A History of Literary Criticism in the Renaissance Part 22

[493] _Works_, i. 59, _n._

[494] Milton, _Prose Works_, ii. 479.

[495] _Ibid._ iii. 100.

[496] _Ibid._ iii. 118.

[497] _Prose Works_, i. 241.

[498] _Ibid._ ii. 479.

CHAPTER III

THE THEORY OF DRAMATIC AND HEROIC POETRY

DRAMATIC criticism in England began with Sir Philip Sidney. Casual references to the drama can be found in critical writings anterior to the _Defence of Poesy_; but to Sidney belongs the credit of having first formulated, in a more or less systematic manner, the general principles of dramatic art. These principles, it need hardly be said, are those which, for half a century or more, had been undergoing discussion and modification in Italy and France, and of which the ultimate source was the _Poetics_ of Aristotle. Dramatic criticism in England was thus, from its very birth, both Aristotelian and cla.s.sical, and it remained so for two centuries. The beginnings of the Elizabethan drama were almost contemporary with the composition of the _Defence of Poesy_, and the decay of the drama with Jonson's _Discoveries_. Yet throughout this period the romantic drama never received literary exposition. The great Spanish drama had its critical champions and defenders, the Elizabethan drama had none. It was, perhaps, found to be a simpler task to echo the doctrines of others, than to formulate the principles of a novel dramatic form. But the true explanation has already been suggested. The sources of the dramatic criticism were the writings of the Italian critics, and these were entirely cla.s.sical. In creative literature, however, the Italian Renaissance influenced the Elizabethans almost entirely on the romantic side. This, perhaps, suffices to explain the lack of fundamental coordination between dramatic theory and dramatic practice during the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Ascham, writing twenty years before Sidney, indicated "Aristotle's precepts and Euripides' example" as the criteria of dramatic art;[499] and in spirit these remained the final tests throughout the Elizabethan age.

I. _Tragedy_

In Webbe's _Discourse of English Poetrie_ we find those general distinctions between tragedy and comedy which had been common throughout the Middle Ages from the days of the post-cla.s.sic grammarians. Tragedies express sorrowful and lamentable histories, dealing with G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses, kings and queens, and men of high estate, and representing miserable calamities, which become worse and worse until they end in the most woful plight that can be devised. Comedies, on the other hand, begin doubtfully, become troubled for a while, but always, by some lucky chance, end with the joy and appeas.e.m.e.nt of all concerned.[500] This distinction is said to be derived from imitation of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_; and in this, as well in his fanciful account of the origins of the drama, Webbe seems to have had a vague recollection of Aristotle.

Puttenham's account of dramatic development is scarcely more Aristotelian;[501] yet in its general conclusions it agrees with those in the _Poetics_. His conception of tragedy and comedy is similar to Webbe's. Comedy expresses the common behavior and manner of life of private persons, and such as are of the meaner sort of men.[502] Tragedy deals with the doleful falls of unfortunate and afflicted princes, for the purpose of reminding men of the mutability of fortune, and of G.o.d's just punishment of a vicious life.[503]

The Senecan drama and the Aristotelian precepts were the sources of Sidney's theory of tragedy. The oratorical and sententious tragedies of Seneca had influenced dramatic theory and practice throughout Europe from the very outset of the Renaissance. Ascham, indeed, preferred Sophocles and Euripides to Seneca, and cited Pigna, the rival of Giraldi Cintio, in confirmation of his opinion;[504] but this, while an indication of Ascham's own good taste, is an exceptional verdict, and in direct opposition to the usual opinion of contemporary critics. Sidney, in his account of the English drama, could find but one tragedy modelled as it should be on the Senecan drama.[505] The tragedy of _Gorboduc_, however, has one defect that provokes Sidney's censure,--it does not observe the unities of time and place. In all other respects, it is an ideal model for English playwrights to imitate. Its stately speeches and well-sounding phrases approach almost to the height of Seneca's style; and in teaching most delightfully a notable morality, it attains the very end of poetry.

