_But if we examine the general Rules laid down for Plays, by strict
Reason, we shall find the errors equally gross: for the great Foundation
which is laid to build upon, is Nothing, as it is generally stated: as
will appear upon the examination of the particulars_.
These particulars, in due time, shall be examined. In the meanwhile, let
us consider, what this great Foundation is; which, he says, is "Nothing,
as it is generally stated."
I never heard of any other Foundation of Dramatic Poesy, than the
Imitation of Nature: neither was there ever pretended any other, by the
Ancients or Moderns, or me who endeavoured to follow them in that Rule.
This I have plainly said, in my Definition of a Play, that IT IS A JUST
AND LIVELY IMAGE OF HUMAN NATURE, &c.
Thus 'the Foundation, as it is generally stated,' will stand sure, if
this Definition of a Play be true. If it be not, he ought to have made
his exception against it; by proving that a Play is _not_ an Imitation of
Nature, but somewhat else, which he is pleased to think it.
But 'tis very plain, that he has mistaken the Foundation, for that which
is built upon it; though not immediately. For the direct and immediate
consequence is this. If Nature be to be imitated, then there is a Rule
for imitating Nature rightly; otherwise, there may be an End, and no
Means conducing to it.
Hitherto, I have proceeded by demonstration. But as our Divines, when
they have proved a Deity (because there is Order), and have inferred that
this Deity ought to be worshipped, differ, afterwards, in the Manner of
the Worship: so, having laid down, that "Nature is to be imitated;" and
that Proposition [p. 577] proving the next, that, then, "there are means,
which conduce to the imitating of Nature"; I dare proceed no farther,
positively, but have only laid down some opinions of the Ancients and
Moderns, and of my own, as Means which they used, and which I thought
probable, for the attaining of that End.
Those Means are the same, which my antagonist calls the Foundations: how
properly the World may judge! And to prove that this is his meaning, he
clears it immediately to you, by enumerating those Rules or Propositions,
against which he makes his particular exceptions, as namely, those of TIME
and PLACE, in these words.
_First, we are told the Plot should not be so ridiculously contrived, as
to crowd several Countries into one Stage. Secondly, to cramp the
accidents of many years or days, into the Representation of two hours and
a half. And, lastly, a conclusion drawn that the only remaining dispute,
is concerning Time; whether it should be contained in Twelve or Four and
twenty hours; and the Place to be limited to the spot of ground, [either
in town or city] where the Play is supposed to begin. And this is called,
nearest to Nature. For that is concluded most natural; which is most
probable and nearest to that which it presents_.
Thus he has, only, made a small Mistake of the Means conducing to the
end, for the End itself; and of the Superstructure for the Foundation.
But he proceeds,
_To show, therefore, upon what ill grounds, they dictate Laws for
Dramatic Poesy &c._
He is, here, pleased to charge me with being Magisterial; as he has done
in many other places of his Preface.
Therefore, in vindication of myself, I must crave leave to say, that my
whole Discourse was sceptical, according to that way of reasoning which
was used by SOCRATES, PLATO, and all the Academics of old; which TULLY
and the best of the Ancients followed, and which is imitated by the
modest Inquisitions of the Royal Society.
That it is so, not only the name will show, which is _An Essay_; but the
frame and composition of the work. You see it is a dialogue sustained by
persons of several opinions, all of them left doubtful, to be determined
by the readers in general; and more particularly deferred to the accurate
judgement of my Lord BUCKHURST, to whom I made a dedication of my book.
These are my words, in my Epistle, speaking of the persons, whom I
introduced in my dialogue, "'Tis true, they differed in their opinions,
as 'tis probable they would; neither do I take upon me to reconcile, but
to relate them: leaving your Lordship to decide it, in favour of that
part, which you shall judge most reasonable."
And, after that, in my _Advertisements to the Reader_, I said this, "The
drift of the ensuing Discourse was chiefly to vindicate the honour of our
English Writers, from the censure of those who injustly 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 this is more than [is] necessary to clear my modesty in that point:
and I am very confident that there is scarce any man, who has lost so
much time as to read that trifle, but will be my compurgator as to that
arrogance whereof I am accused. The truth is, if I had been naturally
guilty of so much vanity, as to dictate my opinions; yet I do not find
that the Character of a Positive or Self Conceited Person is of such
advantage to any in this Age, that I should labour to be Publicly
Admitted of that Order.
