Chapter V: Part 5

"And I will grant thus much to EUGENIUS, that, perhaps, one of their Poets, had he lived in our Age,

"_Si foret hoc nostrum fato delupsus in aevum_,

"as HORACE says of LUCILIUS, he had altered many things: not that they were not natural before; but that he might accommodate himself to the Age he lived in. Yet, in the meantime, we are not to conclude anything rashly against those great men; but preserve to them, the dignity of Masters: and give that honour to their memories, _quos libitina sacravit_; part of which, we expect may be paid to us in future times."

This moderation of CRITES, as it was pleasing to all the company, so it put an end to that dispute: which EUGENIUS, who seemed to have the better of the argument, would urge no further.

But LISIDEIUS, after he had acknowledged himself of EUGENIUS his opinion, concerning the Ancients; yet told him, "He had forborne till his discourse was ended, to ask him, Why he preferred the English Plays above those of other nations? and whether we ought not to submit our Stage to the exactness of our next neighbours?"

"Though," said EUGENIUS, "I am, at all times, ready to defend the honour of my country against the French; and to maintain, we are as well able to vanquish them with our pens, as our ancestors have been with their swords: yet, if you please!" added he, looking upon NEANDER, "I will commit this cause to my friend's management. His opinion of our plays is the same with mine. And besides, there is no reason that CRITES and I, who have now left the Stage, should re-enter so suddenly upon it: which is against the laws of Comedy."

"If the question had been stated," replied LISIDEIUS, "Who had writ best, the French or English, forty years ago [_i.e., in_ 1625]? I should have been of your opinion; and adjudged the honour to our own nation: but, since that time," said he, turning towards NEANDER, "we have been so long bad Englishmen, that we had not leisure to be good Poets. BEAUMONT [_d._ 1615], FLETCHER [_d._ 1625], and JOHNSON [_d._ 1637], who were only [_alone_] capable of bringing us to that degree of perfection which we have, were just then leaving the world; as if, in an Age of so much horror, Wit and those milder studies of humanity had no farther business among us. But the Muses, who ever follow peace, went to plant in another country. It was then, that the great Cardinal DE RICHELIEU began to take them into his protection; and that, by his encouragement, CORNEILLE and some other Frenchmen reformed their _Theatre_: which, before, was so much below ours, as it now surpasses it, and the rest of Europe. But because CRITES, in his discourse for the Ancients, has prevented [_anticipated_] me by touching on many Rules of the Stage, which the Moderns have borrowed from them; I shall only, in short, demand of you, 'Whether you are not convinced that, of all nations, the French have best observed them?'

"In the Unity of TIME, you find them so scrupulous, that it yet remains a dispute among their Poets, 'Whether the artificial day, of twelve hours more or less, be not meant by ARISTOTLE, rather that the natural one of twenty-four?' and consequently, 'Whether all Plays ought not to be reduced into that compass?' This I can testify, that in all their dramas writ within these last twenty years [1645-1665] and upwards, I have not observed any, that have extended the time to thirty hours.

"In the Unity of PLACE, they are full[y] as scrupulous. For many of their critics limit it to that spot of ground, where the Play is supposed to begin. None of them exceed the compass of the same town or city.

"The Unity of ACTION in all their plays, is yet more conspicuous. For they do not burden them with Under Plots, as the English do; which is the reason why many Scenes of our Tragi-Comedies carry on a Design that is nothing of kin to the main Plot: and that we see two distincts webs in a Play, like those in ill-wrought stuffs; and two Actions (that is, two Plays carried on together) to the confounding of the audience: who, before they are warm in their concernments for one part, are diverted to another; and, by that means, expouse the interest of neither.

"From hence likewise, it arises that one half of our Actors [_i.e., the Characters in a Play_] are not known to the other. They keep their distances, as if they were _MONTAGUES_ and _CAPULETS_; and seldom begin an acquaintance till the last Scene of the fifth Act, when they are all to meet on the Stage.

"There is no _Theatre_ in the world has anything so absurd as the English Tragi-Comedy. 'Tis a Drama of our own invention; and the fashion of it is enough to proclaim it so. Here, a course of mirth; there, another of sadness and passion; a third of honour; and the fourth, a duel. Thus, in two hours and a half, we run through all the fits of Bedlam.

"The French afford you as much variety, on the same day; but they do it not so unseasonably, or _mal apropos_ as we. Our Poets present you the Play and the Farce together; and our Stages still retain somewhat of the original civility of the 'Red Bull.'

"_Atque ursum et pugiles media inter carmina poscunt._

"'The end of Tragedies or serious Plays,' says ARISTOTLE, 'is to beget Admiration [_wonderment_], Compassion, or Concernment.' But are not mirth and compassion things incompatible? and is it not evident, that the Poet must, of necessity, destroy the former, by intermingling the latter? that is, he must ruin the sole end and object of his Tragedy, to introduce somewhat that is forced in, and is not of the body of it! Would you not think that physician mad! who having prescribed a purge, should immediately order you to take restringents upon it?

"But to leave our Plays, and return to theirs. I have noted one great advantage they have had in the Plotting of their Tragedies, that is, they are always grounded upon some known History, according to that of HORACE, _Ex noto fictum carm n sequar_: and in that, they have so imitated the Ancients, that they have surpassed them. For the Ancients, as was observed before [p. 522], took for the foundation of their Plays some poetical fiction; such as, under that consideration, could move but little concernment in the audience, because they already knew the event of it. But the French[man] goes farther.

