The usefulness of the stage, to the happiness of mankind, to government, and to religion occasioned by a late book written by Jeremy Collier, M.A. / by Mr. Dennis.

THE USEFULNESS OF THE STAGE.

CHAP. I.

That the Stage is instrumental to the Happiness of Man∣kind.

NOthing can more strongly re∣commend any thing to us, than the assuring us, that it will im∣prove our happiness. For the chief end

and design of man is to make himself happy. Tis what he constantly has in his eye, and in order to which, he takes every step that he makes: In whatever he does or he does not, he designs to improve or maintain his happiness. And 'tis by this universal principle, that God maintains the harmony, and order, and quiet of the reasonable World. It had indeed been an inconsistency in provi∣dence, to have made a thinking and reasoning Creature, that had been in∣different as to misery and happiness; for God had made such a one only to disturb the rest, and consequently had acted against his own design.

If then I can say enough to convince the Reader, that the Stage is instru∣mental to the happiness of Mankind, and to his own by consequence, it is e∣vident that I need say no more to make him espouse its interest.

I shall proceed then to the proving these two things.

First, That the Stage is instrumental to the happiness of Mankind in gene∣ral.

Secondly, That it is more particularly instrumental to the happiness of En∣glish••men.

The Stage is instrumental to the hap∣piness of Mankind in general. And here it will be necessary to declare what is meant by happiness, and to proceed upon that.

By happiness then, I never could un∣derstand any thing else but pleasure; for I never could have any notion of happiness, that did not agree with plea∣sure, or any notion of pleasure, that did not agree with happiness. I could ne∣ver possibly conceive how any one can be happy without being pleas'd, or pleas'd without being happy. 'Tis uni∣versally acknowledg'd by Mankind, that happiness consists in pleasure, which is evident from this, that whatever a man does, whether in spiritual or tem∣poral affairs, whether in matters of profit or diversion, pleasure is at least the chief and the final motive to it, if it is not the immediate one. And provi∣dence seems to have sufficiently declar'd, that pleasure was intended for our Spring and Fountain of Action, when it made it the incentive to those very acts, by which we propagate our kind and preserve our selves. As if Self-love without pleasure were insufficient for

either; for as I my self have know se∣veral, who have chosen rather to dye, than to go through tedious courses of Physick; so I make no doubt, but se∣veral would have taken the same reso∣lution, rather than have supported life by a perpetual course of eating, which had differ'd in nothing from a course of Physick, if eating and pleasure had not been things inseparable. Now as 'tis pleasure that obliges man to perserve himself, it is the very same that has some∣times the force to prevail upon him to his own destruction. For as Monsieur Pascal observes, the very men who hang, and who drown themselves are instigated by the secret pleasure, which they have from the thought that they shall be freed from pain.

Since therefore man, in every thing that he does proposes pleasure to him∣self, it follows, that in pleasure consists his happiness. But tho he always pro∣poses it, he very often falls short of it, For pleasure is not in his own power, since if it were, it would follow from thence, that happiness were in his power. The want of which has been always the complaint of men, both sa∣cred

and secular, in all Ages in all Coun∣tries, and in all Conditions. Man that is born of woman is but of few days, and full of trouble, says Iob Chap. 14. Verse 1. Of the same nature are the two complaints of Horace, which are so fine, and so poetical, and so becoming of the best antiquity.

Scandit aeratas vitiosa waves Curae,* 1.1 nec turmas equitum & relinquit Ocior Cervis, & agente Nimbos Ocyor Euro.

And that other, in the first Ode of the third Book.

Timor & minae Scandunt eodem quo Dominus, neque. Decedit aerata triremi, & Post equitem sedit atra cura.

In short, they who have made the most reflections on it, have been the most satisfy'd of it, and above all Phi∣losophers; who, by the voluminous instructions, by the laborious directi∣ons which they have left to posteri∣ty, have declar'd themselves sensible,

that to be happy is a very difficult thing.

And the reason why they of all men have always found it so difficult is, be∣cause they always propounded to owe their happiness to reason, tho one would think, that experience might have convinc'd them of the folly of such a design, because they had seen that the most thinking and the most reason∣able, had always most complain'd.

For reason may often afflict us, and make us miserable, by setting our im∣potence or our guilt before us; but that which it generally does, is the maintaining us in a languishing state of indifference, which perhaps is more re∣mov'd from pleasure, than that is from affliction, and which may be said to be the ordinary state of men.

It is plain then, that reason by main∣taining us in that state, is an impedi∣ment to our pleasure, which is our happiness. For to be pleas'd a man must come out of his ordinary state; now nothing in this life can bring him out of it but passion alone, which Rea∣son pretends to combat.

Nothing but passion in effect can please us, which every one may know by experience: For when any man is pleas'd, he may find by reflection that at the same time he is mov'd. The pleasure that any man meets with of∣tenest is the pleasure of Sence. Let any one examine himself in that, and he will find that the pleasure is owing to passion; for the pleasure vanishes with the desire, and is succeeded by loath∣ing, which is a sort of grief.

