REAL FRIENDSHIP A YOUNG gentleman, making an apology to his father for coming late to dinner, said "that he had been visiting a poor friend of his in St. George's Fields." "Ah! a pretty kind of friend indeed," says the father, "to keep us waiting for dinner in this manner." «Aye, and for the best kind, too," said Foote: "as you know, my dear sir, a friend in need is a friend indeed." ANECDOTE OF AN AUTHOR AN AUTHOR was boasting that as a reviewer he had the power of distributing literary reputations as he liked. "Take care," said Foote, "you are not too prodigal of that, or you may leave none for yourself." DR. BLAIR WHEN Foote first heard of Dr. Blair's writing Notes on Ossian (a work the reality of which has always been much doubted), he observed, "The publishers ought to allow a great discount to the purchaser, as the notes required such a stretch of credit." ADVICE TO A DRAMATIC WRITER A DULL dramatic writer, who had often felt the severity of the public, was complaining one day to Foote of the injustice done him by the critics; but added, "I have, however, one way of being even with them, by constantly laughing at all they say." "You do perfectly right, my friend," said Foote; "for by this method you will not only disappoint your enemies, but lead the merriest life of any man in England." THE GRAFTON MINISTRY A GENTLEMAN coming into the Cocoa-Tree one morning during the Duke of Grafton's administration, was observing "that he was afraid the poor ministry were at their wits' end." "Well, if it should be so," said Foote, "what reason have they to complain of so short a journey?" JOHN FORD HE dramatic genius of the English Renaissance had well-nigh spent itself when the sombre creations of John Ford appeared upon a stage over which the clouds of the Civil War were fast gathering. He was born in 1586; entered the Middle Temple in 1602; after 1641 he is swallowed up in the turmoil of the time. The few scattered records of his life add nothing to, nor do they take anything from, the John Ford of The Broken Heart) and (Perkin Warbeck.> Coming after Shakespeare, Webster, Beaumont, Fletcher, and Jonson, Ford's work naturally owes much to these masters. In stage presentation, in themes, and in types of character, he follows the established traditions of the Elizabethan drama. Like many of his predecessors, his main theme was romantic love, but Ford was predisposed to abnormal or exaggerated forms of human experience. He breaks through the moral order, in his love for the eccentricities of passion. He weaves the spell of his genius around strange sins. His dramas are singularly uneven. (The Lady's Trial, (The Fancies Chaste and Noble, (The Sun's Darling) (written in conjunction with Dekker), are scarce worthy of passing notice. They leave but a pale impression upon the mind. In (Perkin Warbeck, the one historical play of Ford, he exhibits his mastery over straightforward, sinewy verse. The Witch of Edmonton, of which he wrote only a part, gives a signal example of his modern style and spirit. In The Lover's Melancholy› a quiet beauty rests upon the famous scene in which Parthenophil strives with the nightingale for the prize of music. The three plays which reveal Ford as an original and extraordinary genius are The Broken Heart, Love's Sacrifice, and ('Tis Pity She's a Whore.> The problems of despair which Ford propounds but never solves, form the plot of The Broken Heart); Calantha, Ithocles, Penthea, Orgilus, are wan types of the passive suffering which numbs the soul to death. Charles Lamb has eulogized the final scene of this drama. To other critics, the self-possession of Calantha savors of the theatrical. The scene between Penthea and her brother Ithocles, who had forced her to marry Bassanes though she loved Orgilus, is replete with the tenderness, the sense of subdued anguish, of which Ford was a master. His love of «passion at war with circumstance» again finds expression in Love's Sacrifice, a drama of moral confusions. In ('Tis Pity, with its story of incest, Ford's moral confusion and imaginative power are both at their greatest. In his plays on the abnormalities of romantic love, the moral contraction heightens the intensity of passion, which in his conception of it has always its ancient significance of suffering. His comic scenes are contemptible. He is at his greatest when dealing with the subtleties of the human heart. Through him we enter into the darker zones of the soul; we apprehend its remoter sufferings. Confusion of spiritual vision, blended with the tyranny of passion, produce his greatest His are the tragedies of «unfulfilled desire.»> scenes. The verse of Ford at its best has a complex and beautiful melody. There is a subtle music in his lines which haunts the memory. "Parthenophil is lost, and I would see him; FROM PERKIN WARBECK' [Perkin Warbeck and his followers are presented to King Henry VII. by Lord Dawbeny as prisoners.] -Life to the King, and safety fix his throne. I here present you, royal sir, a shadow Of Majesty, but in effect a substance Of pity; a young man, in nothing grown Dawbeny We observe no wonder; I behold ('tis true) From sanctuary. Dawbeny, At Bewley, near Southampton; registered, King Henry Dawbeny I must not thank you, sir! you were to blame Dare we be irreligious? Gracious lord! They voluntarily resigned themselves, Without compulsion. King Henry 'Twas very well. Warbeck Dawbeny So? 'twas very well Turn now thine eyes, Young man! upon thyself and thy past actions: Till wanting breath, thy feet of pride have slipt But not my heart; my heart There was a shooting in of light when Richmond Whither speeds his boldness? King Henry Warbeck Oh, let him range: The player's on the stage still; 'tis his part: Bosworth Field: King Henry A pretty gallant! thus your aunt of Burgundy, The lesson, prompted, and well conned, was molded Into familiar dialogue, oft rehearsed, Till, learnt by heart, 'tis now received for truth. Warbeck- Truth in her pure simplicity wants art To put a feigned blush on; scorn wears only Sad ulcerated novelty, far beneath; in such a court By which the sovereign is best distinguished King Henry Sirrah, shift Warbeck Your antic pageantry, and now appear In your own nature; or you'll taste the danger I expect No less than what severity calls justice, And politicians safety; let such beg As feed on alms: but if there can be mercy In a protested enemy, then may it Descend to these poor creatures whose engagements To the bettering of their fortunes have incurred A loss of all to them, if any charity Flow from some noble orator; in death I owe the fee of thankfulness. King Henry Warbeck What a bold knave is this! So brave? Urswick, command the Dukeling and these fellows Meet freedom in captivity: the Tower, King Henry Noble thoughts Was ever so much impudence in forgery? PENTHEA'S DYING SONG From The Broken Heart' H, NO more, no more,- too late; "Sighs are spent; the burning tapers Of a life as chaste as fate, Love's martyrs must be ever, ever dying. |