The conquest of Granada by the Spaniards in two parts : acted at the Theatre Royall / written by John Dryden ...

Defence of the EPILOGUE. Or, An Essay on the Dramatique Poetry of the last Age.

THe promises of Authors, that they will write again, are in effect, a threatning of their Rea∣ders with some new impertinence, and they who perform not what they promise, will have their pardon on easy terms. 'Tis from this consideration that I could be glad to spare you the trouble which I am now giving you, of a Preface, if I were not oblig'd by many reasons to write somewhat concerning our present Playes, and those of our predecessors on the English stage. The truth is, I have so farr ingag'd my self in a bold Epilogue to this Play, wherein I have somewhat tax'd the former writing, that it was necessary for me either not to print it, or to show that I could defend it. Yet, I would so maintain my opinion of the present Age, as not to be wanting in my veneration for the past: I would ascribe to dead Authors their just praises, in those things where∣in they have excell'd us: and in those wherein we con∣tend

with them for the preheminence, I would acknow∣ledge our advantages to the Age, and claim no victory from our wit. This being what I have propos'd to my self, I hope I shall not be thought arrogant when I in∣quire into their Errors. For, we live in an Age, so Sce∣ptical, that as it determines little, so it takes nothing from Antiquity on trust and I profess to have no other ambition in this Essay, than that Poetry may not go backward, when all other Arts and Sciences are advan∣cing. Whoever censures me for this inquiry, let him hear his Character from Horace:

Ingeniis non ille favet plauditque sepultis, Nostra sed impugnat; nos nostraque Lividus odit.

He favours not dead wits, but hates the living.

It was upbraided to that excellent Poet that he was an enemy to the writings of his Predecessor Lucilius, be∣cause he had said, Lucilium luculentum fluere, that he ran muddy: and that he ought to have retrench'd from his Satyrs many unnecessary verses. But Horace makes Lucilius himself to justifie him from the imputation of Envy, by telling you that he would have done the same had he liv'd in an age which was more refin'd.

Si foret hoc nostrum, fato, delapsus in aevum, Detraheret sibi multa, recideret omne quod ultra Perfectum traheretur: &c.

And, both in the whole course of that Satyr, and in his most admirable Epistle to Augustus, he makes it his business to prove that Antiquity alone is no plea for the excellency of a Poem: but, that one Age learning from another, the last (if we can suppose an equallity of wit in the writers,) has the advantage of knowing more, and better than the former. and this I think is the state of the question in dispute. It is therefore my part to make it clear, that the Language, Wit, and Conversation of our Age are improv'd and refin'd above the last: and then

it will not be difficult, to inferr, that our Playes have re∣ceiv'd some part of those advantages.

In the first place, therefore, it will be necessary to state, in general, what this refinement is of which we treat: and that I think will not be defin'd amiss: An improvement of our Wit, Language, and Conversation. or, an alteration in them for the better.

To begin with Language. That an Alteration is late∣ly made in ours or since the Writers of the last Age (in which I comprehend Shakespear, Fletcher and Ionson) is manifest. Any man who reads those excellent Poets, and compares their language with what is now written, will see it almost in every line. But, that this is an Im∣provement of the Language, or an alteration for the bet∣ter, will not so easily be granted. For many are of a contrary opinion, that the English tongue was then in the height of its perfection; that, from Ionsons time to ours, it has been in a continual declination; like that of the Romans from the Age of Virgil to Statius, and so downward to Claudian: of which, not onely Petronius, but Quintilian himself so much complains, under the per∣son of Secundus, in his famous Dialogue de causis corruptae cloquentiae.

But, to shew that our Language is improv'd; and that those people have not a just value for the Age in which they live, let us consider in what the refinement of a language principally consists: that is, either in re∣jecting such old words or phrases which are ill sounding, or improper, or in admitting new, which are more proper, more sounding and more significant.

