Chapter IV: Part 4

But that I may decline some part of the encounter with my adversaries, whom I am neither willing to combat, nor well able to resist; I will give your Lordship the relation of a dispute betwixt some of our wits upon this subject: in which, they did not only speak of Plays in Verse, but mingled, in the freedom of discourse, some things of the Ancient, many of the Modern Ways of Writing; comparing those with these, and the Wits of our Nation with those of others. 'Tis true, they differed in their opinions, as 'tis probable they would; neither do I take upon me to reconcile, but to relate them, and that, as TACITUS professes of himself_, sine studio partium aut ira_, "without passion or interest": leaving your Lordship to decide it in favour of which part, you shall judge most reasonable! And withal, to pardon the many errors of_

Your Lordship's most obedient humble servant,

JOHN DRYDEN.

TO THE READER.

_The drift of the ensuing Discourse was chiefly to vindicate the honour of our English Writers from the censure of those who unjustly prefer the French before them. This I intimate, lest any should think me so exceeding vain, as to teach others an Art which they understand much better than myself. But if this incorrect Essay, written in the country, without the help of books or advice of friends, shall find any acceptance in the World: I promise to myself a better success of the Second Part, wherein the virtues and faults of the English Poets who have written, either in this, the Epic, or the Lyric way, will be more fully treated of; and their several styles impartially imitated._

AN ESSAY OF Dramatic Poesy.

It was that memorable day [_3rd of June_ 1665] in the first summer of the late war, when our Navy engaged the Dutch; a day, wherein the two most mighty and best appointed Fleets which any Age had ever seen, disputed the command of the greater half of the Globe, the commerce of Nations, and the riches of the Universe. While these vast floating bodies, on either side, moved against each other in parallel lines; and our countrymen, under the happy conduct of His Royal Highness [_the Duke of YORK_], went breaking by little and little, into the line of the enemies: the noise of the cannon from both navies reached our ears about the City; so that all men being alarmed with it, and in a dreadful suspense of the event which we knew was then deciding, every one went following the sound as his fancy [_imagination_] led him. And leaving the Town almost empty, some took towards the Park; some cross the river, others down it: all seeking the noise in the depth of silence.

Among the rest, it was the fortune of EUGENIUS, CRITES, LISIDEIUS and NEANDER to be in company together: three of them persons whom their Wit and Quality have made known to all the Town; and whom I have chosen to hide under these borrowed names, that they may not suffer by so ill a Relation as I am going to make, of their discourse.

Taking then, a barge, which a servant of LISIDEIUS had provided for them, they made haste to shoot the Bridge [_i.e., London Bridge_]: and [so] left behind them that great fall of waters, which hindered them from hearing what they desired.

After which, having disengaged themselves from many vessels which rode at anchor in the Thames, and almost blocked up the passage towards Greenwich: they ordered the watermen to let fall their oars more gently; and then, every one favouring his own curiosity with a strict silence, it was not long ere they perceived the air break about them, like the noise of distant thunder, or of swallows in a chimney. Those little undulations of sound, though almost vanishing before they reached them; yet still seeming to retain somewhat of their first horror, which they had betwixt the fleets.

After they had attentively listened till such time, as the sound, by little and little, went from them; EUGENIUS [_i.e., Lord BUCKHURST_] lifting up his head, and taking notice of it, was the first to congratulate to the rest, that happy Omen of our nation's victory: adding, "we had but this to desire, in confirmation of it, that we might hear no more of that noise, which was now leaving the English coast."

When the rest had concurred in the same opinion, CRITES [_i.e., Sir ROBERT HOWARD_] (a person of a sharp judgment, and somewhat a too delicate a taste in wit, which the World have mistaken in him for ill nature) said, smiling, to us, "That if the concernment of this battle had not been so exceeding[ly] great, he could scarce have wished the victory at the price, he knew, must pay for it; in being subject to the reading and hearing of so many ill verses, he was sure would be made upon it." Adding, "That no argument could 'scape some of those eternal rhymers, who watch a battle with more diligence than the ravens and birds of prey; and the worst of them surest to be first in upon the quarry: while the better able, either, out of modesty, writ not at all; or set that due value upon their poems, as to let them be often called for, and long expected."

"There are some of those impertinent people you speak of," answered LISIDEIUS [_i.e., Sir CHARLES SEDLEY_], "who, to my knowledge, are already so provided, either way, that they can produce not only a Panegyric upon the Victory: but, if need be, a Funeral Elegy upon the Duke, and, after they have crowned his valour with many laurels, at last, deplore the odds under which he fell; concluding that his courage deserved a better destiny." All the company smiled at the conceit of LISIDEIUS.

But CRITES, more eager than before, began to make particular exceptions against some writers, and said, "The Public Magistrate ought to send, betimes, to forbid them: and that it concerned the peace and quiet of all honest people, that ill poets should be as well silenced as seditious preachers."

"In my opinion" replied EUGENIUS, "you pursue your point too far! For, as to my own particular, I am so great a lover of Poesy, that I could wish them all rewarded, who attempt but to do well. At least, I would not have them worse used than SYLLA the Dictator did one of their brethren heretofore. _Quem in concione vidimus_ (says TULLY, speaking of him) _cum ei libellum malus poeta de populo subjecisset, quod epigramma in eum fecisset tantummodo alternis versibus longiuculis, statim ex iis rebus quae tunc vendebat jubere ei praemium tribui, sub ea conditione ne quid postea scriberet_."

