An English Garner - Edited by Professor Arber and Thomas Seccombe
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_I am almost of opinion that we should force you to accept of the
command; as sometimes the Praetorian Bands have compelled their Captains
to receive the Empire. The Court, which is the best and surest judge of
writing, has generally allowed of Verse; and in the Town, it has found
favourers of Wit and Quality.
As for your own particular, my Lord! you have yet youth and time enough
to give part of it to the Divertisement of the of the Public, before you
enter into the serious and more unpleasant Business of the World.
That which the French Poet said of the Temple of Love, may be as well
applied to the Temple of Muses. The words, as near[ly] as I can remember
them, were these--_
La jeunesse a mauvaise grace
N'ayant pas adore dans le Temple d'Amour;
Il faut qu'il entre: et pour le sage;
Si ce n'est son vrai sejour,
Ce'st un gite sur son passage.
_I leave the words to work their effect upon your Lordship, in their own
language; because no other can so well express the nobleness of the
thought: and wish you may be soon called to bear a part in the affaires
of the Nation, where I know the World expects you, and wonders why you
have been so long forgotten; there being no person amongst our young
nobility, on whom the eyes of all men are so much bent. But, in the
meantime, your Lordship may imitate the Course of Nature, which gives us
the flower before the fruit; that I may speak to you in the language of
the Muses, which I have taken from an excellent Poem to the King [i.e.,_
CHARLES II.]
_As Nature, when she fruit designs, thinks fit
By beauteous blossoms to proceed to it,
And while she does accomplish all the Spring,
Birds, to her secret operations sing.
I confess I have no greater reason in addressing this Essay to your
Lordship, than that it might awaken in you the desire of writing
something, in whatever kind it be, which might be an honour to our Age
and country. And, methinks, it might have the same effect upon you,
which, HOMER tells us, the fight of the Greeks and Trojans before the
fleet had on the spirit of ACHILLES; who, though he had resolved not to
engage, yet found a martial warmth to steal upon him at the sight of
blows, the sound of trumpets, and the cries of fighting men.
For my own part, if in treating of this subject, I sometimes dissent from
the opinion of better Wits, I declare it is not so much to combat their
opinions as to defend mine own, which were first made public. Sometimes,
like a scholar in a fencing school, I put forth myself, and show my own
ill play, on purpose to be better taught. Sometimes, I stand desperately
to my arms, like the Foot, when deserted by their Horse; not in hope to
overcome, but only to yield on more honourable terms.
And yet, my Lord! this War of Opinions, you well know, has fallen out
among the Writers of all Ages, and sometimes betwixt friends: only it has
been persecuted by some, like pedants, with violence of words; and
managed, by others, like gentlemen, with candour and civility. Even TULLY
had a controversy with his dear ATTICUS; and in one of his_ Dialogues,
_makes him sustain the part of an enemy in Philosophy, who, in his_
Letters, _is his confident of State, and made privy to the most weighty
affairs of the Roman Senate: and the same respect, which was paid by
TULLY to ATTICUS; we find returned to him, afterwards, by CAESAR, on a
like occasion: who, answering his book in praise of CATO, made it not so
much his business to condemn CATO, as to praise CICERO.
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 Unites_, 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.