The Works of Samuel Johnson in Nine Volumes by Samuel Johnson

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A DISSERTATION &c.

1. REASONS WHY ARISTOPHANES MAY BE REVIEWED, WITH-OUT TRANSLATING HIM
ENTIRELY.

I was in doubt a long time, whether I should meddle at all with the
Greek comedy, both because the pieces which remain are very few, the
licentiousness of Aristophanes, their author, is exorbitant; and it is
very difficult to draw, from the performances of a single poet, a just
idea of Greek comedy. Besides, it seemed that tragedy was sufficient to
employ all my attention, that I might give a complete representation of
that kind of writing, which was most esteemed by the Athenians and the
wiser Greeks[2], particularly by Socrates, who set no value upon comedy
or comick actors. But the very name of that drama, which in polite ages,
and above all others in our own, has been so much advanced, that it has
become equal to tragedy, if not preferable, inclines me to think that I
may be partly reproached with an imperfect work, if, after having gone,
as deep as I could, into the nature of Greek tragedy, I did not at least
sketch a draught of the comedy.

I then considered, that it was not wholly impossible to surmount, at
least in part, the difficulties which had stopped me, and to go somewhat
farther than the learned writers[3], who have published, in French, some
pieces of Aristophanes; not that I pretend to make large translations.
The same reasons, which have hindered with respect to the more noble
parts of the Greek drama, operate with double force upon my present
subject. Though ridicule, which is the business of comedy, be not less
uniform in all times, than the passions which are moved by tragick
compositions; yet, if diversity of manners may sometimes disguise the
passions themselves, how much greater change will be made in
jocularities! The truth is, that they are so much changed by the course
of time, that pleasantry and ridicule become dull and flat much more
easily than the pathetick becomes ridiculous.

That which is commonly known by the term jocular and comick, is nothing
but a turn of expression, an airy phantom, that must be caught at a
particular point. As we lose this point, we lose the jocularity, and
find nothing but dulness in its place. A lucky sally, which has filled a
company with laughter, will have no effect in print, because it is shown
single, and separate from the circumstance which gave it force. Many
satirical jests, found in ancient books, have had the same fate; their
spirit has evaporated by time, and have left nothing to us but
insipidity. None but the most biting passages have preserved their
points unblunted.

But, besides this objection, which extends universally to all
translations of Aristophanes, and many allusions, of which time has
deprived us, there are loose expressions thrown out to the populace, to
raise laughter from corrupt passions, which are unworthy of the
curiosity of decent readers, and which ought to rest eternally in proper
obscurity. Not every thing, in this infancy of comedy, was excellent, at
least, it would not appear excellent at this distance of time, in
comparison of compositions of the same kind which lie before our eyes;
and this is reason enough to save me the trouble of translating, and the
reader that of perusing. As for that small number of writers, who
delight in those delicacies, they give themselves very little trouble
about translations, except it be to find fault with them; and the
majority of people of wit like comedies that may give them pleasure,
without much trouble of attention, and are not much disposed to find
beauties in that which requires long deductions to find it beautiful. If
Helen had not appeared beautiful to the Greeks and Trojans, but by force
of argument, we had never been told of the Trojan war.

On the other side, Aristophanes is an author more considerable than one
would imagine. The history of Greece could not pass over him, when it
comes to touch upon the people of Athens; this, alone, might procure him
respect, even when he was not considered as a comick poet. But, when his
writings are taken into view, we find him the only author from whom may
be drawn a just idea of the comedy of his age; and, farther, we find, in
his pieces, that he often makes attacks upon the tragick writers,
particularly upon the three chief, whose valuable remains we have had
under examination; and, what is yet worse, fell sometimes upon the
state, and upon the gods themselves.

2. THE CHIEF HEADS OF THIS DISCOURSE.

These considerations have determined me to follow, in my representation
of this writer, the same method which I have taken in several tragick
pieces, which is, that of giving an exact analysis, as far as the matter
would allow, from which I deduce four important systems. First, upon the
nature of the comedy of that age, without omitting that of Menander[4].
Secondly, upon the vices and government of the Athenians. Thirdly, upon
the notion we ought to entertain of Aristophanes, with respect to
Eschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. Fourthly, upon the jest which he
makes upon the gods. These things will not be treated in order, as a
regular discourse seems to require, but will arise sometimes separately,
sometimes together, from the view of each particular comedy, and from
the reflections which this free manner of writing will allow. I shall
conclude with a short view of the whole, and so finish my design.