"_Atque ita mentitur, sic veris falso remiscet,
Primo ne medium, media ne discrepet imum._

"He so interweaves Truth with probable Fiction, that he puts a pleasing fallacy upon us; mends the intrigues of Fate; and dispenses with the severity of History, to reward that virtue, which has been rendered to us, there, unfortunate. Sometimes the Story has left the success so doubtful, that the writer is free, by the privilege of a Poet, to take that which, of two or more relations, will best suit his Design. As, for example, the death of CYRUS; whom JUSTIN and some others report to have perished in the Scythian War; but XENOPHON affirms to have died in his bed of extreme old age.

"Nay more, when the event is past dispute, even then, we are willing to be deceived: and the Poet, if he contrives it with appearance of truth, has all the audience of his party [_on his side_], at least, during the time his Play is acting. So naturally, we are kind to virtue (when our own interest is not in question) that we take It up, as the general concernment of mankind.

"On the other side, if you consider the Historical Plays of SHAKESPEARE; they are rather so many Chronicles of Kings, or the business, many times, of thirty or forty years crampt into a Representation of two hours and a half: which is not to imitate or paint Nature, but rather to draw her in miniature, to take her in little; to look upon her, through the wrong of a perspective [_telescope_], and receive her Images [pp. 528, 549], not only much less, but infinitely more imperfect than the Life. This, instead of making a Play delightful, renders it ridiculous.

"_Quodeunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi._

"For the Spirit of Man cannot be satisfied but with Truth, or, at least, Verisimilitude: and a Poem is to contain, if not [Greek ta hetuma], yet [Greek: hetmoisiu homia]; as one of the Greek poets has expressed it [_See_ p. 589.].

"Another thing, in which the French differ from us and from the Spaniards, is that they do not embarrass or cumber themselves with too much Plot. They only represent so much of a Story as will constitute One whole and great Action sufficient for a Play. We, who undertake more, do but multiply _Adventures [pp. 541, 552]; which (not being produced from one another, as Effects from Causes, but, barely, following) constitute many Actions in the Drama, and consequently make it many Plays.

"But, by pursuing close[ly] one Argument, which is not cloyed with many Turns; the French have gained more liberty for Verse, in which they write. They have leisure to dwell upon a subject which deserves it; and to represent the passions [p. 542] (which we have acknowledged to be the Poet's work) without being hurried from one thing to another, as we are in the plays of CALDERON; which we have seen lately upon our theatres, under the name of Spanish Plots.

"I have taken notice but of one Tragedy of ours; whose Plot has that uniformity and unity of Design in it, which I have commended in the French; and that is, ROLLO, or rather under the name of ROLLO, the story of BASSANIUS _and_ GOETA, in HERODIAN. There, indeed, the plot is neither large nor intricate; but just enough to fill the minds of the audience, not to cloy them. Besides, you see it founded on the truth of History; only the time of the Action is not reduceable to the strictness of the Rules. And you see, in some places, a little farce mingled, which is below the dignity of the other parts. And in this, all our Poets are extremely peccant; even BEN. JOHNSON himself, in _SEFANUS_ and _CATILINE,_ has given this Oleo [_hodge-podge_] of a Play, this unnatural mixture of Comedy and Tragedy; which, to me, sounds just as ridiculous as _The History of DAVID, with the merry humours of GOLIAS_. In _SEFANUS_, you may take notice of the Scene between _LIVIA_ and the _Physician;_ which is a pleasant satire upon the artificial helps of beauty. In _CATILINE_, you may see the Parliament of Women; the little envies of them to one another; and all that passes betwixt _CURIO_ and _FULVIA_. Scenes, admirable in their kind, but of an ill mingle with the rest.

"But I return again to the French Writers: who, as I have said, do not burden themselves too much with Plot; which has been reproached to them by an Ingenious Person of our nation, as a fault. For he says, 'They commonly make but one person considerable in a Play. They dwell upon him and his concernments; while the rest of the persons are only subservient to set him off.' If he intends this by it, that there is one person in the Play who is of greater dignity than the rest; he must tax not only theirs, but those of the Ancients, and (which he would be loath to do) the best of ours. For it 'tis impossible but that one person must be more conspicuous in it than any other; and consequently the greatest share in the Action must devolve on him. We see it so in the management of all affairs. Even in the most equal aristocracy, the balance cannot be so justly poised, but some one will be superior to the rest, either in parts, fortune, interest, or the consideration of some glorious exploit; which will reduce [_lead_] the greatest part of business into his hands.

"But if he would have us to imagine, that in exalting of one character, the rest of them are neglected; and that all of them have not some share or other in the Action of the Play: I desire him to produce any of CORNEILLE's Tragedies, wherein every person, like so many servants in a well governed family, has _not_ some employment; and who is _not_ necessary to the carrying on of the Plot, or, at least, to your understanding it.

"There are, indeed, some protactic persons [_precursors_] in the Ancients; whom they make use of in their Plays, either to hear or give the Relation; but the French avoid this with great address; making their Narrations only to, or by such, who are some way interessed [_interested_] in the main Design.

"And now I am speaking of RELATIONS; I cannot take a fitter opportunity to add this, in favour of the French, that they often use them with better judgement, more _apropos_ than the English do.

