[Greek: _Stae d'ar hap Aiautos sakei Telamoniadao_], &c.

He stood beneath his brother's ample shield; And, covered there, shot death through all the field.

The words of my n.o.ble adversary are these--

_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 _Advertis.e.m.e.nts 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 a.s.serted 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 partic.i.p.ate 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 a.s.sent, 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 a.n.a.logy to Reason: and in that a.n.a.logy 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 lat.i.tude 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 s.p.a.ce 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 s.p.a.ce 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 compa.s.s 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 ill.u.s.trating _anything_ by Similitude; lest he should confute it for an Argument: yet, I think the comparison of a Gla.s.s 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 lat.i.tude 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 compa.s.s, 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 compa.s.s. But in Tragedy, the Design is weighty, and the Persons great; therefore there will, naturally, be required a greater s.p.a.ce 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 _SEJa.n.u.s_ and _CATILINE_, a much larger time; though he draws both of them into as narrow a compa.s.s as he can. For he shows you only the latter end of _SEJa.n.u.s_ 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 compa.s.s 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 compa.s.s, 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 _pet.i.tio 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 a.s.sault, 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.