A LETTER TO Mr. DAVID HUME.

HAVING for a long time conceived the higheſt eſteem for the variety of your literary merit, a recommenda⯑tion from you was almoſt a ſanction to pre-engage my implicit approba⯑tion. How high were my expectations raiſed by your dedicatory commendation of the tragedy of Douglas; but, alas! how fallen, from ſeeing its repreſentation: nor has a peruſal ſince won me over as an admirer of it.

Had the tragedy of Douglas been uſhered into the world as the promiſe of a dramatic genius, as ſuch it ought to have been received with ap⯑plauſe; but its having been forced upon us au⯑thoritatively, in competition with all antiquity and the moderns, two obvious effects were pro⯑duced in the minds of men; to wit, curioſity was excited in ſome, jealouſy provoked in others. I am ſorry to inform you, Sir, that in conſe⯑quence, your national judgment has been great⯑ly [4]run upon here, and your critical ſtocks re⯑duced almoſt to bankruptcy.

For my part, when I firſt read your panegy⯑rical paragraph, I for ſome time heſitated as to the ſincerity of it, and could not help reflect⯑ing on the paſſage in The Art of Sinking in Poetry, written by your truly ingenious countryman Dr. Arbuthnot.

But, on a ſecond reading of it, I changed opi⯑nion, and have moreover been aſſured, that what is written you meant, to which, in amaze, I uſed the famous reply of "Eſt il poſſible," is it poſſible?

The four great and revered names, Maffei, Voltaire, Olway, Shakeſpear, which you have em⯑ployed as ſupporters of Douglas, put me in mind of the ſtatue of Lewis XIV. in Paris, where the four nations, Germany, Spain, Holland, and Eng⯑land, are chained round him as vanquiſhed, and laviſhly accompanied with all the tokens of ſub⯑jection. However this may pleaſe the national vanity of the French, all foreigners with reaſon laugh at the folly of the deſign, and unpardon⯑able foppery of the execution.

[5]I reſpect you too much, Sir, to make any unmannered or indelicate application: ſuch as "All fools admire, but men of ſenſe approve;" and ſhall impeach you by an evidence whom I dare ſay will not be objected to, yourſelf—and from the ſtandard of taſte.

According to this juſt and admirable doctrine, what is likely to be the fate of the tragedy of Dou⯑glas? Neglect and oblivion: however illumined for the preſent by the flambeau, you (forgive the expreſſion,) too partially, or in the mildeſt terms, too ſanguinely, hold before it.

Not ſatisfied to have preluded to the aſſured triumph of this tragedy in your dedication, an un⯑provoked and congenial enforcer of the extrava⯑gance of its merit, has been artfully diffuſed thro' the public under the title of The Tragedy of Dou⯑glas analyſed, a ſeeming attack, which the diſap⯑pointed reader finds to be the ſecond part of the ſame tune you had begun in your dedication, and which is there quoted, in order to be illuſ⯑trated true in every article; therefore, to join iſſue the ſooner, we ſhall follow the method there⯑in obſerved.

[6]From page ſeventh to twelfth is a tedious hiſ⯑torical account of the fable, quite too long for the propoſed limits of this letter, to be quoted, and therefore I refer to it.

The next heads proceeded to, are the charac⯑ters, manners, and diction. Having nothing to object againſt what the analyſer ſays relative to the two former, the following citations will ſuf⯑ficiently ſhew that our diſapprobation ariſes not from caprice, but very juſtifiable motives.

Wherefore chiding, groaning, hears, anſwers? This may be founded on ſome tradition, or po⯑pular error of Scotland; but to Engliſh under⯑ſtandings, if not altogether nonſenſical, is at leaſt chimerical.

Woeful indeed!

Is a queſtion in the low familiar.

The miſplaced and Hors d'Oeuvre compliment to the union—

is tedious and inſipid; the line it cloſes with flat.

Clod and clay are not only mean words, but al⯑ſo cacophonous to the ear.

For but a confident, there is a quality-eaſe in this offer to oblige a friend. But ſhe ſoon re⯑lapſes into a diction more appoſite to her condi⯑tion;

and preſents us at the ſame time with a naſty image.

Is this ſtrictly correct, ebb and flood being op⯑poſites? Roll is inadequate here.

That tears ſhould have been ſhed rather to detain her but three weeks married husband Douglas, than an unſubſtitutive brother, will be aſſented to by all young married ladies who are ſo unfaſhionable as to love their husbands.

This is a pretty jeſuitical device, ſhe having been married to one already.

Nor any body elſe.