"Not that I commend NARRATIONS in general; but there are two sorts of them:

"One, of those things which are antecedent to the Play, and are related to make the Conduct of it more clear to us. But 'tis a fault to choose such subjects for the Stage, as will inforce us upon that rock: because we see that they are seldom listened to by the audience; and that it is, many times, the ruin of the play. For, being once let pass without attention, the audience can never recover themselves to understand the Plot; and, indeed, it is somewhat unreasonable that they should be put to so much trouble, as that, to comprehend what passes in their sight, they must have recourse to what was done, perhaps ten or twenty years ago.

"But there is another sort of RELATIONS, that is, of things happening in the Action of a Play, and supposed to be done behind the scenes: and this is, many times, both convenient and beautiful. For by it, the French avoid the tumult, which we are subject to in England, by representing duels, battles, and such like; which renders our Stage too like the theatres where they fight for prizes [_i.e., theatres used as Fencing Schools, for Assaults of Arms, &c._]. For what is more ridiculous than to represent an army, with a drum and five men behind it? All which, the hero on the other side, is to drive in before him. Or to see a duel fought, and one slain with two or three thrusts of the foils? which we know are so blunted, that we might give a man an hour to kill another, in good earnest, with them.

"I have observed that in all our Tragedies, the audience cannot forbear laughing, when the Actors are to die. 'Tis the most comic part of the whole Play.

"All Passions may be lively Represented on the Stage, if, to the well writing of them, the Actor supplies a good commanded voice, and limbs that move easily, and without stiffness: but there are many Actions, which can never be Imitated to a just height.

"Dying, especially, is a thing, which none but a Roman gladiator could naturally perform upon the Stage, when he did not Imitate or Represent it, but naturally Do it. And, therefore, it is better to omit the Representation of it. The words of a good writer, which describe it lively, will make a deeper impression of belief in us, than all the Actor can persuade us to, when he seems to fall dead before us: as the Poet, in the description of a beautiful garden, or meadow, will please our Imagination more than the place itself will please our sight. When we see death Represented, we are convinced it is but fiction; but when we hear it Related, our eyes (the strongest witnesses) are wanting, which might have undeceived us: and we are all willing to favour the sleight, when the Poet does not too grossly impose upon us.

"They, therefore, who imagine these Relations would make no concernment in the audience, are deceived, by confounding them with the other; which are of things antecedent to the Play. Those are made often, in cold blood, as I may say, to the audience; but these are warmed with our concernments, which are, before, awakened in the Play.

"What the philosophers say of Motion, that 'when it is once begun, it continues of itself; and will do so, to Eternity, without some stop be put to it,' is clearly true, on this occasion. The Soul, being moved with the Characters and Fortunes of those Imaginary Persons, continues going of its own accord; and we are no more weary to hear what becomes of them, when they are not on the Stage, than we are to listen to the news of an absent mistress.

"But it is objected, 'That if one part of the Play may be related; then, why not all?'

"I answer. Some parts of the Action are more fit to be Represented; some, to be Related. CORNEILLE says judiciously, 'That the Poet is not obliged to expose to view all particular actions, which conduce to the principal. He ought to select such of them to be Seen, which will appear with the greatest beauty, either by the magnificence of the shew, or the vehemence of the passions which they produce, or some other charm which they have in them: and let the rest arrive to the audience, by Narration.'

"'Tis a great mistake in us, to believe the French present no part of the Action upon the Stage. Every alteration, or crossing of a Design; every new sprung passion, and turn of it, is a part of the Action, and much the noblest: except we conceive nothing to be Action, till they come to blows; as if the painting of the Hero's Mind were not more properly the Poet's work, than, the strength of his Body.

"Nor does this anything contradict the opinion of HORACE, where he tells us

"_Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem
Quam quae sunt occulis subjecta fidelibus._

"For he says, immediately after,

"_Non tamen intus
Digna, geri promes in scenam, Multaque tolles
Ex occulis, quae mox narret facundia praesens._

"Among which 'many,' he recounts some,

"_Nec pueros coram populo MEDEA trucidet,
Aut in avem PROGNE mutetur, CADMUS in anguem, &c._

"that is, 'Those actions, which, by reason of their cruelty, will cause aversion in us; or (by reason of their impossibility) unbelief [pp. 496, 545], ought either wholly to be avoided by a Poet, or only delivered by Narration.' To which, we may have leave to add, such as 'to avoid tumult,' as was before hinted [pp. 535, 544]; or 'to reduce the Plot into a more reasonable compass of time,' or 'for defect of beauty in them,' are rather to be Related than presented to the eye.

"Examples of all these kinds, are frequent; not only among all the Ancients, but in the best received of our English poets.

"We find BEN. JOHNSON using them in his _Magnetic Lady_, where one comes out from dinner, and Relates the quarrels and disorders of it; to save the indecent appearing of them on the Stage, and to abbreviate the story: and this, in express imitation of TERENCE, who had done the same before him, in his _Eunuch_; where _PYTHIAS_ makes the like Relation of what had happened within, at the soldiers' entertainment.

"The Relations, likewise, of _SEFANUS_'s death and the prodigies before it, are remarkable. The one of which, was hid from sight, to avoid the horror and tumult of the Representation: the other, to shun the introducing of things impossible to be believed.

"In that excellent Play, the _King and no King_, FLETCHER goes yet farther. For the whole unravelling of the Plot is done by Narration in the Fifth Act, after the manner of the Ancients: and it moves great concernment in the audience; though it be only a Relation of what was done many years before the Play.