"I could wish, with all my heart," replied CRITES, "that many whom we know, were as bountifully thanked, upon the same condition, that they would never trouble us again. For amongst others, I have a mortal apprehension of two poets, whom this Victory, with the help of both her wings, will never be able to escape."

"'Tis easy to guess, whom you intend," said LISIDEIUS, "and without naming them, I ask you if one [_i.e., GEORGE WITHER_] of them does not perpetually pay us with clenches upon words, and a certain clownish kind of raillery? If, now and then, he does not offer at a catachresis [_which COTGRAVE defines as 'the abuse, or necessary use of one word, for lack of another more proper'_] or Clevelandism, wresting and torturing a word into another meaning? In fine, if be not one of those whom the French would call _un mauvais buffon_; one that is so much a well willer to the Satire, that he spares no man: and though he cannot strike a blow to hurt any, yet ought to be punished for the malice of the action; as our witches are justly hanged, because they think themselves so, and suffer deservedly for believing they did mischief, because they meant it."

"You have described him," said CRITES, "so exactly, that I am afraid to come after you, with my other Extremity of Poetry. He [_i.e., FRANCIS QUARLES_] is one of those, who, having had some advantage of education and converse [_i.e., conversation, in the sense of Culture through mixture with society_], knows better than the other, what a Poet should be; but puts it into practice more unluckily than any man. His style and matter are everywhere alike. He is the most calm, peaceable writer you ever read. He never disquiets your passions with the least concernment; but still leaves you in as even a temper as he found you. He is a very Leveller in poetry; he creeps along, with ten little words in every line, and helps out his numbers with _For to_, and _Unto_, and all the pretty expletives he can find, till he drags them to the end of another line: while the Sense is left, tired, halfway behind it. He doubly starves all his verses; first, for want of Thought, and then, of Expression, His poetry neither has wit in it, nor seems to have it; like him, in MARTIAL,

"_Pauper videri CINNA vult, et est pauper_.

"He affects plainness, to cover his Want of Imagination. When he writes in the serious way; the highest flight of his Fancy is some miserable _antithesis_ or seeming contradiction: and in the comic; he is still reaching at some thin conceit, the ghost of a jest, and that too flies before him, never to be caught. These swallows, which we see before us on the Thames, are the just resemblance of his Wit. You may observe how near the water they stoop! how many proffers they make to dip, and yet how seldom they touch it! and when they do, 'tis but the surface! they skim over it, but to catch a gnat, and then mount in the air and leave it!"

"Well, gentlemen!" said EUGENICS, "you may speak your pleasure of these authors; but though. I and some few more about the Town, may give you a peaceable hearing: yet, assure yourselves! there are multitudes who would think you malicious, and them injured; especially him whom you first described, he is the very _Withers_ of the City. They have bought more Editions of his works, than would serve to lay under all their pies at the Lord Mayor's Christmas. When his famous poem [_i.e., Speculum Speculativium; Or, A Considering Glass, Being an Inspection into the present and late sad condition of these Nations.... London. Written June xiii. XDCLX, and there imprinted the same year_] first came out in the year 1660, I have seen them read it in the midst of Change time. Nay, so vehement were they at it, that they lost their bargain by the candles' ends! But what will you say, if he has been received among the Great Ones? I can assure you, he is, this day, the envy of a Great Person, who is Lord in the Art of Quibbling; and who does not take it well, than any man should intrude so far into his province."

"All I would wish," replied CRITES, "is that they who love his writings, may still admire him and his fellow poet. _Qui Bavium non odit &c._, is curse sufficient."

"And farther," added LISIDEIUS; "I believe there is no man who writes well; but would think himself very hardly dealt with, if their admirers should praise anything of his. _Nam quos contemnimus eorum quoque laudes contemnimus_."

"There are so few who write well, in this Age," said CRITES, "that methinks any praises should be welcome. They neither rise to the dignity of the last Age, nor to any of the Ancients: and we may cry out of the Writers of this Time, with more reason than PETRONIUS of his, _Pace vestra liceat dixisse, primi omnium eloquentiam perdidistis_! 'You have debauched the true old Poetry so far, that Nature (which is the Soul of it) is not in any of your writings!'"

"If your quarrel," said EUGENIUS, "to those who now write, be grounded only upon your reverence to Antiquity; there is no man more ready to adore those great Greeks and Romans than I am: but, on the other side, I cannot think so contemptibly of the Age I live in, or so dishonourably of my own Country as not to judge [that] we equal the Ancients in most kinds of Poesy, and in some, surpass them; neither know I any reason why I may not be as zealous for the reputation of our Age, as we find the Ancients themselves, in reference to those who lived before them. For you hear HORACE saying

"_Indignor quidquam reprehendi, non quia crasse
Compositum, ille pide've putetur, sed quia nuper._

"And, after,

"Si meliora dies, ut vina, poemata reddit,
Scire velim pretium chartis quotus arroget annus?_

"But I see I am engaging in a wide dispute, where the arguments are not like[ly] to reach close, on either side [p. 497]: for Poesy is of so large extent, and so many (both of the Ancients and Moderns) have done well in all kinds of it, that, in citing one against the other, we shall take up more time this evening, than each man's occasions will allow him. Therefore, I would ask CRITES to what part of Poesy, he would confine his arguments? and whether he would defend the general cause of the Ancients against the Moderns; or oppose any Age of the Moderns against this of ours?"

