fable, start up completely armed upon the banks of the Euphrates, and engage in a single combat.* A play analyzed, is a chain of connected facts, of which each scene makes a link. Each scene, accordingly, ought to produce some incident relative to the catastrophe or ultimate event, by advancing or retarding it. A scene that produceth no incident, and for that reason may be termed barren, ought not to be indulged, because it breaks the unity of action; a barren scene can never be entitled to a place, because the chain is complete without it. Upon the whole, it appears that all the facts in an historical fable ought to have a mutual connection, by their common relation to the grand event or catastrophe. And this relation, in which the unity of action consists, is equally essential to epic and dramatic compositions. 613. How far the unities of time and of place are essential, is a question of greater intricacy. These unities were strictly observed in the Greek and Roman theatres; and they are inculcated by the French and English critics as essential to every dramatic composition. They are also acknowledged by our best poets, though in practice they make frequent deviation, which they pretend not to justify, against the practice of the Greeks and Romans, and against the solemn decision of their own countrymen. But in the course of this inquiry it will be made evident that in this article we are under no necessity to copy the ancients; and that our critics are guilty of a mistake in admitting no greater latitude of place and time than was admitted in Greece and Rome.t All authors agree that tragedy in Greece was derived from the hymns in praise of Bacchus, which were sung in parts by a chorus. Thespis, to relieve the singers, and for the sake of variety, introduced one actor, whose province it was to explain historically the subject of the song, and who occasionally represented one or other personage. Eschylus, introducing a second actor, formed the dialogue, *I am sensible that a commencement of this sort is much relished by readers disposed to the marvellous. Their curiosity is raised, and they are much tickled in its gratification. But curiosity is at an end with the first reading, because the personages are no longer unknown; and therefore at the second reading, a commencement so artificial loses its power, even over the vulgar. A writer of genius prefers lasting beauties. + [By unity of action is meant that all the incidents of the poet shall point to one great catastrophe. By the unities of time and place is understood that the actual performance of the action may pass nearly during the time, and within the place of the representation. Without unity of action it is impossible to excite and agitate the passions; and without the unities of time and place it is impossible to preserve probability, and to persuade the spectators that the action is not imaginary. But with all these unities properly combined, the illusion will be complete, and the passions will be as effectually roused by the feigned events as if they were real.-Barron, Lect. 55.] 612. Capital deformity in a fable.-Order in which facts may be stated.-A play analyzed. Rule for each scene. Unity of action defined. by which the performance became dramatic; and the actors were multiplied when the subject represented made it necessary. But still the chorus, which gave a beginning to tragedy, was considered as an essential part. The first scene generally unfolds the preliminary circumstances that lead to the grand event; and this scene is by Aristotle termed the prologue. In the second scene, where the action properly begins, the chorus is introduced, which, as originally, continues upon the stage during the whole performance: the chorus frequently makes one in the dialogue; and when the dialogue happens to be suspended, the chorus, during the interval, is employed in singing. Sophocles adheres to this plan religiously, Euripides is not altogether so correct. In some of his pieces it becomes necessary to remove the chorus for a little time. But when that unusual step is risked, matters are so ordered as not to interrupt the representation: the chorus never leave the stage of their own accord, but at the command of some principal personage, who constantly waits their return. Thus the Grecian drama is a continued representation without interruption; a circumstance that merits attention. A continued representation with a pause, affords not opportunity to vary the place of action, nor to prolong the time of the action beyond that of the representation. A real or feigned action that is brought to a conclusion after considerable intervals of time and frequent changes of place, cannot accurately be copied in a representation that admits no latitude in either. Hence it is that the unities of place and of time were, or ought to have been, strictly observed in the Greek tragedies; which is made necessary by the very constitution of their drama, for it is absurd to compose a tragedy that cannot be justly represented. 614. Modern critics, who for our drama pretend to establish rules founded on the practice of the Greeks, are guilty of an egregious blunder. The unities of place and of time were in Greece, as we see, a matter of necessity, not of choice; and I am now ready to show that if we submit to such fetters, it must be from choice, not necessity. This will be evident upon taking a view of the constitution of our drama, which differs widely from that of Greece; whether more or less perfect, is a different point, to be handled afterwards. By dropping the chorus, opportunity is afforded to divide the representation by intervals of time, during which the stage is evacuated and the spectacle suspended. This qualifies our drama for subjects spread through a wide space both of time and of place: the time supposed to pass during the suspension of the representa [For an interesting history of the medieval and modern drama, see Shaw's English Literature, pp. 97-110.] 618. The unities of time and place; are they essential ?