"I could multiply other instances; but these are sufficient to prove, that there is no error in chosing a subject which requires this sort of Narration. In the ill managing of them, they may.

"But I find, I have been too long in this discourse; since the French have many other excellencies, not common to us.

"As that, _you never see any of their Plays end with a Conversion, or simple Change of Will_: which is the ordinary way our Poets use [_are accustomed_] to end theirs.

"It shows little art in the conclusion of a Dramatic Poem, when they who have hindered the felicity during the Four Acts, desist from it in the Fifth, without some powerful cause to take them off: and though I deny not but such reasons may be found; yet it is a path that is cautiously to be trod, and the Poet is to be sure he convinces the audience, that the motive is strong enough.

"As, for example, the conversion of the _Usurer_ in the _Scornful Lady_, seems to me, a little forced. For, being a Usurer, which implies a Lover of Money in the highest degree of covetousness (and such, the Poet has represented him); the account he gives for the sudden change, is, that he has been duped by the wild young fellow: which, in reason, might render him more wary another time, and make him punish himself with harder fare and coarser clothes, to get it up again. But that he should look upon it as a judgement, and so repent; we may expect to hear of in a Sermon, but I should never endure it in a Play.

"I pass by this. Neither will I insist upon _the care they take, that no person, after his first entrance, shall ever appear; but the business which brings upon the Stage, shall be evident_. Which, if observed, must needs render all the events of the Play more natural. For there, you see the probability of every accident, in the cause that produced it; and that which appears chance in the Play, will seem so reasonable to you, that you will there find it almost necessary: so that in the Exits of their Actors, you have a clear account of their purpose and design in the next Entrance; though, if the Scene be well wrought, the event will commonly deceive you. 'For there is nothing so absurd,' says CORNEILLE, 'as for an Actor to leave the Stage, only because he has no more to say!'

"I should now speak of _the beauty of their Rhyme_, and the just reason I have to prefer _that way of writing_, in Tragedies, _before ours, in Blank Verse_. But, because it is partly received by us, and therefore, not altogether peculiar to them; I will say no more of it, in relation to their Plays. For our own; I doubt not but it will exceedingly beautify them: and I can see but one reason why it should not generally obtain; that is, because our Poets write so ill in it [pp. 503, 578, 598]. This, indeed, may prove a more prevailing argument, than all others which are used to destroy it: and, therefore, I am only troubled when great and judicious Poets, and those who are acknowledged such, have writ or spoke against it. As for others, they are to be answered by that one sentence of an ancient author. _Sed ut primo ad consequendos eos quos priores ducimus accendimur, ita ubi aut praeteriri, aut aequari eos posse desperavimus, studium cum spe senescit: quod, scilicet, assequi non potest, sequi desinit; praeteritoque eo in quo eminere non possumus, aliquid in quo nitamur conquirimus_."

LISIDEIUS concluded, in this manner; and NEANDER, after a little pause, thus answered him.

"I shall grant LISIDEIUS, without much dispute, a great part of what he has urged against us.

"For I acknowledge _the French contrive their Plots more regularly; observe the laws of Comedy, and decorum of the Stage_, to speak generally, _with more exactness_ _than the English_. Farther, I deny not but he has taxed us justly, in some irregularities of ours; which he has mentioned. Yet, after all, I am of opinion, that neither our faults, nor their virtues are considerable enough to place them above us.

"For _the lively Imitation of Nature_ being the Definition of a Play [p. 513]; those which best fulfil that law, ought to be esteemed superior to the others, 'Tis true those beauties of the French Poesy are such as will raise perfection higher where it is; but are not sufficient to give it where it is not. They are, indeed, the beauties of a Statue, not of a Man; because not animated with the Soul of Poesy, which is _Imitation of Humour and Passions_.

"And this, LISIDEIUS himself, or any other, however biased to their party, cannot but acknowledge; if he will either compare the Humours of our Comedies, or the Characters of our serious Plays with theirs.

"He that will look upon theirs, which have been written till [within] these last ten years [_i.e._, 1655, _when MOLIERE began to write_], or thereabouts, will find it a hard matter to pick out two or three passable Humours amongst them. CORNEILLE himself, their Arch Poet; what has he produced, except the _Liar_? and you know how it was cried up in France. But when it came upon the English Stage, though well translated, and that part of _DORANT_ acted to so much advantage by Mr. HART, as, I am confident, it never received in its own country; the most favourable to it, would not put it in competition with many of FLETCHER's or BEN. JOHNSON's. In the rest of CORNEILLE's Comedies you have little humour. He tells you, himself, his way is first to show two lovers in good intelligence with each other; in the working up of the Play, to embroil them by some mistake; and in the latter end, to clear it up.

"But, of late years, DE MOLIERE, the younger CORNEILLE, QUINAULT, and some others, have been imitating, afar off, the quick turns and graces of the English Stage. They have mixed their serious Plays with mirth, like our Tragi-Comedies, since the death of Cardinal RICHELIEU [_in_ 1642]: which LISIDEIUS and many others not observing, have commended that in them for a virtue [p. 531], which they themselves no longer practise.