CRITES, a little while considering upon this demand, told EUGENIUS, he approved of his propositions; and, if he pleased, he would limit their dispute to Dramatic Poesy: in which, he thought it not difficult to prove, either that the Ancients were superior to the Moderns; or the last Age to this of ours.

EUGENIUS was somewhat surprised, when he heard CRITES make choice of that subject. "For ought I see," said he, "I have undertaken a harder province than I imagined. For though I never judged the plays of the Greek and Roman poets comparable to ours: yet, on the other side, those we now see acted, come short of many which were written in the last Age. But my comfort is, if we were o'ercome, it will be only by our own countrymen; and if we yield to them in this one part of Poesy, we [the] more surpass them in all the other[s].

"For in the Epic, or Lyric way, it will be hard for them to shew us one such amongst them, as we have many now living, or who lately were so. They can produce nothing so Courtly writ, or which expresses so much the conversation of a gentleman, as Sir JOHN SUCKLING; nothing so even, sweet, and flowing, as Mr. WALLER; nothing so majestic, so correct, as Sir JOHN DENHAM; nothing so elevated, so copious, and full of spirit, as Mr. COWLEY. As for the Italian, French, and Spanish plays, I can make it evident, that those who now write, surpass them; and that the Drama is wholly ours."

All of them were thus far of EUGENIUS his opinion, that "the sweetness of English Verse was never understood or practised by our fathers"; even CRITES himself did not much oppose it: and every one was willing to acknowledge how much our Poesy is improved by the happiness of some writers yet living, who first taught us to mould our thoughts into easy and significant words; to retrench the superfluities of expression; and to make our Rhyme so properly a part of the Verse, that it should never mislead the Sense, but itself be led and governed by it.

EUGENIUS was going to continue this discourse, when LISIDEIUS told him, that "it was necessary, before they proceeded further, to take a Standing Measure of their controversy. For how was it possible to be decided who writ the best plays, before we know what a Play should be? but this once agreed on by both parties, each might have recourse to it; either to prove his own advantages, or discover the failings of his adversary."

He had no sooner said this; but all desired the favour of him to give the definition of a Play: and they were the more importunate, because neither ARISTOTLE, nor HORACE, nor any other who writ of that subject, had ever done it.

LISIDEIUS, after some modest denials, at last, confessed he had a rude notion of it; indeed, rather a Description than a Definition; but which served to guide him in his private thoughts, when he was to make a judgment of what others writ. That he conceived a Play ought to be A JUST AND LIVELY IMAGE OF HUMAN NATURE, REPRESENTING ITS PASSIONS AND HUMOURS; AND THE CHANGES OF FORTUNE, TO WHICH IT IS SUBJECT: FOR THE DELIGHT AND INSTRUCTION OF MANKIND.

This Definition, though CRITES raised a logical objection against it (that "it was only _a genere et fine_," and so not altogether perfect), was yet well received by the rest.

And, after they had given order to the watermen to turn their barge, and row softly, that they might take the cool of the evening in their return: CRITES, being desired by the company to begin, spoke on behalf of the Ancients, in this manner.

"If confidence presage a victory; EUGENIUS, in his own opinion, has already triumphed over the Ancients. Nothing seems more easy to him, than to overcome those whom it is our greatest praise to have imitated well: for we do not only build upon their foundation, but by their models.

"Dramatic Poesy had time enough, reckoning from THESPIS who first invented it, to ARISTOPHANES; to be born, to grow up, and to flourish in maturity.

"_It has been observed of Arts and Sciences, that in one and the same century, they have arrived to a great perfection_ [p. 520]. And, no wonder! since every Age has a kind of Universal Genius, which inclines those that live in it to some particular studies. The work then being pushed on by many hands, must, of necessity, go forward.

"Is it not evident, in these last hundred years, when the study of Philosophy has been the business of all the _Virtuosi_ in Christendom, that almost a new Nature has been revealed to us? that more errors of the School have been detected, more useful experiments in Philosophy have been made, more noble secrets in Optics, Medicine, Anatomy, Astronomy, discovered; than, in all those credulous and doting Ages, from ARISTOTLE to us [p. 520]? So true it is, that nothing spreads more fast than Science, when rightly and generally cultivated.

"Add to this, _the more than common Emulation that was, in those times, of writing well_: which, though it be found in all Ages and all persons that pretend to the same reputation: yet _Poesy, being then in more esteem than now it is, had greater honours decreed to the Professors of it, and consequently the rivalship was more high between them_. They had Judges ordained to decide their merit, and prizes to reward it: and historians have been diligent to record of AESCHYLUS, EURIPIDES, SOPHOCLES, LYCOPHRON, and the rest of them, both who they were that vanquished in these Wars of the Theatre, and how often they were crowned: while the Asian Kings and Grecian Commonwealths scarce[ly] afforded them a nobler subject than the unmanly luxuries of a debauched Court, or giddy intrigues of a factious city. _Alit oemulatio ingenia_, says PATERCULUS, _et nunc invidia, nunc admiratio incitationem accendit_: 'Emulation is the spur of wit; and sometimes envy, sometimes admiration quickens our endeavours.'

"But now, since the rewards of honour are taken away: that Virtuous Emulation is turned into direct Malice; yet so slothful, that it contents itself to condemn and cry down others, without attempting to do better. 'Tis a reputation too unprofitable, to take the necessary pains for it; yet wishing they had it, is incitement enough to hinder others from it. And this, in short, EUGENIUS, is the reason why you have now so few good poets, and so many severe judges. Certainly, to imitate the Ancients well, much labour and long study is required: which pains, I have already shown, our poets would want encouragement to take; if yet they had ability to go through with it.

