man must be a mean wretch that desired to live after threescore years old. But so much, I doubt, is certain, that, in life, as in wine, he, that will drink it good, must not draw it to the dregs. third for our friends; but the fourth is for our enemies. For temperance in other kinds, or in general, I have given its character and virtues in the 5 essay of moxa, so as to need no more upon that subject here. Where this happens, one comfort of age may be, that, whereas younger men are usually in pain, when they are not in pleasure, old men find a sort of pleasure, whenever they are out of pain. And, as young men often lose or impair their present enjoyments, by raving after what is to come, by vain hopes, or fruitless fears; so old men relieve the wants of their age, by pleasing reflexions upon what is past. Therefore men, in the health and vigour of their 15 which is so great a blessing, that the wise man age, should endeavour to fill their lives with reading, with travel, with the best conversation, and the worthiest actions, either in their public or private stations; that they may have something agreeable left to feed on, when they 20 are old, by pleasing remembrances. When, in default or despite of all these cares, or by effect of ill airs and seasons, acute or strong diseases may arise, recourse must be 10 had to the best physicians that are in reach, whose success will depend upon thought and care, as much as skill. In all diseases of body or mind, it is happy to have an able physician for a friend, or a discreet friend for a physician; will have it to proceed only from God, where he says, A faithful friend is the medicine of life, and he that fears the Lord shall find him.' John Dryden 1631-1700 FRENCH AND ENGLISH TRAGIC But, as they are only the clean beasts which chew the cud, when they have fed enough; so they must be clean and virtuous men that can reflect, with pleasure, upon the past ac- 25 cidents or courses of their lives. Besides, men who grow old with good sense, or good fortunes, and good nature, cannot want the pleasure of pleasing others, by assisting with their gifts, their credit, and their advice, such 30 to write a regular French play, or more difficult as deserve it; as well as their care of children, kindness to friends, and bounty to servants. But there cannot indeed live a more unhappy creature than an ill-natured old man, who is neither capable of receiving pleasures, nor 35 sensible of doing them to others; and, in such a condition, it is time to leave them. Thus have I traced, in this essay, whatever has fallen in my way or thoughts to observe (From An Essay of Dramatic Poesy, 1668) than write an irregular English one, like those "If they content themselves, as Corneille did, with some flat design, which, like an ill riddle, is found out ere it be half proposed, such plots we can make every way regular, as easily as they; but whene'er they endeavour to rise to any quick turns and counterturns of plot, as some of them have attempted, since Cor concerning life and health, and which I con- 40 neille's plays have been less in vogue, you ceived might be of any public use to be known see they write as irregularly as we, though they cover it more speciously. Hence the reason is perspicuous, why no French plays, when translated, have, or ever can succeed on the English stage. For, if you consider the plots, our own are fuller of variety; if the writing, ours are more quick and fuller of spirit; and therefore 'tis a strange mistake in those who decry the way of writing plays in verse, Eccles., vi., 16. In the prefatory note to this essay, Dryden tells us that its main purpose was "to vindicate the honour of our English writers from the censure of those who unjustly prefer the French before them." The essay is in the form of a conversation between four gentlemen, whom To sum up all, the first principle of health and long life is derived from the strength of our race or our birth; which gave occasion to 50 as if the English therein imitated the French. that saying, gaudeant bene nati: let them rejoice that are happily born. Accidents are not in our power to govern: so that the best cares or provisions for life and health, that are left us, consist in the discreet and temperate govern- 55 ment of diet and exercise: in both which all excess is to be avoided, especially in the common use of wine; whereof the first glass may pass for health, the second for good humour, the Dryden calls Eugenius, Crites, Lisideius, and Neander, who have taken a barge and gone down the Thames towards Greenwich. Eugenius is Charles, Lord Buckhurst, Crites is Sir Robert Howard, Lisideius is Sir Charles Sedley, and Neander is Dryden himself. In the passage given above, Neander is replying to Lisideius, who has been speaking in praise of the French dramatists. We have borrowed nothing from them; our plots are weaved in English looms: we endeavour therein to follow the variety and greatness of characters which are derived to us from Shakespeare and Fletcher; the copiousness and well-knitting of the intrigues we have from Jonson; and for the verse itself we have English precedents of elder date than any of Corneille's plays. Not to name our old comedies before Shakespeare, which were all writ 10 in verse of six feet, or Alexandrines, such as the French now use, I can show in Shakespeare, many scenes of rhyme together, and the like in Ben Jonson's tragedies: in Catiline and Sejanus sometimes thirty or forty lines, I mean 15 besides the Chorus, or the monologues; which by the way, showed Ben no enemy to this way of writing, especially if you look upon his Sad Shepherd, which goes sometimes on rhyme, sometimes on blank verse, like an horse who 20 eases himself on trot and amble. You find him likewise commending Fletcher's pastoral of The Faithful Shepherdess, which is for the