The poet is hard run here, in order to diſtreſs his heroine. Why kill the prieſt in battle? Per⯑haps this action happened in the days of the Church militant!

This name of a river in Scotland, from its like⯑neſs in ſound to our Engliſh word carrion, is grating to the ears of a London audience. Why deſtin'd road?

This may appear a pretty figure to thoſe ac⯑quainted with the art of ſpinning, tho' it does not to me. The laſt line is monoſyllabically harſh, a fault our author is often guilty of.— To Anna replies

I ſhould be glad to know in what other.

On the contrary, I think never better, if he played his varied parts with that ſubtlety and Protean art ſhe aſcribes to him.

Is an odd expreſſion from one man to another, and would be better addreſſed to one of the gentle ſex.

This is inelegant, and not ſuited to the rank of the ſpeaker.

I diſlike this picture of Scotch warriours beat⯑ing the air; the renowned Don Quixote indeed encountered wind-mills.

This would not be improper from a ſea-officer.

I do not underſtand this line; and confeſs my ignorance of what perſiſtive means.

Glynn is a word uſed in Scotland and Ireland, but not in the meridional parts of England.

The meaning of red here, and the angry ſpirit of the water ſhrieking, are unknown to us South Britons.

Quite the contrary, and all drenched in wa⯑ter, is moſt likely, unleſs the basket had been purpoſely caulked, from a fore-knowledge of the event.

Our author ſeems fond of the word flower, to mark male eminence; wherefore, purſuant to the baptiſmal vows you have made for him as his ſponſor, (not at all alluding to the ſong) let him be called the flower of Edinburgh's tragic writers; for, on this ſide of the Tweed, nothing more will, or ought to be allowed him.

The panegyrical analyſer Note: place="foot" n="*" A pamphlet in favours of this play, entituled, Douglas Analyſed, was lately publiſhed at London, where a great number of paſſages are quoted, as the moſt exalted ſentiment, as well as poetical fancy, that has appeared in our day, who has quoted many indifferent, has, in my ſenſe, omitted ſe⯑veral [11]of the moſt beautiful paſſages, which, as they occur, I ſhall inſert in this letter; for in⯑ſtance.

A cord is a viſible ſubſtance; beſides, this is too groſs and material an image of the power of in⯑ſtinct.

This rather excites an idea of two armies wreſtl⯑ing, than fighting with offenſive weapons.

Here follow other unpardonable omiſſions by the analyſer.

Chriſtian croſs would ſound leſs harſh to the ear; what follows is a fine picture of decayed beauty, and ſome judicious ſentiments.

The following remark deſerves the attention of all men ambitious of the matrimonial ſtate:

This is ſtrained, quaint, and affected; and what follows ſheer bombaſt.

Glenalvon is anſwered with a ſenſible, and manly ingenuity by Douglas.

is an unheroic interrogation.

This brutality does not meet with an inſtan⯑taneous and proper retort from one of young Douglas's ſuppoſed feeling, which, by the fol⯑lowing ſentiments, is farther manifeſted.

What means ſtilly here? is it tantamount to ſtilling? I know the word is in Shakeſpear, but do not underſtand it, in the place he uſes it.

Ever and anon, are no doubt, ſuppoſed defen⯑ſible, becauſe in a ſhepherd's mouth, and in imi⯑tation of Homer's practice, are in p. 60, faithful⯑ly repeated by Douglas to his mother.

How accept it before he ſpeaks it out? Does not this at leaſt border on a blunder?

This, Sir, is an abridgment of your Diſſerta⯑tion on the Paſſions.

Drives would perhaps be more explicit.

[15]The ſentiments of dying Douglas are not amiſs; nor is the mother's affliction ill drawn; nay, ſomewhat affecting. But why ſhe ſhould plunge from a precipice head-foremoſt into the ſea, I cannot ſee any reaſon, nor for her, or her ſon's deaths. He might have killed Glenalvon, tho' previouſly wounded by him in the back, but, not mortally; and lord Randolph, in expiation of his groundleſs jealouſy and raſh attempt reſign to victorious Douglas his rightful inheritance.

The prologue, a learned alluſion to the old ſong of Chevy-Chaſe, is of the true poetical profound.

Why not pride inſtead of trade; but the Scotch have always ſneered at the Engliſh as a trading nation.

The ſenſe of this line, not intelligible to us, alludes rather to the muſical alarms of Highlan [...] bagpipes.

It would be too much to take in the whole prologue here; to read it is enough; where it emerges from confuſion and obſcurity, it gently ſubſides in kindred lines to this,

It concludes with an humble petition in be⯑half of Scotland.