"Those Ancients have been faithful Imitators and wise Observers of that Nature, which is so torn and ill-represented in our Plays. They have handed down to us a perfect Resemblance of Her, which we, like ill copyers, _neglecting to look on_, have rendered monstrous and disfigured.

"But that you may know, how much you are indebted to your Masters! and be ashamed to have so ill-requited them! I must remember you, that all the Rules by which we practise the Drama at this day (either such as relate to the Justness and Symmetry of the Plot; or the episodical ornaments, such as Descriptions, Narrations, and other beauties which are not essential to the play), were delivered to us from the Observations that ARISTOTLE made of those Poets, which either lived before him, or were his contemporaries. We have added nothing of our own, except we have the confidence to say, 'Our wit is better!' which none boast of in our Age, but such as understand not theirs. Of that book, which ARISTOTLE has left us, [Greek: peri taes Poietikaes]; HORACE his _Art of Poetry_ is an excellent _Comment_, and, I believe, restores to us, that Second Book of his [_i.e., ARISTOTLE_] concerning _Comedy_, which is wanting in him.

"Out of these two [Authors], have been extracted the Famous Rules, which the French call, _Des trois Unités_, or 'The Three Unities,' which ought to be observed in every _regular_ Play; namely, of TIME, PLACE, and ACTION.

"The UNITY OF TIME, they comprehend in Twenty-four hours, _the compass of a natural Day_; or, as near it, as can be contrived. And the reason of it is obvious to every one. That _the Time_ of the feigned Action or Fable of the Play _should be proportioned_, as near as can be, _to the duration of that Time in which it is REPRESENTED_. Since therefore all plays are acted on the Theatre in a space of time _much within_ the compass of Twenty-four hours; that Play is to be thought the _nearest Imitation_ of Nature, whose Plot or Action is confined within that time.

"And, by the same Rule which concludes this General Proportion of Time, it follows, _That all the parts of it are to be equally subdivided_. As, namely, that one Act take not up the supposed time of Half a day, which is out of proportion to the rest; since the other four are then to be straitened within the compass of the remaining half: for it is unnatural that one Act which, being spoken or written, is not longer than the rest; should be supposed longer by the audience. 'Tis therefore the Poet's duty to take care _that no Act_ should be imagined to _exceed the Time in which it is Represented on the Stage_; and that the intervals and inequalities of time, be supposed to fall out _between_ the Acts.

"This Rule of TIME, how well it has been observed by the Ancients, most of their plays will witness. You see them, in their Tragedies (wherein to follow this Rule is certainly most difficult), from the very beginning of their Plays, falling close into that part of the Story, which they intend for the Action or principal Object of it: leaving the former part to be delivered by Narration. So that they set the audience, as it were, at the post where the race is to be concluded: and, saving them the tedious expectation of seeing the Poet set out and ride the beginning of the course; you behold him not, till he is in sight of the goal, and just upon you.

"For the Second Unity, which is that of PLACE; the Ancients meant by it, _That the scene_ [locality] _ought to be continued_, through the Play, _in the same place, where it was laid in the beginning_. For _the Stage_, on which it is represented, _being but one, and the same place; it isunnatural to conceive it many, and those far distant from one another_. I will not deny but by the Variation of Painted scenes [_scenery was introduced about this time into the English theatres, by Sir WILLIAM D'AVENANT and BETTERTON the Actor: see Vol. II. p. 278_] the Fancy which, in these casts, will contribute to its own deceit, may sometimes imagine it several places, upon some appearance of probability: yet it still carries _the greater likelihood of truth_, if those places be supposed so near each other as in the same town or city, which may all be comprehended under the larger denomination of One Place; for a greater distance will bear no proportion to the _shortness of time which is allotted in the acting_, to pass from one of them to another.

"For the observation of this; next to the Ancients, the French are most to be commended. They tie themselves so strictly to the Unity of Place, that you never see in any of their plays, a scene [_locality_] changed in the middle of an Act. If the Act begins in a garden, a street, or [a] chamber; 'tis ended in the same place. And that you may know it to be the same, the Stage is so supplied with persons, that it is never empty all the time. He that enters the second has business with him, who was on before; and before the second quits the stage, a third appears, who has business with him. This CORNEILLE calls _La Liaison des Scenes_,'the Continuity or Joining of the Scenes': and it is a good mark of a well contrived Play, when all the persons are known to each other, and every one of them has some affairs with all the rest.

"As for the third Unity, which is that of ACTION, the Ancients meant no other by it, than what the Logicians do by their _Finis_; the End or Scope of any Action, that which is the First in intention, and Last in execution.

"Now the Poet is to aim at _one great and complete Action_; to the carrying on of which, all things in the Play, even the very obstacles, are to be subservient. And the reason of this, is as evident as any of the former. For two Actions, equally laboured and driven on by the Writer, would destroy the Unity of the Poem. It would be no longer one Play, but two. Not but that there may be many actions in a Play (as BEN. JOHNSON has observed in his _Discoveries_), but they must be all subservient to the great one; which our language happily expresses, in the name of Under Plots. Such as, in TERENCE's _Eunuch_, is the deference and reconcilement of _THAIS_ and _PHAEDRIA_; which is not the chief business of the Play, but promotes the marriage of _CHOEREA_ and _CHREMES's sister_, principally intended by the Poet.

