Ποίημα κατὰ πάντ’. εἴγε πρῶτον οἱ λόγοι
Ὑπὸ τῶν θεατῶν εἰσὶν ἐγνωρισμένοι,
Πρὶν καί τιν’ εἰπεῖν, ὡς ὑπομνῆσαι μόνον
Δεῖ τὸν ποιητήν. Οἰδίπουν γάρ ἄν γε φῶ,
Τὰ δ’ ἄλλα πάντ’ ἴσασιν· Ὁ πατὴρ Λάïος,
Μήτηρ Ἰοκάστη, θυγατέρες, παῖδες τίνες·
Τὶ πείσεθ’ οὗτος, τί πεποίηκεν····
Ἡμῖν δὲ ταῦτ’ οὐκ ἔστιν· ἀλλὰ πάντα δεῖ
Εὑρεῖν ὀνόματα καινὰ, τὰ διῳκημένα
Πρότερον, τὰ νῦν παρόντα, τὴν καταστροφὴν,
Τὴν ἐσβολήν. ἀν ἕν τι τούτων παραλίπῃ,
Χρέμης τις, ἢ Φείδων τις ἐκσυρίττεται,
Πηλεῖ δὲ ταῦτ’ ἔξεστι καὶ Τεύκρῳ ποιεῖν.
One sees, then, the reason why Tragedy prefers real _subjects_, and
even old ones; and, on the contrary, why comedy delights in feigned
subjects, and new.
The same genius in the two dramas is observable, in their draught of
_characters_. Comedy makes all its Characters _general_; Tragedy,
_particular_. The _Avare_ of Moliere is not so properly the picture of
a _covetous man_, as of _covetousness_ itself. Racine’s _Nero_, on the
other hand, is not a picture of _cruelty_, but of a _cruel man_.
Yet here it will be proper to guard against two mistakes, which the
principles now delivered may be thought to countenance.
The _first_ is with regard to _tragic_ characters, which I say are
_particular_. My meaning is, they are _more_ particular than those of
comedy. That is, the _end_ of tragedy does not require or permit the
poet to draw together so many of those characteristic circumstances
which shew the manners, as Comedy. For, in the former of these dramas,
no more of _character_ is shewn, than what the course of the action
necessarily calls forth. Whereas, all or most of the features, by which
it is usually distinguished, are sought out and industriously displayed
in the _latter_.
The case is much the same as in _portrait painting_; where, if a great
master be required to draw a _particular face_, he gives the very
lineaments he finds in it; yet so far resembling to what he observes of
the same turn in other faces, as not to affect any minute circumstance
of peculiarity. But if the same artist were to design a _head_ in
general, he would assemble together all the customary traits and
features, any where observable through the species, which should best
express the idea, whatever it was, he had conceived in his own mind and
wanted to exhibit in the picture.
There is much the same difference between the two sorts of _dramatic_
portraits. Whence it appears that in calling the tragic character
_particular_, I suppose it only _less representative_ of the kind than
the comic; not that the draught of so much character as it is concerned
to represent should not be _general_: the contrary of which I have
asserted and explained at large elsewhere [_Notes on the A. P._ v. 317.]
_Next_, I have said, the characters of just comedy are _general_.
And this I explain by the instance of the _Avare_ of Moliere, which
conforms more to the idea of _avarice_, than to that of the real
_avaricious man_. But here again, the reader will not understand me, as
saying this in the strict sense of the words. I even think Moliere
faulty in the instance given; though, with some necessary explanation,
it may well enough serve to express my meaning.
The view of the comic scene being to delineate characters, this end, I
suppose, will be attained most perfectly, by making those characters
as _universal_ as possible. For thus the person shewn in the drama
being the representative of all characters of the same kind, furnishes
in the highest degree the entertainment of _humour_. But then this
universality must be such as agrees not to our idea of the _possible_
effects of the character as conceived in the abstract, but to the
_actual_ exertion of its powers; which experience justifies, and common
life allows. Moliere, and before him Plautus, had offended in this;
that for a picture of the _avaricious man_, they presented us with a
fantastic unpleasing draught of the _passion of avarice_. I call this a
_fantastic_ draught, because it hath no archetype in nature. And it is,
farther, an _unpleasing_ one, for, being the delineation of a _simple
passion unmixed_, it wanted all those
—Lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife
Gives all the strength and colour of our life.
