The Works of Samuel Johnson in Nine Volumes by Samuel Johnson

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"L'ignorance et l'erreur a ses naissantes pieces,
En habit de marquis, en robes de comtesses,
Vinssent pour diffamer son chef-d'oeuvre nouveau,
Et secouer la tele a l'endroit le plus beau."

But, without taking any farther notice of the time at which either came
to the knowledge of his own genius, let us suppose that the powers of
tragedy and comedy were as equally shared between Moliere and Corneille,
as they are different in their own nature, and then nothing more will
remain, than to compare the several difficulties of each composition,
and to rate those difficulties together which are common to both.

It appears, first, that the tragick poet has, in his subject, an
advantage over the comick, for he takes it from history; and his rival,
at least in the more elevated and splendid comedy, is obliged to form it
by his own invention. Now, it is not so easy, as it might seem, to find
comick subjects capable of a new and pleasing form; but history is a
source, if not inexhaustible, yet certainly so copious as never to leave
the genius aground. It is true, that invention seems to have a wider
field than history: real facts are limited in their number, but the
facts which may be feigned have no end; but though, in this respect,
invention may be allowed to have the advantage, is the difficulty of
inventing to be accounted as nothing? To make a tragedy, is to get
materials together, and to make use of them like a skilful architect;
but to make a comedy, is to build like Aesop in the air. It is in vain
to boast that the compass of invention is as wide as the extent of
desire; every thing is limited, and the mind of man like every thing
else. Besides, invention must be in conformity to nature; but distinct
and remarkable characters are very rare in nature herself. Moliere has
got hold on the principal touches of ridicule. If any man should bring
characters less strong, he will be in danger of dulness. Where comedy is
to be kept up by subordinate personages, it is in great danger. All the
force of a picture must arise from the principal persons, and not from
the multitude clustered up together. In the same manner, a comedy, to be
good, must be supported by a single striking character, and not by
under-parts.

But, on the contrary, tragick characters are without number, though of
them the general outlines are limited; but dissimulation, jealousy,
policy, ambition, desire of dominion, and other interests and passions,
are various without end, and take a thousand different forms in
different situations of history; so that, as long as there is tragedy,
there may be always novelty. Thus the jealous and dissembling
Mithridates, so happily painted by Racine, will not stand in the way of
a poet, who shall attempt a jealous and dissembling Tiberius. The stormy
violence of an Achilles will always leave room for the stormy violence
of Alexander.

But the case is very different with avarice, trifling vanity, hypocrisy,
and other vices, considered as ridiculous. It would be safer to double
and treble all the tragedies of our greatest poets, and use all their
subjects over and over, as has been done with Oedipus and Sophonisba,
than to bring again upon the stage, in five acts, a Miser, a Citizen
turned gentleman, a Tartuffe, and other subjects sufficiently known. Not
that these popular vices are less capable of diversification, or are
less varied by different circumstances, than the vices and passions of
heroes; but that if they were to be brought over again in comedies, they
would be less distinct, less exact, less forcible, and, consequently,
less applauded. Pleasantry and ridicule must be more strongly marked
than heroism and pathos, which support themselves by their own force.
Besides, though these two things, of so different natures, could support
themselves equally in equal variety, which is very far from being the
case, yet comedy, as it now stands, consists not in incidents, but in
characters. Now it is by incidents only that characters are diversified,
as well upon the stage of comedy, as upon the stage of life. Comedy, as
Moliere has left it, resembles the pictures of manners drawn by the
celebrated La Bruyere. Would any man, after him, venture to draw them
over again, he would expose himself to the fate of those who have
ventured to continue them. For instance, what could we add to his
character of the absent man? Shall we put him in other circumstances?
The principal strokes of absence of mind will always be the same; and
there are only those striking touches which are fit for a comedy, of
which, the end is painting after nature, but with strength and
sprightliness, like the designs of Callot. If comedy were among us what
it is in Spain, a kind of romance, consisting of many circumstances and
intrigues, perplexed and disentangled, so as to surprise; if it was
nearly the same with that which Corneille practised in his time; if,
like that of Terence, it went no farther than to draw the common
portraits of simple nature, and show us fathers, sons, and rivals;
notwithstanding the uniformity, which would always prevail, as in the
plays of Terence, and, probably, in those of Menander, whom he imitated
in his four first pieces, there would always be a resource found, either
in variety of incidents, like those of the Spaniards, or in the
repetition of the same characters, in the way of Terence; but the case
is now very different, the publick calls for new characters, and nothing
else. Multiplicity of accidents, and the laborious contrivance of an
intrigue, are not now allowed to shelter a weak genius, that would find
great conveniencies in that way of writing. Nor does it suit the taste
of comedy, which requires an air less constrained, and such freedom and
ease of manners as admits nothing of the romantick. She leaves all the
pomp of sudden events to the novels, or little romances, which were the
diversion of the last age. She allows nothing but a succession of
characters resembling nature, and falling in, without any apparent
contrivance. Racine has, likewise, taught us to give to tragedy the same
simplicity of air and action; he has endeavoured to disentangle it from
that great number of incidents, which made it rather a study than
diversion to the audience, and which show the poet not so much to abound
in invention, as to be deficient in taste. But, notwithstanding all that
he has done, or that we can do, to make it simple, it will always have
the advantage over comedy in the number of its subjects, because it
admits more variety of situations and events, which give variety and
novelty to the characters. A miser, copied after nature, will always be
the miser of Plautus or Moliere; but a Nero, or a prince like Nero, will
not always be the hero of Racine. Comedy admits of so little intrigue,
that the miser cannot be shown in any such position as will make his
picture new; but the great events of tragedy may put Nero in such
circumstances, as to make him wholly another character.