"'There ought to be but one Action,' says CORNEILLE, 'that is, one complete Action, which leaves the mind of the audience in a full repose.' But this cannot be brought to pass, but by many other imperfect ones, which conduce to it, and hold the audience in a delightful suspense of what will be.

"If by these Rules (to omit many others drawn from the Precepts and Practice of the Ancients), we should judge our modern plays, 'tis probable that few of them would endure the trial. That which should be the business of a Day, takes up, in some of them, an Age. Instead of One Action, they are the Epitome of a man's life. And for one spot of ground, which the Stage should represent; we are sometimes in more countries than the map can show us.

"But if we will allow the Ancients to have _contrived_ well; we must acknowledge them to have _writ_ better. Questionless, we are deprived of a great stock of wit, in the loss of MENANDER among the Greek poets, and of COECILIUS, AFFRANIUS, and VARIUS among the Romans. We may guess of MENANDER's excellency by the Plays of TERENCE; who translated some of his, and yet wanted so much of him, that he was called by C. CAESAR, the Half-MENANDER: and of VARIUS, by the testimonies of HORACE, MARTIAL, and VELLEIUS PATERCULUS. 'Tis probable that these, could they be recovered, would decide the controversy.

"But so long as ARISTOPHANES in the Old Comedy, and PLAUTUS in the New are extant; while the Tragedies of EURIPIDES, SOPHOCLES, and SENECA are to be had: I can never see one of those Plays which are now written, but it increases my admiration of the Ancients. And yet I must acknowledge further, that to admire them as we ought, we should understand them better than we do. Doubtless, many things appear flat to us, whose wit depended upon some custom or story, which never came to our knowledge; or perhaps upon some criticism in their language, which, being so long dead, and only remaining in their books, it is not possible they should make us know it perfectly.

"To read MACROBIUS explaining the propriety and elegancy of many words in VIRGIL, which I had before passed over without consideration as common things, is enough to assure me that I ought to think the same of TERENCE; and that, in the purity of his style, which TULLY so much valued that he ever carried his _Works_ about him, there is yet left in him great room for admiration, if I knew but where to place it.

"In the meantime, I must desire you to take notice that the greatest man of the last Age, BEN. JOHNSON, was willing to give place to them in all things. He was not only a professed imitator of HORACE, but a learned plagiary of all the others. You track him everywhere in their snow. If HORACE, LUCAN, PETRONIUS _Arbiter_, SENECA, and JUVENAL had their own from him; there are few serious thoughts that are new in him. You will pardon me, therefore, if I presume, he loved their fashion; when he wore their clothes.

"But since I have otherwise a great veneration for him, and you, EUGENIUS! prefer him above all other poets: I will use no farther argument to you than his example. I will produce Father BEN. to you, dressed in all the ornaments and colours of the Ancients. You will need no other guide to our party, if you follow him: and whether you consider the bad plays of our Age, or regard the good ones of the last: both the best and worst of the Modern poets will equally instruct you to esteem the Ancients."

CRITES had no sooner left speaking; but EUGENIUS, who waited with some impatience for it, thus began:

"I have observed in your speech, that the former part of it is convincing, as to what the Moderns have profited by the Rules of the Ancients: but, in the latter, you are careful to conceal, how much they have excelled them.

"We own all the helps we have from them; and want neither veneration nor gratitude, while we acknowledge that, to overcome them, we must make use of all the advantages we have received from them. But to these assistances, we have joined our own industry: for had we sate down with a dull imitation of them; we might then have lost somewhat of the old perfection, but never acquired any that was new. We draw not, therefore, after their lines; but those of Nature: and having the Life before us, besides the experience of all they knew, it is no wonder if we hit some airs and features, which they have missed.

"I deny not what you urge of Arts and Sciences [p. 514]; that they have flourished in some ages more than others: but your instance in Philosophy [p. 514] makes for me.

"For if Natural Causes be more known now, than in the time of ARISTOTLE, because more studied; it follows that Poesy and other Arts may, with the same pains, arrive still nearer to perfection. And that granted, it will rest for you to prove, that they wrought more perfect Images of Human Life than we.

"Which, seeing, in your discourse, you have avoided to make good; it shall now be my task to show you some of their Defects, and some few Excellencies of the Moderns. And I think, there is none amongst us can imagine I do it enviously; or with purpose to detract from them: for what interest of Fame, or Profit, can the Living lose by the reputation of the Dead? On the other side, it is a great truth, which VELLEIUS PATERCULUS affirms, _Audita visis libentius laudamus; et proesentia invidia, proeterita, admiratione prosequimur, et his nos obrui, illis instrui credimus_, 'That Praise or Censure is certainly the most sincere, which unbribed Posterity shall give us.'

"Be pleased, then, in the first place, to take notice that the Greek Poesy, which CRITES has affirmed to have arrived to perfection in the reign of the Old Comedy [p. 514], was so far from it, that _the distinction of it into Acts was not known to them_; or if it were, it is yet so darkly delivered to us, that we cannot make it out.

"All we know of it is, from the singing of their Chorus: and that too, is so uncertain, that in some of their Plays, we have reason to conjecture they sang more than five times.

"ARISTOTLE, indeed, divides the integral parts of a Play into four.

"Firstly. The _Protasis_ or Entrance, which gives light only to the
Characters of the persons; and proceeds very little into any part
of the Action.

"Secondly. The _Epitasis_ or Working up of the Plot, where the Play
grows warmer; the Design or Action of it is drawing on, and you see
something promising, that it will come to pass.

