A Series of Plays in which it is attempted to delineate The Stronger Passions of the Mind, Volume Two/To the Reader
TO THE READER.
After a considerable interval of time from the publishing of the first, I now offer to the Public a second volume of the "Series of Plays;" and, with it, my very grateful thanks for that indulgence and cheering approbation which has encouraged me to proceed thus far in my work. I have to thank it, for that kind of reception which is best calculated to make a work go on well—praise mixed with a considerable portion of censure. I have to thank it, indeed, for that kind of reception which I solicited; conscious that it was the best, in regard to my real interest, which I could receive; as well as the very best, in regard to my merits, which I could possibly presume to expect. If with this great advantage, beyond what I enjoyed when I wrote the first part of this work, I have fallen short in the second volume, of what might have been reasonably expected from me, I have only to say for myself, that I have done my best, and that my abilities are in fault, and not my industry. The time, indeed, that has elapsed since the publication of the first volume, will, I trust, be considered as a proof that the portion of public approbation with which I have been favoured, has not rendered me presumptuous.
I know there are causes, why the second part of a work should be more severely dealt with than that which has preceded it: but after what I have experienced, it would be ungrateful in me not to suppose that the generality of readers will take up this volume with a disposition to be pleased: and that they will also, in favour of one who has no great pretensions to learning or improvements, be inclined to extend the term of good-natured indulgence a little beyond its ordinary limits.
The first play in this volume is a comedy on Hatred, as a companion to the tragedy I have already published upon the same subject. Of this I shall say little. I have endeavoured in it to shew this passion in a different situation, and fostered by a different species of provocation from that which was exhibited by De Monfort, and existing in a character of much less delicacy and reserve. I am aware, that it falls greatly short of that degree of comic effect which the subject is calculated to produce, and which a writer of truer comic talents would have given it.
The subject of the other three plays is Ambition. It is with regret that I have extended the serious part of it to an unusual length, but I found that within a smaller compass I could not give such a view of the passions as I wished. Those passions which are of a permanent nature, are the proper subjects of this work: such, I mean, as are capable of taking up their abode in the mind, and of gaining a strong ascendancy over it during a term of some length; I have therefore, in all these plays given myself greater scope in point of time, than is usual with dramatic writers. But compared with ambition, perhaps all other passions may be considered as of a transient nature. They are capable of being gratified; and, when they are gratified, they become extinct, or subside and shade themselves off (if I may be allowed the expression) into other passions and affections. Ambition alone acquires strength from gratification, and after having gained one object still sees another rise before it, to which it as eagerly pushes on; and the dominion which it usurps over the mind is capable of enduring from youth to extreme age. To give a full view, therefore, of this passion, it was necessary to show the subject of it in many different situations, and passing through a considerable course of events; had I attempted to do this within the ordinary limits of one play, that play must have been so entirely devoted to this single object, as to have been left bare of every other interest or attraction. These are my reasons for making so large a demand on the patience of my reader in favour of this passion, and if I am pardoned in this instance, there is little danger of my offending again in the same manner. I am perfectly sensible, that from the length of these tragedies, and, perhaps some other defects, they are not altogether adapted to the stage; but I would fain flatter myself, that either of the parts of Ethwald, might, with very little trouble, be turned into an acting play, that would neither fatigue nor offend. I should, indeed, very much regret any essential defect in this work, that might render it unfit for being more generally useful and amusing.
The scene of these plays is laid in Britain, in the kingdom of Mercia, and the time towards the end of the Heptarchy. This was a period full of internal discord, usurpation, and change; the history of which is too perplexed, and too little connected with any very important or striking event in the affairs of men, to be familiarly known, not merely to common readers, but even to the more learned in history. I have therefore, thought, that I might here, without offence, fix my story; here give it a "habitation and a name," and model it to my own fancy, as might best suit my design.—In so doing, I run no risk of disturbing or deranging the recollection of any important truth, or of any thing that deserves to be remembered. However, though I have not adhered to history, the incidents and events of the plays will be found, I hope, consistent with the character of the times; with which I have also endeavoured to make the representation I have given of manners, opinions, and persons, uniformly correspond. I have, indeed, given a very dark picture of the religion and the clergy of those days; but it is a true one: and I believe it will be perceived throughout the whole, that it is drawn by one, who would have touched it with a lighter hand, had the spirit and the precepts of christianity, and above all, the superlatively beautiful character of its divine Founder, been more indifferent to her.
To give a view of Ambition, as it is generally found in the ordinary intercourse of life, excited by vanity rather than the love of power, and displayed in a character which is not, like that of Ethwald, supported by the consciousness of abilities adequate to its designs, has been my object in the comedy that accompanies the foregoing tragedies. As a long period of time, and a long chain of events, did not appear necessary to this purpose, I have confined myself to the usual limits of a dramatic work. There is nothing, I believe, either in the story or the characters of the piece, that call upon me to say any thing in regard to them. Such as it is, I leave it, with its companions, in the hands of my reader, with some degree of confidence struggling against many fears: and I am willing to hope, that, if in the course of this volume I have given, in general, a true representation of human nature, under such circumstances as interest our hearts and excite our curiosity, many sins will be forgiven me; especially as, I trust, they are not sins of carelessness or presumption.