These _lights and shades_ (as the poet finely calls the intermixture
of many passions, which, with the _leading_ or principal one, form the
human character) must be blended together in every picture of dramatic
manners; because the avowed business of the drama is to image real
life. Yet the draught of the _leading_ passion must be as general as
this _strife_ in nature permits, in order to express the intended
character more perfectly.
All which again is easily illustrated in the instance of painting. In
_portraits of character_, as we may call those that give a picture of
the _manners_, the artist, if he be of real ability, will not go to
work on the possibility of an abstract idea. All he intends, is to shew
that some one quality _predominates_: and this he images strongly,
and by such signatures as are most conspicuous in the operation of
the _leading passion_. And when he hath done this, we may, in common
speech or in compliment, if we please, to his art, say of such a
portrait that it images to us not the _man_ but the _passion_; just as
the ancients observed of the famous statue of Apollodorus by Silarion,
that it expressed not the angry _Apollodorus_, but his passion of
_anger_[6]. But by this must be understood only that he has well
expressed the leading parts of the designed character. For the rest he
treats his _subject_ as he would any other; that is, he represents the
_concomitant affections_, or considers merely that general symmetry and
proportion which are expected in a human figure. And this is to copy
nature, which affords no specimen of a man turned all into a single
passion. No metamorphosis could be more strange or incredible. Yet
portraits of this vicious taste are the admiration of common starers,
who, if they find a picture of a _miser_ for instance (as there is
no commoner subject of moral portraits) in a collection, where every
muscle is strained, and feature hardened into the expression of this
idea, never fail to profess their wonder and approbation of it.—On
this idea of excellence Le Brun’s book of the PASSIONS must be said to
contain a set of the justest _moral portraits_: And the CHARACTERS of
Theophrastus might be recommended, in a _dramatic_ view, as preferable
to those of Terence.
The virtuosi in the fine arts would certainly laugh at the former of
these judgments. But the latter, I suspect, will not be thought so
extraordinary. At least if one may guess from the practice of some of
our best comic writers, and the success which such plays have commonly
met with. It were easy to instance in almost all plays of character.
But if the reader would see the extravagance of building dramatic
manners on abstract ideas, in its full light, he needs only turn to B.
Jonson’s _Every man out of his humour_; which under the name of a _play
of character_ is in fact, an unnatural, and, as the painters call it,
_hard_ delineation of a group of _simply existing passions_, wholly
chimerical, and unlike to any thing we observe in the commerce of real
life. Yet this comedy has always had its admirers. And _Randolph_, in
particular, was so taken with the design, that he seems to have formed
his _muse’s looking-glass_ in express imitation of it.
Shakespeare, we may observe, is in this as in all the other more
essential beauties of the drama, a perfect model. If the discerning
reader peruse attentively his comedies with this view, he will find
his _best-marked_ characters discoursing through a great deal of their
_parts_, just like any other, and only expressing their essential and
leading qualities occasionally, and as circumstances concur to give
an easy exposition to them. This singular excellence of his comedy,
was the effect of his copying faithfully after nature, and of the
force and vivacity of his genius, which made him attentive to what the
progress of the scene successively presented to him: whilst _imitation_
and _inferior talents_ occasion little writers to wind themselves up
into the habit of attending perpetually to their main view, and a
solicitude to keep their favourite characters in constant play and
agitation. Though in this illiberal exercise of their wit, they may be
said to use the _persons of the drama_ as a certain facetious sort do
their _acquaintance_, whom they urge and teize with their civilities,
not to give them a reasonable share in the conversation, but to force
them to play _tricks_ for the diversion of the company.
I have been the longer on this argument, to prevent the reader’s
carrying what I say of the superiority of _plays of character_ to
_plays of intrigue_ into an extreme; a mistake, into which some good
writers have been unsuspectingly betrayed by the acknowledged truth of
the general principle. It is so natural for men on all occasions, to
fly out into extremes, that too much care cannot be had to retain them
in a due medium. But to return from the digression to the consideration
of the difference of the two dramas.
