Collin d'Harleville, and some others have introduced this mixed style of comedy incomparably more decent, natural, and moral than the former, and has gained the approbation of the public and the greater part of men of letters, in spite of the opinion of some critics led astray by the force of habit. To a moderate and natural gaiety they sometimes unite that sentimental interest so necessary to support poems in which the subject in itself is of little importance; an advantage which our first comic authors endeavoured to gain by the introduction of a number of indecent and immoral farces. This new style of comedy comes very near the genuine masterpieces of our first comic authors. The spirit that shines in the Misanthrope, and the Tartuffe, animates the Glorieux, the Philosophé marié, l'Ecole des pères, the Vieux Celibataire, and the Philinte of Moliere. These productions of the ancient and modern school amuse, instruct, and interest at the same time.

One striking example will lead us (more than any farther argument) to appreciate the advantages of the new or sentimental comedy over the ancient. I take it in two pieces, the subject of which is the same in both; one is according to the spirit that guided our first authors, and the other that which has directed some of their successors, The Legatoire of Regnard reproduced by Collin d'Harleville under the title of Vieux Celibataire,

This piece of Regnard's, according to some literary men, less strict in some respects, is a masterpiece of free comic gaiety, and is a perfect comedy. But is not this good style of comedy as they call it a horrid deformity? Is not immorality carried to its greatest height in it? Can there be any thing more trifling than the conceptions, more vile than the sentiments, more low than the style in which they are written, more false than the manners which they describe? All that is most niggardly in avarice, the blackest perfidy, and the most disgusting inhumanity, are here brought together on purpose, and displayed for our approbation under the most pleasing forms. Old age forsaken, infirm, and wretched; old age so deserving of our respect and commiseration, is here disgraced, despised, and rendered odious. A nephew rejoices at the indisposition of his uncle, his second father, under a hope that his death will soon follow. He hastens his death to the utmost of his power, by his teasing importunities, or that of his servants. He expresses his joy when informed of this longwished-for decease, and is sunk in despair when he is told soon afterwards that it has not really taken place. In one of his most important transactions he audaciously violates the laws. In a word, the piece is throughout barbarous and abominable. Such is, in general, the spirit that guides ancient comedy; and if there VOL. XII. Pam. NO. XXIII,

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are any that do not unite all kinds of indecency and immorality like the Legatoire, there are at least very few that do not merit the serious censure that is bestowed on them. This unnatural composition being without spectators in the capital, has had for some time only the inferior performers to act it. The original work has not been translated, and is never performed abroad. Collin d'Harleville seeing this piece justly neglected, has laid hold of the same subject. He throws the greatest interest on his valuable Celibataire: he represents him as a weary and forsaken old man, who feels a void in his heart which nothing can fill again, and is left in that dreadful solitude which surrounds him. He is attended or rather beset by rapacious strangers, insolent and dishonest servants, who make him the subject of ridicule, and of whom he is the sport or rather a slave; but he is repaid, by hav ing a disinterested, generous, and humane nephew, who like a tender and respectful son, is less irritated by the wicked intrigues of which he himself is the victim, than concerned at the sufferings of his uncle; and irritated by the vexations that worry this respectable old man, and by the insolence and infidelity of his hirelings, in whom he has placed his confidence. Here the characters are true, better supported and better drawn than those of Regnard, which are unnatural and improbable. The style of the Vieux Celibataire flows as readily as the action proceeds, whilst that of the Legatoire follows the disorder and irregularity of the action, and the manners of the characters. Collin's piece does not wound good morals or good taste: every decency is here ob served; it interests and amuses; it has a natural and exalted humor which pleases every body, while that of Regnard has no other merit than by its vulgar and mad gaiety, which is fostered by indecency and exaggeration. In this the triumph of vieiðus characters is complete; they have only to boast of their success. In the Vieux Celibataire villains are unmasked and punished; the virtuous triumph over the wicked: in short, Collin's piece is a moral and instructive comedy, that meets with the united appro bation of European spectators; that of Regnard is as if it were not in existence. Let us then conclude, that if the latter be conformable to the rules we have laid down, or that the Greeks and the Romans have transmitted to us; the other, which art cannot reasonably censure, is more conformable to the nature and maxims of society; and such is in general sentimental comedy; a kind of comedy that suits us, and such as we ought to adopt and only preserve. The interest of morals, more powerful than any, ought to deter us from hesitation in our choice. But this new style of comedy has its dangers as well as the ancient. If in this we only find besides some good pieces nothing but a number of immoral

plays and farces, we see next to the good comedies of Destouches, Collin, and other modern authors, a Marivaux, a Dorat, and their followers, whose comedies are only romances, where nothing is found but insipid courtships, madrigals, refined metaphysics; a style as affected as those compositions which raise weaknesses to a level with valuable and virtuous qualities. These trifling works, although perhaps less dangerous than those which they have replaced, are notwithstanding a corrupt offspring of sentimental comedy to which it is expedient to put an end.

If (as we have reason to hope) a necessary information will be effected in our comic system, modern authors will find a great vacancy to fill up in their theatrical collection. They will, in their productions, avoid the defects that are condemned in the old ones; they will see that pieces of five acts cannot succeed, or be supported, without more powerful plots than those which have been used until now in the greater part of them; that those great resources can only be found in interesting subjects, in the true, deep, and energetic description of great characters, and in the general manners of nations; we may be persuaded that sentimental interest ought to support the pieces, where the subject is not important enough in itself, or susceptible of great developement; that the comic style ought mostly to be drawn from the opposition of the characters, and low wit in the mouths of subaltern performers; that levity, which becomes so dull when carried to a great length, ought only to be to important productions as a frame is to a picture, and may at all times be used as a groundwork to little pieces in one act, and serve as a supplement to the greater to fill up the spectacle.