But, in the second place, over and above the subjects, may we not say
something concerning the final purpose of comedy and tragedy? The
purpose of the one is to divert, and the other to move; and, of these
two, which is the easier? To go to the bottom of those purposes; to move
is to strike those strings of the heart which are most natural, terrour
and pity; to divert is to make one laugh, a thing which, indeed, is
natural enough, but more delicate. The gentleman and the rustick have
both sensibility and tenderness of heart, perhaps, in greater or less
degree; but as they are men alike, the heart is moved by the same
touches. They both love, likewise, to send their thoughts abroad, and to
expand themselves in merriment; but the springs which must be touched
for this purpose are not the same in the gentleman as in the rustick.
The passions depend on nature, and merriment upon education. The clown
will laugh at a waggery, and the gentleman only at a stroke of delicate
conceit. The spectators of a tragedy, if they have but a little
knowledge, are almost all on a level; but with respect to comedy we have
three classes, if not more, the people, the learned, and the court. If
there are certain cases in which all may be comprehended in the term
people, this is not one of those cases. Whatever father Rapin may say
about it, we are more willing even to admire than to laugh. Every man,
that has any power of distinction, laughs as rarely as the philosopher
admires; for we are not to reckon those fits of laughter which are not
incited by nature, and which are given merely to complaisance, to
respect, flattery, and good-humour; such as break out at sayings which
pretend to smartness in assemblies. The laughter of the theatre is of
another stamp. Every reader and spectator judges of wit by his own
standard, and measures it by his capacity, or by his condition: the
different capacities and conditions of men make them diverted on very
different occasions. If, therefore, we consider the end of the tragick
and comick poet, the comedian must be involved in much more
difficulties, without taking in the obstructions to be encountered
equally by both, in an art which consists in raising the passions, or
the mirth of a great multitude. The tragedian has little to do but to
reflect upon his own thought, and draw from his heart those sentiments
which will certainly make their way to the hearts of others, if he found
them in his own. The other must take many forms, and change himself
almost into as many persons, as he undertakes to satisfy and divert.

It may be said, that, if genius be supposed equal, and success supposed
to depend upon genius, the business will be equally easy and difficult
to one author and to the other. This objection is of no weight; for the
same question still recurs, which is, whether of these two kinds of
genius is more valuable, or more rare? If we proceed by example, and not
by reasoning, we shall decide, I think, in favour of comedy.