4. HISTORY OF COMEDY.

I shall not repeat here what Madame Dacier, and so many others before
her, have collected of all that can be known relating to the history of
comedy. Its beginnings are as obscure as those of tragedy, and there is
an appearance that we take these two words in a more extensive meaning:
they had both the same original; that is, they began among the festivals
of the vintage, and were not distinguished from one another, but by a
burlesque or serious chorus, which made all the soul, and all the body.
But, if we give these words a stricter sense, according to the notion
which has since been formed, comedy was produced after tragedy, and was,
in many respects, a sequel and imitation of the works of Eschylus. It
is, in reality, nothing more than an action set before the sight, by the
same artifice of representation. Nothing is different but the object,
which is merely ridicule. This original of true comedy will be easily
admitted, if we take the word of Horace, who must have known, better
than us, the true dates of dramatick works. This poet supports the
system, which I have endeavoured to establish in the second
discourse[5], so strongly, as to amount to demonstrative proof.

Horace[6] expresses himself thus: "Thespis is said to have been the
first inventor of a species of tragedy, in which he carried about, in
carts, players smeared with the dregs of wine, of whom some sung and
others declaimed." This was the first attempt, both of tragedy and
comedy; for Thespis made use only of one speaker, without the least
appearance of dialogue. "Eschylus, afterwards, exhibited them with more
dignity. He placed them on a stage, somewhat above the ground, covered
their faces with masks, put buskins on their feet, dressed them in
trailing robes, and made them speak in a more lofty style." Horace omits
invention of dialogue, which we learn from Aristotle[7]. But, however,
it may be well enough inferred from the following words of Horace; this
completion is mentioned while he speaks of Eschylus, and, therefore, to
Eschylus it must be ascribed: "Then first appeared the old comedy, with
great success in its beginning." Thus we see that the Greek comedy
arose after tragedy, and, by consequence, tragedy was its parent. It was
formed in imitation of Eschylus, the inventor of the tragick drama; or,
to go yet higher into antiquity, had its original from Homer, who was
the guide of Eschylus. For, if we credit Aristotle[8], comedy had its
birth from the Margites, a satirical poem of Homer, and tragedy from the
Iliad and Odyssey. Thus the design and artifice of comedy were drawn
from Homer and Eschylus. This will appear less surprising, since the
ideas of the human mind are always gradual, and arts are seldom invented
but by imitation.

The first idea contains the seed of the second; this second, expanding
itself, gives birth to a third; and so on. Such is the progress of the
mind of man; it proceeds in its productions, step by step, in the same
manner as nature multiplies her works by imitating, or repeating her own
act, when she seems most to run into variety. In this manner it was that
comedy had its birth, its increase, its improvement, its perfection, and
its diversity.

But the question is, who was the happy author of that imitation, and
that show, whether only one, like Eschylus of tragedy, or whether they
were several? for neither Horace, nor any before him, explained this[9].
This poet only quotes three writers who had reputation in the old
comedy, Eupolis[10], Cratinus[11], and Aristophanes; of whom he says,
"That they, and others, who wrote in the same way, reprehended the
faults of particular persons with excessive liberty." These are,
probably, the poets of the greatest reputation, though they were not the
first, and we know the names of many others[12]. Among these three we
may be sure that Aristophanes had the greatest character, since not only
the king of Persia[13] expressed a high esteem of him to the Grecian
ambassadours, as of a man extremely useful to his country, and Plato[14]
rated him so high, as to say that the Graces resided in his bosom; but,
likewise, because he is the only writer of whom any comedies have made
their way down to us, through the confusion of times. There are not,
indeed, any proofs that he was the inventor of comedy, properly so
called, especially, since he had not only predecessors who wrote in the
same kind, but it is, at least, a sign that he had contributed more than
any other to bring comedy to the perfection in which he left it. We
shall, therefore, not inquire farther, whether regular comedy was the
work of a single mind, which seems yet to be unsettled, or of several
contemporaries, such as these which Horace quotes. We must distinguish
three forms which comedy wore, in consequence of the genius of the
writers, or of the laws of the magistrates, and the change of the
government of many into that of few.