The Reader will easily take notice that when I speak of rejecting improper words and phrases I mention not such as are Antiquated by custome onely: and, as I may say, without any fault of theirs: for in this case the refinement can be but accidental: that is when the words and phrases which are rejected happen to be im∣proper. Neither would I be understood (when I speak of impropriety in Language) either wholly to accuse

the last Age, or to excuse the present; and least of all my self. For all writers have their imperfections and fail∣ings▪ but I may safely conclude in the general, that our improprieties are less frequent, and less gross than theirs. One Testimony of this is undeniable, that we are the first who have observ'd them. and, certainly, to observe errours is a great step to the correcting of them. But, malice and partiality set apart, let any man who understands English, read diligently the works of Shake∣spear and Fletcher; and I dare undertake that he will find, in every page either some Solecism of Speech, or some notorious flaw in Sence: and yet these men are re∣verenc'd when we are not forgiven. That their wit is great and many times their expressions noble, envy it self cannot deny.

—Neque ego illis detrahere ausim Haerentem capiti, multa cum laude, coronam:

but the times were ignorant in which they liv'd. Poetry was then, if not in its infancy among us, at least not arri∣v'd its vigor and maturity: witness the lameness of their Plots: many of which, especially those which they writ first, (for even that Age refin'd it self in some measure,) were made up of some ridiculous, incoherent story, which, in one Play many times took up the business of an Age. I suppose I need not name Pericles Prince of Tyre, nor the Historical Plays of Shakespear. Besides many of the rest as the Winters Tale, Love's labour lost, Measure for Measure, which were either grounded on impossibili∣ties, or at least, so meanly written, that the Comedy neither caus'd your mirth, nor the serious part your con∣cernment. If I would expatiate on this Subject, I could easily demonstrate that our admir'd Fletcher, who writ after him, neither understood correct Plotting, nor that which they call the Decorum of the Stage. I would not search in his worst Playes for examples: he who will consider his Philaster, his Humorous Lieutenant, his Faithful

Shepheardess; and many others which I could name, will find them much below the applause which is now given them. he will see Philaster wounding his Mistriss, and afterwards his Boy, to save himself: Not to mention the Clown who enters immediately, and not only has the advantage of the Combat against the Heroe, but diverts you from your serious concernment, with his ri∣diculous and absurd Raillery. In his Humorous Lieute∣nant you find his Demetrius and Leoncius staying in the midst of a routed Army to hear the cold mirth of the Lieutenant: and Demetrius afterwards appearing with a Pistol in his hand, in the next Age to Alexander the Great. And for his Shepheard, he falls twice into the former indecency of wounding Women. but these ab∣surdities, which those Poets committed, may more pro∣perly be call'd the Ages fault than theirs. for, besides the want of Education and Learning, (which was their particular unhappiness) they wanted the benefit of con∣verse. but of that, I shall speak hereafter, in a place more proper for it. Their Audiences knew no better: and therefore were satisfy'd with what they brought. Those who call theirs the Golden Age of Poetry, have only this reason for it, that they were then content with Acorns, before they knew the use of Bread: or that 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 was become a Proverb. They had many who admir'd them, and few who blam'd them. and, certainly, a se∣vere Critique is the greatest help to a good Wit. he does the Office of a Friend, while he designs that of an Enemy: and his malice keeps a Poet within those bounds, which the Luxuriancy of his Fancy would tempt him to over∣leap.

But it is not their Plots which I meant, principally to tax: I was speaking of their Sence and Language. and I dare almost challenge any man to show me a page toge∣ther, which is correct in both. As for Ben. Iohnson, I am loath to name him, because he is a most Judicsous Wri∣ter; yet he very often falls into these errors. And I once more beg the Readers pardon, for accusing him or them.

Onely let him consider that I live in an age where my least faulrs are severely censur'd: and that I have no way left to extenuate my failings but my showing as great in those whom we admire.

Coedimus, inque vicem praebemus cura sagittis.

I cast my eyes but by chance on Catiline; and in the three or four first pages, found enough to conclude that Iohn∣son writ not correctly.

—Let the long hid seeds Of treason, in thee, now shoot forth in deeds Ranker than horrour.