"Most of their new Plays are, like some of ours, derived from the Spanish novels. There is scarce one of them, without a veil; and a trusty _DIEGO_, who drolls, much after the rate of the _Adventures_ [pp. 533, 553]. But their humours, if I may grace them with that name, are so thin sown; that never above One of them comes up in a Play. I dare take upon me, to find more variety of them, in one play of BEN. JOHNSON's, than in all theirs together: as he who has seen the _Alchemist_, the _Silent Woman_, or _Bartholomew Fair_, cannot but acknowledge with me. I grant the French have performed what was possible on the ground work of the Spanish plays. What was pleasant before, they have made regular. But there is not above one good play to be writ upon all those Plots. They are too much alike, to please often; which we need not [adduce] the experience of our own Stage to justify.

"As for their New Way of mingling Mirth with serious Plot, I do not, with LISIDEIUS, condemn the thing; though I cannot approve their manner of doing it. He tells us, we cannot so speedily re-collect ourselves, after a Scene of great Passion and Concernment, as to pass to another of Mirth and Humour, and to enjoy it with any relish. But why should he imagine the Soul of Man more heavy than his Senses? Does not the eye pass from an unpleasant object, to a pleasant, in a much shorter time than is required to this? and does not the unpleasantness of the first commend the beauty of the latter? The old rule of Logic might have convinced him, that 'Contraries when placed near, set off each other.' A continued gravity keeps the spirit too much bent. We must refresh it sometimes; as we bait [_lunch_] upon a journey, that we may go on with greater ease. A Scene of Mirth mixed with Tragedy, has the same effect upon us, which our music has betwixt the Acts; and that, we find a relief to us from the best Plots and Language of the Stage, if the discourses have been long.

"I must, therefore, have stronger arguments, ere I am convinced that Compassion and Mirth, in the same subject, destroy each other: and, in the meantime, cannot but conclude to the honour of our Nation, that we have invented, increased, and perfected a more pleasant way of writing for the Stage than was ever known to the Ancients or Moderns of any nation; which is, Tragi-Comedy.

"And this leads me to wonder why LISIDEIUS [p. 533], and many others, should cry up _the barrenness of the French Plots_ above _the variety and copiousness of the English_?

"Their Plots are single. They carry on one Design, which is push forward by all the Actors; every scene in the Play contributing and moving towards it. Ours, besides the main Design, have Under Plots or By-Concernments of less considerable persons and intrigues; which are carried on, with the motion of the main Plot: just as they say the orb [?_orbits_] of the fixed stars, and those of the planets (though they have motions of their own), are whirled about, by the motion of the _Primum Mobile_ in which they are contained. That similitude expresses much of the English Stage. For, if contrary motions may be found in Nature to agree, if a planet can go East and West at the same time; one way, by virtue of his own motion, the other, by the force of the First Mover: it will not be difficult to imagine how the Under Plot, which is only different [from], not contrary to the great Design, may naturally be conducted along with it.

"EUGENIUS [?_LISIDEIUS_] has already shown us [p. 534], from the confession of the French poets, that the Unity of Action is sufficiently preserved, if all the imperfect actions of the Play are conducing to the main Design: but when those petty intrigues of a Play are so ill ordered, that they have no coherence with the other; I must grant, that LISIDEIUS has reason to tax that Want of due Connection. For Co-ordination in a Play is as dangerous and unnatural as in a State. In the meantime, he must acknowledge, our Variety (if well ordered) will afford a greater pleasure to the audience.

"As for his other argument, that _by pursuing one single Theme, they gain an advantage to express, and work up the passions_ [p. 533]; I wish any example he could bring from them, would make it good. For I confess their verses are, to me, the coldest I have ever read.

"Neither, indeed, is It possible for them, in the way they take, so to express Passion as that the effects of it should appear in the concernment of an audience; their speeches being so many declamations, which tire us with the length: so that, instead of persuading us to grieve for their imaginary heroes, we are concerned for our own trouble, as we are, in the tedious visits of bad [_dull_] company; we are in pain till they are gone.

"When the French Stage came to be reformed by Cardinal RICHELIEU, those long harangues were introduced, to comply with the gravity of a Churchman. Look upon the _CINNA_ and _POMPEY_! They are not so properly to be called Plays, as long Discourses of Reason[s] of State: and _POLIEUCTE_, in matters of Religion, is as solemn as the long stops upon our organs. Since that time, it has grown into a custom; and their Actors speak by the hour glass, as our Parsons do. Nay, they account it the grace of their parts! and think themselves disparaged by the Poet, if they may not twice or thrice in a Play, entertain the audience, with a speech of a hundred or two hundred lines.

"I deny not but this may suit well enough with the French: for as we, who are a more sullen people, come to be diverted at our Plays; they, who are of an airy and gay temper, come thither to make themselves more serious. And this I conceive to be one reason why Comedy is more pleasing to us, and Tragedy to them.

"But, to speak generally, it cannot be denied that _short_ Speeches and Replies are more apt to move the passions, and beget concernment in us; than the other. For it is unnatural for any one in a gust of passion, to speak long together; or for another, in the same condition, to suffer him without interruption.

"Grief and Passion are like floods raised in little brooks, by a sudden rain. They are quickly up; and if the Concernment be poured unexpectedly in upon us, it overflows us: but a long sober shower gives them leisure to run out as they came in, without troubling the ordinary current.

"As for Comedy, Repartee is one of its chiefest graces. The greatest pleasure of the audience is a Chase of Wit, kept up on both sides, and swiftly managed. And this, our forefathers (if not we) have had, in FLETCHER's _Plays_, to a much higher degree of perfection, than the French Poets can arrive at.

"There is another part of LISIDEIUS his discourse, in which he has rather excused our neighbours, than commended them; that is, _for aiming only_ [simply] _to make one person considerable in their Plays_.