Since nothing but pleasure can make us happy, it follows that to be very happy, we must be much pleas'd; and since nothing but passion can please us, it follows that to be very much pleas'd we must be very much mov'd; this needs no proof, or if it did, experience would be a very convincing one; since any one may find when he has a great deal of pleasure that he is extremely mov'd.

And that very height and fulness of pleasure which we are promis'd in ano∣ther life, must, we are told, proceed from passion, or something which re∣sembles passion. At least no man has so much as pretended that it will be

the result of Reason. For we shall then be deliver'd from these mortal Organs, and Reason shall then be no more. We shall then no more have occasion from premisses to draw conclusions, and a long train of consequences; for, be∣coming all spirit and all knowledge, we shall see things as they are: We shall lead the glorious life of Angels, a life exalted above all Reason, a life con∣sisting of Extasie and Intelligence.

Thus is it plain that the happiness both of this life and the other is owing to passion, and not to reason. But tho we can never be happy by the force of Reason, yet while we are in this life we cannot possibly be happy without it, or against it. For since man is by his nature a reasonable creature, to suppose man happy against Reason, is to suppose him happy against Nature, which is absurd and monstrous. We have shewn, that a man must be pleas'd to be happy, and must be mov'd to be pleas'd; and that to please him to a height, you must move him in propor∣tion: But then the passions must be rais'd after such a manner as to take reason along with them. If reason is

quite overcome, the pleasure is neither long, nor sincere, nor safe. For how many that have been transported be∣yound their reason, have never more recover'd it. If reason resists, a mans breast becomes the seat of Civil War, and the Combat makes him mise∣rable. For these passions, which are in their natures so very troublesome, are only so because their motions are always contrary to the motion of the will; as grief, sorrow, shame and jea∣lousie. And that which makes som•• passions in their natures pleasant, is be∣cause they move with the will, as love, joy, pity, hope, terror, and sometimes anger. But this is certain, that no passion can move in those a full consent with the will, unless at the same time ••t be approv'd of by the understanding. And no passion can be allow'd of b•• the understanding, that is not rais'd by its true springs, and augmented by its just degrees. Now in the world it is so very rare to have our passions thus rais'd, and so improv'd, that that is the reason why we are so seldom throughly and sincerely pleas'd. But in the Dra∣ma the passions are false and abomina∣ble,

unless they are mov'd by their true springs, and rais'd by their just degrees. Thus are they mov'd, thus are they rais'd in every well writ Tra∣gedy, till they come to as great a height as reason can very well bear. Besides, the very motion has a tendency to the subjecting them to reason, and the very raising purges and moderates them. So that the passions are seldom any where so pleasing, and no where so safe as they are in Tragedy. Thus have I shown, that to be happy is to be pleas'd, and that to be pleas'd is to be mov'd in such a manner as is allow'd of by Reason; I have shown too that Tragedy moves us thus, and consequent∣ly pleases us, and conseqeuntly makes us happy. Which was the thing to he prov'd.

CHAP. II.

That the Stage is more parti∣cularly instrumental to the happiness of English men.

WE have shown in the former Chapter, that all happiness con∣sists in pleasure, and that all pleasure proceeds from passion; but that passi∣on to produce pleasure, must be rais'd after such a manner, as to move in con∣sent with the will, and consequently to be allowd of by the understanding, upon which we took an occasion to shew, that thinking and reasoning peo∣ple as Philosophers, and the like, have made most complaints of the mi∣sery of humane life, because they have endeavour'd to deduce their happiness from reason, and not from passion. But another reason may be given, and that is, that such people, by reason of

the exactness or moroseness of their judgments, are too scrupulous in the allowance of the passions, from wh••nce it proceeds, that things very rarely happen in life, to raise their passions in such a manner, as to approve them to their understandings, and consequently to make them move in consent with their wills. From whence it proceeds, that splenatick persons are so very un∣happy, and so much harder to be pleas'd than others, which is every day confirm'd by experience. Indeed 'tis observ'd every day in splenatick peo∣ple, that their passions move for the most part, with a contrary motion to that of their wills, and so afflict them them instead of delighting them, Now there is no Nation in Europe, as has been observ'd above a thousand times, that is so generally addicted to the Spleen as the English. And which is apparent to any observer, from the reigning distemper of the Clime, which is inseparable from the Spleen; from that gloomy and sullen temper, which is generally spread through the Nation: from that natural discontentedness which makes us fo uneasie to one ano∣ther,

because we are so uneasie to our selves; and lastly, from our jealousies and suspicions, which makes us so un∣easie to our selves, and to one another, and have so often made us dangerous to the Government, and by conse∣quence to our selves. Now the En∣glish being more splenatick than other people, and consequently more thought∣ful and more reflecting, and therefore more scrupulous in allowing their passi∣ons, and consequently things ••eldom hapning in life to move their passions so agreeably to their reasons, as to en∣tertain and please them; and there be∣ing no true and sincere pleasure unless these passions are thus mov'd, nor any happiness without pleasure, it follows; that the English to be happy, have more need than other people of some∣thing that will raise their passions in such a manner, as shall be agreeable to their reasons, and that by consequence they have more need of the D••ama.