In reading some bombast speeches of Macbeth, which are not to be understood, he us'd to say that it was horrour. and I am much afraid that this is so.

Thy parricide, late on thy onely Son, After his mother, to make empty way For thy last wicked Nuptials, worse than they That blaze that act of thy incestuous life, Which gain'd thee at once a daughter and a wife.

The Sence is here extreamly perplex'd: and I doubt the word They is false Grammar.

—And be free Not Heaven itself from thy impiety.

A Synchoesis, or ill placing of words, of which Tully so much complains in Oratory.

The Waves, and Dens of beasts cou'd not receive The bodies that those Souls were frighted from.

The Preposition in the end of the sentence; a common fault with him, and which I have but lately observ'd in my own writings.

What all the several ills that visit earth, Plague famine, fire, could not reach unto, The Sword nor surfeits, let thy fury do.

Here are both the former faults: for, besides that the Preposition unto, is plac'd last in the verse, and at the half period, and is redundant, there is the former Synchoesis, in the words (The Sword nor Surfeits) which in constructi∣on ought to have been plac'd before the other.

Catiline sayes of Cethegus, that for his sake he would

Go on upon the Gods; kiss Lightning, wrest The Engine from the Cyclops, and give fire At face of a full clowd, and stand his ire.

To go on upon, is onely to go on twice. to give fire at face of a full cloud, was not understood in his own time: (and stand his ire) besides the antiquated word ire there is the Article His, which makes false construction: and Giving fire at the face of a cloud, is a perfect image of shooting, however it came to be known in those daies to Catiline.

—others there are Whom Envy to the State draws and pulls on, For Contumelies receiv'd; and such are sure ones.

Ones in the plural Number: but that is frequent with him; for he sayes, not long after.

Caesar and Crassus; if they be ill men, Are Mighty ones. Such Men they do not succour more the cause, &c.

They redundant.

Though Heav'n should speak with all his wrath at once; We should stand upright and unfear'd.

His is ill Syntax with Heaven: and by Unfear'd he means Unaffraid. words of a quite contrary significati∣on.

The Ports are open,

He perpetually uses Ports for Gates: which is an af∣fected error in him, to introduce Latine by the loss of the English Idiom: as in the Translation of Tully's Speeches he usually does.

Well placing of Words for the sweetness of pro∣nunciation was not known till Mr. Waller introduc'd it: and therefore 'tis not to be wonder'd if Ben. Iohnson has many such lines as these

But being bred up in his father's needy fortunes, Brought up in's sister's Prostitution, &c.

But meaness of expression one would think not to be his error in a Tragedy, which ought to be more high and sounding than any other kind of Poetry and yet amongst many others in Catiline I find these four lines together:

So Asia, thou art cruelly even With us, for all the blows thee given: When we, whose Vertues conquer'd thee, Thus, by thy Vices, ruin'd be.

Be there is false English, for are: though the Rhyme hides it.

But I am willing to close the Book, partly out of vene∣ration to the Author, partly out of weariness to pursue an argument which is so fruitful in so small a compass. And what correctness, after this, can be expected from Shakespear or from Fletcher, who wanted that Learning and Care which Iohnson had? I will therefore spare my own trouble of inquiring into their faults: who had they liv'd now, had doubtless written more correctly. I suppose it will be enough for me to affirm (as I think I safely may) that these and the like errors which I tax'd in the most correct of the last Age, are such, into which

we doe not ordinarily fall. I think few of our present Writers would have left behind them such a line as this,

Contain your Spirit in more stricter bounds.

But that gross way of two Comparatives was then, ordinary: and therefore more pardonable in Iohnson.

As for the other part of refining, which consists in re∣ceiving new Words and Phrases, I shall not insist much on it. 'Tis obvious that we have admitted many: some of which we wanted, and▪ therefore our Language is the richer for them: as it would be by importation of Bul∣lion: others are rather Ornamental than Necessary; yet by their admission, the Language is become more courtly: and our thoughts are better drest. These are to be found scatter'd in the Writers of our Age: and it is not my bu∣siness to collect them. They who have lately written with most care, have, I believe, taken the Rule of Ho∣race for their guide; that is, not to be too hasty in recei∣ving of Words: but rather to stay till Custome has made them familiar to us,

Quem penes, arbitrium est, & jus & norma loquendi.

