Documente Academic
Documente Profesional
Documente Cultură
As Crites begins his defense of the classical drama, he mentions one point that is accepted by
all the others: Drama is, as Aristotle wrote, an imitation of life, and it is successful as it
reflects human nature clearly. He also discusses the three unities, rules dear to both the
classicist and the neoclassicist, requiring that a play take place in one locale during one day,
and that it encompass one action or plot.
Crites contends that modern playwrights are but pale shadows of Aeschylus, Sophocles,
Seneca, and Terence. The classical dramatists not only followed the unities successfully; they
also used language more skillfully than their successors. He calls to witness Ben Jonson, the
Elizabethan dramatist most highly respected by the neoclassical critics, a writer who
borrowed copiously from many of the classical authors and prided himself on being a modern
Horace. Crites says I will use no further argument to you than his example: I will produce
before you Father Ben, dressed in all the ornaments and colours of the ancients; you will need
no other guide to our party, if you follow him.
Eugenius pleads the cause of the modern English dramatists, not by pointing out their virtues,
but by criticizing the faults of the classical playwrights. He objects to the absence of division
by acts in the works of the latter, as well as to the lack of originality in their plots. Tragedies
are based on threadbare myths familiar to the whole audience; comedies revolve around
hackneyed intrigues of stolen heiresses and miraculous restorations. A more serious defect is
these authors disregard of poetic justice: Instead of punishing vice and rewarding virtue,
they have often shown a prosperous wickedness, and an unhappy piety.
Pointing to scenes from several plays, Eugenius notes the lack of tenderness in classical
drama. Crites grants Eugenius his preference, but he argues that each age has its own modes
of behavior; Homers heroes were men of great appetites, lovers of beef broiled upon the
coals, and good fellows, while the principal characters of modern French romances neither
eat, nor drink, nor sleep, for love.
Lisideius takes up the debate on behalf of the French theater of the early seventeenth century.
The French classical dramatists, led by Pierre Corneille, were careful observers of the unities,
and they did not attempt to combine tragedy and comedy, an English practice he finds absurd:
Here a course of mirth, there another of sadness and passion, and a third of honour and a
duel: thus, in two hours and a half, we run through all the fits of Bedlam.
The French playwrights are so attentive to poetic justice that, when they base their plots on
historical events, they alter the original situations to mete out just reward and punishment.
The French dramatist so interweaves truth with probable fiction that he puts a pleasing
fallacy upon us; mends the intrigues of fate, and dispenses with the severity of history, to
reward that virtue which has been rendered to us there unfortunate. Plot, as the preceding
comments might suggest, is of secondary concern in these plays. The dramatists chief aim is
to express appropriate emotions; violent action always takes place offstage, and it is generally
reported by a messenger.
Just as Eugenius devoted much of his discussion to refuting Crites arguments, Neander,
whose views are generally Drydens own, contradicts Lisideiuss claims for the superiority of
the French drama. Stating his own preference for the works of English writers, especially of
the great Elizabethans, Neander suggests that it is they who best fulfill the primary
requirement of drama, that it be an imitation of life. The beauties of the French stage are, to
him, cold; they may raise perfection higher where it is, but are not sufficient to give it where
it is not. He compares these beauties to those of a statue, flawless, but without a soul.
Intense human feeling is, Neander feels, an essential part of drama.
Neander argues that tragicomedy is the best form for drama, for it is the closest to life;
emotions are heightened by contrast, and both mirth and sadness are more vivid when they
are set side by side. He believes, too, that subplots enrich a play; he finds the French drama,
with its single action, thin. Like Samuel Johnson, who defended Shakespeares disregard of
the unities, Dryden suggests that close adherence to the rules prevents dramatic depth.
Human actions will be more believable if there is time for the characters emotions to
develop. Neander sees no validity in the argument that changes of place and time in plays
lessen dramatic credibility; theatergoers know that they are in a world of illusion from the
beginning, and they can easily accept leaps in time and place, as well as makeshift battles.
Concluding his comparison of French and English drama, Neander characterizes the best of
the Elizabethan playwrights. His judgments have often been quoted for their perceptivity. He
calls Shakespeare the man who of all modern, and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and
most comprehensive soul. Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher are praised for their wit and
for their language, whose smoothness and polish Dryden considers their greatest
accomplishment: I am apt to believe the English language in them arrived to its highest
perfection.
Dryden commends Jonson for his learning and judgment, for his correctness, yet he feels
that Shakespeare surpassed him in wit, by which he seems to mean something like natural
ability or inspiration. This discussion ends with the familiar comparison: Shakespeare was
the Homer, or father of our dramatic poets; Jonson was the Virgil, the pattern of elaborate
writing; I admire him, but I love Shakespeare.
Neander concludes his argument for the superiority of the Elizabethans with a close critical
analysis of a play by Ben Jonson, which Neander believes a perfect demonstration that the
English were capable of following classical rules triumphantly. Drydens allegiance to the
neoclassical tradition is clear here; Samuel Johnson could disparage the unities in his Preface
to Shakespeare (1765), but Dryden, even as he refuses to be a slave to the rules, makes Ben
Jonsons successful observance of them his decisive argument.
The essay closes with a long discussion of the value of rhyme in plays. Crites feels that blank
verse, as the poetic form nearest prose, is most suitable for drama, while Neander favors
rhyme, which encourages succinctness and clarity. He believes that the Restoration dramatists
can make their one claim to superiority through their development of the heroic couplet.
Dryden is very much of his time in this argument; the modern reader who has suffered
through the often empty declamation of the Restoration hero returns with relief to the blank
verse of the Elizabethans.
Dryden ends his work without a real conclusion; the barge reaches its destination, the stairs at
Somerset House, and the debate is, of necessity, over. Moving with the digressions and
contradictions of a real conversation, the discussion provides a clear, lively picture of many
of the literary opinions of Drydens time.