The Honourable Sir ROBERT HOWARD, Auditor of the Exchequer.
Preface to _Four new Plays_.
[Licensed 7 March 1665, Printed the same year.]
_TO THE READER_.
There is none more sensible than I am, how great a charity the most
Ingenious may need, that expose their private wit to a public judgement;
since the same Phancy from whence the thoughts proceed, must probably be
kind to its own issue. This renders men no perfecter judges of their own
writings, than fathers are of their own children: who find out that wit
in them, which another discerns not; and see not those errors, which are
evident to the unconcerned. Nor is this Self Kindness more fatal to men
in their writings, than in their actions; every man being a greater
flatterer to himself, than he knows how to be to another: otherwise, it
were impossible that things of such distant natures, should find their
own authors so equally kind in their affections to them; and men so
different in parts and virtues, should rest equally contented in their
own opinions.
This apprehension, added to that greater [one] which I have of my own
weakness, may, I hope, incline the Reader to believe me, when I assure
him that these follies were made public, as much against my inclination
as judgement. But, being pursued with so many solicitations of Mr.
HERRINGMAN's [_the Publisher_], and having received civilities from him,
if it were possible, exceeding his importunities: I, at last, yielded to
prefer that which he believed his interest; before that, which I
apprehended my own disadvantage. Considering withal, that he might
pretend, It would be a real loss to him: and could be but an imaginary
prejudice to me: since things of this nature, though never so excellent,
or never so mean, have seldom proved the foundation of men's new built
fortunes, or the ruin of their old. It being the fate of Poetry, though
of no other good parts, to be wholly separated from Interest: and there
are few that know me but will easily believe, I am not much concerned in
an unprofitable Reputation.
This clear account I have given the Reader, of this seeming
contradiction, to offer that to the World which I dislike myself: and, in
all things, I have no greater an ambition than to be believed [to be] a
Person, that would rather be unkind to myself, than ungrateful to others.
I have made this excuse for myself. I offer none for my writings; but
freely leave the Reader to condemn that which has received my sentence
already.
Yet, I shall presume to say something in the justification of our
nation's Plays, though not of my own: since, in my judgement, without
being partial to my country, I do really prefer our Plays as much before
any other nation's; as I do the best of ours before my own.
The manner of the Stage Entertainments has differed in all Ages; and, as
it has increased in use, it has enlarged itself in business. The general
manner of Plays among the Ancients we find in SENECA's Tragedies, for
serious subjects; and in TERENCE and PLAUTUS, for the comical. In which
latter, we see some pretences to Plots; though certainly short of what we
have seen in some of Mr. [BEN.] JOHNSON's Plays. And for their Wit,
especially PLAUTUS, I suppose it suited much better in those days, than
it would do in ours. For were their Plays strictly translated, and
presented on our Stage; they would hardly bring as many audiences as they
have now admirers.
The serious Plays were anciently composed of Speeches and Choruses; where
all things are Related, but no matter of _fact_ Presented on the Stage.
This pattern, the French do, at this time, nearly follow: only leaving
out the Chorus, making up their Plays with almost Entire and Discoursive
Scenes; presenting the business in Relations [p. 535]. This way has very
much affected some of our nation, who possibly believe well of it, more
upon the account that what the French do ought to be a fashion, than upon
the reason of the thing.
It is first necessary to consider, Why, probably, the compositions of the
Ancients, especially in their serious Plays were after this manner? And it
will be found, that the subjects they commonly chose, drave them upon the
necessity; which were usually the most known stories and Fables [p. 522].
Accordingly, SENECA, making choice of MEDEA, HYPPOLITUS, and HERCULES
_OEtaeus_, it was impossible to _show_ MEDEA throwing old mangled AESON
into her age-renewing caldron, or to _present_ the scattered limbs of
HYPPOLITUS upon the Stage, and _show_ HERCULES burning upon his own
funeral pile.
And this, the judicious HORACE clearly speaks of, in his _Arte Poetica_;
where he says
_Non tamen intus
Digna geri, promes in scenam: multaque tolles
Ex oculis, quae mox narret facundia praesens.