The ideal tragedy--and in this Sidney closely follows the Italians--is an imitation of a n.o.ble action, in the representation of which it stirs "admiration and commiseration,"[506] and teaches the uncertainty of the world and the weak foundations upon which golden roofs are built. It makes kings fear to be tyrants, and tyrants manifest their tyrannical humors. Sidney's censure of the contemporary drama is that it outrages the grave and weighty character of tragedy, its elevated style, and the dignity of the personages represented, by mingling kings and clowns, and introducing the most inappropriate buffoonery. There are, indeed, one or two examples of tragi-comedy in ancient literature, such as Plautus's _Amphitryon_;[507] but never do the ancients, like the English, match hornpipes and funerals.[508] The English dramas are neither true comedies nor true tragedies, and disregard both the rules of poetry and honest civility. Tragedy is not tied to the laws of history, and may arrange and modify events as it pleases; but it is certainly bound by the rules of poetry. It is evident, therefore, that the _Defence of Poesy_, as a French writer has observed, "gives us an almost complete theory of neo-cla.s.sic tragedy, a hundred years before the _Art Poetique_ of Boileau: the severe separation of poetic forms, the sustained dignity of language, the unities, the _tirade_, the _recit_, nothing is lacking."[509]

Ben Jonson pays more attention to the theory of comedy than to that of tragedy; but his conception of the latter does not differ from Sidney's.

The parts, or divisions, of comedy and tragedy are the same, and both have on the whole a common end, to teach and delight; so that comic as well as tragic poets were called by the Greeks [Greek: didaskaloi].[510]

The external conditions of the drama require that it should have the equal division into acts and scenes, the true number of actors, the chorus, and the unities.[511] But Jonson does not insist on the strict observance of these formal requirements, for the history of the drama shows that each successive poet of importance has gradually and materially altered the dramatic structure, and there is no reason why the modern poet may not do likewise. Moreover, while these requirements may have been regularly observed in the ancient state and splendor of dramatic poetry, it is impossible to retain them now and preserve any measure of popular delight. The outward forms of the ancients, therefore, may in part be disregarded; but there are certain essentials which must be observed by the tragic poet in whatsoever age he may flourish. These are, "Truth of argument, dignity of persons, gravity and height of elocution, fulness and frequency of sentence."[512] In other words, Jonson's model is the oratorical and sententious tragedy of Seneca, with its historical plots and its persons of high estate.

In the address, "Of that Sort of Dramatic Poem which is called Tragedy,"

prefixed to _Samson Agonistes_, Milton has minutely adhered to the Italian theory of tragedy. After referring to the ancient dignity and moral effect of tragedy,[513] Milton acknowledges that, in the modelling of his poem, he has followed the ancients and the Italians as of greatest authority in such matters. He has avoided the introduction of trivial and vulgar persons and the intermingling of comic and tragic elements; he has used the chorus, and has observed the laws of verisimilitude and decorum. His explanation of the peculiar effect of tragedy--the purgation of pity and fear--has already been referred to in the first section of this essay.[514]

II. _Comedy_

The Elizabethan theory of comedy was based on the body of rules and observations which the Italian critics, aided by a few hints from Aristotle, had deduced from the practice of Plautus and Terence. It will, therefore, be unnecessary to dwell at any great length on the doctrines of Sidney and Ben Jonson, who are the main comic theorists of this period. Sidney defines comedy as "an imitation of the common errors of our life," which are represented in the most ridiculous and scornful manner, so that the spectator is anxious to avoid such errors himself.

Comedy, therefore, shows the "filthiness of evil," but only in "our private and domestical matters."[515] It should aim at being wholly delightful, just as tragedy should be maintained by a well-raised admiration. Delight is thus the first requirement of comedy; but the English comic writers err in thinking that delight cannot be obtained without laughter, whereas laughter is neither an essential cause nor an essential effect of delight. Sidney then distinguishes delight from laughter almost exactly after the manner of Trissino.[516] The great fault of English comedy is that it stirs laughter concerning things that are sinful, _i.e._ execrable rather than merely ridiculous--forbidden plainly, according to Sidney, by Aristotle himself--and concerning things that are miserable, and rather to be pitied than scorned. Comedy should not only produce delightful laughter, but mixed with it that delightful teaching which is the end of all poetry.