3. A sameness of _character is not usually objected to in tragedy: in
comedy, it would not be endured_. The passion of _avarice_, to resume
the instance given above, being the main object, we find nothing but a
disgustful repetition in a second attempt to delineate that _character_.
_A particular cruel man_ only engrossing our regard in _Nero_, when
the train of events evidencing such cruelty is changed, we have all
the novelty we look for, and can contemplate, with pleasure, the
very _same_ character, set forth by a different course of action, or
displayed in some other _person_.
4. Comedy succeeds best when the scene is laid _at home_, tragedy for
the most part when _abroad_. “This appears at first sight whimsical
and capricious, but has its foundation in nature. What we chiefly seek
in comedy is a true image of life and _manners_, but we are not easily
brought to think we have it given us, when dressed in foreign modes
and fashions. And yet a good writer must follow his scene, and observe
decorum. On the contrary, ’tis the action in tragedy which most engages
our attention. But to fit a domestic occurrence for the stage, we must
take greater liberties with the action than a well-known story will
allow.” [_Pope’s Works_, vol. iv. p. 185.]
Other _characters_ of the two dramas, as well _peculiar_, as _common_,
which might be accounted for from the just notion of them, delivered
above, I leave to the observation of the reader. For my intention is
not to write a complete treatise on the drama, but briefly to lay down
such principles, from whence its _laws_ may be derived.
CHAP. II.
OF THE GENIUS OF COMEDY.
But it may not be amiss to express myself a little more fully as to the
_genius_ of comedy; which for want of passing through the hands of such
a critic as Aristotle, has been less perfectly understood.
Its _end_ is the production of _humour_: or which comes to the same
thing, “of that _pleasure_, which the _truth_ of representation
affords, in the _exhibition_ of the _private characters_ of life,
more particularly their _specific differences_.” I add this _latter_
clause, because the principal pleasure we take in contemplating
characters consists in noting those _differences_. The general
attributes of humanity, if represented ever so truly, give us but a
slender entertainment. They, of course, make a part of the drama;
but we chiefly delight in a picture of those peculiar _traits_,
which distinguish the species. Now these discriminating marks in the
characters of men are not _necessarily_ the causes of ridicule, or
pleasantry of any kind; but _accidentally_, and according to the
nature or quality of them. The vanity, and impertinent boasting of
_Thraso_ is the natural object of _contempt_, and, when truly and
forcibly expressed in his own character, provokes _ridicule_. The easy
humanity of _Mitio_, which is the leading part of his character, is the
object of _approbation_; and, when shewn in his own conduct, excites a
_pleasure_, in common with all just _expression of the manners_, but of
a _serious_ nature, as being joined with the sentiment of _esteem_.
But now as most men find a greater pleasure in gratifying the passion
of _contempt_, than the calm instinct of _approbation_, and since
perhaps the constitution of human life is such, as affords more
exercise for the one, than the other, hence it hath come to pass, that
the comic poet, who paints for the generality, and follows nature,
chuses more commonly to select and describe those _peculiarities_ in
the human character, which, by their nature, excite _pleasantry_, than
such as create a serious regard and esteem. Hence some persons have
appropriated the name of _comedies_ to those dramas, which chiefly
aim at producing _humour_, in the more _proper_ sense of the word;
under which view it means “such an expression or picture of what is
odd, or inordinate in each character, as gives us the fullest and
strongest image of the original, and by the truth of the representation
exposes the _ridicule_ of it.” And it is certain, that comedy receives
great advantage from representations of this kind. Nay, it cannot
well subsist without them. Yet it doth not exclude the other and more
_serious_ entertainment, which, as it stands on the same foundation of
_truth of representation_, I venture to include under the _common term_.
Further, there are _two ways_ of evidencing the characteristic and
predominant qualities of men, or, of producing _humour_, which require
to be observed. The _one_ is, when they are shewn in the perpetual
course and tenor of the representation; that is, when the _humour_
results from the _general_ conduct of the person in the drama, and the
discourse, which he holds in it. The _other_ is, when by an happy and
lively stroke, the characteristic quality is laid open and exposed _at
once_.
