folution of the origin of evil, far lefs as a complete one, nor was it ever fo urged, that we know of, by any Christian divine; none, therefore, but either injudicious or uncandid perfons will reprefent the fubject in this light." Our bufinefs, at prefent, is with the following question, “Will any Chriftian divine take upon him to fay, that the account which is delivered to us by the facred penmen, concerning the introduction of natural and moral evil into this world, is not a just one?" According to the Holy Scriptures, neither human calamities, nor death, nor the evil paffions of men, are from the original conftitution of nature, but were brought into the world by that fin to which the Devil firft feduced man. The hiftory of the fail, the previous threatening of God in cafe of difobedience, and the fentence pronounced on Adam's tranfgreffion, together with the confequent alteration in the state of the world, and in the condition of mankind, do all naturally lead us to a fource of human calamities very different from the original conftitution of nature. That account which is given us in the Bible, concerning the introduction of natural and moral evil among men, hath hitherto been received by Chriftians in general, as authentic; the principles and defign of the Gospel everywhere fuppofe its truth; there is nothing in it contradictory to human reafon, or inconfiftent with our natural ideas of the divine perfections, for nothing injurious throughout the whole affair is attributed to the agency of God. The origin of evil is a subject not within the comprehenfion of the human mind, because we are, at prefent, deftitute of those common principles without which a clear knowledge of the matter cannot be conveyed to us: if there were a proper medium through which fuch information could be given, we should undoubtedly perceive, that God was no more the contriver and agent in the first rife of moral evil, than he was, according to the Scriptures, in the entrance of fin into this world,'

In the next paffage that we shall quote, Mr. Fell, after the load of abuse that he has thrown upon Mr. Farmer, in the preceding three hundred pages, and the many pernicious views and fentiments he has afcribed to him, many of which are afterwards repeated, generously acquits him of all bad intentions.

Far be it from us,' fays he, to impute any evil defign to this writer; we doubt not, he really meant to ferve the cause of virtue, which he thought could not be more effectually done, than by removing every thing which appeared to him in the light of fuperftition. But we have a right to affirm, that in fupporting his hypothefis concerning Dæmoniacs, and in pointing out what he apprehends to be the true fource of human calamities, he urges thofe very arguments that have been so often alleged both against the truth and neceffity of a revelation. In

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deed, it appears to us, that either his fcheme or the Gospel of Christ must fall to the ground; there seems no alternative. He denies the power of all fuperior beings, God excepted, to do either good or evil to mankind, and on this principle rejects the influence of evil fpirits from every cause of human mifery. But the Holy Scriptures conftantly affirm, that the Devil beguiled man from his allegiance to God, and feduced him into fin; they represent this prince of wicked fpirits as the immediate author of all mischief, and therefore call him an homicide from the beginning." Mr. Farmer confiders all the calamities and advantages of human nature as immediately determined and fixed in the original conftitution of things, and hence maintains, that the human fyftem is governed by the very fame invariable Jaws with the natural world. But the Holy Scriptures affure us, that the present state of human nature is not that in which it was originally created: they attribute all the evils of mankind to fin: they will neither allow, that God is the author of death, nor that human miferies arife from the original conftitution of things: but they attribute every bleffing to the immediate and conftant agency of the divine Being, and his unmerited goodness. This is the grand hinge on which, not only the whole controverfy between Chriftians and the opposers of a divine revelation, but the very being of religion and virtue, turns. If the prefent state of human nature arofe from the original constitution of things, and man be just fuch as he came at first from the hands of his Maker, we muft conclude with Lord Bolingbroke, that neither the goodness nor the justice of God ever required, that we fhould be better or happier than we are, at least in the prefent world; and that no fufficient reason can be affigned for an extraordinary revelation. If the fettled order of causes and effects in the moral world, together with the regularity and uniformity of the natural world, are all to be afcribed to the operation of the very fame laws, we can by no means avoid that conclufion which Mr. Hume feems to have intended in his "Effay on Liberty and Neceffity," That it is impoffible for reason to fhew how human actions can have any moral turpi tude at all, without involving our Creator in the fame guilt. We have never yet feen any objections raised against thofe principles on which the Gospel is refted, which do not ftrike as much at the ground of natural religion as at the foundation of the Chriftian fcheme. The prefent intereft of fociety in general, as well as the future happinefs of mankind, is infeparably connected with the truth and reality of thofe doctrines, which are delivered in the Scriptures, concerning the ruin of human nature by the malice and wickedness of the Devil, and its recovery from fin and wretchednefs by the Son of God. The principles of the Chriftian religion can never be overthrown without the lofs