For I cannot approve of their way of refining, who corrupt our English Idiom by mixing it too much with French: that is a Sophistication of Language, not an im∣provement of it: a turning English into French, rather than a refining of English by French. We meet daily with those Fopps, who value themselves on their Travel∣ling, and pretend they cannot express their meaning in English, because they would put off to us some French Phrase of the last Edition: without considering that, for ought they know, we have a better of our own; but these are not the men who are to refine us: their Tal∣lent is to prescribe Fashions, not Words: at best they are onely serviceable to a Writer, so as Ennius was to Virgil. He may. Aurum ex stercore colligere. for 'tis hard if, a∣mongst

many insignificant Phrases, there happen not something worth preserving: though they themselves, like Indians, know not the value of their own Commo∣dity.

There is yet another way of improving Language, which Poets especially have practic'd in all Ages: that is by applying receiv'd words to a new Signification. and this I believe, is meant by Horace, in that Precept which is so variously constru'd by Expositors:

Dixeris Egregié, notum si callida verbum, Reddiderit junctura novum.

And, in this way, he himself had a particular happi∣ness: using all the Tropes, and particularly Metaphors, with that grace which is observable in his Odes: where the Beauty of Expression is often greater than that of thought. as in that one example, amongst an infinite num∣ber of others; Et vultus nimium lubricus aspici.

And therefore though he innovated little, he may justly be call'd a great Refiner of the Roman Tongue. This choice of words, and height'ning of their natural signification, was observ'd in him by the Writers of the following Ages: for Petronius says of him, & Horatii curiosa faelicitas. By this graffing, as I may call it, on old words, has our Tongue been Beautified by the three fore-men∣tion'd Poets, Shakespear, Fletcher and Iohnson: whose Ex∣cellencies I can never enough admire. and in this, they have been follow'd especially by Sir Iohn Suckling and Mr. Waller, who refin'd upon them. neither have they, who now succeed them, been wanting in their endea∣vours to adorn our Mother Tongue: but it is not so lawful for me to praise my living Contemporaries, as to admire my dead Predecessors.

I should now speak of the Refinement of Wit: but I have been so large on the former Subject that I am forc'd to contract my self in this. I will therefore onely ob∣serve to you, that the wit of the last Age, was yet

more incorrect than their language. Shakespear, who many times has written better than any Poet, in any Lan∣guage, is yet so far from writing Wit always, or expres∣sing that Wit according to the Dignity of the Subject, that he writes in many places, below—the dullest Wri∣ter of ours, or of any precedent Age. Never did any Author precipitate himself from such heights of thought to so low expressions, as he often does. He is the very Ianus of Poets; he wears, almost every where two faces▪ and you have scarce begun to admire the one, e're you despise the other. Neither is the Luxuriance of Fletcher, (which his friends have tax'd in him,) a less fault than the carelessness of Shakespear. He does not well always, and, when he does, he is a true Englishman; he knows not when to give over. If he wakes in one Scene he com∣monly slumbers in another: And if he pleases you in the first three Acts, he is frequently so tir'd with his la∣bor, that he goes heavily in the fourth and, sinks under his burden in the fifth.

For Ben. Iohnson, the most judicious of Poets, he al∣ways writ properly; and as the Character requir'd: and I will not contest farther with my Friends who call that Wit. It being very certain, that even folly it self, well represented, is Wit in a larger signification: and that there is Fancy, as well as Judgement in it; though not so much or noble: because all Poetry being imitation, that of Folly is a lower exercise of Fancy, though per∣haps as difficult as the other: for 'tis a kind of looking downward in the Poet; and representing that part of Mankind which is below him.