But I am not, now, to defend my own cause, when that of all the Ancients
and Moderns is in question. For this gentleman, who accuses me of
arrogance, has taken a course not to be taxed with the other extreme of
modesty. Those Propositions which are laid down in my Discourse, as Helps
to the better Imitation of Nature, are _not_ mine, as I have said; nor
were ever pretended so to be: but were derived from the authority of
ARISTOTLE and HORACE, and from the rules and examples of BEN. JOHNSON and
CORNEILLE. These are the men, with whom be properly he contends: and
against _whom he will endeavour to make it evident, that then is no such
thing as what they All pretend_.
His argument against the Unities of PLACE and TIME is this.
_That 'tis as impossible for one Stage to present two Rooms or Houses
truly, as two Countries or Kingdoms; and as impossible that Five hours or
Twenty-four hours should be Two hours as that a Thousand years or hours
should be less than what they are, or the greatest part of time to be
comprehended in the less: for all of them being impossible they are none
of them nearest the Truth or Nature of what they present, for
impossibilities are all equal, and admit of no degrees_.
This argument is so scattered into parts, that it can scarce be united
into a Syllogism: yet, in obedience to him, _I will abbreviate_, and
comprehend as much of it, as I can, in few words; that my Answer to it,
may be more perspicuous.
I conceive his meaning to be what follows, as to the Unity of PLACE. If I
mistake, I beg his pardon! professing it is not out of any design to play
the _argumentative Poet_. "If one Stage cannot properly present two Rooms
or Houses, much less two Countries or Kingdoms; then there can be no Unity
of Place: but one Stage cannot properly perform this; therefore, there can
be no Unity of Place."
I plainly deny his Minor Proposition: the force of which if I mistake
not, depends on this; that "the Stage being one place, cannot be two."
This, indeed, is as great a secret as that, "we are all mortal." But, to
requite it with another, I must crave leave to tell him, that "though the
Stage cannot be two places, yet it may properly Represent them,
successively or at several times."
His argument is, indeed, no more than a mere fallacy: which will
evidently appear, when we distinguished Place as it relates to Plays,
into Real and Imaginary. The Real place is that theatre or piece of
ground, on which the Play is acted. The Imaginary, that house, town, or
country, where the action of the Drama is supposed to be; or, more
plainly, where the Scene of the Play is laid.
Let us now apply this to that Herculean argument, _which if strictly and
duly weighed, is to make it evident, that there is no such thing as what
they All pretend. 'Tis impossible_, he says, _for one Stage to present
two Rooms or Houses_. I answer, "Tis neither impossible, nor improper,
for one _real_ place to represent two or more _imaginary_ places: so it
be done successively," which, in other words, is no more than this, "That
the Imagination of the Audience, aided by the words of the Poet, and
painted scenes [_scenery_], nay _suppose_ the Stage to be sometimes one
place, sometimes another; now a garden or wood, and immediately a camp;"
which I appeal to every man's imagination, if it be not true!
Neither the Ancients nor Moderns (as much fools as he is pleased to think
them) ever asserted that they could make one place, two: but they might
hope, by the good leave of this author! that the change of a Scene might
lead the Imagination to suppose the place altered. So that he cannot
fasten those absurdities upon this Scene of a Play or Imaginary Place of
Action; that it is one place, and yet two.
And this being so clearly proved, that 'tis past any shew of a reasonable
denial; it will not be hard to destroy that other part of his argument,
which depends upon it; that _'tis as impossible for a Stage to represent
two Rooms or Houses, as two Countries or Kingdoms_: for his reason is
already overthrown, which was, _because both were alike impossible_. This
is manifestly otherwise: for 'tis proved that a stage may properly
Represent two Rooms or Houses. For the Imagination, being judge of what
is represented, will, in reason, be less chocqued [shocked] with the
appearance of two rooms in the same house, or two houses in the same
city; than with two distant cities in the same country, or two remote
countries in the same universe.
Imagination in a man or reasonable creature is supposed to participate of
Reason; and, when that governs (as it does in the belief of fiction)
reason is not destroyed, but misled or blinded. That can prescribe to the
Reason, during the time of the representation, somewhat like a weak belief
of what it sees and hears; and Reason suffers itself to be so hoodwinked,
that it may better enjoy the pleasures of the fiction: but it is never so
wholly made a captive as to be drawn headlong into a persuasion of those
things which are most remote from probability. 'Tis, in that case, a free
born subject, not a slave. It will contribute willingly its assent, as far
as it sees convenient: but will not be forced.