The epilogue is a priggiſh affectation; and I hope will never be reliſhed by a genuine Britiſh audi⯑ence. [16]The far-fetched compariſon of the Nile is ſtolen. I object to the epithet of celeſtial join⯑ed to melancholy in the laſt line. Heaven, by all information I have ever had of it, is the king⯑dom of joy, it is therefore a diſſenting opinion to make it the abode of melancholy.

Why has the panegyriſt taken notice but of three performers, and natives of Ireland? ſhame⯑ful partiality! This appears a flagrant combina⯑tion of the Scotch and Iriſh againſt the true ſons of old Engliſh roaſt-beef, as if, forſooth, the for⯑mer are only qualified to write tragedy, and the latter to perform. But, to thy teeth, partial Analyſt, I will do my country-folks the juſtice they deſerve.

He who figured in the character of Glenalvon manifeſted a projectile ſpiritedneſs of perſon, and ſtrictly adherent to Horace's rule, Semper ſibi con⯑ſtans, without any variation throughout: now, this is what may be called, ſupporting a charac⯑ter.

The actor of lord Randolph was ſelf-collected, having the curb of his paſſions in hand. He ex⯑hibited a commanding calmneſs of deportment, and a level, ſtomach-fetched, dignity of voice.

The liquid toned actreſs of Anna irradiated ſorrow with her ſmiles; how ſweetly did ſhe ſpeak?

[17]I ſhould not have been ſurpriſed if the ſupe⯑rior beings deſcended from heaven to her pretty manner of uttering this invitation.

I owed this to my country; ſo now my mind is at eaſe. Golden beds ſavours of Epicuriſm.

The ground-work of the play is an abſolute abſurdity, for either the lady Randolph muſt have been very artful, who had a chopping boy 18 years before, to paſs on her husband for a maid; or he, lord Randolph, muſt have been very unac⯑quainted with the affairs of women. I fear the latter caſe; and from ineffectual nights ſprung the daily cauſe of her tears; and certainly a very material one. Penelope, it is true, mourned twenty years for Ulyſſes; but then ſhe did not admit an apathic lover to tantalize her in bed.

The ſhepherd, the jewels, and recognition of this doleful piece, are worn-out devices of the ſtage, and expletive pegs of the human in⯑vention.

The protracted monotony of lady Randolph's grief is irkſome. One character often exhibit⯑ed in the ſame piece, muſt be agitated by va⯑riety [18]of paſſions, otherwiſe we grow tired of the ſameneſs.

After the diſcovery of Douglas, he is not thrown into any intereſting ſituation, nor is there any dramatic anxiety throughout, ariſing from the intricacy of the plot; for from the beginning to the end, it is an uninterrupted downhill green⯑ſword courſe, entirely againſt the revolutionary ſpirit of the ſcenic laws, which perhaps, (nay by your miſcalled diſſertation, or rather diſſer⯑tatiuncle on tragedy, it appears) you are no [...] acquainted with. We had, however, a righ [...] to expect at leaſt, unexceptionable correctneſs of ſtile, in a work by you ſo immoderately praiſ⯑ed, not to ſay, profanely.

I now take leave of Douglas, this aurora bore⯑alis of tragedy, that had ſo long corruſcated ove [...] us from the North, to execute the laſt part o [...] my task, to wit, to defend Mr. Garrick, by diſ⯑culpating him from a heavy charge, diſſeminated every where from the drawing-room in St. James! to the night-cellars; which is, that he had th [...] impudence to refuſe The Tragedy of Douglas, th [...] beſt play ever acted, not only on the Engliſh ſtage, but on any other, ancient or modern.

The author not only abſolves, but apologiſ [...] for Mr. Garrick by his motto.

Mr. Garrick acquieſced to the former part o [...] his confeſſion; and told him that but poor mat [...] ⯑rials for the ſtage could be derived from the la [...] ⯑ter. This is the upſhot of his crime. Has h [...] [19]then deſerved all the foul-mouthed abuſe that has been laviſhed on him? I think not, who am not partial to him.

The pulpit and clergy of Scotland are irreve⯑rently treated in the analyſis, which ends with a bullying line, that might waggiſhly be retorted, to wit,

That is, people will keep aloof from it; becauſe, ‘Nemo impune laceſſit.’ ‘No body rubs to it with impunity.’

The drift of the whole being now ſeen thro'; with a diſlike to your partiality, but eſteem and veneration for your genius and erudition.