most part rhyme, though not refined to that purity to which it hath since been brought. And these 25 wit degenerating into clenches, his serious examples are enough to clear us from a servile imitation of the French. writers, both French and English, ought to give place to him." "I fear," replied Neander, "that in obeying your commands I shall draw a little envy on 5 myself. Besides, in performing them, it will be first necessary to speak somewhat of Shakespeare and Fletcher, his rivals in poesy; and one of them, in my opinion, at least his equal, perhaps his superior. "To begin then, with Shakespeare. He was the man who of all modern, and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of Nature were still present to him, and he drew them, not laboriously, but luckily; when he describes anything, you more than see it, you feel it too. Those who accuse him to have wanted learning, give him the greater commendation: he was naturally learned; he needed not the spectacles of books to read Nature; he looked inwards and found her there. I cannot say he is everywhere alike; were he so, I should do him injury to compare him with the greatest of mankind. He is many times flat, insipid; his comic swelling into bombast. But he is always great, when some great occasion is presented to him; no man can say he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets, Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.3 The consideration of this made Mr. Hales of Eaton' say, that there was no subject of which any poet ever writ, but he would produce it much better treated of in Shakespeare; and however others are now generally preferred before him, yet the age wherein he lived, which had contemporaries with him Fletcher and "But to return from whence I have digressed: I dare boldly affirm these two things of the English drama;-First, that we have many 30 plays of ours as regular as any of theirs, and which, besides, have more variety of plot and characters; and secondly, that in most of the irregular plays of Shakespeare or Fletcher (for Ben Jonson's are for the most part 35 regular), there is a more masculine fancy and greater spirit in the writing, than there is in any of the French. I could produce, even in Shakespeare's and Fletcher's works, some plays which are almost exactly formed; as 40 Jonson, never equalled them to him in their The Merry Wives of Windsor, and The Scornful Lady: but because (generally speaking), Shakespeare, who writ first, did not perfectly observe the laws of Comedy, and Fletcher, who came nearer to perfection, yet through carelessness 45 made many faults; I will take the pattern of a perfect play from Ben Jonson, who was a careful and learned observer of the dramatic laws, and from all his comedies I shall select The Silent Woman; of which I will make a 50 plays, that Ben Jonson, while he lived, subshort examen, according to those rules which the French observe." As Neander was beginning to examine The Silent Woman, Eugenius, looking earnestly upon him; "I beseech you, Neander," said he, 55 "gratify the company, and me in particular, so far, as before you speak of the play, to give us a character of the author; and tell us frankly your opinion, whether you do not think all esteem; and in the last King's court, when Ben's reputation was at highest, Sir John Suckling, and with him the greater part of the courtiers, set our Shakespeare far above him. "Beaumont and Fletcher, of whom I am next to speak, had, with the advantage of Shakespeare's wit, which was their precedent, great natural gifts, improved by study: Beaumont especially being so accurate a judge of mitted all his writings to his censure, and, 'tis thought, used his judgment in correcting, if not contriving, all his plots. What value he had for him, appears by the verses he writ to 2 Puns. * As much as the cypresses are wont (to lift their heads) among the pliant viburnum. Virg. Ecl., I. John Hales (1584-1656), a distinguished English He scholar and divine, called the "Ever-memorable." was a friend of Lord Falkland, Sir Henry Wotton, and Ben Jonson, and was made a fellow of Eton in 1613. He invades authors like a monarch; and what would be theft in other poets, is only victory in him. With the spoils of these writers he so represents old Rome to us, in its rites, cere5 monies, and customs, that if one of their poets had written either of his tragedies, we had seen less of it than in him. If there was any fault in his language, 'twas that he weaved it too closely and laboriously, in his serious him; and therefore I need speak no farther of it. The first play that brought Fletcher and him in esteem was their Philaster: for before that, they had written two or three very unsuccessfully, as the like is reported of Ben Jonson, before he writ Every Man in his Humour. Their plots were generally more regular than Shakespeare's, especially those which were made before Beaumont's death; and they understood and imitated the conversation of 10 plays: Perhaps too he did a little too much Romanize our tongue, leaving the words which he translated almost as much Latin as he found them: wherein, though he learnedly followed the idiom of their language, he did gentlemen much better; whose wild debaucheries, and quickness of wit in repartees, no poet can ever paint as they have done. Humour, which Ben Jonson derived from particular persons, they made it not their business 15 not enough comply with the idiom of ours. If I would compare him with Shakespeare, I must acknowledge him the more correct poet, but Shakespeare the greater wit. Shakespeare was the Homer, or father of our dramatic to describe: they represented all the passions very lively, but above all, love. I am apt to believe the English language in them arrived. to its highest perfection: what words have since been taken in, are rather superfluous than 20 poets; Johnson was the Virgil, the pattern of ornamental. Their plays are now the most pleasant and frequent entertainments of the stage; two of theirs being acted through the year for one of Shakespeare's or Jonson's; the reason is, because there is a certain gaiety 25 in their comedies, and pathos in their more serious plays, which suits generally with all men's humours. Shakespeare's language is likewise a little obsolete, and Ben Jonson's wit comes short of theirs. 