Nec pueros coram populo MEDEA trucidet[8]
Aut humana palam coquat extra nefarius ATREUS,
Aut in avem PROGNE vertatur, CADMUS in anguem.
Quodcunque ostendit mihi sic, incredulus odi_.
So that it appears a fault to chose such Subjects for the Stage; but much
greater, to affect that Method which those subjects enforce: and therefore
the French seem much mistaken, who, without the necessity, sometimes
commit the error. And this is as plainly decided by the same author, in
his preceding word
_Aut agitur res in Scenis aut acta refertur:
Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem;
Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, et quae
Ipse sibi tradit spectator_.
By which, he directly declares his judgement, "That every thing makes
more impression Presented, than Related." Nor, indeed, can any one
rationally assert the contrary. For, if they affirm otherwise, they do,
by consequence, maintain, That a whole Play might as well be Related, as
Acted.
Therefore whoever chooses a subject, that enforces him to RELATIONS, is
to blame; and he that does it without the necessity of the subject, is
much more.
If these premisses be granted, 'tis no partiality to conclude, That our
English Plays justly challenge the pre-eminence.
Yet, I shall as candidly acknowledge, that our best Poets have differed
from other nations, though not so happily [_felicitously_], in usually
mingling and interweaving Mirth and Sadness, through the whole course of
their Plays. BEN. JOHNSON only excepted; who keeps himself entire to one
Argument. And I confess I am now convinced in my own judgement, that it
is most proper to keep the audience in one entire disposition both of
Concern and Attention: for when Scenes of so different natures,
immediately succeed one another; 'tis probable, the audience may not so
suddenly recollect themselves, as to start into an enjoyment of Mirth, or
into the concern for the Sadness. Yet I dispute not but the variety of
this world may afford pursuing accidents of such different natures; but
yet, though possible in themselves to be, they may not be so proper to be
Presented. An Entire Connection being the natural beauty of all Plays: and
Language, the Ornament to dress them in; which, in serious Subjects, ought
to be great and easy, like a high born Person that expresses greatness
without pride or affection.
The easier dictates of Nature ought to flow in Comedy; yet separated from
obsceneness. There being nothing more impudent than the immodesty of
words. Wit should be chaste; and those that have it, can only write well:
_Si modo
Scimus in urbanum Lepido se ponere dicto_.
Another way of the Ancients, which the French follow, and our Stage has,
now lately, practised; is to write in Rhyme. And this is the dispute
betwixt many ingenious persons, _Whether Verse in Rhyme; or Verse without
the Sound, which may be called Blank Verse_ (though a hard expression) _is
to be preferred_?
But take the question, largely, and it is never to be decided [p. 512];
but, by right application, I suppose it may. For, in the general, they
are both proper: that is, one for a Play; the other for a Poem or Copy of
Verses: as Blank Verse being as much too low for one [_i.e., a. Poem or
Verses_]; as Rhyme is unnatural for the other [_i.e., a Play_].
A Poem, being a premeditated Form of thoughts, upon designed occasions:
ought not to be unfurnished of any Harmony in Words or Sound. The other
[_a Play_] is presented as the _present effect_ of accidents not thought
of. So that, 'tis impossible, it should be equally proper to both these;
unless it were possible that all persons were born so much more than
Poets, that verses were not to be composed by them, but already made in
them.
Some may object "That this argument is trivial; because, whatever is
showed, 'tis known still to be but a Play." But such may as well excuse
an ill scene, that is not naturally painted; because they know 'tis only
a scene, and not really a city or country.
But there is yet another thing which makes Verse upon the Stage appear
more unnatural, that is, when a piece of a verse is made up by one that
knew not what the other meant to say; and the former verse answered as
perfectly in Sound as the last is supplied in Measure. So that the
smartness of a Reply, which has its beauty by coming from sudden
thoughts, seems lost by that which rather looks like a Design of two,
than the Answer of one.