In these low Characters of Vice and Folly, lay the excellency of that inimitable Writer: who, when at any time, he aim'd at Wit, in the stricter sence, that is Sharp∣ness of Conceit, was forc'd either to borrow from the Ancients, as, to my knowledge he did very much from Plautus: or, when he trusted himself alone, often fell into meanness of expression. Nay, he was not free from the lowest and most groveling kind of Wit, which we

call clenches; of which, Every Man in his Humour, is in∣finitely full. and, which is worse, the wittiest persons in the Drama speak them. His other Comedies are not ex∣empted from them: will you give me leave to name some few? Asper, in which Character he personates himself, (and he neither was, nor thought himself a fool.) ex∣claiming against the ignorant Judges of the Age, speaks thus.

How monstrous and detested is't, to see A fellow, that has neither Art nor Brain, Sit like an Aristarchus, or Stark-Ass, Taking Mens Lines, with a Tobacco-Face, In Snuffe, &c.

And presently after

I mar'le whose wit 'twas to put a Prologue in yond Sack∣but's mouth? they might well think he would be out of Tune, and yet you'd play upon him too. Will you have another of the same stamp?

O, I cannot abide these limbs of Sattin, or rather Satan.

But, it may be you will object that this was Asper, Ma∣cilente, or, Carlo Buffone: you shall, therefore, hear him speak in his own person: and, that, in the two last lines, or sting of an Epigram; 'tis Inscribd to Fine Grand: who, he says, was indebted to him for many things, which he reckons there: and concludes thus;

Forty things more, dear Grand, which you know true, For which, or pay me quickly, or I'le pay you.

This was then the mode of wit, the vice of the Age and not Ben. Iohnson's. for you see, a little before him, that admirable wit, Sir Philip Sidney, perpetually playing with his words. In his time, I believe, it ascended first into the Pulpit: where (if you will give me leave to clench too) it yet finds the benefit of its Clergy. for they are commonly the first corrupters of Eloquence,

and the last reform'd from vicious Oratory: as a famous Italian has observ'd before me, in his Treatise of the Corruption of the Italian Tongue; which he principally ascribes to Priests and preaching Friars.

But, to conclude with what brevity I can; I will only add this in the defence of our present Writers, that if they reach not some excellencies of Ben. Ionson; (which no Age, I am confident, ever shall) yet, at least, they are above that meanness of thought which I have tax'd, and which is frequent in him.

That the wit of this Age is much more Courtly, may easily be prov'd by viewing the Characters of Gentlemen which were written in the last. First, for Ionson, True-Wit in the Silent Woman, was his Master-piece. and True-wit was a Scholar-like kind of man, a Gentleman with an allay of Pedantry: a man who seems mortifi'd to the world, by much reading. The best of his discourse, is drawn, not from the knowledge of the Town, but Books. and, in short, he would be a fine Gentleman, in an University. Shakespear show'd the best of his skill in his Mercutio, and he said himself, that he was forc'd to kill him in the third Act, to prevent being kill'd by him. But, for my part, I cannot find he was so dangerous a person: I see nothing in him but what was so exceed∣ing harmless, that he might have liv'd to the end of the Play, and dy'd in his bed, without offence to any man.

Fletcher's Don Iohn is our onely Bug-bear: and yet, I may affirm, without suspition of flattery, that he now speaks better, and that his Character is maintain'd with much more vigour in the fourth and fifth Acts than it was by Fletcher in the three former. I have alwayes acknow∣ledg'd the wit of our Predecessors, with all the venera∣tion which becomes me, but, I am sure, their wit was not that of Gentlemen, there was ever somewhat that was ill-bred and Clownish in it: and which confest the conversation of the Authors.