5. THE OLD, MIDDLE, AND NEW COMEDY.

That comedy[15], which Horace calls the ancient, and which, according to
his account, was after Eschylus, retained something of its original
state, and of the licentiousness which it practised, while it was yet
without regularity, and uttered loose jokes and abuse upon the
passers-by from the cart of Thespis. Though it was now properly modelled,
as might have been worthy of a great theatre, and a numerous audience,
and deserved the name of a regular comedy, it was not yet much nearer to
decency.

It was a representation of real actions, and exhibited the dress, the
motions, and the air, as far as could be done in a mask, of any one who
was thought proper to be sacrificed to publick scorn. In a city so free,
or, to say better, so licentious as Athens was, at that time, nobody was
spared, not even the chief magistrate, nor the very judges, by whose
voice comedies were allowed or prohibited. The insolence of those
performances reached to open impiety, and sport was made equally with
men and gods[16]. These are the features by which the greatest part of
the compositions of Aristophanes will be known. In which, it may be
particularly observed, that not the least appearance of praise will be
found, and, therefore, certainly no trace of flattery or servility.

This licentiousness of the poets, to which, in some sort, Socrates fell
a sacrifice, at last was restrained by a law. For the government, which
was before shared by all the inhabitants, was now confined to a settled
number of citizens. It was ordered that no man's name should be
mentioned on the stage; but poetical malignity was not long in finding
the secret of defeating the purpose of the law, and of making themselves
ample compensation for the restraint laid upon authors, by the necessity
of inventing false names. They set themselves to work upon known and
real characters, so that they had now the advantage of giving a more
exquisite gratification to the vanity of poets, and the malice of
spectators. One had the refined pleasure of setting others to guess, and
the other that of guessing right by naming the masks. When pictures are
so like, that the name is not wanted, nobody inscribes it. The
consequence of the law, therefore, was nothing more than to make that
done with delicacy, which was done grossly before; and the art, which
was expected would be confined within the limits of duty, was only
partly transgressed with more ingenuity. Of this, Aristophanes, who was
comprehended in this law, gives us good examples in some of his poems.
Such was that which was afterwards called the middle comedy.

The new comedy, or that which followed, was again an excellent
refinement, prescribed by the magistrates, who, as they had before
forbid the use of real names, forbade afterwards, real subjects, and the
train of choruses[17] too much given to abuse; so that the poets saw
themselves reduced to the necessity of bringing imaginary names and
subjects upon the stage, which, at once, purified and enriched the
theatre; for comedy, from that time, was no longer a fury armed with
torches, but a pleasing and innocent mirror of human life.

Chacun peint avec art dans ce nouveau miroir
S'y vit avec plaisir, ou crut ne s'y pas voir!
L'avare des premiers rit du tableau fidele
D'un avare souvent trace sur son modele;
Et mille fois un fat finement exprime
Meconnut le portrait sur lui-meme forme.[18]

The comedy of Menander and Terence is, in propriety of speech, the fine
comedy. I do not repeat all this after so many writers, but just to
recall it to memory, and to add to what they have said, something which
they have omitted, a singular effect of publick edicts appearing in the
successive progress of the art. A naked history of poets and of poetry,
such as has been often given, is a mere body without soul, unless it be
enlivened with an account of the birth, progress, and perfection of the
art, and of the causes by which they were produced.

6. THE LATIN COMEDY.

To omit nothing essential which concerns this part, we shall say a word
of the Latin comedy. When the arts passed from Greece to Rome, comedy
took its turn among the rest; but the Romans applied themselves only to
the new species, without chorus or personal abuse; though, perhaps, they
might have played some translations of the old or the middle comedy; for
Pliny gives an account of one which was represented in his own time. But
the Roman comedy, which was modelled upon the last species of the Greek,
hath, nevertheless, its different ages, according as its authors were
rough or polished. The pieces of Livius Andronicus[19], more ancient,
and less refined than those of the writers who learned the art from him,
may be said to compose the first age, or the old Roman comedy and
tragedy. To him you must join Nevius, his contemporary, and Ennius, who
lived some years after him. The second age comprises Pacuvius, Cecilius,
Accius, and Plautus, unless it shall be thought better to reckon Plautus
with Terence, to make the third and highest age of the Latin comedy,
which may properly be called the new comedy, especially with regard to
Terence, who was the friend of Lelius, and the faithful copier of
Menander.