of

of morality; and, while a real difference is maintained in the world between virtue and vice, and man is confidered as a moral agent, it feems clear to us, Mr. Farmer's account of the origin of human calamities must be rejected.'

Our Readers cannot but notice the confequential style, we and us, which Mr. Fell adopts. They ought alfo to be apprifed, that he reckons, original fin, and the renewal of our nature' by an immediate divine agency,' among those doctrines of Chriftianity, which, according to his reprefentation in the paragraph juft quoted, are connected with the present intereft of fociety, and with the future happiness of mankind, and which ' can never be overthrown without the lofs of morality.'

Mr. Fell, in another chapter, seems willing to believe, that madness is sometimes, at leaft, owing to poffeffion by evil spirits, though he acknowledges, that it would be highly prefumptuous in any one in the prefent day to determine what particular inftances of madness are to be afcribed to this caufe. His reafons are, that fome of the phenomena of madness are not to be accounted for, and that fome particular kinds of madnefs are incurable. The fame reasons led the ancients to afcribe the epilepfy, madness, and every other diforder, and every other phenomenon, with the nature of which they were unacquainted, to the fupernatural agency and influence of fuperior evil beings.

If Mr. Farmer fhould think it proper to take any public notice of this opponent, he will, in our opinion, obtain an eafy victory. We can only with for his own reputation, and for the credit of his profeffion, that Mr. Fell had proved himself a more rational, modeft, and generous adverfary.

ART. II. Zoraida; a Tragedy. As it is acted at the TheatreRoyal in Drary-Lane. To which is added a Polfcript, containing Obfervations on Tragedy. Svo. 1 s. 6d. Kearly. 1780.

DDISON was accufed by Dennis of poifoning the town

A with falle criticifm in the Spectator, in order to preju

dice their minds in favour of Cato. Critics as we are, we believe this cenfure of Addifon, by our predeceffor, to have been malevolent and ill-founded; and that the Spectators on Tragedy, however they might occafionally coincide with the practice of the author, were dictated by the fpirit of taste and candour. The Writer of Zoraida has, however, fubjoined to his piece fome "Obfervations on Tragedy," profeffedly written in vindication of the principles on which his drama is conftructed. It will not be improper, therefore, to blend an inveftigation of these principles with an examination of the tragedy; both of which the Author has, with much fairness, Jubmitted to critical decifion,

Thefe

Thefe Obfervations, though mifcellaneous, are digefted methodically. The greater part, being little more than a collection of received opinions, tranfcribed from Ariftotle, Hurd, Marmontel, &c. are incontrovertible; but the remainder, containing new doctrines now firft broached, and maintained by our Author himself, are, we think, in many inftances, extremely queftionable.

He commences with a new and, in our opinion, a dangerous maxim, that a tragedy for the clofet, and a tragedy for the ftage, must please on different principles. No fuch distinction occurs in Ariftotle, in whofe days the arts of scenic representation departed more widely from the truth of Nature, than the theatrical exhibitions of the moderns. Plays are avowedly written to be acted, and Ariftotle reckons mufic and decoration among the parts of tragedy. Modern critics, though they have omitted thefe local affiftants, rightly confidering them ́rather as the dress than the body of tragedy, have however conftantly adverted to the theatre in all their obfervations on the drama; never counfelling the writer to facrifice by turns to the reader and fpectator, but exhorting him to use the means of faithful and lively imitation. Thefe means are undoubtedly an interefting fable, fupported by characters accurately delineated, and justly fuftained. The fentiments and diction follow of

course.