"'Tis very true what he has urged, that one Character in all Plays, even without the Poet's care, will have the advantage of all the others; and that the Design of the whole Drama will chiefly depend on it. But this hinders not, that there may be more shining Characters in the Play; many persons of a second magnitude, nay, some so very near, so almost equal to the first, that greatness may be opposed to greatness: and all the persons be made considerable, not only by their Quality, but their Action.

"'Tis evident that the more the persons are; the greater will be the variety of the Plot. If then, the parts are managed so regularly, that the beauty of the whole be kept entire; and that the variety become not a perplexed and confused mass of accidents: you will find it infinitely pleasing, to be led in a labyrinth of Design; where you see some of your way before you, yet discern not the end, till you arrive at it.

"And that all this is practicable; I can produce, for examples, many of our English plays, as the _Maid's Tragedy_, the _Alchemist_, the _Silent Woman_.

"I was going to have named the _Fox_; but that the Unity of Design seems not exactly observed in it. For there appear two Actions in the Play; the first naturally ending with the Fourth Act, the second forced from it, in the Fifth. Which yet, is the less to be condemned in him, because the disguise of _VOLPONE_ (though, it suited not with his character as a crafty or covetous person) agreed well enough with that of a voluptuary: and, by it, the Poet gained the end he aimed at, the punishment of vice, and reward of virtue; which that disguise produced. So that, to judge equally of it, it was an excellent Fifth Act; but not so naturally proceeding from the former.

"But to leave this, and to pass to the latter part of LISIDEIUS his discourse; which concerns RELATIONS. I must acknowledge, with him, that the French have reason, _when they hide that part of the Action, which would occasion too much tumult on the Stage_; and choose rather to have it made known by Narration to the audience [p. 535]. Farther; I think it very convenient, for the reasons he has given, that _all incredible Actions were removed_ [p. 537]: but, whether custom has so insinuated itself into our countrymen, or Nature has so formed them to fierceness, I know not; but they will scarcely suffer combats or other objects of horror to be taken from them. And indeed the _indecency_ of tumults is all which can be objected against fighting. For why may not our imagination as well suffer itself to be deluded with the _probability_ of it, as any other thing in the Play. For my part, I can, with as great ease, persuade myself that the blows, which are struck, are given in good earnest; as I can, that they who strike them, are Kings, or Princes, or those persons which they represent.

"For _objects of incredibility_ [p. 537], I would be satisfied from LISIDEIUS, whether we have any so removed from all appearance of truth, as are those in CORNEILLE's _ANDROMEDE_? A Play that has been frequented [_repeated_] the most, of any he has writ. If the _PERSEUS_ or the son of the heathen god, the _Pegasus_, and the Monster, were not capable to choke a strong belief? let him blame any representation of ours hereafter! Those, indeed, were objects of delight; yet the reason is the same as to the probability: for he makes it not a Ballette [_Ballet_] or Masque; but a Play, which is, _to resemble truth_.

"As for _Death_, that _it ought not to be represented_ [p. 536]: I have, besides the arguments alleged by LISIDEIUS, the authority of BEN. JOHNSON, who has foreborne it in his Tragedies: for both the death of SEJANUS and CATILINE are Related. Though, in the latter, I cannot but observe one irregularity of that great poet. He has removed the Scene in the same Act, from Rome to _CATILINE_'s army; and from thence, again to Rome: and, besides, has allowed a very inconsiderable time after _CATILINE_'s speech, for the striking of the battle, and the return of _PETREIUS_, who is to relate the event of it to the Senate. Which I should not animadvert upon him, who was otherwise a painful observer of [Greek: to prepon] or the Decorum of the Stage: if he had not used extreme severity in his judgement [_in his 'Discoveries'_] upon the incomparable SHAKESPEARE, for the same fault.

"To conclude on this subject of Relations, if we are to be blamed for showing too much of the Action; the French are as faulty for discovering too little of it. A mean betwixt both, should be observed by every judicious writer, so as the audience may neither be left unsatisfied, by not seeing what is beautiful; or shocked, by beholding what is either incredible or indecent.

"I hope I have already proved in this discourse, that though we are not altogether so punctual as the French, in observing the laws of Comedy: yet our errors are so few, and [so] little; and those things wherein we excel them so considerable, that we ought, of right, to be preferred before them.

"But what will LISIDEIUS say? if they themselves acknowledge they are too strictly tied up by those laws: for the breaking which, he has blamed the English? I will allege CORNEILLE's words, as I find them in the end of this _Discourse_ of _The three Unities_. _Il est facile aux speculatifs d'être severe, &c_. ''Tis easy, for speculative people to judge severely: but if they would produce to public view, ten or twelve pieces of this nature; they would, perhaps, give more latitude to the Rules, than I have done: when, by experience, they had known how much we are bound up, and constrained by them, and how many beauties of the Stage they banished from it.'

"To illustrate, a little, what he has said. By their servile imitations of the UNITIES of TIME and PLACE, and INTEGRITY OF SCENES they have brought upon themselves the Dearth of Plot and Narrowness of Imagination which may be observed in all their Plays.

"How many beautiful accidents might naturally happen in two or three days; which cannot arrive, with any probability, in the compass of twenty-four hours? There is time to be allowed, also, for maturity of design: which, amongst great and prudent persons, such as are often represented in Tragedy, cannot, with any likelihood of truth, be brought to pass at so short a warning.

