An English Garner: Critical Essays & Literary Fragments Part 16

The question now is, which of us two has mistaken it? And if it appear I have not, the World will suspect _what gentleman that was, who was allowed to speak twice in Parliament, because he had not yet spoken to the question_ [p. 576]: and, perhaps, conclude it to be the same, who (as 'tis reported) maintained a contradiction _in terminis_, in the face of three hundred persons.

But to return to Verse. Whether it be natural or not in Plays, is a problem which is not demonstrable, of either side. 'Tis enough for me, that he acknowledges that he had rather read good Verse than Prose [p.

575]: for if all the enemies of Verse will confess as much, I shall not need to prove that it is _natural_. I am satisfied, if it cause Delight; for Delight is the chief, if not the only end of Poesy. Instruction can be admitted but in the second place; for Poesy only instructs as it delights.

'Tis true, that to Imitate Well is a Poet's work: but to affect the soul, and excite the pa.s.sions, and, above all, to move Admiration [_wondering astonishment_] (which is the Delight of serious Plays), a bare Imitation will not serve. The converse [_conversation_] therefore, which a Poet is to _imitate_, must be _heightened_ with all the arts and ornaments of Poesy; and must be such as, _strictly considered_, could never be supposed [to be] spoken by any, without premeditation.

As for what he urges, that, _A Play will still be supposed to be a composition of several persons speaking_ ex tempore; and that good verses are the hardest things, which can be imagined, to be so spoken_ [p. 575]: I must crave leave to dissent from his opinion, as to the former part of it. For, if I am not deceived, A Play is supposed to be the work of the Poet, _imitating_ or _representing_ the conversation of several persons: and this I think to be as clear, as he thinks the contrary.

But I will be bolder, and do not doubt to make it good, though a paradox, that, One great reason why Prose is not to be used in serious Plays is because it is too near the nature of converse [_conversation_]. There may be too great a likeness. As the most skilful painters affirm there may be too near a resemblance in a picture. To take every lineament and feature is not to make an excellent piece, but to take so much only as will make a beautiful resemblance of the whole; and, with an ingenious flattery of Nature, to heighten the beauties of some parts, and hide the deformities of the rest. For so, says HORACE--

_Ut pictura Poesis erit Haec amat obscurum; vult haec sub luce videri, Judicis argutum quae non formidat ac.u.men.

Et quae Desperat, tractata nitescere posse, relinquit_.

In _Bartholomew Fair_, or the lowest kind of Comedy, that degree of heightening is used which is proper to set off that subject. 'Tis true, the author was not there to go out of Prose, as he does in his higher arguments of Comedy, the _Fox_ and _Alchemist_; yet he does so raise his matter in that Prose, as to render it delightful: which he could never have performed had he only said or done those very things that are daily spoken or practised in the Fair. For then, the Fair itself would be as full of pleasure to an Ingenious Person, as the Play; which we manifestly see it is not: but he hath made an excellent Lazar of it. The copy is of price, though the origin be vile.

You see in _CATILINE_ and _SEJa.n.u.s_; where the argument is great, he sometimes ascends to Verse, which shews he thought it not unnatural in serious Plays: and had his genius been as proper for Rhyme as it was for Humour, or had the Age in which he lived, attained to as much knowledge in Verse, as ours; 'tis probable he would have adorned those Subjects with that kind of writing.

Thus PROSE, though the rightful Prince, yet is, by common consent, deposed; as too weak for the Government of serious Plays: and he failing, there now start up two compet.i.tors! one, the nearer in blood, which is BLANK VERSE; the other, more fit for the ends of Government, which is RHYME. BLANK VERSE is, indeed, the nearer PROSE; but he is blemished with the weakness of his predecessor. RHYME (for I will deal clearly!) has somewhat of the Usurper in him; but he is brave and generous, and his dominion pleasing. For this reason of Delight, the Ancients (whom I will still believe as wise as those who so confidently correct them) wrote all their Tragedies in Verse; though they knew it most remote from conversation.

But I perceive I am falling into the danger of another rebuke from my opponent: for when I plead that "the Ancients used Verse," I prove not that, They would have admitted Rhyme, had it then been written.

All I can say, is, That it seems to have succeeded Verse, by the general consent of Poets in all modern languages. For almost all their serious Plays are written in it: which, though it be no Demonstration that therefore it ought to be so; yet, at least, the Practice first, and then the Continuation of it shews that it attained the end, which was, to Please. And if that cannot be compa.s.sed here, I will be the first who shall lay it down.

For I confess my chief endeavours are _to delight the Age in which I live_ [p. 582]. If the Humour of this, be for Low Comedy, small Accidents [_Incidents_], and Raillery; I will force my genius to obey it: though, with more reputation, I could write in Verse. I know, I am not so fitted, by nature, to write Comedy. I want that gaiety of Humour which is required to it. My conversation is dull and slow. My Humour is saturnine and reserved. In short, I am none of those, who endeavour to break jests in company, or make repartees. So that those who decry my Comedies, do me no injury, except it be in point of profit. Reputation in _them_ is the last thing to which I shall pretend.