Now, there is a greater Vicinity, in Nature, betwixt two rooms than
betwixt two houses; betwixt two houses, than betwixt two cities; and so,
of the rest. Reason, therefore, can sooner be led by Imagination, to step
from one room to another, than to walk to two distant houses: and yet,
rather to go thither, than to fly like a witch through the air, and be
hurried from one region to another. Fancy and Reason go hand in hand. The
first cannot leave the last behind: and though Fancy, when it sees the
wide gulf, would venture over, as the nimbler; yet, it is withheld by
Reason, which will refuse to take the leap, when the distance, over it,
appears too large. If BEN. JOHNSON himself, will remove the scene from
Rome into Tuscany, in the same Act; and from thence, return to Rome, in
the Scene which immediate follows; Reason will consider there is no
proportionable allowance of time to perform the journey; and therefore,
will choose to stay at home.
So then, the less change of place there is, the less time is taken up in
transporting the persons of the Drama, with Analogy to Reason: and in
that Analogy or Resemblance of Fiction to Truth consists the excellency
of the Play.
For what else concerns the Unity of PLACE; I have already given my
opinion of it in my _Essay_, that "there is a latitude to be allowed to
it, as several places in the same town or city; or places adjacent to
each other, in the same country; which may all be comprehended under the
larger denomination of One Place; yet, with this restriction, the nearer
and fewer those imaginary places are, the greater resemblance they will
have to Truth: and Reason which cannot _make_ them One, will be more
easily led to _suppose_ them so."
What has been said of the Unity of PLACE, may easily be applied to that
of TIME. I grant it to be impossible that _the greater part of time
should be comprehended in the less_, that _Twenty-four hours should be
crowded into three_. But there is no necessity of that supposition.
For as Place, so TIME relating to a Play, is either Imaginary or Real.
The Real is comprehended in those three hours, more or less, in the space
of which the Play is Represented. The Imaginary is that which is Supposed
to be taken up in the representation; as twenty-four hours, more or less.
Now, no man ever could suppose that twenty-four _real_ hours could be
included in the space of three: but where is the absurdity of affirming,
that the feigned business of twenty-four _imagined_ hours, may not more
naturally be represented in the compass of three _real_ hours, than the
like feigned business of twenty-four years in the same proportion of real
time? For the _proportions_ are always real; and much nearer, by his
permission! of twenty-four to three, than of 4000 to it.
I am almost fearful of illustrating _anything_ by Similitude; lest he
should confute it for an Argument: yet, I think the comparison of a Glass
will discover, very aptly, the fallacy of his argument, both concerning
Time and Place. The strength of his Reason depends on this, "That the
less cannot comprehend the greater." I have already answered that we need
not suppose it does. I say not, that the less can _comprehend_ the
greater; but only that it may _represent_ it; as in a mirror, of half a
yard [in] diameter, a whole room, and many persons in it, may be seen at
once: not that it can _comprehend_ that room or those persons, but that
it _represents them to the sight_.
But the Author of _The Duke of LERMA_ is to be excused for his declaring
against the Unity of TIME. For, if I be not much mistaken, he is an
interessed [_interested_] person; the time of that Play taking up so many
years as the favour of the Duke of LERMA continued: nay, the Second and
Third Acts including all the time of his prosperity, which was a great
part of the reign of PHILIP III.; for in the beginning of the Second Act,
he was not yet a favourite, and before the end of the Third, was in
disgrace.
I say not this, with the least design of limiting the Stage too servilely
to twenty-four hours: however he be pleased to tax me with dogmatizing in
that point. In my Dialogue, as I before hinted, several persons
maintained their several opinions. One of them, indeed, who supported the
cause of the French Poesy, said, how strict they were in that particular
[p. 531]; but he who answered in behalf of our nation, was willing to
give more latitude to the Rule; and cites the words of CORNEILLE himself,
complaining against the severity of it, and observing what beauties it
banished from the Stage, page 44, of my _Essay_.
In few words, my own opinion is this; and I willingly submit it to my
adversary, when he will please impartially to consider it. That the
Imaginary Time of every Play ought to be contrived into as narrow a
compass, as the nature of the Plot, the quality of the Persons, and
variety of Accidents will allow. In Comedy, I would not exceed
twenty-four or thirty hours; for the Plot, Accidents, and Persons of
Comedy are small, and may be naturally turned in a little compass. But in
Tragedy, the Design is weighty, and the Persons great; therefore there
will, naturally, be required a greater space of time, in which to move
them.