"Farther, by tying themselves strictly to the UNITY OF PLACE and UNBROKEN SCENES; they are forced, many times, to omit some beauties which cannot be shown where the Act began: but might, if the Scene were interrupted, and the Stage cleared, for the persons to enter in another place. And therefore, the French Poets are often forced upon absurdities. For if the Act begins in a Chamber, all the persons in the Play must have some business or other to come thither; or else they are not to be shown in that Act: and sometimes their characters are very unfitting to appear there. As, suppose it were the King's Bedchamber; yet the meanest man in the Tragedy, must come and despatch his business there, rather than in the Lobby or Courtyard (which is [_were_] fitter for him), for fear the Stage should be cleared, and the Scenes broken.

"Many times, they fall, by it, into a greater inconvenience: for they keep their Scenes Unbroken; and yet Change the Place. As, in one of their newest Plays [_i.e., before 1665_]. Where the Act begins in a Street: there, a gentleman is to meet his friend; he sees him, with his man, coming out from his father's house; they talk together, and the first goes out. The second, who is a lover, has made an appointment with his mistress: she appears at the Window; and then, we are to imagine the Scene lies under it. This gentleman is called away, and leaves his servant with his mistress. Presently, her father is heard from within. The young lady is afraid the servingman should be discovered; and thrusts him through a door, which is supposed to be her Closet [_Boudoir_]. After this, the father enters to the daughter; and now the Scene is in a House: for he is seeking, from one room to another, for his poor _PHILIPIN_ or French _DIEGO_: who is heard from within, drolling, and breaking many a miserable conceit upon his sad condition. In this ridiculous manner, the Play goes on; the Stage being never empty all the while. So that the Street, the Window, the two Houses, and the Closet are made to walk about, and the Persons to stand still!

"Now, what, I beseech you! is more easy than to write a regular French Play? or more difficult than to write an irregular English one, like those of FLETCHER, or of SHAKESPEARE?

"If they content themselves, as CORNEILLE did, with some flat design, which (like an ill riddle) is found out ere it be half proposed; such Plots, we can make every way regular, as easily as they: but whene'er they endeavour to rise up to any quick Turns or Counter-turns of Plot, as some of them have attempted, since CORNEILLE's _Plays_ have been less in vogue; you see they write as irregularly as we! though they cover it more speciously. Hence the reason is perspicuous, why no French plays, when translated, have, or ever can succeed upon the English Stage. For, if you consider the Plots, our own are fuller of variety; if the Writing, ours are more quick, and fuller of spirit: and therefore 'tis a strange mistake in those who decry the way of writing Plays in Verse; as if the English therein imitated the French.

"We have borrowed nothing from them. Our Plots are weaved in English looms. We endeavour, therein, to follow the variety and greatness of Characters, which are derived to us from SHAKESPEARE and FLETCHER, The copiousness and well knitting of the Intrigues, we have from JOHNSON. And for the Verse itself, we have English precedents, of elder date than any of CORNEILLE's plays. Not to name our old Comedies before SHAKESPEARE, which are all writ in verse of six feet or Alexandrines, such as the French now use: I can show in SHAKESPEARE, many Scenes of Rhyme together; and the like in BEN. JOHNSON's tragedies. In _CATILINE_ and _SEJANUS_, sometimes, thirty or forty lines. I mean, besides the Chorus or the Monologues; which, by the way, showed BEN. no enemy to this way of writing: especially if you look upon his _Sad Shepherd_, which goes sometimes upon rhyme, sometimes upon blank verse; like a horse, who eases himself upon trot and amble. You find him, likewise, commending FLETCHER's pastoral of the _Faithful Shepherdess_: which is, for the most part, [in] Rhyme; though not refined to that purity, to which it hath since been brought. And these examples are enough to clear us from, a servile imitation of the French.

"But to return, from whence I have digressed. I dare boldly affirm these two things of the English Drama,

"First. That we have many Plays of ours as regular as any of theirs;
and which, besides, have more variety of Plot and Characters. And

"Secondly. That in most of the irregular Plays of SHAKESPEARE or
FLETCHER (for BEN. JOHNSON's are for the most part regular), there
is a more masculine Fancy, and greater Spirit in all the Writing,
than there is in any of the French.

"I could produce, even in SHAKESPEARE's and FLETCHER's _Works_, some Plays which are almost exactly formed; as the _Merry Wives of Windsor_ and the _Scornful Lady_. But because, generally speaking, SHAKESPEARE, who writ first, did not perfectly observe the laws of Comedy; and FLETCHER, who came nearer to perfection [_in this respect_], yet, through carelessness, made many faults: I will take the pattern of a perfect Play from BEN. JOHNSON, who was a careful and learned observer of the Dramatic Laws; and, from all his Comedies, I shall select the _Silent Woman_ [p. 597], of which I will make a short examen [_examination_], according to those Rules which the French observe."

As NEANDER was beginning to examine the _Silent Woman_: EUGENIUS, looking earnestly upon him, "I beseech you, NEANDER!" said he, "gratify the company, and me in particular, so far, as, before you speak of the Play, to give us a Character of the Author: and tell us, frankly, your opinion! whether you do not think all writers, both French and English, ought to give place to him?"

"I fear," replied NEANDER, "that in obeying your commands, I shall draw a little envy upon myself. Besides, in performing them, it will be first necessary to speak somewhat of SHAKESPEARE and FLETCHER his Rivals in Poesy; and one of them, in my opinion, at least his Equal, perhaps his Superior.