But the Romans, without troubling themselves with this order of
succession, distinguished their comedies by the dresses[20] of the
players. The robe, called praetexta, with large borders of purple, being
the formal dress of magistrates in their dignity, and in the exercise of
their office, the actors, who had this dress, gave its name to the
comedy. This is the same with that called trabeata[21], from trabea, the
dress of the consuls in peace, and the generals in triumph. The second
species introduced the senators, not in great offices, but as private
men; this was called togata, from toga. The last species was named
tabernaria, from the tunick, or the common dress of the people, or
rather from the mean houses which were painted on the scene. There is no
need of mentioning the farces, which took their name and original from
Atella, an ancient town of Campania, in Italy, because they differed
from the low comedy only by greater licentiousness; nor of those which
were called palliates, from the Greek, a cloak, in which the Greek
characters were dressed upon the Roman stage, because that habit only
distinguished the nation, not the dignity or character, like those which
have been mentioned before. To say truth, these are but trifling
distinctions; for, as we shall show in the following pages, comedy may
be more usefully and judiciously distinguished by the general nature of
its subjects. As to the Romans, whether they had, or had not, reason for
these names, they have left us so little upon the subject, which is come
down to us, that we need not trouble ourselves with a distinction which
affords us no solid satisfaction. Plautus and Terence, the only authors
of whom we are in possession, give us a fuller notion of the real nature
of their comedy, with respect, at least, to their own times, than can be
received from names and terms, from which we have no real
exemplification.

7. THE GREEK COMEDY IS REDUCED ONLY TO ARISTOPHANES.

Not to go too far out of our way, let us return to Aristophanes, the
only poet, in whom we can now find the Greek comedy. He is the single
writer whom the violence of time has, in some degree, spared, after
having buried in darkness, and almost in forgetfulness, so many great
men, of whom we have nothing but the names and a few fragments, and such
slight memorials, as are scarcely sufficient to defend them against the
enemies of the honour of antiquity; yet these memorials are like the
last glimmer of the setting sun, which scarce affords us a weak and
fading light; yet from this glimmer we must endeavour to collect rays of
sufficient strength to form a picture of the Greek comedy, approaching
as near as possible to the truth.

Of the personal character of Aristophanes little is known; what account
we can give of it must, therefore, be had from his comedies. It can
scarcely be said, with certainty, of what country he was: the invectives
of his enemies so often called in question his qualification as a
citizen, that they have made it doubtful. Some said, he was of Rhodes,
others of Egina, a little island in the neighbourhood, and all agreed
that he was a stranger. As to himself, he said, that he was the son of
Philip, and born in the Cydathenian quarter; but he confessed, that some
of his fortune was in Egina, which was, probably, the original seat of
his family. He was, however, formally declared a citizen of Athens, upon
evidence, whether good or bad, upon a decisive judgment, and this for
having made his judges merry by an application of a saying of
Telemachus[22], of which this is the sense: "I am, as my mother tells
me, the son of Philip: for my own part, I know little of the matter; for
what child knows his own father?" This piece of merriment did him as
much good, as Archias received from the oration of Cicero[23], who said
that that poet was a Roman citizen. An honour which, if he had not
inherited by birth, he deserved for his genius.

Aristophanes[24] flourished in the age of the great men of Greece,
particularly of Socrates and Euripides, both of whom he outlived. He
made a great figure during the whole Peloponnesian war, not merely as a
comick poet, by whom the people were diverted, but as the censor of the
government, as a man kept in pay by the state to reform it, and almost
to act the part of the arbitrator of the publick[25]. A particular
account of his comedies will best let us into his personal character as
a poet, and into the nature of his genius, which is what we are most
interested to know. It will, however, not be amiss to prepossess our
readers a little by the judgments that have been passed upon him by the
criticks of our own time, without forgetting one of the ancients that
deserves great respect.