"Thirdly. The _Catastasis_ or Counter-turn, which destroys that
expectation, embroils the action in new difficulties, and leaves
you far distant from that hope in which it found you: as you may
have observed in a violent stream, resisted by a narrow passage; it
turns round to an eddy, and carries back the waters with more
swiftness than it brought them on.

"Lastly. The _Catastrophe_, which the Grecians call [Greek: desis];
the French, _Le denoument_; and we, the Discovery or Unravelling of
the Plot. There, you see all things settling again upon the first
foundations; and the obstacles, which hindered the Design or Action
of the Play, once removed, it ends with that Resemblance of Truth
or Nature, that the audience are satisfied with the conduct of it.

"Thus this great man delivered to us the Image of a Play; and I must confess it is so lively, that, from thence, much light has been derived to the forming it more perfectly, into Acts and Scenes. But what Poet first limited to Five, the number of the Acts, I know not: only we see it so firmly established in the time of HORACE, that he gives it for a rule in Comedy.

"_Neu brevier quinto, neu sit productior actu:_

"So that you see, the Grecians cannot be said to have consumated this Art: writing rather by Entrances than by Acts; and having rather a general indigested notion of a Play, than knowing how and where to bestow the particular graces of it.

"But since the Spaniards, at this day, allow but three Acts, which they call _Jornadas_, to a Play; and the Italians, in many of theirs, follow them: when I condemn the Ancients, I declare it _is not altogether because they have not five Acts to every Play; but because they have not confined themselves to one certain number_. 'Tis building a house, without a model: and when they succeeded in such undertakings, they ought to have sacrificed to Fortune, not to the Muses.

"Next, for the Plot, which ARISTOTLE called [Greek: to muthos], and often [Greek: ton pragmaton sunthesis]; and from him, the Romans, _Fabula_. It has already been judiciously observed by a late Writer that 'in their _TRADGEDIES_, it was only some tale derived from Thebes or Troy; or, at least, something that happened in those two Ages: which was worn so threadbare by the pens of all the Epic Poets; and even, by tradition itself of the _talkative Greeklings_, as BEN. JOHNSON calls them, that before it came upon the Stage, it was already known to all the audience. And the people, as soon as ever they heard the name of _OEDIPUS_, knew as well as the Poet, that he had killed his father by a mistake, and committed incest with his mother, before the Play; that they were now to hear of a great plague, an oracle, and the ghost of _LAIUS_: so that they sate, with a yawning kind of expectation, till he was to come, with his eyes pulled out, and speak a hundred or two of verses, in a tragic tone, in complaint of his misfortunes.'

"But one _OEDIPUS_, _HERCULES_, or _MEDEA_ had been tolerable. Poor people! They scaped not so good cheap. They had still the _chapon bouillé_ set before them, till their appetites were cloyed with the same dish; and the Novelty being gone, the Pleasure vanished. So that one main end of Dramatic Poesy, in its definition [p. 513] (which was, to cause _Delight_) was, of consequence, destroyed.

"In their _COMEDIES_, the Romans generally borrowed their Plots from the Greek poets: and theirs were commonly a little girl stolen or wandered from her parents, brought back unknown to the same city, there got with child by some lewd young fellow, who (by the help of his servant) cheats his father. And when her time comes to cry _JUNO Lucina fer opem!_ one or other sees a little box or cabinet, which was carried away with her, and so discovers her to her friends: if some god do not prevent [_anticipate_] it, by coming down in a machine [_i.e., supernaturally_], and take the thanks of it to himself.

"By the Plot, you may guess much [_many_] of the characters of the Persons. An old Father that would willingly, before he dies, see his son well married. His debauched Son, kind in his nature to his wench, but miserably in want of money. A Servant or Slave, who has so much wit [as] to strike in with him, and help to dupe his father, A braggadochio Captain, a Parasite, and a Lady of Pleasure.

"As for the poor honest maid, upon whom all the story is built, and who ought to be one of the principal Actors in the Play; she is commonly a Mute in it. She has the breeding of the old ELIZABETH [_Elizabethan_] way, for 'maids to be seen, and not to be heard': and it is enough, you know she is willing to be married, when the Fifth Act requires it.

"These are plots built after the Italian mode of houses. You see through them all at once. The Characters, indeed, are Imitations of Nature: but so narrow as if they had imitated only an eye or an hand, and did not dare to venture on the lines of a face, or the proportion of a body.

"But in how strait a compass sorever, they have bounded their Plots and Characters, we will pass it by, if they have regularly pursued them, and perfectly observed those three Unities, of TIME, PLACE, and ACTION; the knowledge of which, you say! is derived to us from them.

"But, in the first place, give me leave to tell you! that the Unity of PLACE, however it might be practised by them, was never any of their Rules. We neither find it in ARISTOTLE, HORACE, or any who have written of it; till, in our Age, the French poets first made it a Precept of the Stage.

"The Unity of TIME, even TERENCE himself, who was the best and most regular of them, has neglected. His _Heautontimoroumenos_ or 'Self Punisher' takes up, visibly, two days. 'Therefore,' says SCALIGER, 'the two first Acts concluding the first day, were acted overnight; the last three on the ensuing day.'

"And EURIPIDES, in tying himself to one day, has committed an absurdity never to be forgiven him. For, in one of his Tragedies, he has made THESEUS go from Athens to Thebes, which was about forty English miles; under the walls of it, to give battle; and appear victorious in the next Act: and yet, from the time of his departure, to the return of the _Nuntius_, who gives relation of his victory; _AETHRA_ and the _Chorus_ have but thirty-six verses, that is, not for every mile, a verse.