CHAP. III.

The Objections from Reason answer'd.

BUt now we proceed to answer Objections, and to shew that we design to use Mr Collier with all the fair∣ness imaginable; I shall not only en∣deavour to answer all that may be ob∣jected from Mr. Collier's Book; against what I have said in the foregoing Chap∣ters in the behalf of the Stage; I say, I shall not only endeavour to answer this, after I have propounded it in the most foreible manner in which it can be urg'd, but I shall make it my busi∣ness to reply to all that has been ob∣jected by other adversaries, or that I can foresee may be hereafter object∣ed.

The objections then against what I have said in Defence of the Stage in the foregoing Chapters, are or may be of three sorts.

First, Objections from Reason.

Secondly, From Authority, and

Thirdly, From Religion.

First then, I shall endeavour to an∣swer what may be objected from Reason, viz. That tho it should be granted that the Theatre makes peo∣ple happy for the present, yet it after∣wards infallibly makes them miserable: First, by nourishing and fomenting their passions; and secondly, by indulging their vices, and making them Liber∣tines: And that 'tis neither the part of a prudent man, nor a good Christian, to make choice of such a momentary delight, as will be follow'd by so much affliction.

And first, say the Adver••aries of the Stage, the Drama tends to the making of people unhappy, because it nourishes and foments those passions, that occa∣••••on the follies and imprudencies from whence come all their misfortunes: ••nd

First, It indulges Terror and Pity, ••nd the rest of the passions.

Secondly, It not only indulges Love where it is, but creates it where it is not.

First then, say they, it indulges Terror, Pity, and the rest of the passions. For, says a certain French Gentleman, who is famous for Criticism, that purgation which Aristo••le mentions is meerly chi∣merical; the more the passions in any one are mov'd, the more obnoxious they are to be mov'd, and the more unruly they grow.

But, by Monsieur De St. Evremont's favour, this is not only to contradict Aristotle, but every mans daily experi∣ence. For every man finds, and every man of sense particularly, that the longer he frequents Plays the harder he is to be pleas'd, that is, the harder he is to be mov'd; and when any man of judgment, who has a long time fre∣quented Plays, happens to be very much touch'd by a Scene, we may con∣clude that that Scene is very well writ, both for nature and art.

And indeed, if people who have a long time frequented Plays are so hard to be mov'd, to compassion, that a Poet is oblig'd so to contrive his incidents

and his Characters, that the last shall be most deplorable, and the first most proper to move compassion; may it not be very well suppos'd, that such a one will not be over obnoxious to feel too much compassion upon the view of ca∣lamities, which happen every day in the world, when they and the persons to whom they happen, may not so much as once in an Age, have all the quali∣fications that are requir'd extreamly to touch him.

But, Secondly, whereas it is urg'd, that the Drama and particularly Tra∣gedy, manifestly indulges Love where it is, and creates it where it is not. To this I answer. That the Love which is shewn in a Tragedy is lawful and re∣gular, or it is not. If it is not, why then in a Play, which is writ as it should be (for I pretend not to defend the errours or corruptions of the Stage) it is shewn unfortunate in the Catastro∣phe, which is sufficient to make an Au∣dience averse from engaging in the excesses of that passion. But if the Love that is shewn is lawful and regu∣lar, nothing makes a man happier than that passion. I speak ev'n of that i••∣mediate

pleasure which attends the passion itself. And as it certainly makes him happy for the present, so there is no passion which puts a man upon things that make him happier for the future. For as people have for the most part a very high opinion of the belov'd ob∣ject, it makes them endeavour to be∣come worthy of it, and to encrease in knowledge and virtue; and not only frequently reclaims them from some grosser pleasures, of which they were fond before, but breeds in them an ut∣ter detestation of some unnatural vices, which have been so much in use in En∣g••and, for these last thirty years.

But now we come to the second pre∣tended Reason, why the Drama tends to the making of men unhappy, and that is, say the Adversaries of the Stage, be∣cause it encourages and indulges their vices. To which we answer; that the Drama; and particulary Tragedy, in its purity, is so far from having that ef∣fect, that it must of necessity make men virtuous; First, because it moderates the passions, whose excesses cause their vices; Secondly, because it instructs them in their duties, both by its fable

and by its sentences. But here they start an objection, which some imagin a strong one, which is, That the Nati∣on has been more corrupted since the establishment of the Drama, upon the restoration, than ever it was before. To which I answer.

First, That that corruption of man∣ners, tho it should be granted to pro∣ceed from the Stage, can yet only pro∣ceed from the licentious abuses of it, which no man pretends to defend. But,

Secondly, We affirm that this corrup∣tion of manners, cannot be reasonably said to proceed, no not even from those pa••pable abuses of the Stage, which we will not pretend to vindi∣cate.