30 elaborate writing; I admire him but I love Shakespeare. To conclude of him; as he has given us the most correct plays, so in the precepts which he has laid down in his Discoveries, we have as many and profitable rules for perfecting the stage, as any wherewith the French can furnish us." SHAKESPEARE (From Preface to Troilus and Cressida, 1679) "As for Jonson, to whose character I am now arrived, if we look upon him while he was himself (for his last plays were but his dotages), I think him the most learned and judicious writer which any theatre ever had. He was a 35 it will easily be inferred that he understood most severe judge of himself, as well as others. One cannot say he wanted wit, but rather that he was frugal of it. In his works you find little to retrench or alter. Wit, and language, and humour also in some measure, we had before 40 him; but something of art was wanting to the Drama, till he came. He managed his strength to more advantage than any who preceded him. You seldom find him making love in any of his scenes, or endeavouring to move the 45 passions; his genius was too sullen and saturnine to do it gracefully, especially when he knew he came after those who had performed both to such an height. Humour was his I proper sphere; and in that he delighted 50 most to represent mechanic people. He was deeply conversant in the Ancients, both Greek and Latin, and he borrowed boldly from them: there is scarce a poet or historian among the Roman authors of those times whom he has 55 not translated in Sejanus and Catiline. But he has done his robberies so openly, that one may see he fears not to be taxed by any law. 5 Epigram lv. To Francis Beaumont. If Shakespeare be allowed, as I think he must, to have made his characters distinct, the nature of the passions: because it has been proved already that confused passions make undistinguishable characters: yet I cannot deny that he has his failings; but they are not so much in the passions themselves, as in his manner of expression: he often obscures his meaning by his words, and sometimes makes it unintelligible. I will not say of so great a poet, that he distinguished not the blown puffy style from true sublimity; but I may venture to maintain, that the fury of his fancy often transported him beyond the bounds of judgment, either in coining of new words and phrases, or racking words which were in use, into the violence of a catachresis.1 It is not that I would explode the use of metaphors from passion, for Longinus thinks 'em necessary to raise it: but to use 'em at every word, to say nothing without a metaphor, a simile, an image, or description, is, I doubt, to smell a little too strongly of the buskin. I must be forced to give an example of expressing passion 1 Here, the misuse of a word by employing it in a sense beyond its legitimate meaning. figuratively; but that I may do it with respect Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! all you gods, Break all the spokes and felleys from her wheel, As low as to the fiends. 5 And immediately after, speaking of Hecuba, Threatening the flame, ran up and down 5 writers, who, not being able to infuse a natural passion into the mind, have made it their business to ply the ears, and to stun their judges by the noise. But Shakespeare docs 5 not often thus; for the passions in his scene between Brutus and Cassius are extremely natural, the thoughts are such as arise from the matter, the expression of 'em not viciously figurative. I cannot leave this subject, be10 fore I do justice to that divine poet, by giving you one of his passionate descriptions: 'tis of Richard the Second when he was deposed, and led in triumph through the streets of London by Henry of Bullingbrook: the painting 15 of it is so lively, and the words so moving, that I have scarce read anything comparable to it in any other language. Suppose you have seen already the fortunate usurper passing through the crowd, and followed by the Who this had seen, with tongue in venom 20 shouts and acclamations of the people; and steep'd 'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have now behold King Richard entering upon the As in a theatre, the eyes of men, Even so, or with much more contempt, men's Did scowl on Richard: no man cried, God save No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home, 11 That had not God (for some strong purpose) steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him. What a pudder is here kept in raising the expression of trifling thoughts! Would not a man have thought that the poet had been bound prentice to a wheelwright, for his first rant? and had followed a ragman, for the 35 clout and blanket in the second? Fortune is painted on a wheel, and therefore the writer, in a rage, will have poetical justice done upon every member of that engine: after this exccution, he bowls the nave down-hill, from 40 Heaven, to the fiends (an unreasonable long mark, a man would think); 'tis well there are no solid orbs to stop it in the way, or no element of fire to consume it: but when it came to the earth, it must be monstrous heavy, 45 to break grounds as low as the centre. His making milch the burning eyes of heaven was a pretty tolerable flight too: and I think no man ever drew milk out of eyes before him: yet, to make the wonder greater, these eyes 50 roaring madness, instead of