THE BRITISH STAGE. "La scene, en general, est un tableau des passions humaines, dont l'original est dans tous les cœurs." FRAGMENTS ON THE DRAMA, FROM AN UNPUBLISHED MANUSCRIPT OF THE LATE In the Possession of J. Scott Byerley, Esq. Le Naud or Nodus. WHATEVER seems to give intricacy and difficulty to the plot, which is making the knot (le naud) more close and harder to be untied, is sure of a fine effect. It is part of the art to make the nodus so difficult, that the audience may imagine that a denouement may not happily be made. SECTION XXI. ART OF EXCITING CURIOSITY, CONTINUED. Curiosity being once excited, must never be suffered to languish. You must be always upon the point of satisfying curiosity, and yet you must go on without satisfying it, but rather exciting it more, and making it more eager every step of the way. You must seem to bring the spectator near to a conclusion, and yet you must always retard him from the conclusion: the audience should never know whither the poet is leading them, but they should feel that he leads them forward. The subject should always proceed with rapidity, and the scene, which is not a new step towards the end, and does not seem either to accelerate, or to be a new impediment, is a vicious scene, defective, episodique, and may be spared. On the stage, all is in motion, all action. The finest and most florid speeches, and the highest wrought with ornament, would be insupportable, if they are nothing more than fine speeches. B B-VOL. II,* The deliberation of Augustus, which makes the second act of Cinna, divine as it is, would be the most tiresome thing on earth, if, at the end of the first act, the audience were not alarmed about the message sent by Augustus to the two chiefs of the conspiracy; if it were not a surprise to see Augustus deliberating upon his most important concerns with the two conspirators; and if the two conspirators had not reasons for taking different sides of the question, which reasons the audience understand; and if the generosity of Augustus to both, were not a cause of remorse to Cinna, and of irresolution; and all these circumstances make the beauty of that beautiful situation. SECTION XXII. CURIOSITY CONTINUED. The denouement suspended and puzzled to the end, is a capital beauty. In the tragedy of Camma, by Thomas Corneille, we have a beautiful instance of a denouement suspended and kept in doubt, so as to agitate curiosity to the very last. CAMMA loves SOSTRATES; to save his life shé resolves to marry SINCRIX, whom she hates: in the 5th act we see Camma and Sincrix return from the temple, where the marriage ceremony has been performed. An andience is struck with this, and is anxious to know where it will end. Camma, to embarrass matters more, tells Sincrix, that though she has married him, she hates him with as much violence as ever. Sincrix is astonished at this language. He is obliged to quit the scene. SOSTRATES, in the mean time, comes and reproaches CAMMA for her treachery— she bears all with patience. Every thing is thus kept in suspense, and with great art. At length news is brought that Sincrix is dead, by some sudden illness. CAMMA then declares to SosTRATES that she poisoned the nuptial cup, and drank of it herself with Sincrix, and she withdraws to die. It is rare to find a denouement so little expected, and yet so natural. The catastrophe in ROMEO and JULIET, (not used by Shakespeare, but first by Otway in C. Marius, and then by Garrick) after we have allowed the efficacy of the friar's sleeping potion, is very beautiful. Romeo thinks her dead: he drinks poison; she awakes; he is happy with her; the poison operates; he dies in her arms. She had armed herself with a dagger in the tomb; with that she stabs herself, and expires on Romeo's body, This is very beautiful. Vide the catastrophe of Zenobia, The Grecian Daughter; vide also that of Cymbeline, in Shakespeare. SECTION XXIII. DENOUEMENT CONTINUED. In historical subjects, the art consists in a plot that promises a different end from that expected, and yet leads to it. In historical subjects the very name announces the event, and the art of managing such subjects is so to lay the train of incidents that they may seem to lead to a very different catastrophe from what is naturally expected, and yet be the very means of bringing about the same catastrophe, by incidents probable, but surprising. Ex.