8. ARISTOPHANES CENSURED AND PRAISED.

"Aristophanes," says father Rapin, "is not exact in the contrivance of
his fables; his fictions are not probable; he brings real characters
upon the stage too coarsely, and too openly. Socrates, whom he ridicules
so much in his plays, had a more delicate turn of burlesque than
himself, and had his merriment without his impudence. It is true, that
Aristophanes wrote amidst the confusion and licentiousness of the old
comedy, and he was well acquainted with the humour of the Athenians, to
whom uncommon merit always gave disgust, and, therefore, he made the
eminent men of his time the subject of his merriment. But the too great
desire which he had to delight the people, by exposing worthy characters
upon the stage, made him, at the same time, an unworthy man; and the
turn of his genius, to ridicule was disfigured and corrupted by the
indelicacy and outrageousness of his manners. After all, his pleasantry
consists chiefly in new-coined puffy language. The dish of twenty-six
syllables, which he gives, in his last scene of his Female Orators,
would please few tastes in our days. His language is sometimes obscure,
perplexed and vulgar; and his frequent play with words, his oppositions
of contradictory terms, his mixture of tragick and comick, of serious
and burlesque, are all flat; and his jocularity, if you examine it to
the bottom, is all false. Menander is diverting in a more elegant
manner; his style is pure, clear, elevated, and natural; he persuades
like an orator, and instructs like a philosopher; and, if we may venture
to judge upon the fragments which remain, it appears that his pictures
of civil life are pleasing, that he makes every one speak according to
his character, that every man may apply his pictures of life to himself,
because he always follows nature, and feels for the personages which he
brings upon the stage. To conclude, Plutarch, in his comparison of these
authors, says, that the muse of Aristophanes is an abandoned prostitute,
and that of Menander a modest woman."

It is evident that this whole character is taken from Plutarch. Let us
now go on with this remark of father Rapin, since we have already spoken
of the Latin comedy, of which he gives us a description.

"With respect, to the two Latin comick poets, Plautus is ingenious in
his designs, happy in his conceptions, and fruitful of invention. He
has, however, according to Horace, some low jocularities; and those
smart sayings, which made the vulgar laugh, made him be pitied by men of
higher taste. It is true, that some of his jests are extremely good, but
others, likewise, are very bad. To this every man is exposed, who is too
much determined to make sallies of merriment; they endeavour to raise
that laughter by hyperboles, which would not arise by a just
representation of things. Plautus is not quite so regular as Terence in
the scheme of his designs, or in the distribution of his acts, but he is
more simple in his plot; for the fables of Terence are commonly complex,
as may be seen in his Andria, which contains two amours. It was imputed,
as a fault to Terence, that, to bring more action upon the stage, he
made one Latin comedy out of two Greek: but then Terence unravels his
plot more naturally than Plautus, which Plautus did more naturally than
Aristophanes; and though Caesar calls Terence but one half of Menander,
because, though he had softness and delicacy, there was in him some want
of sprightliness and strength; yet he has written in a manner so natural
and so judicious, that, though he was then only a copy, he is now an
original. No author has ever had a more exact sense of pure nature. Of
Cecilius, since we have only a few fragments, I shall say nothing. All
that we know of him is told us by Varrus, that he was happy in the
choice of subjects."

Rapin omits many others for the same reason, that we have not enough of
their works to qualify us for judges. While we are upon this subject, it
will, perhaps, not displease the reader to see what that critick's
opinion is of Lopes de Vega and Moliere. It will appear, that with
respect to Lopes de Vega, he is rather too profuse of praise: that, in
speaking of Moliere, he is too parsimonious.

This piece will, however, be of use to our design, when we shall examine
to the bottom what it is that ought to make the character of comedy.

"No man has ever had a greater genius for comedy than Lopes de Vega, the
Spaniard. He had a fertility of wit, joined with great beauty of
conception, and a wonderful readiness of composition; for he has written
more than three hundred comedies. His name, alone, gave reputation to
his pieces; for his reputation was so well established, that a work,
which came from his hands, was sure to claim the approbation of the
publick. He had a mind too extensive to be subjected to rules, or
restrained by limits. For that reason he gave himself up to his own
genius, on which he could always depend with confidence. When he wrote,
he consulted no other laws than the taste of his auditors, and regulated
his manner more by the success of his work than by the rules of reason.
Thus he discarded all scruples of unity, and all the superstitions of
probability." (This is certainly not said with a design to praise him,
and must be connected with that which immediately follows.) "But as, for
the most part, he endeavours at too much jocularity, and carries
ridicule to too much refinement; his conceptions are often rather happy
than just, and rather wild than natural; for, by subtilizing merriment
too far, it becomes too nice to be true, and his beauties lose their
power of striking by being too delicate and acute.

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