Ben Jonson, like Sidney, makes human follies or errors the themes of comedy, which should be

"an image of the times, And sport with human follies, not with crimes, Except we make them such, by loving still Our popular errors, when we know they're ill; I mean such errors as you'll all confess By laughing at them, they deserve no less."[517]

In depicting these human follies, it is the office of the comic poet to imitate justice, to improve the moral life and purify language, and to stir up gentle affections.[518] The moving of mere laughter is not always the end of comedy; in fact, Jonson interprets Aristotle as a.s.serting that the moving of laughter is a fault in comedy, a kind of turpitude that depraves a part of man's nature.[519] This conclusion is based on an interpretation of Aristotle which has persisted almost to the present day. In the _Poetics_, [Greek: to geloion], the ludicrous, is said to be the subject of comedy;[520] and many critics have thought that Aristotle intended by this to distinguish between the risible and the ridiculous, between mere laughter and laughter mixed with contempt or disapprobation.[521] The nature and the source of one of the most important elements in Jonson's theory of comedy, his doctrine of "humours," have been briefly discussed in the first section of this essay. It will suffice here to define a "humour" as an absorbing singularity of character,[522] and to note that it grew out of the conception of _decorum_ which played so important a part in poetic theory during the Italian Renaissance.

III. _The Dramatic Unities_

Before leaving the theory of the drama, there is one further point to be discussed,--the doctrine of the unities. It has been seen that the unities of time and place were, in Italy, first formulated together by Castelvetro in 1570, and in France by Jean de la Taille in 1572. The first mention of the unities in England is to be found, a dozen years later, in the _Defence of Poesy_, and it cannot be doubted that Sidney derived them directly from Castelvetro. Sidney, in discussing the tragedy of _Gorboduc_, finds it "faulty in time and place, the two necessary companions of all corporal actions; for where the stage should always represent but one place, and the uttermost time presupposed in it should be, both by Aristotle's precept and common reason, but one day, there [_i.e._ in _Gorboduc_] is both many days and many places inartificially imagined."[523] He also objects to the confusions of the English stage, where on one side Africa and on the other Asia may be represented, and where in an hour a youth may grow from boyhood to old age.[524] How absurd this is, common sense, art, and ancient examples ought to teach the English playwright; and at this day, says Sidney, the ordinary players in Italy will not err in it. If indeed it be objected that one or two of the comedies of Plautus and Terence do not observe the unity of time, let us not follow them when they err but when they are right; it is no excuse for us to do wrong because Plautus on one occasion has done likewise.

The law of the unities does not receive such rigid application in England as is given by Sidney until the introduction of the French influence nearly three quarters of a century later. Ben Jonson is considerably less stringent in this respect than Sidney. He lays particular stress on the unity of action, and in the _Discoveries_ explains at length the Aristotelian conception of the unity and magnitude of the fable. "The fable is called the imitation of one entire and perfect action, whose parts are so joined and knit together, as nothing in the structure can be changed, or taken away, without impairing or troubling the whole, of which there is a proportionable magnitude in the members."[525] Simplicity, then, should be one of the chief characteristics of the action, and nothing receives so much of Jonson's censure as "monstrous and forced action."[526] As to the unity of time, Jonson says that the action should be allowed to grow until necessity demands a conclusion; the argument, however, should not exceed the compa.s.s of one day, but should be large enough to allow place for digressions and episodes, which are to the fable what furniture is to a house.[527] Jonson does not formally require the observance of the unity of place, and even acknowledges having disregarded it in his own plays; but he does not favor much change of scene on the stage. In the prologue of _Volpone_, he boasts that he has followed all the laws of refined comedy,

"As best critics have designed; The laws of time, place, persons he observeth, From no needful rule he swerveth."

Milton observes the unity of time in the _Samson Agonistes_: "The circ.u.mscription of time, wherein the whole drama begins and ends is, according to ancient rule and best example, within the s.p.a.ce of twenty-four hours."

With the introduction of the French influence, the unities became fixed requirements of the English drama, and remained so for over a century.