-Grecian tragedy described. Inference. tion is not measured by the time of the suspension: and any place may be supposed when the representation is renewed, with as much facility as when it commenced: by which means many subjects can be justly represented in our theatres that were excluded from those of ancient Greece. This doctrine may be illustrated by comparing a modern play to a set of historical pictures: let us suppose them five in number, and the resemblance will be complete. Each of the pictures resembles an act in one of our plays: there must necessarily be the strictest unity of place and of time in each picture; and the same necessity requires these two unities during each act of a play, because during an act there is no interruption in the spectacle. Now, when we view in succession a number of such historical pictures, let it be, for example, the history of Alexander by Le Brun, we have no difficulty to conceive that months or years have passed between the events exhibited in two different pictures, though the interruption is imperceptible in passing our eye from the one to the other; and we have as little difficulty to conceive a change of place, however great. In which view there is truly no difference between five acts of a modern play, and five such pictures. Where the representation is suspended, we can with the greatest facility suppose any length of time or any change of place: the spectator, it is true, may be conscious that the real time and place are not the same with what are employed in the representation; but this is a work of reflection; and by the same reflection he may also be conscious that Garrick is not King Lear, that the play-house is not Dover Cliffs, nor the noise he hears thunder and lightning. In a word, after an interruption of the representation, it is no more difficult for a spectator to imagine a new place, or a different time, than at the commencement of the play to imagine himself at Rome, or in a period of time two thousand years back. And indeed, it is abundantly ridiculous that a critic, who is willing to hold candlelight for sunshine, and some painted canvasses for a palace or a prison, should be so scrupulous about admitting any latitude of place or of time in the fable, beyond what is necessary in the represen tation. 615. There are, I acknowledge, some effects of great latitude in time that ought never to be indulged in a composition for the theatre: nothing can be more absurd than at the close to exhibit a full-grown person who appears a child at the beginning: the mind rejects, as contrary to all probability, such latitude of time as is requisite for a change so remarkable. The greatest change from place to place hath not altogether the same bad effect. In the bulk of human affairs place is not material; and the mind, when occupied with an interesting event, is little regardful of minute circumstances; these may be varied at will, because they scarce make any impression. 614. Blunder of modern critics.-How the English drama differs from the Grecian. Inference.-A modern play compared to a set of historical pictures. But though I have taken arms to rescue despotism of modern critics, I would not be liberty without any reserve. An unbounde to place and time, is faulty, for a reason tha overlooked, which is, that it seldom fails to br In the ordinary course of human affairs, single to be represented on the stage, are confined commonly employ no great extent of time: v find strict unity of action in a dramatic comp markable latitude is indulged in these parti that a composition which employs but one pla greater length of time than is necessary for the much the more perfect; because the confining narrow bounds, contributes to the unity of acti that labor, however slight, which the mind mus ing frequent changes of place and many interv I must insist, that such limitation of place and t in the Grecian drama, is no rule to us; and tl such limitation adds one beauty more to the best but a refinement, which may justly give beauties more substantial. And I may add, difficult, I was about to say impracticable, to Grecian limits, any fable so fruitful of incident riety, as to give full scope to the fluctuation of 616. [It would be amusing to make a digest which bad critics have framed for the governm in celebrity and in absurdity stand the dramatic time. No human being has ever been able to could, even by courtesy, be called an argume except that they have been deduced from the ge Greeks. It requires no very profound examina the Greek dramas, often admirable as composi tions of human character and of human life, far in plays of the age of Elizabeth. Every scholar k matic part of the Athenian tragedies was at first lyrical part. It would, therefore, be little less th laws of the Athenian stage had been found to there was no chorus. All the great master-piec art have been composed in direct violation of th never have been composed if the unities had no is clear, for example, that such a character as that of Hamlet could never have been developed within the limits to which Alfieri confined himself. Yet such was the reverence of literary men during the last century for these unities, that Johnson, who, much to his honor, took the opposite side, was, as he says, "frighted at his own 615. Great latitude of time not admissible in a play. temerity;" and "afraid to stand against the authorities which might be produced against him."--Macaulay. Lord JEFFREY, upon the same subject, has made the following observations: "When the moderns tie themselves down to write tragedies of the same length, and on the same simple plan, in other respects, with those of Sophocles and Eschylus, we shall not object to their adhering to the unities; for there can, in that case, be no sufficient inducement for violating them. But in the mean time, we hold that English dramatic poetry soars above the unities, just as the imagination does. The only pretence for insisting on them is, that we suppose the stage itself to be, actually and really, the very spot on which a given action is performed; and, if so, this space cannot be removed to another. But the supposition is manifestly quite contrary to truth and experience. The stage is considered merely as a place in which any given action ad libitum may be performed; and accordingly may be shifted, and is so in imagination, as often as the action requires it.”—British Essayists, vol. vi. p. 320. On this subject, consult also Sir Joshua Reynolds' Works, vol. ii. 13th discourse.-Ed.] CHAPTER XXV. GARDENING AND ARCHITECTURE. 617. THE books we have upon architecture and upon embellishing ground, abound in practical instruction, necessary for a mechanic; but in vain should we rummage them for rational principles to improve our taste. In a general system, it might be thought sufficient to have unfolded the principles that govern these and other fine arts, leaving the application to the reader; but as I would neglect no opportunity of showing the extensive influence of these principles, the purpose of the present chapter is to apply them to gardening and architecture; but without intending any regular plan of these favorite arts, which would be unsuitable not only to the nature of this work, but to the experience of its author. Gardening was at first a useful art in the garden of Alcinous, described by Homer, we find nothing done for pleasure merely But gardening is now improved into a fine art; and when we talk of a garden without any epithet, a pleasure-garden, by way of 616. Macaulay's remarks on the Grecian drama; upon the master-pieces of the modern drama-Johnson.-Lord Jeffrey's remarks on the unities. |