ty of action; and therefore it ought never to be indulged unlefs to unbend the mind after the fatigue of a long narration. This purpose of an episode demands the following conditions: it ought to be well connected with the principal action it ought to be lively and interefting: it ought to be short and a time ought to be chofen when the principal action relents *. In the following beautiful episode, which clofes the second book of Fingal, all these conditions are united. roes. Comal was a fon of Albion; the chief of an hundred hills, His deer drunk of a thousand ftreams; and a thousand rocks replied to the voice of his dogs. His face was the mildness of youth; but his hand the death of he One was his love, and fair was fhe! the daughter of mighty Conloch, She appeared like a fun-beam among women, and her hair was like the wing of the raven. Her foul was fixed on Comal, and fhe was his companion in the chace. Often met their eyes of love, and happy were their words in fecret. But Gormal loved the maid, the chief of gloomy Ardven. He watched her lone steps on the heath, the foe of unhappy Comal. 1 One day tired of the chace, when the mift had concealed their friends, Comal and the daughter of Conloch met in the cave of Ronan. It was the wonted haunt of * Homer's description of the shield of Achilles is properly introduced at a time when the action relents, and the reader can bear an interruption. But the author of Telemachus defcribes the fhield of that young hero in the midft of battle; a very improper time for an interruption. Comal. Comal. Its fides were hung with his arms; a hundred fhields of thongs were there, a hundred helms of founding steel. Reft here, faid he, my love Galvina, thou light of the cave of Ronan: a deer appears on Mora's brow; I go, but foon will return. I fear, faid fhe, dark Gormal my foe: I will reft here; but foon return, my love. He went to the deer of Mora. The daughter of Conloch, to try his love, cloathed her white fide with his armour, and ftrode from the cave of Ronan, Thinking her his foe, his heart beat high, and his colour changed. He drew the bow: the arrow flew : Galvina fell in blood, He ran to the cave with hafty steps, and called the daughter of Conloch, Where art thou, my love? but no anfwer. He marked, at length, her heaving heart beating against the mortal arrow. O Conloch's daughter, is it thou! He funk upon her breast. The hunters found the hapless pair. Many and filent were his fteps round the dark dwelling of his love. The fleet of the ocean came: he fought, and the strangers fell he fearched for death over the field; but who could kill the mighty Comal? Throwing away his fhield, an arrow found his manly breaft. He fleeps with his Galvina : their green tombs are feen by the mariner, when he bounds on the waves of the north, Next, upon the peculiarities of a dramatic poem. And the first I fhall mention is a double plot; one of which must be of the nature of an episode in an epic poem; for it would distract the fpectator, instead of entertaining him, if he were forc'd to attend, at the fame time, to two capital plots equally interefting. And even fuppofing Bb 4 pofing it an under-plot, of the nature of an epifode, it feldom hath a good effect in tragedy, of which fimplicity is a chief property; for an interesting subject that engages our warmeft affections, occupies our whole attention, and leaves no room for any feparate concern *. Variety is more tolerable in comedy, which pretends only to amufe, without totally occupying the mind. But even here, to make a double plot agreeable, Racine, in his preface to the tragedy of Berenice, is fenfible, that fimplicity is a great beauty in tragedy, but mistakes the cause. "Nothing (fays he) but verifimilitude pleases in tragedy: but "where is the verifimilitude, that within the compafs of a day, e : vents should be crowded which commonly are extended through "months?" This is mistaking the accuracy of imitation for the probability or improbability of future events. I explain myself. The verifimilitude required in tragedy, is that the actions correfpond to the manners, and the manners to nature. When this refemblance is preserved, the imitation is juft, because it is a true copy of nature. But I deny that the verifimilitude of future events, meaning the probability of future events, is any rule in tragedy. A number of extraordinary events, are, it is true, feldom crowded within the compass of a day but what feldom happens may hap pen; and when fuch events fall out, they appear not lefs natural than the moft ordinary accidents. To make verifimilitude in the fense of probability a governing rule in tragedy, would annihilate this fort of writing altogether; for it would exclude all extraordinary events, in which the life of tragedy confifts. It is very improbable or unlikely, pitching upon any man at random, that he will facrifice his life and fortune for his mistress or for his country: yet when this event happens, fuppofing it conformable to the character, we recognise the verifimilitude as to nature, whatever want of verifimilitude or of probability there was a priori that such would be the event. is no flight effort of art: the under-plot ought not to vary greatly in its tone from the principal; for difcordant paffions are unpleasant when jumbled together; which, by the way, is an infuperable objection to tragi-comedy. Upon this account, I blame the Provok'd Hufband: all the scenes that bring the family of the Wrongheads into action, being ludicrous and farcical, agree very ill with the principal fcenes, difplaying fevere and bitter expoftulations between Lord Townley and his lady. The fame objection touches not the double plot of the Careless Hufband; the different fubjects being sweetly connected, and having only fo much variety as to refemble fhades of colours harmoniously mixed. But this is not all. The under-plot ought to be connected with that which is principal, fo much at least as to employ the fame perfons: the under-plot ought to occupy the intervals or pauses of the principal action; and both ought to be concluded together. This is the case of the Merry Wives of Windfor. Violent action ought never to be represented on the stage. While the dialogue runs on, a thousand particulars concur to delude us into an impreffion of reality, genuine fentiments, paffionate language, and perfuafive gefture: the fpectator once engaged, is willing to be deceived, lofes fight of himself, and without fcruple enjoys the spectacle as a reality. From this absent state, he is roufed by violent action; he wakes as from a pleafing dream, and gathering his fenfes about him, finds all to be a fiction. Horace delivers the fame rule; and founds it upon the reafon given: Ne pueros coram populo Medea trucidet; Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus; Aut in avem Progne vertatur, Cadmus in anguem: The French critics join with Horace in excluding from the stage the fhedding blood; but they have overlooked the moft fubftantial objection, that above mentioned, urging only that it is barbarous, and fhocking to a polite audience. But the Greeks had no notion of fuch delicacy, or rather effeminacy; witness the murder of Clytemneftra by her fon Oreftes, paffing behind the scene, as represented by Sophocles her voice is heard calling out for mercy, bitter expoftulations on his part, loud fhrieks upon her being stabb'd, and then a deep filence... I appeal to every perfon of feeling, whether this fcene be not more horrible, than if the deed had been committed in fight of the fpectators upon a fudden guft of paffion. If Corneille, in representing the affair between Horatius and his fifter upon which murder enfues behind the scene, had no other view but to remove from the spectators a shocking action, he certainly was in a capital mistake for murder in cold blood, which in fome measure was the cafe as reprefented, is more fhocking to |