And this, though BEN. JOHNSON has not told us, yet 'tis, manifestly, his
opinion. For you see, that, to his Comedies, he allows generally but
twenty-four hours: to his two Tragedies _SEJANUS_ and _CATILINE_, a much
larger time; though he draws both of them into as narrow a compass as he
can. For he shows you only the latter end of _SEJANUS_ his favour; and
the conspiracy of _CATILINE_ already ripe, and just breaking out into
action.
But as it is an error on the one side, to make too great a disproportion
betwixt the _imaginary_ time of the Play, and the _real_ time of its
representation: so, on the other side, 'tis an oversight to compress the
Accidents of a Play into a narrower compass than that in which they could
naturally be produced.
Of this last error, the French are seldom guilty, because the thinness of
their Plots prevents them from it: but few Englishmen, except BEN.
JOHNSON, have ever made a Plot, with variety of Design in it, included in
twenty-four hours; which was altogether natural. For this reason, I prefer
the _Silent Woman_ before all other plays; I think, justly: as I do its
author, in judgement, above all other poets. Yet of the two, I think that
error the most pardonable, which, in too straight a compass, crowds
together many accidents: since it produces more variety, and consequently
more pleasure to the audience; and because the nearness of proportion
betwixt the imaginary and real time does speciously cover the compression
of the Accidents.
Thus I have endeavoured to answer the _meaning_ of his argument. For, as
he drew it, I humbly conceive, it was none. As will appear by his
Proposition, and the proof of it. His Proposition was this, _If strictly
and duly weighed, 'tis as impossible for one Stage to present two Rooms
or Houses, as two countries or kingdoms, &c_. And his Proof this, _For
all being impossible, they are none of them, nearest the Truth or Nature
of what they present_.
Here you see, instead of a Proof or Reason, there is only a _petitio
principii_. For, in plain words, his sense is this, "Two things are as
impossible as one another: because they are both equally impossible." But
he takes those two things to be _granted_ as impossible; which he ought to
have _proved_ such, before he had proceeded to prove them equally
impossible. He should have made out, first, that it was impossible for
one Stage to represent two Houses; and then have gone forward, to prove
that it was as equally impossible for a Stage to present two Houses, as
two Countries.
After all this, the very absurdity to which he would reduce me, is none
at all. For his only drives at this. That if his argument be true, I must
then acknowledge that there are degrees in impossibilities. Which I easily
grant him, without dispute. And if I mistake not, ARISTOTLE and the School
are of my opinion. For there are some things which are absolutely
impossible, and others which are only so, _ex parte_. As, 'tis absolutely
impossible for a thing _to be_ and _not to be_, at the same time: but, for
a stone to move naturally upward, is only impossible _ex parte materiae_;
but it is not impossible for the First Mover to alter the nature of it.
His last assault, like that of a Frenchman, is most feeble. For where I
have observed that "None have been violent against Verse; but such only
as have not attempted it, or have succeeded ill in their attempt" [pp.
503, 539, 561, 578], he will needs, according to his usual custom,
improve my Observation into an Argument, that he might have the glory to
confute it.
But I lay my observation at his feet: as I do my pen, which I have often
employed, willingly, in his deserved commendations; and, now, most
unwillingly, against his judgement. For his person and parts, I honour
them, as much as any man living: and have had so many particular
obligations to him, that I should be very ungrateful, if I did not
acknowledge them to the World.
But I gave not the first occasion of this Difference in Opinions. In my
_Epistle Dedicatory_, before my _Rival Ladies_ [pp. 487-493], I said
somewhat in behalf of Verse: which he was pleased to answer in his
_Preface_ to his _Plays_ [pp. 494-500]. That occasioned my reply in my
_Essay_ [pp. 501-572]: and that reply begot his rejoinder in his
_Preface_ to _The Duke of LERMA_ [pp. 573-578]. But, as I was the last
who took up arms; I will be the first to lay them down. For what I have
here written, I submit it wholly to him [p. 561]; and, if I do not
hereafter answer what may be objected to this paper, I hope the World
will not impute it to any other reason, than only the due respect which I
have for so noble an opponent.