"The like error is evident in TERENCE his _Eunuch_; when _LACHES_ the old man, enters, in a mistake, the house of _THAIS_; where, between his _Exit_ and the Entrance of _PYTHIAS_ (who comes to give an ample relation of the garboils he has raised within), _PARMENO_ who was left upon the stage, has not above five lines to speak. _C'est bien employé, un temps si court!_ says the French poet, who furnished me with one of the[se] observations.

"And almost all their Tragedies will afford us examples of the like nature.

"'Tis true, they have kept the Continuity, or as you called it, _Liaison des Scenes_, somewhat better. Two do not perpetually come in together, talk, and go out together; and other two succeeded them, and do the same, throughout the Act: which the English call by the name of 'Single Scenes.' But the reason is, because they have seldom above two or three Scenes, properly so called, in every Act. For it is to be accounted a _new_ Scene, not every time the Stage is empty: but every person _who enters_, though to others, makes it so; because he introduces a new business.

"Now the Plots of their Plays being narrow, and the persons few: one of their Acts was written in a less compass than one of our well-wrought Scenes; and yet they are often deficient even in this.

"To go no further than TERENCE. You find in the _Eunuch_, _ANTIPHO_ entering, single, in the midst of the Third Act, after _CHREMES_ and _PYTHIAS_ were gone off. In the same play, you have likewise _DORIAS_ beginning the Fourth Act alone; and after she has made a relation of what was done at the soldier's entertainment (which, by the way, was very inartificial to do; because she was presumed to speak directly to the Audience, and to acquaint them with what was necessary to be known: but yet should have been so contrived by the Poet as to have been told by persons of the Drama to one another, and so by them, to have come to the knowledge of the people), she quits the Stage: and _PHAEDRIA_ enters next, alone likewise. He also gives you an account of himself, and of his returning from the country, in monologue: to which unnatural way of Narration, TERENCE is subject in all his Plays.

"In his _Adelphi_ or 'Brothers,' _SYRUS_ and _DEMEA_ enter after the Scene was broken by the departure of _SOSTRATA_, _GETA_, and _CANTHARA_; and, indeed, you can scarce look into any of his Comedies, where you will not presently discover the same interruption.

"And as they have failed both in [the] laying of the Plots, and managing of them, swerving from the Rules of their own Art, by misrepresenting Nature to us, in which they have ill satisfied one intention of a Play, which was Delight: so in the Instructive part [pp. 513, 582-4], they have erred worse. Instead of punishing vice, and rewarding virtue; they have often shown a prosperous wickedness, and an unhappy piety. They have set before us a bloody Image of Revenge, in _MEDEA_; and given her dragons to convey her safe from punishment. A _PRIAM_ and _ASTYANAX_ murdered, and _CASSANDRA_ ravished; and Lust and Murder ending in the victory of him that acted them. In short, there is no indecorum in any of our modern Plays; which, if I would excuse, I could not shadow with some Authority from the Ancients.

"And one farther note of them, let me leave you! Tragedies and Comedies were not writ then, as they are now, promiscuously, by the same person: but he who found his genius bending to the one, never attempted the other way. This is so plain, that I need not instance to you, that ARISTOPHANES, PLAUTUS, TERENCE never, any of them, writ a Tragedy; AESCHYLUS, EURIPIDES, SOPHOCLES, and SENECA never meddled with Comedy. The Sock and Buskin were not worn by the same Poet. Having then so much care to excel in one kind; very little is to be pardoned them, if they miscarried in it.

"And this would lead me to the consideration of their Wit, had not CRITES given me sufficient warning, not to be too bold in my judgement of it; because (the languages being dead, and many of the customs and little accidents on which it depended lost to us [p. 518]) we are not competent judges of it. But though I grant that, here and there, we may miss the application of a proverb or a custom; yet, a thing well said, will be Wit in all languages: and, though it may lose something in the translation; yet, to him who reads it in the original, 'tis still the same. He has an Idea of its excellency; though it cannot pass from his mind into any other expression or words than those in which he finds it.

"When _PHAEDRIA_, in the _Eunuch_, had a command from his mistress to be absent two days; and encouraging himself to go through with it, said, _Tandem ego non illa caream, si opus sit, vel totum triduum? PARMENO_ to mock the softness of his master, lifting up his hands and eyes, cries out, as it were in admiration, _Hui! universum triduum!_ The elegancy of which _universum_, though it cannot be rendered in our language; yet leaves an impression of the Wit on our souls.

"But this happens seldom in him [_i.e., TERENCE_]; in PLAUTUS oftner, who is infinitely too bold in his metaphors and coining words; out of which, many times, his Wit is nothing. Which, questionless, was one reason why HORACE falls upon him so severely in those verses.

"_Sed Proavi nostri Plautinos el numeros et
Laudavere sales, nimium patienter utrumque
Ne dicam stolidè_.

"For HORACE himself was cautious to obtrude [_in obtruding_] a new word upon his readers: and makes custom and common use, the best measure of receiving it into our writings,

"_Multa renascentur quae nunc cecidere, cadentque
Quae nunc sunt in honore vocabula, si volet usus
Quem penes, arbitrium est, et jus, et norma loquendi_.

"The not observing of this Rule, is that which the World has blamed in our satirist CLEVELAND. To express a thing hard and unnaturally is his New Way of Elocution. Tis true, no poet but may sometimes use a _catachresis_. VIRGIL, does it,

"_Mistaque ridenti Colocasia fundet Acaniho_--

"in his Eclogue of _POLLIO_.

