ART. XVI. The Choleric Man: a Comedy. As it is performed at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. By Richard Cumberland, Efq. Octavo. I s. 6d. Becket. 1775.

I'

Na long dedication worthy the pen of Scriblerus, the Author of this comedy has, in his own perfon, given a very lively image of the Choleric Man. This prince of the genus ir ritabile will allow no man's dog to bark in his prefence; although he courts applaufe, he will not confider himself as liable to cenfure; and he profcribes the whole generation of annotaters, remarkers, obfervers, &c. from the minor critic of a newspaper, to the gave Ariftarchus of a Review.

It is plain, however, that by appearing at the old Drury feffions, our Author meant to put himself on his country; and he well knew that by refufing to plead in that place, he would have incurred the refentment of the court, and brought upon himself the peine forte & dure of damnation. He pleaded therefore generally, not guilty; and specially as follows:

Micio's mild virtues, and mad Demea's rage,
With burfts alternate fhook the echoing flage;
And from these models 'tis your poet draws
His best, his only hope of your applaufe.

PROLOGUE.

Here the matter refted, and the trial went on; in the course of which it was proved by feveral inconteftible witneffes, Andrew Nightfhade, Charles Manlove, and others, that the Author never had recourfe to thofe models, and that he meant to impofe on the public, by reprefenting his fituation with regard to Terence, to be the fame with that of Terence in regard to Menander.

And fhould you on your humbler bard beflow

That grace which Rome to her's was pleas'd to show,
Advantage with the modern fairly lies,

Who, lefs deferving, gains as great a prize.

Ibid.

The trial being over, and the culprit clearly convicted of an attempt to gain applaufe by falfe pretences, it remained with him to throw out whatever he had to offer in arrest of judgement; whereupon he abandons his original plea, and totally changing the nature of his defence, complained of the cruelty and injuftice ufually difplayed in the ordinary's account, and the feffions-papers, and then proceeds on these words:

I would beg leave humbly to obferve that the plot of Terence was never in my contemplation; it requires the genius of Mr. Mason to make the Grecian fimplicity live on our stage; I dare not attempt it even at your command; but if you wish to have it tried GO TO YOUR TERENCE, you will find it ingeniously and ably tranflated, and bring his BROTHERS on the theatre: I fear

even my illegitimate race, if tried by a jury of English freeholders, will out the reprefentative of the heir apparent, nay the very heir himself, if he was [were would be more elegant] to come in his own person to affert his right.' DEDICATION, p. vii.

Here, dropping all further metaphor, but ftill content to examine the Choleric Man on Mr. Cumberland's own principles, we cannot but regret that the plot of Terence was never in the Author's contemplation. To challenge the exhibition of a literal tranflation of the Brothers, however able or ingenious, is an unworthy fubterfuge; but an able and ingenious imitation, such as Mr. Cumberland's prologue encouraged us to expect, would certainly have been a much more meritorious and entertaining production, than what the Author now very properly styles his illegitimate race.

In obedience to our Author's commands we have gone to our Terence, and as he bids us, to Colman's tranflation; wherein we find, after comparing the Brothers of the Roman poet (pardon us, ye Manes of Terence!) with the Choleric Man, that the plot of the Adelphi, in the four firft acts efpecially, is ingenious, probable, and abounding with humorous incidents, while the fable of the modern play is inartificial, extravagant, and barren of pleafantry. Mr. Cumberland indeed, as well as Terence, profeffes to give

Something for fathers and for fons to hear!