-We may know that Camma put Sincrir to death, and yet, in the last act, Thomas Corneille has so managed, that we cannot see, after her marriage, how that event is to be brought about; when she does effect his death, we are then more surprised, even knowing the true history, because we see things accomplished, that promise a very different end. And hence we may infer that surprise is essential to the de nouement. However, such a denouement as that of CAMMA, so suspended, so artful, so well concealed, so surprising, and yet probable, is a denouement very rare. The art in historical subjects is either so to manage, that the event or catastrophe may be so conducted as, in the first place, to SURPRISE the audience; and if that cannot be, to make it such as may at least be a stroke of surprise upon the performers, or the persons of the drama who are interested in the event. Example of surprise on the persons of the drama. In Ariadne, by Thomas Corneille, at the end of the 4th act, Theseus and Phedra avow their resolution to fly together.— Then we have a catastrophe fully announced to the audience; they expect to hear in the fifth act that Theseus and Phedra are filed. But Ariadne, who loves her sister, cannot expect such a stroke of perfidy, and she must be greatly surprised. The spectator, therefore, waits with impatience to hear of her, and to see what her surprise will be. To watch her emotions is the curiosity of the audience. The audience, in a variety of cases, has great curiosity about the impression made (by what they know) upon the persons of the drama. They enjoy the surprise of others, where there is none for themselves. A surprise for the actor, and not for the audience, has always a good effect. Surprise for the audience is best; when the latter cannot be, the former is always to be managed, and in cases of surprise for the actor only, the audience feels a curiosity not for the event, but for the impression it will make upon the persons of the drama interested therein. Surprise for the actor only, is certainly agreeable, and the catastrophe of ARIADNE is agreeable in the highest degree. The audience know that Othello has been deceived by Iago, and they know that Desdemona is innocent; but their curiosity is great, to know what will be the impression on Othello, when the subtle villany of Iago is detected, and Shakespeare has abundantly gratified that curiosity. SECTION XXIV. NATURAL INDOLENCE OF THE MIND. We have seen what the mind requires of the poet, in regard to our natural curiosity. Fontinelle has confined all to the denouement; he should have said that curiosity must be excited in every act, and the art of doing it is by giving probable incidents all the way with surprise; by giving frequent alarm of great danger, and perhaps danger different from the end. But of this art more hereafter. Besides curiosity, the mind has indolence. Curiosity kept too much on the stretch, is apt to tire; the mind will not bear too much fatigue, especially in its pleasures; hence the indolence of the mind must be managed by the dramatic poet. Unity of action is therefore necessary to gratify not only our curiosity, but our indolence. Two actions running parallel with each other, would distract attention; we should be divided between both, and also between too many interests. [To be continued.] HIGH COURT OF THE DRAMA. I MR. EDITOR, COMMON-SENSE versus NON-SENSE. AM an old-fashioned old woman, who, in days of yore, was a kind of locum tenens in the theatre, and, as sure as the curtain rose, so sure was I to be found, both before and behind it. A son of mine made a great noise in the world, and is famous in dramatic history; and, owing to the lessons which I gave him, from time to time, he acquired a great and deserved popularity. You will, no doubt, anticipate that he was the TRUNK-MAKER. Oh, sir, I was in some credit in those days, and not banished, as I am now, a mensa et thora, as I may say, from the stage, pit, and boxes, into the shilling gallery, where you will hear my wellknown cry of "apples or oranges, ale or porter, gentlemen! apples or oranges." Yet, sir, though I am thus degraded and despised both by the authors, actors, and audience, (excuse the alliteration), I am of such consequence that were any one of the triumvirate to take me by the hand, we could, with the greatest ease, submit the other two to our laws: but, sir, they are confederated to banish me, for ever, from the theatre; and, if so, I need not tell you that- Stultorum incurata pudor malus ulcera celat. Or, for the benefit of the first of the above-named three, Watts. I am, however, determined on an attempt to regain my wonted sovereignty, and Mr. Wroughton's last speech at Drury encourages the hope that, this next season, I shall be able to make some advances towards the recovery of my domains; but this cannot be done until the ground is entirely weeded of the thistles which have grown, shook their seed, and multiplied in such a manner, as to cover all the ground. Yet this does not make me despair, for being a bit of a farmer, (my father was one), I am not unacquainted that the best soils produce thistles, while the worst do not; therefore it is, that I would denominate the theatres |