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No. 446. FRIDAY, AUGUST 1.
Quid deceat, quid non; quò virtus, quò ferat error. HOR. SINCE two or three writers of comedy who are now living have taken their farewell of the stage, those who succeed them finding themselves incapable of rising up to their wit, humour, and good sense, ave only imitated them in some of those loose,
unguarded strokes, in which they complied with the corrupt taste of the more vicious part of their audience. When persons of a low genius attempt this kind of writing, they know no difference between being merry and being lewd. It is with an eye to some of these degenerate compositions that I have written the following discourse.
Were our English stage but half so virtuous as that of the Greeks or Romans, we should quickly see the influence of it in the behaviour of all the politer part of mankind. It would not be fashionable to ridicule religion, or its professors; the man of pleasure would not be the complete gentleman; vanity would be out of countenance, and every quality which is ornamental to human nature would meet with that esteem which is due to it.
If the English stage were under the same regulations the Athenian was formerly, it would have the same effect that had, in recommending the religion, the government, and public worship of its country. Were our plays subject to proper inspections and limitations, we might not only pass away several of our vacant hours in the highest entertainments ; but should always rise from them wiser and better than we set down to them.
It is one of the most accountable things in our age, that the lewdness of our theatre should be so much complained of, and so little redressed. It is to be hoped, that some time or other we may be at leisure to restrain the licentiousness of the theatre, and make it contribute its assistance to the advancement of morality, and to the reformation of the age.' As matters stand at present, multitudes are shut out from this noble diversion, by reason of those abuses and corrup
Reformation of the age.] Impossible. No play will take, that is not edapted to the prevailing manners. But to flatter the age is not he way to reform it.
tions that accompany
A father is often afraid that his daughter should be ruined by those entertainments, which were invented for the accomplishment and refining of human nature. The Athenian and Roman plays were written with such a regard to morality, that Socrates used to frequent the one, and Cicero the other.
It happened once, indeed, that Cato dropped into the Roman theatre, when the Floralia were to be represented; and as in that performance, which was a kind of religious cere. mony, there were several indecent parts to be acted, the people refused to see them whilst Cato was present. Martial on this bint made the following epigram, which we must suppose was applied to some grave friend of his, that had been accidentally present at some such entertainment.
Nosses jocosæ dulce cum sacrum Floræ,
Didst thou come in but to go out again ? An accident of this nature might happen once in an ago among the Greeks or Romans ; but they were too wise and good to let the constant nightly entertainment be of such a nature that people of the most sense and virtue could not be at it. Whatever vices are represented upon the stage, they ought to be so marked and branded by the poet, as not to appear either laudable or amiable in the person who is tainted with them. But if we look into the English comedies above-mentioned, we would think they were formed upon a quite contrary maxim, and that this rule, though it held good upon the heathen stage, was not to be regarded in Christian theatres. There is another rule, likewise, which was observed by authors of antiquity, and which these modern ge niuses have no regard to, and that was, never to choose an improper object for ridicule. Now a subject is improper for ridicule, if it is apt to stir up horror and commiseration rather than laughter. For this reason, we do not find any comedy in so polite an author as Terence raised upon the violations of the marriage-bed. The falsehood of the wife or husband has given occasion to noble tragedies, but a Scipio or a Lelius would have looked upon incest or murder to have been improper subjects for comedy. On the contrary, cuckoldom is the basis of most of our modern plays. If an alderman appears upon the stage, you may be sure it is in order to be cuckolded. An husband that is a little grave or elderly generally meets with the same fate. Knights and baronets, country squires, and justices of the quorum, come up to town for no other purpose. I have seen poor Dogget cuckolded in all these capacities. In short, our English writers are as frequently severe upon this innocent, unhappy creature, commonly known by the name of a cuckold, as the ancient comic writers were upon an eating parasite, or a vain-glorious soldier.
I Would think.] The author should have said,-should think,-for, he meant to express the certainty of the conclusion; not any inclination of ours to form it. Yet there seems to be something arbitrary and ca. pricious in the use of these auxiliary verbs,-would, and should,-for, in this very instance it would be right to say-a
man would think, and not, a man should think. The rule is clear, (see Dr. Wallis, de verbis auxi. liaribus mutilis,] but the reason of it is not so apparent.