It may be said, that "Rhyme is such a confinement to a quick and
luxuriant Phancy, that it gives a stop to its speed, till slow Judgement
comes in to assist it [p. 492];" but this is no argument for the question
in hand. For the dispute is not which way a man may write best in; but
which is most proper for the subject he writes upon. And if this were let
pass, the argument is yet unsolved in itself; for he that wants Judgement
in the liberty of his Phancy, may as well shew the defect of it in its
confinement: and, to say truth, he that has judgement will avoid the
errors, and he that wants it, will commit them both.
It may be objected, "'Tis Improbable that any should speak _ex tempore_,
as well as Beaumont and Fletcher makes them; though in Blank Verse." I do
not only acknowledge that, but that 'tis also improbable any will write so
well that way. But if that may be allowed improbable; I believe it may be
concluded impossible that any should speak as good Verses in Rhyme, as
the best Poets have writ: and therefore, that which seems _nearest_ to
what he intends is ever to be preferred.
Nor are great thoughts more adorned by Verse; than Verse unbeautified by
mean ones. So that Verse seems not only unfit in the best use of it, but
much more in the worst, when "a servant is called," or "a door bid to be
shut" in Rhyme [p. 569]. Verses, I mean good ones, do, in their height of
Phancy, declare the labour that brought them forth! like Majesty that
grows with care: and Nature, that made the Poet capable, seems to retire,
and leave its offers to be made perfect by pains and judgement.
Against this, I can raise no argument, but my Lord of Orrery's writings.
In whose Verse, the greatness of the Majesty seems unsullied with the
cares, and his inimitable Phancy descends to us in such easy expressions,
that they seem as if neither had ever been added to the other: but both
together flowing from a height; like birds got so high that use no
labouring wings, but only, with an easy care, preserve a steadiness in
motion. But this particular happiness, among those multitudes which that
excellent Person is owner of, does not convince my reason, but employ my
wonder. Yet, I am glad such Verse has been written for our Stage; since
it has so happily exceeded those whom we seemed to imitate.
But while I give these arguments against Verse, I may seem faulty, that I
have not only writ ill ones, but writ any. But since it was the fashion; I
was resolved, as in all indifferent things, not to appear singular: the
danger of the vanity being greater than the error. And therefore, I
followed it as a fashion; though very far off.
For the Italian plays; I have seen some of them, which have been given me
as the best: but they are so inconsiderable that the particulars of them
are not at all worthy to entertain the Reader. But, as much as they are
short of others, in this; they exceed in their other performances on the
Stage. I mean their Operas: which, consisting of Music and Painting;
there's none but will believe it as much harder to equal them in that
way, than 'tis to excel them in the other.
The Spanish Plays pretend to more; but, indeed, are not much: being
nothing but so many novels put into Acts and scenes, without the least
attempt or design of making the Reader more concerned than a well-told
tale might do. Whereas, a Poet that endeavours not to heighten the
accidents which Fortune seems to scatter in a well-knit Design, had
better have told his tale by a fireside, than presented it on a Stage.
For these times, wherein we write. I admire to hear the Poets so often
cry out upon, and wittily (as they believe) threaten their judges; since
the effects of their mercy has so much exceeded their justice, that
others with me, cannot but remember how many favourable audiences, some
of our ill plays have had: and, when I consider how severe the former Age
has been to some of the best of Mr. Johnson's never to be equalled
Comedies; I cannot but wonder why any Poet should speak of former Times,
but rather acknowledge that the want of abilities in this Age are largely
supplied with the mercies of it.
I deny not, but there are some who resolve to like nothing, and such,
perhaps, are not unwise; since, by that general resolution, they may be
certainly in the right sometimes: which, perhaps, they would seldom be,
if they should venture their understandings in different censures; and,
being forced to a general liking or disliking (lest they should discover
too much their own weakness), 'tis to be expected they would rather
choose to pretend to Judgement than Good Nature, though I wish they could
find better ways to shew either.
But I forget myself; not considering that while I entertain the Reader,
in the entrance, with what a good play should be: when he is come beyond
the entrance, he must be treated with what ill plays are. But in this, I
resemble the greatest part of the World, that better know how to talk of
many things, than to perform them; and live short of their own discourses.
And now, I seem like an eager hunter, that has long pursued a chase after
an inconsiderable quarry; and gives over, weary; as I do.
[8] p. 537