Distressed Mother]. 1
______
This tragedy is a translation from Racine,2 a French
poet of the highest celebrity, who lived in the reign of Lewis the Fourteenth; and who, in
the possession of wealth, and the enjoyment of fame, died of chagrin, occasioned by
the king's displeasure at a memorial he addressed to his majesty, written with
infinite eloquence, upon the miseries of the people.3
Ambrose Philips, the translator of
this favourite play, has been more successful than dramatic translators generally
are. The French and the English stages differ so essentially, that every drama
requires great alteration, before it can please a London audience, although it has
previously charmed the audience of Paris.
The gloomy mind of a British auditor demands a bolder and more varied species of
theatrical amusement, than the lively spirits of his neighbours in France. The former
has no attention, no curiosity, till roused by some powerful fable, intricate
occurrences, and all the interest which variety creates—whilst the latter will
quietly sit, absorbed in their own glowing fancy, to hear speeches after speeches,
of
long narration, nor wish to see any thing performed, so they are but told, that
something has been done.
b 2
[Page 4]
"The Distressed Mother" partakes of the common quality of French
dramas in this respect—much more is described to the audience than they see
executed: but every recital is here in the highest degree interesting; and the
dignity of the persons introduced on the stage seems to forbid all violence of
action, which might endanger their respective grandeur.
The mere falling on the knee, by Andromache, when she exclaims to her victor— Behold how low
you have reduc'd a queen!4 is perhaps more affecting, more admirable, in the character
of a mother, haughty, like the Queen of the
Trojans, than any event which could have occurred in the play, than any
heroic deed which, either in grief or in rage, she could have performed.
The love of Hermione for Pyrrhus,5 founded on ambition, is, again, as natural a
representation of that love, which but too often governs the heart of woman, as could
be given: and Orestes, doting with fondness,
the more he finds she, whom he loves, loves another, is equally as true a picture
of
this well-known passion, as it rules over the heart of man.6
Frequently as this tragedy has been acted, and much as it has been approved by an
English audience, it will still gain more favour with a reader than a spectator.
Imagination can give graces, charms, and majesty, to Hector's widow, and all the royal natives of Troy and Greece, which their
representatives cannot always so completely bestow; and, as the[Page 5] work is
chiefly narrative, reading answers the same purpose as to listen.
The attraction of this play, on its first appearance in England, was, by some
critics, ascribed to the exertions of the translator’s friends. Steele, who wished well to Philips, devoted a whole paper of his
"Spectator" to the praise of the piece, even before it was
acted;7 and continued his encomiums afterwards, to the no small reputation of
the English author.
This Ambrose Philips was a gentleman
well known for having a number of warm friends, and implacable enemies; and it is
supposed that the imprudent eulogiums of the one often did him as much
injury, as the malicious animadversions of the other.8 The writers in
"The Spectator" were, however, of too judicious a class to praise
him into ridicule without intending it; and, no doubt, they aided the popularity of
his play.
But with all the reputation Mr.
Philips acquired by "The Distressed Mother," and two other
tragedies, of which he was the original author, his name is better known to the world
as a pastoral poet, than as a dramatist. He is still more remembered as the pretended
rival of Pope in his rural poetry; and
as a man whom Pope hated, even beyond
his ordinary bounds of pettish spleen.
The paper war, which Mr. Ambrose
Philips held, through life, with his literary antagonists, did not, however,
shorten his days; for he survived every effort of his enemies to make his existence
burthensome, till the age of seventy-eight,—and died in 1749.9
b 3