"And in his Seventh AEneid--

"_Mirantur et unda,
Miratur nemus, insuetam fulgentia longe,
Scuta virum fluvio, pictaque innare carinas_.

"And OVID once; so modestly, that he asks leave to do it.

"_Si verbo audacia, detur
Haud metuam summi dixisse Palatia coeli_

"calling the Court of JUPITER, by the name of AUGUSTUS his palace. Though, in another place, he is more bold; where he says, _Et longas visent Capitolia pompas_.

"But to do this always, and never be able to write a line without it, though it may be admired by some few pedants, will not pass upon those who know that _Wit is best conveyed to us in the most easy language: and is most to be admired, when a great thought comes dressed in words so commonly received, that it is understood by the meanest apprehensions; as the best meat is the most easily digested_. But we cannot read a verse of CLEVELAND's, without making a face at it; as if every word were a pill to swallow. He gives us, many times, a hard nut to break our teeth, without a kernel for our pains. So that there is this difference between his _Satires_ and Doctor DONNE's: that the one [_DONNE_] gives us deep thoughts in common language, though rough cadence; the other [_CLEVELAND_] gives us common thoughts in abtruse words. 'Tis true, in some places, his wit is independent of his words, as in that of the _Rebel Scot_--

"Had CAIN been Scot, GOD would have changed his doom,
Not forced him wander, but confined him home.

"_Si sic, omnia dixisset!_ This is Wit in all languages. 'Tis like MERCURY, never to be lost or killed. And so that other,

"For beauty, like white powder, makes no noise,
And yet the silent hypocrite destroys.

"You see the last line is highly metaphorical; but it is so soft and gentle, that it does not shock us as we read it.

"But to return from whence I have digressed, to the consideration of the Ancients' Writing and Wit; of which, by this time, you will grant us, in some measure, to be fit judges.

"Though I see many excellent thoughts in SENECA: yet he, of them, who had a genius most proper for the Stage, was OVID. He [_i.e., OVID_] had a way of writing so fit to stir up a pleasing admiration and concernment, which are the objects of a Tragedy; and to show the various movements of a soul combating betwixt different passions: that, had he lived in our Age, or (in his own) could have writ with our advantages, no man but must have yielded to him; and therefore, I am confident the _MEDEA_ is none of his. For, though I esteem it, for the gravity and sentiousness of it (which he himself concludes to be suitable to a Tragedy, _Omne genus scripti gravitate Tragadia, vincit_); yet it moves not my soul enough, to judge that he, who, in the Epic way, wrote things so near the Drama (as the stories of _MYRRHA,_ of _CAUNUS and BIBLIS,_ and the rest) should stir up no more concernment, where he most endeavoured it.

"The masterpiece of SENECA, I hold to be that Scene in the _Troades_, where _ULYSSES_ is seeking for _ASTYANAX,_ to kill him. There, you see the tenderness of a mother so represented in _ANDROMACHE_, that it raises compassion to a high degree in the reader; and bears the nearest resemblance, of anything in their Tragedies, to the excellent Scenes of Passion in SHAKESPEARE or in FLETCHER.

"For Love Scenes, you will find but few among them. Their Tragic poets dealt not with that soft passion; but with Lust, Cruelty, Revenge, Ambition, and those bloody actions they produced, which were more capable of raising horror than compassion in an audience: leaving Love untouched, whose gentleness would have tempered them; which is the most frequent of all the passions, and which (being the private concernment of every person) is soothed by viewing its own Image [p. 549] in a public entertainment.

"Among their Comedies, we find a Scene or two of tenderness: and that, where you would least expect it, in PLAUTUS. But to speak generally, their lovers say little, when they see each others but anima mea! vita mea! [Greek: zoae kai psuchae!] as the women, in JUVENAL's time, used to cry out, in the fury of their kindness.

"Then indeed, to speak sense were an offence. Any sudden gust of passion, as an ecstasy of love in an unexpected meeting, cannot better be expressed than in a word and a sigh, breaking one another. Nature is dumb on such occasions; and to make her speak, would be to represent her unlike herself. But there are a thousand other concernments of lovers as jealousies, complaints, contrivances, and the like; where, not to open their minds at large to each other, were to be wanting to their own love, and to the expectation of the audience: who watch the Movements of their Minds, as much as the Changes of their Fortunes. For the Imaging of the first [p. 549], is properly the work of a Poet; the latter, he borrows of the Historian."

EUGENIUS was proceeding in that part of his discourse, when CRITES interrupted him.

"I see," said he, "EUGENIUS and I are never likely to have this question decided betwixt us: for he maintains the Moderns have acquired a _new perfection_ in writing; I only grant, they have _altered the mode_ of it.

"HOMER describes his heroes, [as] men of great appetites; lovers of beef broiled upon the coals, and good fellows: contrary to the practice of the French romances, whose heroes neither eat, nor drink, nor sleep for love.

"VIRGIL makes _AENEAS_, a bold avower of his own virtues,

"_Sum pius AENEAS fama super aethera notus_;

"which, in the civility of our Poets, is the character of a _Fanfaron_ or Hector. For with us, the Knight takes occasion to walk out, or sleep, to avoid the vanity of telling his own story; which the trusty Squire is ever to perform for him [p. 535].

"So, in their Love Scenes, of which EUGENIUS spoke last, the Ancients were more hearty; we, the more talkative. They writ love, as it was then the mode to make it.