Critical Strictures on the New Tragedy of Elvira, Written by Mr. David Malloch | Page 4

has plunder'd from the French during the Course of his sad and tedious Composition.
In the first Scene of this Tragedy a Gentleman who has been abroad, during the Wars, requests his Friend to acquaint him with what has past at Court in the time of his Absence. We were equally surprized and delighted with this new Method of informing the Spectators of the Transactions prior to the Commencement of the Play; nothing can be more natural, for we imagine the Art of conveying Letters by Post was at that time undiscovered. We must indeed acknowledge, that during the time of the Roman Empire Letters were transmitted with the utmost Celerity from one Part to another of those immense Dominions; but we also know, that after the Subversion of that State by the Incursions of the Goths and Vandals, the first Act of Cruelty committed by these Barbarians was murdering all the Post-Boys in cold Blood: In like manner as our inhuman Edward upon his compleating the Conquest of Wales ordered all the Bards to be put to Death, amongst the Number of which had Mr. Malloch been included we had not now been tortured with his execrable Tragedy. Novelty of the same kind with this we have mentioned runs thro' the whole Play, almost every Scene being an Interview and a t��te a t��te. The King wants to see his Son, the Queen wants to see Elvira, Elvira wants to see the King, and so on thro' the Five Acts.
No new Thoughts or Sentiments are to be found in this Performance, we meet only with old ones absurdly expressed. Dryden said that Ben Johnson was every where to be traced in the Snow of the Ancients. We may say that Malloch is every where to be traced in the Puddle of the Moderns. Instead of selecting the Beauties, he has pick'd out whatever is despicable in Shakespeare, Otway, Dryden, and Rowe, like a Pick-Pocket who dives for Handkerchiefs, not for Gold; and contents himself with what he finds in our Great Coat Pocket, without attempting our Watch or your Purse. Tho' Mr. Malloch may only mean to borrow, yet as he possesses no Fund of Original Genius from whence he can pay his Debts, borrowing, we are afraid is an inadequate Expression, the harsher one of stealing we must therefore, tho' reluctantly, substitute in its room. In the Prologue he acknowledges himself a Culprit, but as the Loss of what he has pilfered is insignificant to the Owners, we shall bring him in guilty only of Petty Larcenary: We believe he has been driven, like poor People in this severe Weather by dire Necessity, to such dishonest Shifts.
In this Play the Author has introduced a Rebellion unparalleled in any History, Ancient or Modern. He raises his Rebellions as a skilful Gardener does his Mushrooms, in a Moment; and like an artful Nurse, he lulls in a Moment the fretful Child asleep. The Prince enters an Appartment of the Palace with a drawn Sword; this forms the Rebellion. The King enters the same Appartment without a drawn Sword. This quashes the Rebellion. How to credit this Story, or to pardon this poetical Licence, we are greatly at a Loss; for we know in the Year 1745 three thousand Mountaineers actually appeared at Derby. Cataline, we are credibly informed, had a Gang of at least a Dozen stout Fellows; and it is pretty certain that Bedemar, when going to inslave Venice, had provided Pistols and Battle Powder for more than fifteen fighting Men. We are almost tempted to think, that Mr. Malloch gets his Rebellions ready made, like his Scotch Tobacco, cut and dry, at the Sign of the Valiant Highlander.
Our great Author possesses, in its utmost Perfection, the happy Art of uniting rival Ladies, and of setting at Variance a virtuous Father and Son. How intimate his Acquaintance with Human Nature! How deep his Knowledge of the Passions! No less exquisite and refined in his Morality, like a true Disciple of Lord Bolingbroke, he unites Vice and Virtue most lovingly together; witness this memorable Line of the King's, addressed to Elvira;
'Midst all your Guilt I must admire your Virtue.
Let us invert this Line,
'Midst all your Virtue I must abhor your Guilt.
Let us parody it;
O Mr. David Malloch! 'midst all your Dullness I must admire your Genius.
We heard it once asserted by David Hume, Esq;[B] that Mr. Malloch was destitute of the Pathetic. In this Observation however we beg leave to differ with him. In the fourth Act the whole Board of Portuguese Privy Counsellors are melted into Tears. The Trial of the Prince moves the Hearts of those Monsters of Iniquity, those Members of Inquisition, when the less humane Audience are in Danger, from the Tediousness of two insipid Harangues of