The value of money, and the increase of our opulence, might form, says Johnson, a curious subject of research. In the reign of Edward the Sixth, Latimer mentions it as a proof of his father's prosperity, that though but a yeoman, he gave his daughters five pounds each for their portion.[19] At the latter end of Elizabeth's reign, seven hundred pounds were such a temptation to courtship, as made all other motives suspected. Congreve makes twelve thousand pounds more than a counterbalance to the affection of Belinda. No poet will now fly his favourite character at less than fifty thousand. Clarissa Harlowe had but a moderate fortune.

In Sir John Vanbrugh's Confederacy, a woman of fashion is presented with a bill of millinery _as long as herself_.--Yet it only amounts to a poor fifty pounds! at present this sounds oddly on the stage. I have heard of a lady of quality and fashion who had a bill of her fancy dressmaker, for the expenditure of one year, to the tune of, or rather, which closed in the deep diapason of, six thousand pounds!

THE EARLY DRAMA.

"It is curious to trace the first rude attempts of the drama in various nations; to observe at that moment how crude is the imagination, and to trace the caprices it indulges; and that the resemblance in these attempts holds in the earliest essays of Greece, of France, of Spain, of England, and, what appears extraordinary, even of China and Mexico."

The rude beginnings of the drama of Greece are sufficiently known, and the old _mysteries_ of Europe have been exhibited in a former article.

The progress of the French theatre has been this:--

Etienne Jodelle, in 1552, seems to have been the first who had a tragedy represented of his own invention, ent.i.tled Cleopatra--it was a servile imitation of the form of the Grecian tragedy; but if this did not require the highest genius, it did the utmost intrepidity; for the people were, through long habit, intoxicated with the wild amus.e.m.e.nt they amply received from their farces and moralities.

The following curious anecdote, which followed the first attempt at cla.s.sical imitation, is very observable. Jodelle's success was such, that his rival poets, touched by the spirit of the Grecian muse, showed a singular proof of their enthusiasm for this new poet, in a _cla.s.sical_ festivity which gave room for no little scandal in that day; yet as it was produced by a carnival, it was probably a kind of drunken bout.

Fifty poets, during the carnival of 1552, went to Arcueil. Chance, says the writer of the life of the old French bard Ronsard, who was one of the present _profane_ party, threw across their road a _goat_--which having caught, they ornamented the goat with chaplets of flowers, and carried it triumphantly to the hall of their festival, to appear to sacrifice to Bacchus, and to present it to Jodelle; for the goat, among the ancients, was the prize of the tragic bards; the victim of Bacchus, who presided over tragedy,

Carmine, qui tragico, vilem certavit ob hirc.u.m.

The goat thus adorned, and his beard painted, was hunted about the long table, at which the fifty poets were seated; and after having served them for a subject of laughter for some time, he was hunted out of the room, and not sacrificed to Bacchus. Each of the guests made verses on the occasion, in imitation of the Baccha.n.a.lia of the ancients. Ronsard composed some dithyrambics to celebrate the festival of the goat of Etienne Jodelle; and another, ent.i.tled "Our travels to Arcueil."

However, this Bacchaualian freak did not finish as it ought, where it had begun, among the poets. Several ecclesiastics sounded the alarm, and one Chandieu accused Ronsard with having performed an idolatrous sacrifice; and it was easy to accuse the moral habits of _fifty poets_ a.s.sembled together, who were far, doubtless, from being irreproachable.

They repented for some time of their cla.s.sical sacrifice of a goat to Tragedy.

Hardi, the French Lope de Vega, wrote 800 dramatic pieces from 1600 to 1637; his imagination was the most fertile possible; but so wild and unchecked, that though its extravagances are very amusing, they served as so many instructive lessons to his successors. One may form a notion of his violation of the unities by his piece "La Force du Sang." In the first act Leocadia is carried off and ravished. In the second she is sent back with an evident sign of pregnancy. In the third she lies in, and at the close of this act her son is about ten years old. In the fourth, the father of the child acknowledges him; and in the fifth, lamenting his son's unhappy fate, he marries Leocadia. Such are the pieces in the infancy of the drama.

Rotrou was the first who ventured to introduce several persons in the same scene; before his time they rarely exceeded two persons; if a third appeared, he was usually a mute actor, who never joined the other two.

The state of the theatre was even then very rude; the most lascivious embraces were publicly given and taken; and Rotrou even ventured to introduce a naked page in the scene, who in this situation holds a dialogue with one of his heroines. In another piece, "_Scedase, ou l'hospitalite violee_," Hardi makes two young Spartans carry off Scedase's two daughters, ravish them on the stage, and, violating them in the side scenes, the spectators heard their cries and their complaints. Cardinal Richelieu made the theatre one of his favourite pursuits, and though not successful as a dramatic writer, his encouragement of the drama gradually gave birth to genius. Scudery was the first who introduced the twenty-four hours from Aristotle; and Mairet studied the construction of the fable, and the rules of the drama. They yet groped in the dark, and their beauties were yet only occasional; Corneille, Racine, Moliere, Crebillon, and Voltaire perfected the French drama.

In the infancy of the tragic art in our country, the bowl and dagger were considered as the great instruments of a sublime pathos; and the "_Die all_" and "_Die n.o.bly_" of the exquisite and affecting tragedy of Fielding were frequently realised in our popular dramas. Thomas Goff, of the university of Oxford, in the reign of James I., was considered as no contemptible tragic poet: he concludes the first part of his Courageous Turk, by promising a second, thus:--

If this first part, gentles! do like you well, The second part shall _greater murthers_ tell.

Specimens of extravagant bombast might be selected from his tragedies.

