PREFACE.
It will be perceived, that the following
Drama is not modelled according to the rules
which custom has established: It is conformable,
however, to those that have stood the
test of ages, and to the principles of arrangement
which the Author believes true to nature,
and to which, in his future labours, he
means to adhere. His ideas may be false,
but experience appears to justify them; and
as Authors, as well as the Public, continue
to be influenced by the long disputed restrictions,
still regarding every Drama as imperfect
which is not formed on one great leading
action, he may be allowed to state very
shortly his reasons of dissent.
He conceives, that as so many various
passions and feelings sway the human heart,
at the different periods of life, the Author who
confines his Drama to the actions of a day,
can only display each of his characters under
the influence of that one passion, which predominates
at the age, and in the particular
circumstances, in which that individual may
be placed. But when a tale or history is represented,
then the Author has opportunities
of tracing the effect of the various passions
and affections of the human soul from one
stage to another, and of depicting their minute
and curious workings under every circumstance
in life. It is in such delineations
as these, that the feelings of an audience become
truly interested; but these cannot be
effected, unless the imagination of the Poet is
suffered to roam at large from scene to scene,
and from age to age, sketching every feature
that is predominant or striking on nature's
face, and selecting a flower wherever it may
be found, from the wilderness or from the
palace;—when he is authorized to lay open
the book of nature at every page, instead of
being restricted to one, and of showing to
every age and sex something of themselves.
We should never have seen a
Richard or
a
Macbeth, had the Author confined himself
to any single period of their lives.
From these considerations, and a thousand
others, the Author of this Drama has been
thoroughly convinced, ever since he could
either read a tragedy or attend to the representation
of one, that a chain of interesting
events connected with and arising out of one
another, affords infinitely more scope and
chance of success to the poet,—more opportunities
to the actor, of displaying his powers
in the representation of nature, and more interest
and delight, whether to spectators or
readers, than can possibly be produced, if
the rules are adhered to which criticism and
custom have established. In a word, that a
tale is better calculated for dramatic representation,
than any single event with its collateral
appendages; and that the lovers of the
Drama are affected only by the situations in
which the characters represented are placed,
disregardful of the lapse of time or any other
subordinate relation.
He has noted, that as learning and science
have advanced, dramatic poetry has decayed,
until the very spirit that breathed it seems to
have deserted the land; and having long,
with deep regret, seen the door standing open
and the mansion deserted, he entered, but
with fear and caution, and began the following,
merely as an experiment in dramatic
composition, and in the same way as he believes
many of our ancient dramas were begun,
without knowing where or how it was to
end. Before he had got half through it, however,
he thought of having it brought forward
on one of the theatres of the Metropolis; but
on showing it to a few select friends, who he
knew could not be mistaken, he was persuaded
that the innovations upon received
custom were too palpable to be tolerated at
once; and therefore determined not to
offer
it for representation, but, rather than risk the
mortification of a refusal, or the still more
painful one which every bad or perverse actor
has the power of inflicting, to give it to
the Public simply as it is,—
an experiment,
and a first essay.