But what leffons do his fathers, Nightshade and Manlove, afford in comparison to their avowed models, Demea and Micio? And how poorly defigned are the portraits of the fons, when referred to Æfchinus and Ctefipho! In Terence we are tranfported directly into the middle of things; the bufinefs opens on us at once, an event having been fuppofed to take place before the beginning of the play, which fets all the characters in motion. How naturally does the fraternal kindness of Æfchinus involve him in the intrigue of Ctefipho, and contribute to bring forward the characters of the two old men, as well as to alarm the family, to which he had himfelf profeffed an inviolable attachment! Are not thefe circumstances dramatick, and a fufficient bafis for a modern comedy? Are they not preferable to the unnatural, yet ftale theatrical device of two lovers betrothed to each other reciprocally, wishing for an interview under feigned characters? Is it not more artful to commence the play in the midst of the action, than to fabricate a hungry plot after the rifing of the curtain? And when fabricated, how improbably is it conducted, in comparifon with the original! The brotherly affection between the young men of Terence, the modern has wholly difcarded; and has alfo totally divefted his fevere father of paternal affection. How difgufting is F 2 the

the brutality of Nightshade, to the touching exclamation of Demea!

Hei mihi! Pater effe difce ab illis,

Qui verè fciunt!

Ah, learn to be a father; learn from thofe,
Who know what 'tis to be indeed a parent!

TER.

COLMAN'S TRANSLATION.

This violation of the characters has produced a fuitable depravation of the fable, which fwarms with improbabilities. Jack Nightfhade's going full dreft at noon-day, under his brother's name, a propofed fuiter in the fame family, where his father lodges, and his brother pays his addreffes, are incidents that would require the moft fkilful management to reconcile them even to the ufual license of the theatre; and to place the unnatural father, who has thrown off one of his children, in the very houfe where the difcarded fon is about to form the closest connexion, is a gratis improbability, generously thrown into the bargain. The exhibition of Demea's paffion naturally arises from the fable; but the modern Author has fo ill conftructed his story, that he is reduced to the neceffity of going quite out of the main plot and fable of his piece, to manifeft the ill effects of Nightfhade's cholerick complexion: and for our parts we cannot much admire the episode of the Morning-Poft.

To continue the comparifon between the Roman poet and our modern dramatift, who first challenges, and afterwards deelines the parallel, would be an ungrateful tafk; nor do we think that the comedy of the Choleric Man rested on its own merits, calls for a further inveftigation. It appears on the whole to be a crude and hafty compofition, in which the Author has totally loft fight of an original which he OUGHT to have copied, neither prefenting us with the artful fable and first characters of the Adelphi, nor even the groffer drolleries of the Squire of Alfatia. The following extract from the third act is felected as one of the moft lively paffages in the plot, as well as one of the most favourable specimens of the dialogue. Mrs. STAPLETON and LETITIA, ufber'd in [10 JACK] by FREDERICK.

Fred. I beg pardon, Sir, I thought you was gone out: thefe ladies are defirous of feeing the pictures, and I was conducting them to the room.

Jack. I will take that honour on myfelf. Go before and open the windows. (Exit Fred.) You are fond of paintings, ladies; I am glad it is in my power to entertain you.

Mrs. Stap. You are the owner, Sir, of this admirable collection. Your name is Manlove.

Jack. At the fervice of the ladies always. I'll pass a few of lawyer Dibble's airs upon them-I'm in a rare cue. (fidr.)

Lat. What do they mean by talking up this young man? He has a miferable addrefs: I fee very little of the man of fashion about

him.

Mrs. Stap. I cannot say much for his perfon to be fure.

Jack. She has fixt her eyes upon me; fhe is taken with my perfon and addrefs-Don't you find it rather cold, ladies ?-1 with there was a fire in the room, that I might give her a taste of my breeding. (afide.)

Lat. The public is much bound to you for giving them access to your collection.

Jack. If the public found no more amusement in them than I do, they might hang in the dark till doom's-day.

Lat. You jeft, I believe: Is it poffible, after taking fuch pains in procuring them, you can have no enjoyment in the poffeffion of them?

Jack. Even fo, Madam; they refemble matrimony in that refpect; the purfuit is the pleasure. But come, ladies, the room is ready, and I'll fhew you the way.-What the devil does that old Duenna come for? (Goes out.)

Let. Is this the accomplish'd Mr. Manlove? He seems in a ftrange humour: Are you fure he is perfectly fober? I declare I fcarce like to follow him.