It is by thus taking advantage of the genius of the nation, which is grown more serious and judicious by extraordinary circumstances, that the dramatic authors will contribute as much as they have it in their power to destroy that versatility of character, and prevent the return of this silly frivolity which is so fatal and dishonorable to us. They will take the subject of their pieces from all the classes of citizens which will supply them with the requisite variety: we shall no longer accuse them of exhibiting only particular classes in the capital; those who choose such barren and uniform subjects show that they know as little of mankind as of the art of describing them.

The analysis I make of our dramatic system, to lay hold of the sense and ascertain the effect, naturally leads me to speak in favor of a style in vain proscribed by the zeal not directed by reflection of some literary men, who confine good tastes to their habits of this style, to which they would wish to attribute a modern origin, although it existed among the Greeks and Romans, under, different

names; which constitute the greatest merit of Terence, that Lachausée has revived and not invented among us. I shall speak of those sentimental pieces in which feeling is the main spring; which can be raised to terror and admiration, and what we call dramas, and domestic tragedies. But when I mention these names I think I hear all the censure which has so long been cast on such slight grounds upon the most natural, least pernicious, most necessary, and most useful style of all others. What! will they say, he who pretends to fix the means by which theatres may be brought to co-operate to the perfection of taste, dares extravagantly extol a style that does not belong to us? I shall answer, by opposing reason to vain clamors, in bringing forward facts instead of words void of sense. We have already acknowledged that comedy is neglected among us: the old comedy no longer interests us, because it does not correspond with our manners, and for other reasons which have already been stated. We give up Regnard, and neglect Moliere, in spite of the exclamations of those who persist in admiring the last without restriction. If there is to be but one voice in favor of his masterpieces, why are not the friends of morality and good taste disgusted at the performance of the greater part of his pieces of an inferior order, that wound decency and morals? Ought they to see in their condemnation any thing but an homage paid to virtue? Sentimental comedy is insufficient, and wants variety in its characters, because there is too great a resemblance between the morals, opinions, and manners of the higher and the middling class of society, which the authors almost invariably introduce upon the stage. Dramas founded on the passions can make up for the want of variety. We have shown that in civilised life there are a number of passions and vices which lead us to the commission of crimes, and which comedy, properly speaking, cannot draw without altering or disguising their deformity, and consequently without much danger to the spectators; from whence it evidently follows that we must allow domestic tragedy, or give up exposing vicious persons of all classes on the stage. We must allow besides that our masterpieces in comedies are only such by the importance of the subject, which importance they derive from a tragical, or at least very serious character. If we took from the Tartuffe the light comic incidents resulting from the contrasts, or scattered among the inferior characters the masterpiece would nevertheless remain, but would become a drama: on the other hand, if these comic incidents were left without the serious part, the piece would be nothing. If these comic incidents be properly arranged, they are on some occasions pleasing; but there are some which are by no means allowable; and Moliere alone could make them bearable in the Tartuffe,

Tragedy, properly speaking, only exhibits to us gigantic characters and manners different to our own, and appears to a great number of spectators only as a species of phantasmagoria, a wonderful fable without a moral or design; whilst a domestic drama describes the passions and manners of all mankind: every body can see his own character, learn his duty, and recognise his rights in it. What has most contributed to lessen its estimation is not its own nature, as the negligence with which it has been treated. No man of genius has until now undertaken to draw it from obscurity.

Men of superior talent have always disdained to cultivate it, by that reigning prejudice of our nation which at all times has made them prefer valuable and useful things, which do not deviate from the order of nature; vain and brilliant objects, wonderful subjects, which alone appears to captivate our attention, and rouse our enthusiasm. It is not then the style itself that is bad, but bad authors who have made it so in reality or in appearance. We must not be deceived in this matter: it is difficult to manage for us: we are not able to take a wide range, bring round us the splendid wonders of a court, or call forth the great characters of all ages and countries; and as we are confined to a faithful picture of civilised life, this requires more talent than tragedy; and I doubt not that if authors should offer to work it to the degree of perfection of which it is susceptible, they certainly would have great difficulties to get over.

I shall farther add, to strengthen my opinion in favor of this style, that in all times, amongst all nations and all ranks, sentimental plays have been preferred to comic works of any kind. Therefore the Greeks always preferred tragedy to comedy: with this they were never thoroughly satisfied; and it has accordingly undergone several changes and modifications among them. The Athenians were a gay and frivolous people, and the form of their government affords authors every latitude they could desire. Among the Romans, 'Terence was preferred to Plautus. In modern nations, people meet in crowds to see a tragedy, whilst the best comedies, in order to attract, require the union of the greatest talents in their representations. The northern, German, and even the English nations, have scarcely any but domestic tragedies. What amongst us has been the result of the blind zeal of some learned men, who being less acquainted with the human heart than with local and arbitrary rules, have not ceased to declaim against domestic tragedy? They have succeeded, it is true, in causing them to be neglected and even banished from the great theatres they have seen the melo-drama substituted in lieu of them, and which has raised new theatres to the detriment of taste and of the old ones.