First, For if the corruption of man∣ners proceeded from the abuses of the Stage, how comes it to pass that we never heard any complaint of the like corruption of manners before the resto∣ration of Charles the Second, since it is plain from Mr Collier's Book, that the Drama flourish'd in the Reign of King Iames I. and flourish'd with the like li∣centiousness. But,

Secondly, if this general corruption of manners is to be attributed to the abuses of the Stage, from hence it will follow, that there should be the great∣est corruption of manners where the Theatres are most frequented, or most licentious, which is not true: for in France the Theatres are less licentious than ours, and yet the corruption of manners is there as great, if you only except our drinking, which, as I shall prove anon, can never proceed from any encouragement of the Stage. In Germany and in Italy the Theatres are less frequented: for in Italy they seldom have Plays unless in the Carnival, and in most of the little German Soveraign∣ties, they have not constant Theatres. And yet in Germany they drink more, and in Italy they are more intemperate in the use of women and unnatural vices.

But Thirdly, The corruption of manners upon the restoration, appear'd with all the fury of Libertinism, even before the Play House was re-establisht and long ••efore it could have any influ∣ence on manners, so that another cause of that corruption is to be enquir'd after,

than the re-establishment of the Dra∣ma, and that can be nothing but that beastly reformation, which in the time of the late Civil Wars, was begun at the Tail instead of the Head and the Heart; and which opprest and persecuted mens inclinations, instead of correcting and converting them, which afterwards broke out with the same violence, that a raging fire does upon its first getting vent. And that which gave it so licen∣tious a vent was, not only the permissi∣on, but the example of the Court, which for the most part was just arriv'd from abroad with the King, where it had endeavour'd by foreign corruption to sweeten, or at least to soften ad∣versity, and having sojourn'd for a considerable time, both at Paris and in the Low Countries, united the spirit of the French W••oring, to the fury of the Dutch Drinking. So that the Poets who writ immediately after the resto∣ration, were obliged to humour the deprav'd tastes of their Audience. For as an impenitent Sinner that should be immediately transported to Heaven, would be incapable of partaking of the happiness of the place, because his in∣clinations

and affections would not be prepar'd for it, so if the Poets of these times had writ in a manner purely in∣structive, without any mixture of lewd∣ness, the Appetites of the Audience were so far debauch'd, that they would have judg'd the entertainment insipid, so that the spirit of Libertinism which came in with the Court, and for which the people were so well prepar'd by the sham-reformation of manners, caus'd the lewdness of their Plays, and not the lewdness of Plays the spirit of Libertinism. For tis ridiculous to as∣sign a cause of so long a standing to so new, so sudden, and so extraordina∣ry an effect, when we may assign a cause so new, so probable, and unheard of before, as the inclinations of the peo∣ple, returning with violence to their natural bent, upon the encouragement and example of a Court, that was come home with all the corruptions of a foreign Luxury; so that the sham-reformation being in a great measure the cause of that spirit of Libertinism, which with so much fury came in with King Charles the Second, and the put∣ting down the Play House being part

of that reformation, 'tis evident that the Corruption of the Nation is so far from proceeding from the Play-house, that it partly proceeds from having no Plays at all.

Fourthly, That the Corruption of Manners is not to be attributed to the licentiousness of the Drama, may ap∣pear from the consideration of the reigning vices, I mean those moral vices which have more immediate in∣fluence upon mens conduct, and con∣sequently upon their happiness. And those are chiefly four.

• 1. The love of Women.
• 2. Drinking.
• 3. Gaming.
• 4. Unnatural sins.

For drinking and gaming, their ex∣cesses cannot be reasonably charg'd upon the Stage, for the following Reasons.

First, Because it cannot possibly be conceiv'd, that so reasonable a di∣version as the Drama, can encourage or incline men to so unreasonable a

one as gaming, or so brutal a one as drunkenness.

Secondly, Because these two vices have been made odious and ridiculous by our Plays, instead of being shewn agreeable. As for Dunkenness, to shew the sinner is sufficient to discredit the vice; for a Drunkard of necessity al∣ways appears either odious or ridiculous. And for a Gamester, I never knew any one shewn in a Play, but either as a F••ol or a Rascal.

Thirdly, Because those two vices flourish in places that are too remote, and in persons that are too abject to be encourag'd or influenc'd by the Stage. There is drinking and gaming in the furthest North and the furthest West, among Peasants, as well as among Dukes and Peers. But here perhaps some visio∣nary Zealot will urge, that these two vices, even these remote places, and these abject persons proceed from the influence of that irreligion, which is caus'd by the corruptions of the Stage, and will with as much reason and as much modesty deduce the lewdness which is transacted in the Tin mines, in Cornwal, and in the Coal-pits of Newcastle, from the daily a∣bominations

of the Pits of the two Play-houses, as he would derive the brutality of the high Dutch Drinking, from the prophaneness of our English Drama.