And this leads me to the last and greatest advantage of our writing, which proceeds from conversation. In

the Age, wherein those Poets liv'd, there was less of gal∣lantry than in ours; neither did they keep the best com∣pany of theirs. Their fortune has been much like that of Epicurus, in the retirement of his Gardens: to live almost unknown, and to be celebrated after their decease. I cannot find that any of them were conversant in Courts, except Ben. Ionson: and his genius lay not so much that way, as to make an improvement by it. greatness was not, then, so easy of access, nor conversation so free as now it is. I cannot, therefore, conceive it any insolence to affirm, that, by the knowledge, and pattern of their wit, who writ before us, and by the advantage of our own conversation, the discourse and Raillery of our Comedies excell what has been written by them. and this will be deny'd by none, but some few old fellows who value themselves on their acquaintance with the Black-Friars: who, because they saw their Playes, would pretend a right to judge ours. The memory of these grave Gen∣tlemen is their only Plea for being Wits. they can tell a story of Ben. Ionson, and perhaps have had fancy enough to give a supper in Apollo that they might be call'd his Sons: and because they were drawn in to be laught at in those times, they think themselves now suffi∣ciently intitled to laugh at ours. Learning I never saw in any of them, and wit no more than they could remember. In short, they were unlucky to have been bred in an un∣polish'd Age, and more unlucky to live to a resin'd one. They have lasted beyond their own, and are cast behind ours: and not contented to have known little at the age of twenty, they boast of their ignorance at threescore.

Now, if any ask me, whence it is that our conversation is so much refin'd? I must freely, and without flattery, ascribe it to the Court: and, in it, particularly to the King; whose example gives a law to it. His own mis-for∣tunes and the Nations, afforded him an opportunity, which is rarely allow'd to Sovereign Princes, I mean of travel∣ling, and being conversant in the most polish'd Courts of Europe; and, thereby, of cultivating a Spirit, which was

form'd by Nature, to receive the impressions of a gallant and generous education. At his return, he found a Na∣tion lost as much in Barbarism as in Rebellion. and as the excellency of his Nature forgave the one, so the ex∣cellency of his manners reform'd the other. the desire of imitating so great a pattern, first waken'd the dull and heavy spirits of the English, from their natural reserv'd∣ness: loosen'd them, from their stiff forms of conversa∣tion; and made them easy and plyant to each other in discourse. Thus, insensibly, our way of living be∣came more free: and the fire of the English wit, which was before stifled under a constrain'd melancholy way of breeding, began first to display its force: by mixing the solidity of our Nation, with the air and gayety of our neighbours. This being granted to be true, it would be a wonder, if the Poets, whose work is imitation, should be the onely persons in three King∣doms, who should not receive advantage by it: or, if they should not more easily imitate the wit and conversation of the present age, than of the past.

Let us therefore admire the beauties and the heights of Shakespear, without falling after him into a carelesness and (as I may call it) a Lethargy of thought, for whole Scenes together. Let us imitate, as we are able, the quick∣ness and easiness of Fletcher, without proposing him as a pattern to us, either in the redundancy of his matter, or the incorrectness of his language. Let us admire his wit and sharpness of conceit; but, let us at the same time acknowledge that it was seldome so fix'd, and made pro∣per to his characters, as that the same things might not be spoken by any person in the Play. let us applaud his Scenes of Love; but, let us confess that he understood not either greatness or perfect honour in the parts of any of his women. In fine, let us allow, that he had so∣much fancy, as when he pleas'd he could write wit: but that he wanted so much Judgment as seldome to have written humour; or describ'd a pleasant folly. Let us ascribe to Ionson the height and accuracy of Judgment,

in the ordering of his Plots, his choice of characters, and maintaining what he had chosen, to the end. but let us not think him a perfect pattern of imitation; except it be in humour: for Love, which is the foundation of all Comedies in other Languages, is scarcely mention'd in any of his Playes. and for humour it self, the Poets of this Age will be more wary than to imitate the mean∣ness of his persons. Gentlemen will now be entertain'd with the follies of each other: and though they allow Cob and Tib to speak properly, yet they are not much pleas'd with their Tankard or with their Raggs: And, surely, their conversation can be no jest to them on the Theatre, when they would avoid it in the street.

To conclude all, let us render to our Predecessors what is their due, without confineing our selves to a servile imi∣tation of all they writ: and, without assuming to our selves the Title of better Poets, let us ascribe to the gal∣lantry and civility of our age the advantage which we have above them; and to our knowledge of the customs and manners of it, the happiness we have to please be∣yond them.