I beg pardon for entertaining the reader with so ill a subject: but before I quit that argument, which was the cause of this digression; I cannot but take notice how I am corrected for my quotation of SENECA, in my defence of Plays in Verse.

My words were these [p. 570]: "Our language is n.o.ble, full, and significant; and I know not why he, who is master of it, may not clothe ordinary things in it, as decently as the Latin; if he use the same diligence in his _choice of words_."

One would think, "Unlock the door," was a thing as vulgar as could be spoken: yet SENECA could make it sound high and lofty in his Latin.

_Reserate clusos regii postes Laris_.

But he says of me, _That being filled with the precedents of the Ancients who Writ their Plays in Verse, I commend the thing; declaring our language to be full, n.o.ble, and significant, and charging all the defects upon the_ ill placing of words; _which I prove by quoting SENECA's loftily expressing such an ordinary thing as_ shutting the door.

Here he manifestly mistakes. For I spoke not of the Placing, but the Choice of words: for which I quoted that aphorism of JULIUS CAESAR, _Delectus verborum est origo eloquentiae_. But _delectus verborum_ is no more Latin for the "Placing of words;" than _Reserate_ is Latin for "_Shut_ the door!" as he interprets it; which I, ignorantly, construed "_Unlock_ or _open_ it!"

He supposes I was highly affected with the Sound of these words; and I suppose I may more justly imagine it of him: for if he had not been extremely satisfied with the Sound, he would have minded the Sense a little better.

But these are, now, to be no faults. For, ten days after his book was published, and that his mistakes are grown so famous that they are come back to him, he sends his _Errata_ to be printed, and annexed to his Play; and desires that instead of _Shutting_, you should read _Opening_, which, it seems, was the printer's fault. I wonder at his modesty! that he did not rather say it was SENECA's or mine: and that in some authors, _Reserate_ was to _Shut_ as well as to _Open_, as the word _Barach_, say the learned, is [_in Hebrew_] both to _Bless_ and _Curse_.

Well, since it was the printer['s fault]; he was a naughty man, to commit the same mistake twice in six lines.

I warrant you! _Delectus verborum_ for _Placing_ of words, was his mistake too; though the author forgot to tell him of it. If it were my book, I a.s.sure you it should [be]. For those rascals ought to be the proxies of every Gentleman-Author; and to be chastised for him, when he is not pleased to own an error.

Yet, since he has given the _Errata_, I wish he would have enlarged them only a few sheets more; and then he would have spared me the labour of an answer. For this cursed printer is so given to mistakes, that there is scarce a sentence in the Preface without some false grammar, or hard sense [_i.e., difficulty in gathering the meaning_] in it; which will all be charged upon the Poet: because he is so good natured as to lay but three errors to the Printer's account, and to take the rest upon himself; who is better able to support them. But he needs not [to] apprehend that I should strictly examine those little faults; except I am called upon to do it. I shall return, therefore, to that quotation of SENECA; and answer not to what he _writes_, but to what he _means_.

I never intended it as an Argument, but only as an Ill.u.s.tration of what I had said before [p. 570] concerning the Election of words. And all he can charge me with, is only this, That if SENECA could make an ordinary thing sound well in Latin by the choice of words; the same, with like care, might be performed in English. If it cannot, I have committed an error on the right hand, by commending too much, the copiousness and well sounding of our language: which I hope my countrymen will pardon me. At least, the words which follow in my _Dramatic Essay_ will plead somewhat in my behalf. For I say there [p. 570], That this objection happens but seldom in a Play; and then too, either the meanness of the expression may be avoided, or shut out from the verse by breaking it in the midst.

But I have said too much in the Defence of Verse. For, after all, 'tis a very indifferent thing to me, whether it obtain or not. I am content, hereafter to be ordered by his rule, that is, "to write it, sometimes, because it pleases me" [p. 575]; and so much the rather, because "he has declared that it pleases him."

But, he has taken his last farewell of the Muses; and he has done it civilly, by honouring them with the name of _his long acquaintances_ [p.

574]: which is a compliment they have scarce deserved from him.

For my own part, I bear a share in the public loss; and how emulous soever I may be, of his Fame and Reputation, I cannot but give this testimony of his Style, that it is extreme[ly] poetical, even in Oratory; his Thoughts elevated, sometimes above common apprehension; his Notions politic and grave, and tending to the instruction of Princes and reformation of State: that they are abundantly interlaced with variety of fancies, tropes, and figures, which the Critics have enviously branded with the name of Obscurity and False Grammar.

Well, _he is now fettered in business of more unpleasant nature_ [p.

574]. The Muses have lost him, but the Commonwealth gains by it. The corruption of a Poet is the generation of a Statesman.

_He will not venture again into the Civil Wars of Censure_ [Criticism].

_Ubi ... nullos habitura triumphos_.

If he had not told us, he had left the Muses; we might have half suspected it by that word, _ubi_, which does not any way belong to _them_, in that place. The rest of the verse is indeed LUCAN's: but that _ubi_, I will answer for it, is his own.