But what will he say then to those Gentlemen, who neither are suppos'd to go to our Theatres, nor to converse much with those who do, nor to be liable to be corrupted by them; what will they say to these Gentlemen, if they can be prov'd to have a considerable share of the two fore-mention'd vices? What can they answer? For it would be ridiculously absurd to reply, that the Clergy are corrupted by the Laity, whom it is their business to convert. But here I think my self oblig'd to declare, that I by no means design this as a reflection upon the Church of England, who I am satisfy'd may morejustly boast of its Clergy, than any other Church whatsoever; a Clergy that are equally illustrious for their Piety and for their Learning, yet may I venture to affirm, that there are some a∣mong them, who can never be suppos'd to have been corrupted by Play-houses, who yet turn up a Bottle oftner than they do an Hour-glass, who box about a pair of Tables with more servour than they

do their Cushions, contemplate a pair of Dice more frequently than the Fathers or Councels, and meditate and depend up∣on Hazard, more than they do upon Pro∣vidence.

And as for that unnatural sin, which is another growing vice of the Age, it would be monstrous to urge that it is in the least encourag'd by the Stage, for it is either never mention'd there, or mention'd with the last detesta∣tion.

And now lastly, for the Love of Women, fomented by the Corruption, and not by the genuine Art of the Stage; tho the augmenting and nou∣rishing it cannot be defended, yet it may be in some measure excus'd.

1. Because it has more of Nature, and consequently more Temptation, and consequently less Malice, than the preceding three, which the Drama does not encourage.

2. Because it has a check upòn the other Vices, and peculiarly upon that unnatural sin, in the restraining of which the happiness of mankind is in so evident a manner concern'd.

So that of the four moral reigning vices, the Stage encourages but one, which, as it has been prov'd to be the least of them all, so is it the least con∣tageous, and the least universal. For in the Country, Fornication and Adultery are seldom heard of, whereas Drunken∣ness rages in almost every house there: From all which it appears, how very un∣reasonable it is, to charge the lewdness of the times upon the Stage, when it is e∣vident, that of the four reigning moral vices, the Stage encourages but one, and that the least of the ••our, and the least universal, and a vice which has a check upon the other three, and particularl•• upon that amongst them, which is most opposite and most destructive to the hap∣piness of mankind.

CHAP. IV.

The Objections from Authority answer'd.

IN the next place we come to answer the objections which Mr Collier has brought from Authority. The Au∣thorities which he has produc'd are in∣deed very numerous, yet only four of them can be reduc'd under this head, without running into confusion, two Poets and two Philosophers.

The Poets are Ovid and Mr. Wycher∣ley; the Philosophers, Plutarch and Se∣neca.

The first of them is Ovid, in his Book De Arte Amandi, and in his Book De Remedio Amoris. We have already an∣swer'd the last in the preceding Chap∣ter, and shall now say something to the first. The passage is this:

Sed Tu praecipue Curvis Venare Theatris Haec loca sunt votis Fertiliora tuis. Illic invenies quod ames, quod Ludere possis Quod{que} semel Tangas quod{que} Tenere velis.

From whence Mr Collier makes this shrewd Remark, that the Theatre is the properest place in the world to meet, or to find a Mistress, and that several people go thither on purpose. In answer to this, I desire the Reader to peruse the Verses which precede.

Nec Fuge niliginae Memphitica Templa Iu∣venc•• Multas illa facit quod fuit illa Iovi.

And have we not here a merry person? who brings an Authority against going to Theatres, which is as direct against going to Church? Nay, and upon the very same account too. But the Poet speaks here of a Heathen Temple, says Mr Collier. Well, and so he does of a Heathen Theatre. But what he says of the Roman Theatre is exactly appli∣cable to ours. And what Reply can be made to that, says Mr Collier? What?

Why I wish to God that no Reply could be made to it. But besides, if several people go to our Theatres pur∣posely to meet, or to find out a Mi∣stress, I think it is plain that if there were no Theatres, they wou'd go to other places: Especially since, as we hinted above, when the Theatres are shut, they frequent other Assemblies upon the same designs. But tho some people go to the Theatre to meet their Mistresses, yet it is evident that most go to see the Play, who, if they could not have that diversion, would not improbably go to other places with far worse intentions.

The next who i•• produc••d against the Stage is Mr Wycherley, much, I dare say, against the assent either of his will or his understanding. But only for a jest in that admirable Epistle, which is prefix'd to the Plain Dealer. Howe∣ver; even that jest, let it be never so much o••re-strain'd, can never be brought to convince us of any thing but the abuses of the Theatre, which I do not pretend to defend; and I thought Mr Wycherley had more than made amends for it, by exposing Adu••tery, and ma∣king

it the immediate cause of Olivia's misfortune, in that excellent Play, which is a most instructive and a most noble Satyr, upon the hyprocrisie and villa∣ny of Mankind.