At the same time the poet so contrives matters, that the two criminals are the favourites of the audience. We sit still, and wish well to them through the whole play, are pleased when they meet with proper opportunities, and out of humour when they are disappointed. The truth of it is, the accomplished gentleman upon the English stage is the person that is familiar with other men's wives, and indifferent to his own; as the fine woman is generally a compusition of sprightliness and falsehood. I do not know whether it proceeds from barrenness of invention, depravation of manners, or ignorance of mankind; but I have often won. dered that our ordinary poets cannot frame to themselves the idea of a fine man who is not a whore-master, or of a fine woman that is not a jilt.
I have sometimes thought of compiling a system of ethics out of the writings of these corrupt poets, under the title of Stage Morality. But I have been diverted from this thought, by a project which has been executed by an ingenious gentleman of my acquaintance. He has composed, it seems, the history of a young fellow, who has taken all his notions of the world from the stage, and who has directed himself in every circumstances of his life and conversation, by the maxims and examples of the fine gentleman in English comedies. If I can prevail upon him to give me a copy of this new-fashioned novel, I will bestow on it a place in my works, and question not but it may have as good an effect upon
the drama as Don Quixote had upon romance.
No. 447. SATURDAY, AUGUST 2.
Φημί πολυχρονίην μελέτην έμεναι, φίλες και δη
Ταύτην ανθρώποισι τελευτώσαν φύσιν ειναι. THERE is not a common saying which has a better turn of sense in it, than what we often hear in the mouths of the vulgar, that custom is a second nature. It is indeed able to form the man anew, and to give himn inclinations and capacities altogether different from those he was born with. Dr. Plot, in his history of Staffordshire, tells us of an idiot that, chancing to live within the sound of a clock, and always amusing himself with counting the hour of the day whenever the clock struck, the clock being spoiled by some accident, the idiot continued to strike and count the hour without the help of it, in the same manner as he had done when it was entire. Though I dare not vouch for the truth of this story, it is very certain that custom has a mechanical effect upon the body, at the same time that it has a very extraordinary influence
upon the mind. I shall in this paper consider one very remarkable effect which custom has upon human nature; and which if rightly observed may lead us into very useful rules of life. What I shall here take notice of in custom, is its wonderful efficacy in making everything pleasant to us. A person who is addicted to play or gaming, though he took but little delight in it at first, by degrees contracts so strong an inclination towards it, and gives himself up so entirely to it, that it seems the only end of his being. The love of a retired or a busy life will grow upon a man insensibly, as he is conversant in the one or the other, until he is utterly unqualified for relishing that to which he has been for some time digused. Nay, a man may smoke, or drink, or take snuff, until he is
unable to pass away his time without it; not to mention how our delight in any particular study, art, or science, rises and improves in proportion to the application which we bestow apon it. Thus, what was at first an exercise, becomes at length an entertainment. Our employments are changed into our diversions. The mind grows fond of those actions she is accustomed to, and is drawn with reluctancy from those paths in which she has been used to walk.
Not only such actions as were at first indifferent to us, but even such as were painful, will by custom and practice become pleasant. Sir Francis Bacon observes in his natural philosophy, that our taste is never pleased better than with those things which at first created a disgust in it. He gives particular instances of claret, coffee, and other liquors, which the palate seldom approves upon the first taste; but when it has once got a relish of them, generally retains it for life. The mind is constituted after the same manner, and after having habituated herself to any particular exercise or employment, not only loses her first aversion towards it, but conceives a certain fondness and affection for it. I have heard one of the greatest geniuses this age has produced, who had been trained up in all the polite studies of antiquity, assure me, upon his being obliged to search into several rolls and records, that notwithstanding such an employment was at first very dry and irksome to him, be at last took an incredible pleasure in it, and preferred it even to the reading of Virgil or Cicero. The reader will observe, that I have not here considered custom as it makes things easy, but as it renders them delightful; and though others have often made the same reflections, it is possible they may not have drawn those uses from it, with which I intend to fill the remaining part of this paper.
If we consider attentively this property of human nature, it may instruct us in
fine moralities. In the first place, I would have no man discouraged with that kind of life or series of action, in which the choice of others, or his own
'I have heard one-assure me.] A tautology. Better read and dispose thus :
“One of the greatest, &c. has assured me, that, though upon his being, &c., he found the employment at first very dry,” &c.
* It is possible they may.] i. e. It may be they may. It should either bothey may not, or it is possible they have not.