Sir Robert Howard, in the preface of his tragedy, _The Duke of Lerma_, impugned their force and authority; but Dryden, in answering him, pointed out that to attack the unities is really to contend against Aristotle, Horace, Ben Jonson, and Corneille.[528] Farquhar, however, in his _Discourse upon Comedy_ (1702), argued with force and wit against the unities of time and place, and scoffed at all the legislators of Parna.s.sus, ancient and modern,--Aristotle, Horace, Scaliger, Vossius, Heinsius, D'Aubignac, and Rapin.

IV. _Epic Poetry_

The Elizabethan theory of heroic poetry may be dismissed briefly. Webbe refers to the epic as "that princely part of poetry, wherein are displayed the n.o.ble acts and valiant exploits of puissant captains, expert soldiers, wise men, with the famous reports of ancient times;"[529] and Puttenham defines heroic poems as "long histories of the n.o.ble gests of kings and great princes, intermeddling the dealings of G.o.ds, demi-G.o.ds, and heroes, and weighty consequences of peace and war."[530] The importance of this form of poetry, according to Puttenham, is largely historical, in that it sets forth an example of the valor and virtue of our forefathers.[531] Sidney is scarcely more explicit.[532] He a.s.serts that heroic poetry is the best and n.o.blest of all forms; he shows that such characters as Achilles, aeneas, and Rinaldo are shining examples for all men's imitation; but of the nature or structure of the epic he says nothing.

The second part of Harington's _Apologie of Poetrie_ is given up to a defence of the _Orlando Furioso_, and here the Aristotelian theory of the epic appears for the first time in English criticism. Harington, taking the _aeneid_ as the approved model of all heroic poetry, first shows that Ariosto has followed closely in Virgil's footsteps, but is to be preferred even to Virgil in that the latter pays reverence to false deities, while Ariosto has the advantage of the Christian spirit. But since some critics, "reducing all heroical poems unto the method of Homer and certain precepts of Aristotle," insist that Ariosto is wanting in art, Harington sets out to prove that the _Orlando Furioso_ may not only be defended by the example of Homer, but that it has even followed very strictly the rules and precepts of Aristotle.[533] In the first place, Aristotle says that the epic should be based on some historical action, only a short part of which, in point of time, should be treated by the poet; so Ariosto takes the story of Charlemagne, and does not exceed a year or so in the compa.s.s of the argument.[534] Secondly, Aristotle holds that nothing that is utterly incredible should be invented by the poet; and nothing in the _Orlando_ exceeds the possibility of belief. Thirdly, epics, as well as tragedies, should be full of [Greek: peripeteia], which Harington interprets to mean "an agnition of some unlooked for fortune either good or bad, and a sudden change thereof"; and of this, as well as of apt similitudes and pa.s.sions well expressed, the _Orlando_ is really full.

In conclusion, it may be observed that epic poetry did not receive adequate critical treatment in England until after the introduction of the French influence. The rules and theories of the Italian Renaissance, restated in the writings of Le Bossu, Mambrun, Rapin, and Vossius, were thus brought into English criticism, and found perhaps their best expression in Addison's essays on _Paradise Lost_. Such epics as Davenant's _Gondibert_, Chamberlayne's _Pharonnida_, Dryden's _Annus Mirabilis_, and Blackmore's _Prince Arthur_, like the French epics of the same period, doubtless owed their inspiration to the desire to put into practice the cla.s.sical rules of heroic poetry.[535]

FOOT-NOTES:

[499] _Scholemaster_, p. 139.

[500] Haslewood, ii. 40.

[501] Puttenham, p. 47 _sq._

[502] _Ibid._ p. 41.

[503] _Ibid._ p. 49.

[504] Ascham, _Works_, ii. 189.

[505] _Defence_, p. 47 _sq._

[506] _Defence_, p. 28. This is the Elizabethan equivalent for Aristotle's _katharsis_ of "pity and terror."

[507] _Cf._ Scaliger, _Poet._ i. 7.

[508] _Defence_, p. 50.

[509] Breitinger, p. 37.

[510] _Discoveries_, p. 81.