Mr Wycherley being indeed almost the only man alive, who has made Come∣dy instructive in its Fable; almost all the rest being contented to instruct by their characters. But what Mr Collier has said of Mr Wycherley is sufficient to shew us what Candour, nay, and what Justice we are to expect from this censurer of the Stage. For in giving Mr. Wycherley's Character, he has shewn himself invidious and detracting even in his commendation. For the best thing that he can afford to say of the greatest of our Comick Wits, is, that he is a man of good sense. Which puts me in mind of a Father in France over∣hearing his Son saying of the Mareschal de Turenne Ma foy, Ie trouve Monsieur de T••renne an Ioly Homme: Et vous mo•• ••its, replys the Father, je vous trouve un joly sot de parler ainsi, Du plus grand Homme que la France a porte. How unworthy was it to commend Mr Wycherley for a thing, which, tho

certainly he has in a very great degree, yet is common to him with a thousand more; and to take no notice of those ex∣traordinary qualities which are peculiar to him alone, his Wit, his Penetration, his Satyr, his Art, his Characters, and above all, that incomparable Vivacity, by which he has happily equall'd the Ancients, and surpass'd the Moderns?

But now let us pass to the Philoso∣phers, I mean the Philosophers who were not Poets; for no man can be a good Poet who is not a Philosopher. He has cited Plutarch in four several places in his Symposiaecum; his Book De Audiendis Poetis; his Treatise De glori•• Atheniensium; and his Laconick Institu∣tions: For the two last we shall say no∣thing to them, till we come to speak of government. In the two first Mr Collier makes Plutarch say, that Plays are dangerous to corrupt young peop••e, and therefore stage-poetry, when it grows too hardy, and licentious, ought to be check'd. But I make no doubt but to make it appear, that Mr collier has been guilty of three things in this very action, which are unworthy the Candour of a Gentleman, or of a man of

Letters. First, he has brought an Autho∣rity, which can only convince us that this Philosopher did not approve of the licentiousness of the Stage, which li∣centiousness we by no means design to defend: such an Authority, I say, he has brought in a Chapter, design'd to shew that the Ancients disapprov'd of Plays, and the Stage in general. Se∣condly, he has made use of the Autho∣rity of Plutarch against the Stage, whereas that Philosopher has said infinitely more in its behalf, than he has against it. Thirdly, he has from two tracts of Plutarch slurr'd one citation upon us, in the way of an argument, which is very unlike the reasoning of that Phi∣losopher. For in the first part of the Enthyme, he makes Plutarch damn the Stage, and the Drama in general; and in the second conclude against them in particular. For Plays, says he, that is, all Plays, are dangerous to cor∣rupt young people, and therefore some Plays ought to be check'd. And why does Mr Collier make the Philosopher argue after this Jesuitical manner, when it is plain to any Reader, that has but common apprehension, that

since in the second part of the Euthy∣mene, Plutarch condemn'd only some particular Plays; he only said in the first part of it, that some particular Play were dangerous. But let us pro∣ceed to Seneca. And since it highly concerns us to give a full and satis∣factory account of what is objected from him, let us cite him at length, a•• Mr Collier translates him. Seneca com∣plains heartily of the extravagance and debauchery of the Age: And how forward people were to improve in that which was naught. That scarce any body would ap∣ply themselves to the study of Nature and Morality, unless when the Play-house was shut, or the weather foul. That there was no body to teach Philosophy, because there was no body to learn it. But that the Stage had nurseries, and company enough. This misapplication of Time and Fancy, made knowledge in so ill a condition. This was the cause the Hints of Antiquity were no better pursued; that some inven∣tions were sunk, and that some inventions grew downwards, rather than otherwise. To which I answer, First, that it is not likely that Seneca should condemn the Drama and the Stage in general, since

it is so notoriously known that he writ Plays himself. Secondly, that by what he says it is evident that he declaims only against the abuses of the Theatre; and those such abuses as have no rela∣tion to ours; as for example, the pas∣sing whole days together in the Theatre, which the Romans oftentimes did. Thirdly, that if Mr Collier would infer from hence, that our Theatres are hin∣drances to the advancement of Learn∣ing, we have nothing to do but affirm what all the world must consent to, that Learning is now at a greater height than ever it was known in En∣gland.

What we have said is sufficient to confound Mr Collier, but we will not be contented with that; for here we triumph, here we insult, here we have a just occasion to shew the admirable advantage of the Stage to Letters, and the incomparable excellency of the Drama, and in a more peculiar manner of Tragedy, which seems purposely form'd and design'd for raising the mind, and firing it to that noble emula∣tion, which is so absolutely necessary for the improvement of Arts. This is

a truth which is confirm'd by the ex∣perience of all Nations, of all Ages. For whether we look upon the Anci∣ents or Moderns, whether we consider the Athenians or Romans, or the French or our selves, we shall find that Arts and Sciences have for the most part be∣gun, but all of them at least begun to prosper with the Stage, and that as they have flourish'd, they have at last declin'd with it. And this we may af∣firm, not only of the the more hu∣man Arts, Poetry, History, Eloquence, of which the Theatre is certainly the best School in the world; the School that form'd in a great measure those prodigious Disciples, Cicero and Demo∣sthenos, but we may truly assert it of all other sorts of Learning.