"To begin then with SHAKESPEARE. He was the man, who, of all Modern and perhaps Ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive Soul [p. 540]. All the Images of Nature [pp. 528, 533] were still present [_apparent_] to him [p. 489]: and he drew them not laboriously, but luckily [_felicitously_]. When he describes anything; you more than see it, you feel it too. Those who accuse him to have wanted learning; give him the greater commendation. He was naturally learned. He needed not the spectacles of books, to read Nature; he looked inwards, and found her there. I cannot say, he is everywhere alike. Were he so; I should do him injury to compare him [_even_] with the greatest of mankind. He is many times flat, insipid: his comic wit degenerating into clenches; his serious swelling, into bombast.

"But he is always great, when some great occasion is presented to him. No man can say, he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets,

"_Quantum lenta solent, inter viberna cupressi._

"The consideration of this, made Mr. HALES, of Eton, say, 'That there was no subject of which any poet ever writ; but he would produce it much better treated of in SHAKESPEARE.' And however others are, now, generally preferred before him; yet the Age wherein he lived (which had contemporaries with him, FLETCHER and JOHNSON) never equalled them to him, in their esteem. And in the last King's [_CHARLES I._] Court, when BEN.'s reputation was at [the] highest; Sir JOHN SUCKLING, and with him, the greater part of the Courtiers, set our SHAKESPEARE far above him.

"BEAUMONT and FLETCHER (of whom I am next to speak), had, with the advantage of SHAKESPEARE's wit, which was their precedent, great natural gifts improved by study. BEAUMONT, especially, being so accurate a judge of plays, that BEN. JOHNSON, while he [_i.e., BEAUMONT_] lived, submitted all his writings to his censure; and,'tis thought, used his judgement in correcting, if not contriving all his plots. What value he had for [_i.e., attached to_] him, appears by the verses he writ to him: and therefore I need speak no farther of it.

"The first Play which brought FLETCHER and him in esteem, was their _PHILASTER_. For, before that, they had written two or three very unsuccessfully: as the like is reported of BEN. JOHNSON, before he writ _Every Man in his Humour_ [_acted in_ 1598]. Their Plots were generally more regular than SHAKESPEARE's, especially those which were made before BEAUMONT's death: and they understood, and imitated the conversation of gentlemen [_in the conventional sense in which it was understood in DRYDEN's time_], much better [_i.e., than SHAKESPEARE_]; whose wild debaucheries, and quickness of wit in repartees, no Poet can ever paint as they have done.

"This Humour, which BEN. JOHNSON derived from particular persons; they made it not their business to describe. They represented all the passions very lively; but, above all, Love.

"I am apt to believe the English language, in them, arrived to its highest perfection. What words have since been taken in, are rather superfluous than necessary.

"Their Plays are now the most pleasant and frequent entertainments of the Stage; two of theirs being acted through the year, for one of SHAKESPEARE's or JOHNSON's. The reason is because there is a certain Gaiety in their Comedies, and Pathos in their more serious Plays, which suit generally with all men's humours, SHAKESPEARE's Language is likewise a little obsolete; and BEN. JOHNSON's Wit comes short of theirs.

"As for JOHNSON, to whose character I am now arrived; if we look upon him, while he was himself (for his last Plays were but his dotages) I think him the most learned and judicious Writer which any _Theatre_ ever had. He was a most severe judge of himself, as well as others. One cannot say he wanted Wit; but rather, that he was frugal of it [p. 572]. In his works, you find little to retrench or alter.

"Wit and Language, and Humour also in some measure, we had before him; but something of Art was wanting to the Drama, till he came. He managed his strength to more advantage than any who preceded him. You seldom find him making love in any of his Scenes, or endeavouring to move the passions: his genius was too sullen and saturnine to do it gracefully; especially when he knew, he came after those who had performed both to such a height. Humour was his proper sphere; and in that, he delighted most to represent mechanic [_uncultivated_] people.

"He was deeply conversant in the Ancients, both Greek and Latin; and he borrowed boldly from them. There is scarce a Poet or Historian, among the Roman authors of those times, whom he has not translated in _SEJANUS_ and _CATILINE_: but he has done his robberies so openly, that one may see he fears not to be taxed by any law. He invades authors, like a Monarch; and what would be Theft in other Poets, is only Victory in him. With the spoils of these Writers, he so represents old Rome to us, in its rites, ceremonies, and customs; that if one of their own poets had written either of his Tragedies, we had seen less of it than in him.

"If there was any fault in his Language, 'twas that he weaved it too closely and laboriously in his serious Plays. Perhaps, too, he did a little too much Romanize our tongue; leaving the words which he translated, almost as much Latin as he found them: wherein, though he learnedly followed the idiom of their language, he did not enough comply with ours.

"If I would compare him with SHAKESPEARE, I must acknowledge him, the more correct Poet; but SHAKESPEARE, the greater Wit. SHAKESPEARE was the HOMER, or Father of our Dramatic Poets; JOHNSON was the VIRGIL, the pattern of elaborate writing. I admire him; but I love SHAKESPEARE.

"To conclude of him. As he has given us the most correct Plays; so in the Precepts which he has laid down in his _Discoveries_, we have as many and profitable Rules as any wherewith the French can furnish us.

"Having thus spoken of this author; I proceed to the examination of his Comedy, the _Silent Woman_.

"_Examen of the Silent Woman._