The following speech of Amurath the Turk, who coming on the stage, and seeing "an appearance of the heavens being on fire, comets and blazing stars, thus addresses the heavens," which seem to have been in as mad a condition as the poet's own mind:--

--How now, ye heavens! grow you So proud, that you must needs _put on curled locks_, And clothe yourselves in _periwigs of fire_!"

In the Raging Turk, or Bajazet the Second, he is introduced with this most raging speech:--

Am I not emperor? he that breathes a no d.a.m.ns in that negative syllable his soul; Durst any G.o.d gainsay it, he should feel The strength of fiercest giants in my armies; Mine anger's at the highest, and I could shake The firm foundation of the earthly globe; Could I but grasp the poles in these two hands I'd pluck the world asunder.

He would scale heaven, and when he had ----got beyond the utmost sphere, Besiege the concave of this universe, And hunger-starve the G.o.ds till they confessed What furies did oppress his sleeping soul.

These plays went through two editions: the last printed in 1656.

The following pa.s.sage from a similar bard is as precious. The king in the play exclaims,--

By all the ancient G.o.ds of Rome and Greece, I love my daughter!--better than my niece!

If any one should ask the reason why, I'd tell them--Nature makes the stronger tie!

One of the rude French plays, about 1600, is ent.i.tled "_La Rebellion, ou meseontentment des Grenouilles contre Jupiter_," in five acts. The subject of this tragi-comic piece is nothing more than the fable of the frogs who asked Jupiter for a king. In the pantomimical scenes of a wild fancy, the actors were seen croaking in their fens, or climbing up the steep ascent of Olympus; they were dressed so as to appear gigantic frogs; and in pleading their cause before Jupiter and his court, the dull humour was to croak sublimely, whenever they did not agree with their judge.

Clavigero, in his curious history of Mexico, has given Acosta's account of the Mexican theatre, which appears to resemble the first scenes among the Greeks, and these French frogs, but with more fancy and taste.

Acosta writes, "The small theatre was curiously whitened, adorned with boughs, and arches made of flowers and feathers, from which were suspended many birds, rabbits, and other pleasing objects. The actors exhibited burlesque characters, feigning themselves deaf, sick with colds, lame, blind, crippled, and addressing an idol for the return of health. The deaf people answered at cross-purposes; those who had colds by coughing, and the lame by halting; all recited their complaints and misfortunes, which produced infinite mirth among the audience. Others appeared under the names of different little animals; some disguised as beetles, some like toads, some like lizards, and upon encountering each, other, reciprocally explained their employments, which was highly satisfactory to the people, as they performed their parts with infinite ingenuity. Several little boys also, belonging to the temple, appeared in the disguise of b.u.t.terflies, and birds of various colours, and mounting upon the trees which were fixed there on purpose, little b.a.l.l.s of earth were thrown at them with slings, occasioning many humorous incidents to the spectators."

Something very wild and original appears in this singular exhibition; where at times the actors seem to have been spectators, and the spectators were actors.

THE MARRIAGE OF THE ARTS.

As a literary curiosity, can we deny a niche to that "obliquity of distorted wit," of Barton Holyday, who has composed a strange comedy, in five acts, performed at Christ Church, Oxford, 1630, _not_ for the _entertainment_, as an anecdote records, of James the First?

The t.i.tle of the comedy of this uncla.s.sical cla.s.sic, for Holyday is known as the translator of Juvenal with a very learned commentary, is TEXNOTAMIA, or the Marriage of the Arts, 1630, quarto; extremely dull, excessively rare, and extraordinarily high-priced among collectors.

It may be exhibited as one of the most extravagant inventions of a pedant. Who but a pedant could have conceived the dull fancy of forming a comedy, of five acts, on the subject of _marrying the Arts_! They are the dramatis personae of this piece, and the bachelor of arts describes their intrigues and characters. His actors are Polites, a magistrate;--Physica;--Astronomia, daughter to Physica;--Ethicus, an old man;--Geographus, a traveller and courtier, in love with Astronomia;--Arithmetica, in love with Geometres;--Logicus;--Grammaticus, a schoolmaster;--Poeta;--Historia, in love with Poeta;--Rhetorica, in love with Logicus;--Melancholico, Poeta's man;--Phantastes, servant to Geographus;--Choler, Grammaticus's man.

All these refined and abstract ladies and gentlemen have as bodily feelings, and employ as gross language, as if they had been every-day characters. A specimen of his grotesque dulness may entertain:--

Fruits of dull heat, and sooterkins of wit.

Geographus opens the play with declaring his pa.s.sion to Astronomia, and that very rudely indeed! See the pedant wreathing the roses of Love!

"_Geog._ Come, now you shall, Astronomia.

_Ast._ What shall I, Geographus?

_Geog._ Kisse!

_Ast._ What, in spite of my teeth!

_Geog._ No, not so! I hope you do not use to kisse with your teeth.

_Ast._ Marry, and I hope I do not use to kisse without them.

_Geog._ Ay, but my fine wit-catcher, I mean you do not show your teeth when you kisse."

He then kisses her, as he says, in the different manners of a French, Spanish and Dutch kiss. He wants to take off the zone of Astronomia. She begs he would not fondle her like an elephant as he is; and Geographus says again, "Won't you then?"

_Ast._ Won't I what?

_Geo._ Be kinde?

_Ast._ Be kinde! How?"

Fortunately Geographus is here interrupted by Astronomia's mother Physica. This dialogue is a specimen of the whole piece: very flat, and very gross. Yet the piece is still curious,--not only for its absurdity, but for that sort of ingenuity, which so whimsically contrived to bring together the different arts; this pedantic writer, however, owes more to the subject, than the subject derived from him; without wit or humour, he has at times an extravagance of invention. As for instance,--Geographus and his man Phantastes describe to Poeta the lying wonders they pretend to have witnessed; and this is one:--