scale against Johnson's opinion, and since his time, the three great names of Alfieri, Schiller, and Byron. None of these, so far as we can learn from their lives, had any peculiar fondness for rules and CHA P. restraints. Yet of the rules of unity they saw the XVIII. advantage so clearly, as to adhere to them most LITERA- carefully. Schiller, indeed, in his earlier pieces (Die Rauber especially), gave himself more license, but as his judgment matured, his regularity of design increased. TURE. But it is asked, why, if you can avoid it, impose any restraints, any barriers on genius?- It is not considered that a great part of the beauty may arise from these very barriers. Like the embankments of a stream, they contract the channel only to give greater depth and strength to the current. Thus, in like manner, rhymes are shackles on the poet. Nevertheless it is not pretended, that on all subjects, and in all cases, blank verse is therefore preferable to rhyme. Nay, even in blank verse the metre itself is a restraint. Those sons of freedom, however, who, instead of rhyme, have written blank verse or blanker prose, have not always proved the greatest favourites with posterity. In all these cases we are to consider not the degree of trouble to him who writes, but the degree of pleasure to those who read. It should also be remembered, that any large breach of the unities is usually attended by some clumsiness in the announcement of it. This does not apply so much, if at all, to slight deviations. Where the scene is transferred to a neighbouring spot, or to the next day, we seldom need any explanation. But when the poet changes the scene from Alexandria to Rome, he must make his characters tell us that we are at Rome. When he CHAP. LITERA leaps over some years, his characters must in like XVIII. manner become chronologists. Such news seldom comes naturally into the dialogue: it appears forced TURE. and constrained, and too often reminds us of that scene in the Critic, where the two officers at Tilbury Fort inform one another that Queen Elizabeth is their sovereign, and that the English hold the Protestant faith! It is said, however, and with great truth, that some cases will occur, in which you must relinquish beauties, unless you will break these rules. Here, however, as in all similar cases, we must weigh one advantage against the other; and whenever the beauties to be attained by a sacrifice of the unities are really sufficient to warrant that sacrifice, let no one doubt or hesitate to make it. Thus, in Joan of Arc, the nature of the story seems utterly to preclude the unities of either time or place. This was felt by Schiller; and who that reads his noble tragedy will not rejoice that he has ventured to "snatch a grace beyond the reach of art!" Thus again in Marino Faliero, the unity of place might have been still more strictly observed, had the Doge in the third act convened the conspirators in his palace, instead of going forth to meet them. But this would have lost us a splendid scene; and the latter course was therefore wisely preferred by Lord Byron, as he himself tells us in his preface. In fact, as it appears to me, a small temptation may be sufficient to justify a writer |