Jack (returns.) Ladies this is the way: Indulge me with the honour of your hand. (leads out Lætitia)

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

An Apartment magnificently furnished with pictures. JACK introducing Mrs. STAPLETON and LETITIA. Jack. There, Ladies; there they hang: A jolly crew of 'em. Old Ladies in furrs and furbelows up to their throats, and young ones without a rag to cover 'em: These painters are but fcurvy taylors; they'll fend a goddess into the world without a cloud to cover her: There are fome pretty conceits go with their hiftories, but they will speak for themfelves; I am but little in their fecrets.

Lat. What a blaze of beauty! there's the Titian Venus; heavens! what a form! what brilliant hues! But look, dear Madam, here is grace and dignity; Guido's Lucretia: the dagger in her breast, and in the act of heroic self-destruction: What refolution! what a fpirit has the great artist thrown into thofe eyes!

Jack. Yes, he had a devil of a spirit; She stabb'd herself in a pique upon being cross'd in love.

Mrs. Stap. You prefume on our ignorance; history, I believe, affigns more elevated motives for Lucretia's death.

Jack. Very likely; there were great pains taken to smother the ftory; but 'tis as I tell you-I had it from a near relation of the family.

Lat. Ridiculous! Do you obferve that picture, Madam; 'tis a melancholy story, very finely told by Pouffin: It is a view of Marfeilles at the time of the plague, with a capital figure of the good bishop in the midst of the groupe.

Jack. Bishop, Madam! that perfon which you look upon is a phyfician, and the people round about him are his patients; they are in a desperate way it must be confeft. Do you fee that angry

F 3

figure

litis

figure in the corner; he is a gamefter: he is picking 'lead out of loaded dice to run into bullets, to fire through his own head: 'Tis no bad moral.

Lat. You are infinitely kind to favour us with thefe anecdotes : If you are thus gracious to all strangers, the world will edify abundantly. But we won't put you to the trouble of explanation-we are not entirely ignorant-tho' your collection may be the best we have fcen, it is not abfolutely the first.

Jack. Belike then you are a painter, as well as the lady I vifited jult now.

Lat. In the presence of fuch mafters as are here affembled, I cannot call myfelf a painter; in my own chamber I fometimes perfuade myself I am.

Jack. Yes, I am told it is an art which ladies moftly practise in their own chambers-What fay you to that picture over the door? 'tis a merry conceit.

Lat. It is the colouring of the Venetian fchool: I should guess it to be Tintoret.

Jack. Oh, you are quite out of the ftory.

Mrs. Stap. She is fpeaking of the mafter: The story is plainly that of Acteon, and no bad moral; he was turn'd into a ftag, by the goddefs of chaflity, for his impertinent curiofity.

Jack. Excufe me, Madam, you miftake the moral-That gentleman with the antlers on his head, is a city hufband, the principal lady in the fhow is his wife; he wears a crefcent on her forehead to fignify fhe is a dealer in horns; her companions are a groupe of city Madams: The painter drew them bathing to fhew the warmth of their conflitutions.

Let. Upon my word you have a great deal of wit, and you have a fine collection of paintings; but one capital piece is wanting. Jack. And what is that, pray?

Lat.

Lucretia.

Modeity: It will be an excellent companion to your

Jack. But who fhall I get to fit for the likeness?

Let. You will find it admirably painted by the fame master,
Come, Madam,iittime for us to be gone.

Jack. You are not for the city-end of the town, I conclude.
Mrs Stop. Our home is in the city,

Jack. Permit me to conduct you thither; I have a coach in waiting, and am bound to New Broad-Street, if you know fuch a place.

Mrs. Stap. Intimately; but we have a carriage of our own.

Lat. Can there be any attractions in the city to engage Mr. Manlove's regards?

Jack. Oh, yes; an affignation, Madam: I am loth to disappoint a fond girl.

Lat. "Tis charitably confider'd.

Jack. Nay, I don't know but I fhou'd be inclined to take her for better for worse, if it was not for one circumftance in her dif favour.

Lat. May I ask what that may be?

Jack.