Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

And thus the _three forms of dramatic composition_, the only ones which good sense acknowledges, are kept distinct: and the proper END and CHARACTER of each, clearly understood.

1. _Tragedy and Comedy_, by their lively but faithful representations, cannot fail to _instruct_. Such natural exhibitions of the human character, being set before us in the clear mirror of the drama, must needs serve to the highest _moral uses_, in awakening that instinctive approbation, which we cannot withhold from _virtue_, or in provoking the not less necessary detestation of _vice_. But this, though it be their best _use_, is by no means their primary _intention_. Their proper and immediate _end_ is, to PLEASE: the _one_, more especially by interesting the _affections_; the _other_, by _a just and delicate imitation of real life_. _Farce_, on the contrary, professes to _entertain_, but this, in order more effectually to serve the interests of virtue and good sense. Its proper _end_ and purpose (if we allow it to have any reasonable one) is, then, to INSTRUCT. Which the reader will understand me as saying, not of what we know by the name of _farce_ on the modern stage (whose _prime_ intention can hardly be thought even that low one, ascribed to it by Mr. Dryden, _of_ entertaining _citizens, country gentlemen, and Covent Garden fops_), but of the legitimate _end_ of this _drama_; known to the Ancients under the name of the _old Comedy_, but having neither name nor existence, properly speaking, among the Moderns. Of which we may say, as Mr. Dryden did, but with less propriety, of Comedy, “_That it is a sharp manner of_ instruction _for the vulgar, who are never well amended, till they are more than sufficiently exposed_.” [Pref. to Trans. of Fresnoy, p. xix.]

2. Though tragedy and comedy respect the _same general_ END, yet pursuing it by _different means_, hence it comes to pass, their CHARACTERS are wholly different. For tragedy, aiming at _pleasure_, principally through the _affections_, whose flow must not be checked and interrupted by any counter impressions: and comedy, as we have seen, addressing itself _principally_ to our _natural sense of resemblance and imitation_; it follows, that the _ridiculous_ can never be associated with tragedy, without destroying its _nature_, though with the _serious comic_ it very well consists.

And here the _practice_ coincides with the _rule_. All exact writers, though they constantly mix _grave and pleasant_ scenes together in the same _comedy_, yet never presume to do this in _tragedy_, and so keep the two species of _tragedy and comedy_ themselves perfectly distinct. But,

3. It is quite otherwise with _comedy_ and _farce_. These almost perpetually run into each other. And yet the reason of the thing demands as intire and perfect a separation in this case, as in the other. For the perfection of _comedy_ lying in the accuracy and fidelity of universal representation, and _farce_ professedly neglecting or rather purposely transgressing the limits of common nature and just decorum, they clash entirely with each other. And _comedy_ must so far fail of giving the _pleasure_, appropriate to its design, as it allies itself with _farce_; while _farce_, on the other hand, forfeits the _use_, it intends, of promoting popular ridicule, by restraining itself within the exact rules of _Nature_, which Comedy observes.

But there is little occasion to guard against this _latter_ abuse. The danger is all on the other side. And the passion for what is now called _Farce_, the shadow of the Old Comedy, has, in fact, possessed the modern poets to such a degree that we have scarcely one example of a comedy, without this gross mixture. If any are to be excepted from this censure in Moliere, they are his _Misanthrope_ and _Tartuffe_, which are accordingly, by common allowance, the best of his large collection. In proportion as his other plays have less or more of this farcical turn, their true value hath been long since determined.

Of our own comedies, such of them, I mean, as are worthy of criticism, Ben Jonson’s _Alchymist_ and _Volpone_ bid the fairest for being written in this genuine unmixed manner. Yet, though their merits are very great, severe Criticism might find something to object even to these. The ALCHYMIST, some will think, is exaggerated throughout, and so, at best, belongs to that species of comedy, which we have before called _particular and partial_. At least, the extravagant pursuit so strongly exposed in that play, hath now, of a long time, been forgotten; so that we find it difficult to enter fully into the humour of this highly-wrought character. And, in general, we may remark of such characters, that they are a strong temptation to the writer to exceed the bounds of truth in his draught of them at _first_, and are further liable to an imperfect, and even unfair sentence from the reader _afterwards_. For the welcome reception, which these pictures of prevailing _local_ folly meet with on the stage, cannot but induce the poet, almost without design, to inflame the representation: And the want of _archetypes_, in a little time, makes it pass for immoderate, were it originally given with ever so much discretion and justice. So that whether the _Alchymist_ be farcical or not, it will _appear_, at least, to have this note of Farce, “That the principal character is exaggerated.” But then this is all we must affirm. For as to the _subject_ of this Play’s being a _local folly_, which seems to bring it directly under the denomination of Farce, it is but just to make a distinction. Had the _end and purpose_ of the Play been to expose _Alchymy_, it had been liable to this objection. But this mode of _local folly_, is employed as the _means_ only of exposing _another_ folly, extensive as our Nature and coeval with it, namely _Avarice_. So that the subject has all the requisites of true _Comedy_. It is just otherwise, we may observe, in the _Devil’s an Ass_; which therefore properly falls under our censure. For there, the folly of the time, _Projects and Monopolies_, are brought in to be exposed, as the _end and purpose_ of the comedy.