The _first_ sort of _humour_ is that which we find in the ancients, and
especially Terence. The _latter_ is almost peculiar to the moderns;
who, in uniting these two species of _humour_, have brought a vast
improvement to the comic scene. The reason of this difference may
perhaps have been the singular simplicity of the old writers, who were
contented to take up with such sentiments or circumstances, as most
naturally and readily occurred in the course of the drama: whereas
the moderns have been ambitious to shew a more exquisite and studied
investigation into the workings of human nature, and have sought out
for those peculiarly striking lineaments, in which the essence of
character consists. On the same account, I suppose, it was that the
ancients had _fewer_ characters in their plays, than the moderns,
and those more _general_; that is, their dramatic writers were well
satisfied with picturing the most _usual_ personages, and in their
most _obvious_ lights. They did not, as the moderns (who, if they
would aspire to the praise of _novelty_, were obliged to this route),
cast about for less _familiar_ characters; and the nicer and _less
observed_ peculiarities which distinguish _each_. Be it as it will, the
observation is certain. Later dramatists have apparently shewn a more
accurate knowledge of human life: and, by opening these new and untryed
veins of _humour_, have exceedingly enriched the comedy of our times.
But, though we are not to look for the _two species of humour_,
before-mentioned, in the same perfection on the simpler stages of
_Greece and Rome_, as in _our_ improved Theatres, yet the _first_ of
them was clearly seen and successfully practised by the ancient comic
masters; and there are not wanting in them some few examples even of
the _last_. “The old man in the _Mother-in-Law_ says to his Son,
_Tum tu igitur nihil adtulisti huc plus unâ sententiâ._
This, as an excellent person observed to me, is true _humour_.
For his character, which was that of a lover of money, drew the
observation naturally and forcibly from him. His disappointment of a
rich succession made him speak contemptibly of a moral lesson, which
rich and covetous men, in their best humours, have no high reverence
for. And this too without _design_; which is important, and shews the
distinction of what, in the more restrained sense of the word, we call
_humour_, from other modes of _pleasantry_. For had a young friend of
the son, an unconcerned spectator of the scene, made the observation,
it had then, in another’s mouth, been _wit_, or a designed _banter_
on the father’s disappointment. As, on the other hand, when such
characteristic qualities are exaggerated, and the expression of them
stretched beyond _truth_, they become _buffoonry_, even in the person’s
_own_.”
This is an instance of the _second species_ of humour, under its idea
of exciting _ridicule_. But it may, also, be employed with the utmost
_seriousness_; as being only a method of expressing the _truth_ of
character in the _most striking_ manner. This same _old man_ in the
Hecyra will furnish an example. Though a lover of money, he appears, in
the main, of an honest and worthy nature, and to have born the truest
affection to an amiable and favourite son. In the perplexity of the
scene, which had arisen from the supposed misunderstanding between his
_son’s_ wife and his _own_, he proposes, as an expedient to end all
differences, to retire with his wife into the country. And to enforce
this proposal to the young man, who had his reasons for being against
it, he adds,
_odiosa est haec aetas adolescentulis:
E medio aequum excedere est: postremò nos jam fabula
Sumus, Pamphile, senex atque anus_.
There is nothing, I suppose in these words, which provokes a smile.
Yet the _humour_ is strong, as before. In his solicitude to promote
his son’s satisfaction, he lets fall a sentiment truly characteristic,
and which old men usually take great pains to conceal; I mean,
his acknowledgment of _that suspicious fear of contempt, which is
natural to old age_. So true a picture of life, in the representation
of this _weakness_, might, in other circumstances, have created
some _pleasantry_; but the _occasion_, which forced it from him,
discovering, at the same time, the _amiable disposition_ of the
speaker, covers the ridicule of it, or more properly converts it into
an object of our _esteem_.
We have here, then, a kind of _intermediate_ species of _humour_
betwixt the _ridiculous_ and the _grave_; and may perceive how
insensibly the _one_ becomes the _other_, by the accidental mixture of
a virtuous _quality_, attracting _esteem_. Which may serve to reconcile
the reader to the application of this _term_ even to such _expression_
of the manners, as is perfectly _serious_; that is, where the _quality
represented_ is entirely, and without the least _touch_ of attending
ridicule, the object of _moral approbation_ to the mind. As in that
famous asseveration of Chremes in the _Self-tormentor_:
_Homo sum: humani nihil à me alienum puto._
This is a strong expression of character; and, coming unaffectedly from
him in answer to the cutting reproof of his friend,
_Chreme, tantumne ab re tuâ’st otî tibi
Aliena ut cures; ea quae nihil ad te adtinent?_
hath the essence of true _humour_, that is, is a _lively picture of the
manners without design_.