vehemence; and were burning. Such a sight indeed were enough to have raised passion in the gods; but to excuse the effects of it, he tells you, perhaps they did not see it. Wise men would To speak justly of this whole matter: 'tis neither height of thought that is discommended, nor pathetic vehemence, nor any nobleness of expression in its proper place; but 'tis a false measure of all these, something, which is like them, and is not them; 'tis the Bristol-stone1 which appears like a diamond; 'tis an extravagant thought, instead of a sublime one; 'tis a sound of words, instead of sense. If Shakespeare were stripped of all the bombasts in his passions, and dressed in the most vulgar words, we should find the beauties of his be glad to find a little sense couched under 55 thoughts remaining; if his embroideries were all these pompous words; for bombast is commonly the delight of that audience which loves Poetry, but understands it not: and as commonly has been the practice of those burnt down, there would still be silver at the bottom of the melting-pot: but I fear (at 1 Small quartz crystals found near Bristol, and sometimes called "Bristol-diamonds.' least let me fear it for myself) that we, who ape his sounding words, have nothing of his thought but are all outside; there is not so much as a dwarf within our giant's clothes. Therefore, let not Shakespeare suffer for our sakes; 'tis 5 our fault, who succeed him in an age which is more refined, if we imitate him so ill, that we copy his failings only, and make a virtue of that in our writings which in his was an imperfection. For what remains, the excellency of that poet was, as I have said, in the more manly passions; Fletcher's in the softer: Shakespeare writ better betwixt man and man; 10 for their guide, that if this fancy be not regulated, it is a mere caprice, and utterly incapable to produce a reasonable and judicious poem." POSTSCRIPT TO THE READER (From Dryden's translation of Virgil, 1697) What Virgil wrote in the vigour of his age, in plenty and at ease, I have undertaken to translate in my declining years; struggling with wants, oppressed with sickness, curbed in my genius, liable to be misconstrued in all Fletcher, betwixt man and woman: consc- 15 I write; and my judges, if they are not very equitable, already prejudiced against me, by the lying character which has been given them of my morals. Yet steady to my principles, and not dispirited with my afflictions, quently, the one described friendship better; the other love: yet Shakespeare taught Fletcher to write love: and Juliet and Desdemona are originals. 'Tis true, the scholar had the softer soul; but the master had the kinder. Friend- 20I have, by the blessing of God on my endeavship is both a virtue and a passion essentially; love is a passion only in its nature, and is not a virtue but by accident: good nature makes friendship; but effeminacy love. Shakespeare had an universal mind, which comprehended 25 fully acknowledge to the Almighty Power the ours, overcome all difficulties, and, in some measure, acquitted myself of the debt which I owed the public when I undertook this work. In the first place, therefore, I thank assistance He has given me in the beginning, the prosecution, and conclusion of my present studies, which are more happily performed than I could have promised to myself, when I all characters and passions; Fletcher a more confined and limited: for though he treated love in perfection, yet honour, ambition, revenge, and generally all the stronger passions, he either touched not, or not masterly. To 30 laboured under such discouragements. For, conclude all, he was a limb of Shakespeare. what I have done, imperfect as it is for want of health and leisure to correct it, will be judged in after-ages, and possibly in the present, to be no dishonour to my native more esteemed abroad, if they were better understood. Somewhat (give me leave to say) I have added to both of them in the choice of words, and harmony of numbers, which I had intended to have proceeded to the last property of manners, which is, that they must be constant, and the characters maintained the same from the beginning to the end; 35 country, whose language and poetry would be and from thence to have proceeded to the thoughts and expressions suitable to a tragedy; but I will first see how this will relish with the age. It is, I confess, but cursorily written; yet the judgment, which is given here, is 40 were wanting, especially the last, in all our generally founded upon experience: but because many men are shocked at the name of rules, as if they were a kind of magisterial prescription upon poets, I will conclude with the words of Rapin, in his Reflections on Aris- 45 totle's work Of Poetry: "If the rules be well considered, we shall find them to be made only to reduce Nature into method, to trace her step by step, and not to suffer the least mark of her to escape us: 'tis only by these, 50 guage. But many of his deserve not this re that probability in fiction is maintained, which poets, even in those who, being endued with genius, yet have not cultivated their mothertongue with sufficient care; or, relying on the beauty of their thoughts, have judged the ornament of words, and sweetness of sound, unnecessary. One is for raking in Chaucer (our English Ennius1) for antiquated words, which are never to be revived, but when sound or significancy is wanting in the present lan demption, any more than the crowds of men who daily die, or are slain for sixpence in a battle, merit to be restored to life, if a wish could revive them. Others have no ear for verse, nor choice of words, nor distinction of thoughts; but mingle farthings with their gold, to make up the sum. Here is a field of 1 Quintus Ennius (239-169 B. C.) was regarded by the Romans as the father of Latin poetry. |