Yet he has another reason for this disgust of Poesy. For he says, immediately after, that _the manner of Plays which are now in most esteem, is beyond his power to perform_ [p. 574]. To _perform_ the _manner_ of a thing, is new English to me.

_However he condemns not the satisfaction of others, but rather their unnecessary understanding; who, like SANCHO PANZA's Doctor, prescribe too strictly to our appet.i.tes. For_, says he, _in the difference of Tragedy and Comedy and of Farce itself; there can be no determination but by the taste; nor in the manner of their composure_.

We shall see him, now, as great a Critic as he was a Poet: and the reason why he excelled so much in Poetry will be evident; for it will have proceeded from the exactness of his Judgement.

_In the difference of Tragedy, Comedy, and Farce itself; there can be no determination but by the taste_. I will not quarrel with the obscurity of this phrase, though I justly might: but beg his pardon, if I do not rightly understand him. If he means that there is no essential difference betwixt Comedy, Tragedy, and Farce; but only what is made by people's taste, which distinguishes one of them from the other: that is so manifest an error, that I need lose no time to contradict it.

Were there neither Judge, Taste, or Opinion in the world; yet they would differ in their natures. For the Action, Character, and Language of Tragedy would still be great and high: that of Comedy, lower and more familiar. Admiration would be the Delight of the one: Satire, of the other.

I have but briefly touched upon these things; because, whatever his words are, I can scarce[ly] imagine that _he who is always concerned for the true honour of Reason, and would have no spurious issue fathered upon her_ [p. 578], should mean anything so absurd, as to affirm _that there is no difference between Comedy and Tragedy, but what is made by taste only_: unless he would have us understand the Comedies of my Lord L. [?]; where the First Act should be _Potages_, the Second, _Frica.s.ses &c._, and the Fifth, a _chere entiere_ of women.

I rather guess, he means that betwixt one Comedy or Tragedy and another; there is no other difference but what is made by the liking or disliking of the audience. This is, indeed, a less error than the former; but yet it is a great one.

The liking or disliking of the people gives the Play the _denomination_ of "good" or "bad"; but does not really make or const.i.tute it such. To please the people ought to be the Poet's aim [pp. 513, 582, 584]; because Plays are made for their delight: but it does not follow, that they are always pleased with good plays; or that the plays which please them, are always good.

The Humour of the people is now for Comedy; therefore, in hope to please them, I write Comedies rather than serious Plays; and, so far, their taste prescribes to me. But it does not follow from that reason, that Comedy is to be preferred before Tragedy, in its own nature. For that which is so, in its own nature, cannot be otherwise; as a man cannot but be a rational creature: but the opinion of the people may alter; and in another Age, or perhaps in this, serious Plays may be set up above Comedies.

This I think a sufficient answer. If it be not, he has provided me of [_with_] an excuse. It seems, in his wisdom, he foresaw my weakness; and has found out this expedient for me, _That it is not necessary for Poets to study strict Reason; since they are so used to a greater lat.i.tude than is allowed by that severe inquisition; that they must infringe their own jurisdiction to profess themselves obliged to argue well_.

I am obliged to him, for discovering to me this back door; but I am not yet resolved on my retreat. For I am of opinion, that they cannot be good Poets, who are not accustomed to argue well. False Reasonings and Colours of Speech are the certain marks of one who does not understand the Stage.

For Moral Truth is the Mistress of the Poet as much as of the Philosopher.

Poesy must _resemble_ Natural Truth; but it must _be_ Ethical. Indeed the Poet dresses Truth, and adorns Nature; but does not alter them.

_Ficta voluptatis causa sint proxima veris_.

Therefore that is not the best Poesy which resembles notions of _things, which are not_, to _things which are_: though the Fancy may be great, and the Words flowing; yet the Soul is but half satisfied, when there is not Truth in the foundation [p. 560].

This is that which makes VIRGIL [to] be preferred before the rest of poets. In Variety of Fancy, and Sweetness of Expression, you see OVID far above him; for VIRGIL rejected many of those things which OVID wrote. "A great Wit's great work, is to refuse," as my worthy friend, Sir JOHN BIRKENHEAD has ingeniously expressed it. You rarely meet with anything in VIRGIL but Truth; which therefore leaves the strongest impression of Pleasure in the Soul. This I thought myself obliged to say in behalf of Poesy: and to declare (though it be against myself) that when poets do not argue well, the defect is in the Workmen, not in the Art.

And, now, I come to the boldest part of his Discourse, wherein he attacks not me, but all the Ancient and Moderns; and undermines, as he thinks, the very foundations on which Dramatic Poesy is built. I could wish he would have declined that envy, which must, of necessity, follow such an undertaking: and contented himself with triumphing over me, in my opinions of Verse; which I will never, hereafter, dispute with him. But he must pardon me, if I have that veneration for ARISTOTLE, HORACE, BEN.

JOHNSON, and CORNEILLE, that I dare not serve him in such a cause, and against such heroes: but rather fight under their protection; as HOMER reports of little TEUCER, who shot the Trojans from under the large buckler of AJAX Telamon--