On the whole, the _Alchymist_ is a Comedy in just form, but a little _Farcical_ in the extension of one of its characters.

The VOLPONE, is a subject so manifestly fitted for the entertainment of all times, that it stands in need of no vindication. Yet neither, I am afraid, is this Comedy, in all respects, a complete model. There are even some Incidents of a farcical invention; particularly the _Mountebank Scene_ and _Sir Politique’s Tortoise_ are in the taste of the _old comedy_; and without its rational purpose. Besides, the _humour_ of the dialogue is sometimes on the point of becoming inordinate, as may be seen in the pleasantry of _Corbaccio’s mistakes through deafness_, and in other instances. And we shall not wonder that the best of his plays are liable to some objections of this sort, if we attend to the _character_ of the writer. For his nature was severe and rigid, and this in giving a strength and manliness, gave, at times too, an intemperance to his satyr. His taste for ridicule was strong but indelicate, which made him not over-curious in the choice of his _topics_. And lastly, his _style_ in picturing characters, though masterly, was without that elegance of _hand_, which is required to correct and allay the force of so bold a colouring. Thus, the bias of his nature leading him to Plautus rather than Terence for his model, it is not to be wondered that his wit is too frequently caustic; his raillery coarse; and his humour excessive.

Some later writers for the stage have, no doubt, avoided these defects of the exactest of our old dramatists. But do they reach his excellencies? Posterity, I am afraid, will judge otherwise, whatever may be now thought of some more fashionable comedies. And if they do not, neither the state of general manners, nor the turn of the public taste, appears to be such as countenances the expectation of greater improvements. To those who are not over-sanguine in their hopes, our forefathers will perhaps be thought to have furnished (what, in nature, seem linked together) the fairest example of _dramatic_, as of _real manners_.

But here it will probably be said, an affected zeal for the honour of our old poets has betrayed their unwary advocate into a concession, which discredits his whole pains on this subject. For to what purpose, may it be asked, this waste of dramatic criticism, when, by the allowance of the idle speculatist himself, his theory is likely to prove so unprofitable, at least, if it be not ill-founded? The only part I can take in this nice conjuncture, is to screen myself behind the authority of a much abler critical theorist, who had once the misfortune to find himself in these unlucky circumstances, and has apologized for it. The _objection_ is fairly urged by this fine writer; and in so profound and speculative an age, as the present, I presume to suggest no other answer, than he has thought fit to give to it. “Speculations of this sort, says he, do not bestow genius on those who have it not; they do not, perhaps, afford any great assistance to those who have; and most commonly the men of genius are even incapable of being assisted by speculation. To what use then do they serve? Why, to lead up _to the first principles of beauty_ such persons as love reasoning and are fond of reducing, under the controul of philosophy, subjects that appear the most independent of it, and which are generally thought abandoned to the caprice of taste[15].”

A

DISCOURSE

ON

POETICAL IMITATION.

DISSERTATION III.

ON

POETICAL IMITATION.

I undertake, in the following discourse, to consider TWO QUESTIONS, in which the credit of almost all great writers, since the time of _Homer_, is vitally concerned.

First, “_Whether that Conformity in Phrase or Sentiment between two writers of different times, which we call_ IMITATION, _may not with probability enough, for the most part, be accounted for from general causes, arising from our common nature; that is, from the exercise of our natural faculties on such objects as lie in common to all observers?_”

Secondly, “_Whether, in the case of confessed Imitations, any certain and necessary conclusion holds to the disadvantage of the natural_ GENIUS _of the imitator?_”—QUESTIONS, which there seems no fit method of resolving, but by taking the matter pretty deep, and deducing it from its _first principles_.