For before Thespis appear'd in Attica, and reduc'd the Drama to some sort of form, which had nothing but confusion before him, they had neither Author nor Knowledge amongst them, that could be esteem'd by posterity: That little knowledge which they had of Nature is to us ridiculous. For Moral Philosophy, they had no such thing, nor Orator nor Historian▪ But as soon as

after Thespis their Theatre began to flourish, all their extraordinary men, in all these sorts, appear'd almost toge∣ther. Not only those who adorn'd the Stage, as Aeschylus, Euripides, and the divine Sophocles; but those Orators, Philosophers and Historians, who have since been the wonders of all posterity, Socrates, Plato, Xenophon, Aristotle, Pe∣ricles, Thucydides, Demosthenes, Aes∣chines; and of all their famous Authors who have descended to us, there was not one that I can think of, but who was alive between the first appearing of Thespis, and the death of Sophocles. And be it said in a more particular manner for the honour of the Stage, that they had no such thing as Mo∣ral Philosophy before the Drama flourish'd. Socrates was the first, who out of their Theatre began to form their manners. And be it said, to the immortal honour of Tragedy, that the first and greatest of all the Moral Phi∣losophers, not only frequented their Theatres, but was employ'd in writing Tragedies.

And as among the Athenians, Elo∣quence, History, and Philosophy, I

speak of the moral, which is the only solid certain Philosophy, appear'd and flourish'd upon the flourishing of the Stage, so with the Stage they at last declin'd, for not one of their famous writers has descended to us, who liv'd after the Drama was come to perfection, that is, after the full establishment of the new Comedy.

As Dramatick Poetry was the first kind of writing that appear'd among the Athenians, so I defy the most skil∣ful man in antiquity, to name so much as one Author among the Romans till Dramatick Poetry appear'd at Rome, introduc'd by Livius Andronicus, above five hundred years after the building of the City. But when their Stage be∣gan to be cultivated, immediately a hundred writers arose, in Poetry, Elo∣quence, History, and Philosophy, whose Fame took an equal flight with that of the Roman Eagles, and who, transmitting their immortal works to posterity, continue the living glories of that Republick, and the only solid re∣mains of the Roman greatness. As with the Roman Stage the rest of their Arts were cultivated, and improv'd▪ propor∣tionably;

as with that in the Age of Augustus Caesar, about two hundred years from the time of Livius Andro∣nicus, they reach'd their utmost height, so with that they declin'd in the Reigns of succeeding Emperors.

For the French, 'tis yet scarce a hundred years since Hardy first appear'd among them: And Hardy was the first who began to reform their Stage, and to re∣cover it from the confusion in which it lay before him. And tho I cannot say, that before that time the French had no good writers, yet I may safely af∣firm, that they had but one, who was generally esteem••d throughout the rest of Europe: But to re••kon all who have since been excellent in Poetry, Elo∣quence, History and Philosophy, would certainly make a v••ry long and a very illustrious Roll.

'Tis time to come at last to our selves: It was first in the Reign of King Henry the Eighth that the Drama grew into form with us: It was establish'd in the Reign of Queen Elizabeth, and flourish'd in that of King Iames the First. And tho I will not presume to affirm, that before the Reign of King

Henry the Eighth we had no good Writers, yet I will confidently assert, that, excepting Chaucer, no not in any sort of Writing whatever, we had not a first rate Writer. But immediately upon the establishment of the Drama, three prodigies of Wit appear'd all at once, as it were so many Suns to amaze the learned world. The Reader will immediately comprehend that I speak of Spencer, Bacon and Raleigh; three mighty geniuses, so extraordinary in their different ways, that not only England had never seen the like before, but they almost continue to this very day, in spight of emulation, in spight of time, the greatest of our Poets, Philosophers and Historians.

From the time of King Iames the First the Drama flourish'd, and the Arts were cultivated, till the begin∣ning of our intestine broil••, in the Reign of King Charles the ••irst; when the Dramatick Muse was banish'd, and all the Arts degraded. For what other sort of Poets flourish'd in those days? who were the inspir••d, the celebrated men? Why Withers, Pryn, Vickars, Fellows whose verses were laborious

Libels upon the Art and themselves. These were the first rate Poets, and un∣der them flourish'd a herd of Scribblers of obscurer infamy: Wretches, who had not desert enough to merit even contempt; whose works, like aborti∣ons, never beheld the light, stifled in the dark by their own friends, as so many scandals upon humane nature, and lamentable effects of that universal conspiracy of Fools against Right Reason. And if any one pretends that Sir Iohn Denham, Sir William Davenant, Mr. Waller and Mr. Cowley writ many of their Verses in the time of the late Ci∣vil Wars; to him I answer, that what Mr. Waller writ was but very little, and the other three are notoriously known to have writ in a Country, where the Stage and Learning flourish'd. So that nothing among us that was considera∣ble was produc'd in Poetry in the times of the late Civil Wars, if you except but the first part of that admirable Sa∣tyr against the Muses mortal foe Hypo∣crisie, which yet neither did nor durst appear till the restoration of the Drama.

We have seen what the Poets were that flourish'd in those dismal times, let us now see what were the Ora∣tors? who were the cry'd up Preachers? why Calamy, Case, Hugh Peters, Man∣ton, Sibbs. But what was produc'd in the other Sciences, that was worthy of Posterity? what in Philosophy? what in History? what in Mathematicks? what could be expected when only hy∣pocritical fools were encourag'd, whose abominable canting was christn'd Gift, and their dulness Grace.