Yet in this instance, which hath not been observed, the _humour_,
though of a serious cast, is heightened by a mixture of _satire_.
For we are not to take this, as hath constantly been done, for a
sentiment of pure humanity and the natural ebullition of benevolence.
We may observe in it a designed stroke of satirical resentment. _The
Self-tormentor_, as we saw, had ridiculed Chremes’ _curiosity_ by
a severe reproof. Chremes, to be even with him, reflects upon the
_inhumanity_ of his temper. “You, says he, seem such a foe to humanity,
that you spare it not _in yourself_; I, on the other hand, am affected,
when I see it suffer in _another_.”
Whence we learn, that, though all which is requisite to constitute
comic humour, be a _just expression of character without design_, yet
such _expression_ is felt more _sensibly_, when it is further enlivened
by _ridicule_, or quickened by the poignancy of _satire_.
From the account of comedy, here given, it may appear, that the idea
of this drama is much enlarged beyond what it was in Aristotle’s time;
who defines it to be, _an imitation of light and trivial actions,
provoking ridicule_. His notion was taken from the state and practice
of the Athenian stage; that is, from the _old_ or _middle_ comedy,
which answers to this description. The great revolution, which the
introduction of the _new comedy_ made in the drama, did not happen
till afterwards. This proposed for its _object_, in general, _the
actions and characters of ordinary life_; which are not, of necessity,
ridiculous, but, as appears to every observer, of a mixt kind,
_serious_ as well as _ludicrous_, and within their proper sphere of
influence, not unfrequently, even _important_. This kind of _imitation_
therefore, now admits the _serious_; and its scenes, even without
the least mixture of _pleasantry_, are entirely _comic_. Though the
common run of _laughers_ in our theatre are so little aware of the
extension of this _province_, that I should scarcely have hazarded the
observation, but for the authority of _Terence_; who hath confessedly
very little of the _pleasant_ in his drama. Nay, one of the most
admired of his comedies hath the gravity, and, in some places, almost
the solemnity of _tragedy itself_. But this _idea_ of comedy is not
peculiar to the more polite and liberal _ancients_. Some of the best
_modern_ comedies are fashioned in agreement to it. And an instance or
two, which I am going to produce from the stage of simple nature, may
seem to shew it the plain suggestion of common sense.
“The Amautas (says the author of the _Royal Commentaries of_ PERU),
who were men of the best ingenuity amongst them, invented COMEDIES
and TRAGEDIES; which, on their solemn festivals, they represented
before the King and the Lords of his court. The plot or argument of
their _tragedies_ was to represent _their military exploits, and the
triumphs, victories, and heroic actions of their renowned men_. And the
subject or design of their _comedies_ was, to demonstrate _the manner
of good husbandry in cultivating and manuring their fields, and to shew
the management of domestic affairs, with other familiar matters_. These
plays, continues he, were not made up of obscene and dishonest farces,
but such as were of _serious entertainment, composed of grave and
acute sentences_, &c.”
Two things are observable in this brief account of the Peruvian drama.
_First_, that its _species_ had respect to the very different _objects_
of the _higher_ or _lower_ stations. For the _great and powerful_
were occupied in _war_: and _agriculture_ was the chief employment of
_private and ordinary life_. And, in this distinction, these _Indian_,
perfectly agreed with the old Roman poets; whose PRAETEXTATA and TOGATA
shew, that they had precisely the same ideas of the drama. _Secondly_,
we do not learn only, what difference there _was_ betwixt their tragedy
and comedy, but we are also told, what difference there was _not_. It
was not, that one was _serious_, and the other _pleasant_. For we find
it expressly asserted of _both_, that they _were of grave and serious
entertainment_.
And this last will explain a similar observation on the Chinese, _who_,
as P. DE PREMERE acquaints us, _make no distinction betwixt tragedies
and comedies_. That is, _no distinction_, but what the different
_subjects_ of each make necessary. They do not, as our European dramas,
differ in this, that the _one_ is intended to make us _weep_, and the
other to make us _laugh_.