Verbaque provifam rem non invita fequuntur.

The inference which the Obferver has drawn from his first maxim, appears to us as erroneous as the maxim itself. Fable, he fays, is moft calculated to pleafe on the ftage, and Manners in the clofet; the first moft forcibly exciting pity and terror, the latter only moving admiration. In our opinion, both fable and manners, in the hands of a mafter, first seize our paffions, and afterward receive the fanction of our judgment. The fable is perhaps, of the two, more peculiarly the work of art, and confequently moft the object of admiration; or, to speak the Obferver's language, of our "artificial and reflective pasfions." To try this matter fairly by the feelings of the reader, totally unconnected with theatrical artifice, let us inftance the English comic-epic of Tom Jones. The.fprightly and affecting exhibition of manners alternately excite our mirth, and move our paffions; but the artificial contexture of the fable, particularly toward the conclufion, has conftantly raised admi

ration.

The introduction of tragedies, raifed chiefly on manners, the Obferver has affigned to Corneille. How could he, in this inftance, overlook our great countryman, Shakspeare? The nice difcrimination of the various fhades of the human mind, the pourtraying of character, was Shakspeare's great excellence.

His fable is often comparatively defective. What is the conduct of the story of Hamlet viewed with the perfon of Hamlet and the Ghoft? What author more openly fins againft the strictness of fable, or more uniformly adheres to the truth of character? It is to this he chiefly owes his power on the flage, as well as in the closet. Improbabilities of fable are often overlooked by the fpectator, if not accompanied with violation of character. Ariftotle indeed philofophically stated the fable to be the ground of tragedy, becaufe a tiflue of fcenes, unconnected by action, however faithfully and elegantly exhibiting manners, could not conftitute a drama, tragic or comic: yet he never hinted that fable and manners were not equally effential to the written or acted tragedy. Even in the epic, unadapted to the theatre, yet capable of many ornaments not admiffible in tragedy, the delineation and prefervation of the manners is a moft important requifite. The Obferver, however, by his inftances from Corneille, and others, feems to have confounded the exhibition of character with declamation.

We are not better pleafed with the idea of the only new property that the Obferver has affigned to the fable itself, the Marvellous! To elevate and furprife is the fyftem of The Rehearsal, but not the code of Ariftotle; and if by the Marvellous, the Obferver means any thing more than an interefting and judicious arrangement of the incidents, we lift up both hands against his opinion. That he means fomething more, we conclude from his conftruction of the tragedy of ZORAIDA, the fable of which is much less probable or pathetic, than marvellous. The catastrophe is also cold, though marvellous; a defect perhaps arifing from another of our Obferver's new ideas of tragedy, that a happy catastrophe must be carefully concealed till the moment of its arrival." Not to enter into argument on this point, we shall content ourfelves with refuting the principle by one fplendid example. The catastrophe of Shakspeare's Cymbeline is happy, and confifts of a recapitulation of incidents previously known to the fpectator; yet the author has contrived to render it uncommonly warm and affecting. The author of Zoraida, on the contrary, has carefully concealed his plot from the fpectator till the laft fcene; when, all on a fudden, he converts the lover of Zoraida into her brother. We fmile at the poetical table of confanguinity, fo unexpectedly brought before us, and wait to fee the drama concluded by the Emperor's marrying Old Joan. Not to dwell on the ftaleness of the fiction, we do not remember a play in which it is introduced with more labour and violence, or in which it creates fo little interest.

The manners of the tragedy of Zoraida are Turkish, and in thefe the Author-Obferver points out to us the accurate atten