But what sort of persons have flou∣rish'd among us since the restoration of the Drama? Who have been they who have signaliz'd themselves in the other kinds of Poetry? So great is the num∣ber of those who have writ politely, that it is comprehensive of all conditi∣ons of men. How many have been justly Renown'd for Eloquence. So many extraordinary men have distin∣guish'd themselves by preaching, that to ennumerate them would be an end∣less thing. I shall content my self with mentioning the late Archbishop and the present Bishop of Rochester, so illu∣strious for their different Talents, the

one for his extream politeness, for his grace and his delicacy, the other for his nervous force, and both for their mas∣culine purity. Who among us are fam'd for History? not only the last of those great Prelates, but the present Bishop of Salisbury, whose History of the Reformation is so deservedly cele∣brated by the learned world, where∣ever English or French is known. What proficients have we in Philosophy? what in Mathematicks? Let all Europe reply, who has read, and reading admir'd them. I shall content my self with mentioning two of the living Glories of England, Mr Newton and Mr Lock, the one of which has not his equal in Europe, and neither of them has his su∣periour.

Thus have I shown you, how Poetry, Eloquence, History, and Philosophy, have appear'd, advanc'd, declin'd, and vanish'd with the Drama, not only in Greece and ancient Italy, but in modern France and England. So true it is, what was formerly so well said, that all those Arts which respect humanity, have a certain alliance, and a mutual dependance, and are defended and

supported by their common confede∣racy.

Thus while I am pleading in defence of the Stage, I am defending and sup∣porting Poetry, the best and the noblest kind of writing. For all other Writers are 〈◊〉〈◊〉 made by Precept, and are form'd by Art; but a Poet prevails by the force of Nature, is excited by all that's powerful in Humanity, and is sometimes by a Spirit not his own ex∣alted to Divinity.

For if Poetry in other Countries has flourish'd with the Stage, and been with that neglected, what must become of it here in England if the Stage is ruin'd; for foreign Poets have found their publick and their private Patrons. They who excell'd in Greece were en∣courag'd by the Athenian Stage, nay and, by all Greece assembled at their Olympian, Istmean, Nemean, Pythian Games. Rome had its Scipios, its Caesars, and its Mecenas, France had its mag∣nanimous Richlieu, and its greater Lewis, but the protection that Poetry has found in England, has been from the Stage alone. Some few indeed of our private men have had Souls that have

been large enough, and wanted only pow∣er. But of our Princes, how few have had any taste of Arts; nay, and of them who had some, have had their Heads too full, and some their Souls too narrow.

As then in maintaining the cause of the Stage, I am defending Poetry in general; so in defending that I am pleading for Eloquence, for History and Philosophy. I am pleading for the reasonable pleasures of mankind, the only harmless, the only cheap, the on∣ly universal pleasures; the nourish∣ments of Youth, and the delights of Age, the ornaments of Prosperity, and the surest Sanctuaries of Adversity, now insolently attempted by furious zeal too wretchedly blind to see their beauties, or discern their innocence. For unless the Stage be encouraged in England, Poetry cannot subsist; for never was any man a great Poet, who did not make it his business as well as pleasure and solely abandon himself to that. And as Poetry wou••d be crush'd by the ruines of the Stage; so Eloquence would be misera∣bly maim'd by them; for which, if action be confess'd the life of it, the

Theatre is certainly the best of Schools, and if action be not the life of it, De∣mosthenes was much mistaken.

In Eloquence I humbly conceive that the Pulpit is somthing concern'd, and by consequence in the Stage; and need not be asham'd to learn from that place which instructed Cicero, and which form'd Demosthenes. For I can∣not forbear declaring, notwithstand∣ing the extream veneration which I have for the Church of England, that if in some of our Pulpits, we had but persons that had half the excellence of Demosthenes, that had but half the force of his words, and the resistless strength of his Reasoning, and but half his vehement action, we should see quite another effect of their Sermons. Those divine Orators fulminating with their sa∣cred Thunder, would infix terrible plagues in the souls of sinners, and rouze and awake to a new life even those who are dead in sin.

I now come to answer what is object∣ed from Religion; and that is, that tho it should be granted that some lit∣tle happiness may be deriv'd from the Stage, yet that there is a much better

and surer way to be happy: For the only way to be solidly and lastingly happy even in this life, is to be truly Religious, the best Christian being al∣ways the happiest man. To which I an∣swer, That as the Christian Religion contains the best, nay, the only means to bring men to eternal happiness, so for the making men happy ev'n in this life, it surpasses all Philosophy; but yet I confidently assert, that if the Stage were arriv'd to that degree of purity, to which in the space of some little time it may easily be brought, the fre∣quenting our Theatres would advance Religion, and consequently the happi∣ness of mankind, and so become a part of the Christian duty, which I shall de∣monstrate when I come to speak of Religion.

The end of the First Part.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Hor. Ode Lib. 2.