It may be said, that, if merely art be considered, it will require
deeper thoughts to form a plan just and simple; to produce happy
surprises, without apparent contrivance; to carry a passion skilfully
through its gradations to its height; to arrive happily to the end by
always moving from it, as Ithaca seemed to fly Ulysses; to unite the
acts and scenes; and to raise, by insensible degrees, a striking
edifice, of which the least merit shall be exactness of proportion. It
may be added, that in comedy this art is infinitely less, for there the
characters come upon the stage with very little artifice or plot; the
whole scheme is so connected that we see it at once, and the plan and
disposition of the parts make a small part of its excellence, in
comparison of a gloss of pleasantry diffused over each scene, which is
more the happy effect of a lucky moment, than of long consideration.

These objections, and many others, which so fruitful a subject might
easily suggest, it is not difficult to refute; and, if we were to judge
by the impression made on the mind by tragedies and comedies of equal
excellence, perhaps, when we examine those impressions, it will be found
that a sally of pleasantry, which diverts all the world, required more
thought than a passage which gave the highest pleasure in tragedy; and,
to this determination we shall be more inclined, when a closer
examination shall show us, that a happy vein of tragedy is opened and
effused at less expense, than a well-placed witticism in comedy has
required, merely to assign its place.

It would be too much to dwell long upon such a digression; and, as I
have no business to decide the question, I leave both that and my
arguments to the taste of each particular reader, who will find what is
to be said for or against it. My purpose was only to say of comedy,
considered as a work of genius, all that a man of letters can be
supposed to deliver without departing from his character, and, without
palliating, in any degree, the corrupt use which has been almost always
made of an exhibition, which, in its nature, might be innocent; but has
been vicious from the time that it has been infected with the wickedness
of men. It is not for publick exhibitions that I am now writing, but for
literary inquiries. The stage is too much frequented, and books too much
neglected: yet it is to the literature of Greece and Rome that we are
indebted for that valuable taste, which will be insensibly lost, by the
affected negligence, which now prevails, of having recourse to
originals. If reason has been a considerable gainer, it must be
confessed that taste has been somewhat a loser.

To return to Aristophanes. So many great men of antiquity, through a
long succession of ages, down to our times, have set a value upon his
works, that we cannot, naturally, suppose them contemptible,
notwithstanding the essential faults with which he may be justly
reproached. It is sufficient to say, that he was esteemed by Plato and
Cicero; and, to conclude, by that which does him most honour, but,
still, falls short of justification, the strong and sprightly eloquence
of St. Chrysostom drew its support from the masculine and vigorous
atticism of this sarcastick comedian, to whom the father paid the same
regard as Alexander to Homer, that of putting his works under his
pillow, that he might read them, at night, before he slept, and, in the
morning, as soon as he awaked.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Published by Mrs. Lennox in 4to. 1759. To the third volume of this
work the following advertisement is prefixed: "In this volume, the
Discourse on the Greek Comedy, and the General Conclusion, are
translated by the celebrated author of the Rambler. The Comedy of
the Birds, and that of Peace, by a young Gentleman. The Comedy of
the Frogs, by the learned and ingenious Dr. Gregory Sharpe. The
Discourse upon the Cyclops, by John Bourrya, esq. The Cyclops, by
Dr. Grainger, author of the translation of Tibullus."

[2] There was a law which forbade any judge of the Areopagus to write
comedy.

[3] Madame Dacier, M. Boivin.

[4] Menander, an Athenian, son of Diopethes and Hegestrates, was,
apparently, the most eminent of the writers of the new comedy. He
had been a scholar of Theophrastus: his passion for the women
brought infamy upon him: he was squinteyed, and very lively. Of the
one hundred and eighty comedies, or, according to Suidas, the eighty
which he composed, and which are all said to be translated by
Terence, we have now only a few fragments remaining. He flourished
about the 115th Olympiad, 318 years before the Christian aera. He was
drowned as he was bathing in the port of Piraeus. I have told, in
another place, what is said of one Philemon, his antagonist, not so
good a poet as himself, but one who often gained the prize. This
Philemon was older than him, and was much in fashion in the time of
Alexander the great. He expressed all his wishes in two lines: "To
have health, and fortune, and pleasure, and never to be in debt, is
all I desire." He was very covetous, and was pictured with his
fingers hooked, so that he set his comedies at a high price. He
lived about a hundred years, some say a hundred and one. Many tales
are told of his death. Valerius Maximus says, that he died with
laughing at a little incident: seeing an ass eating his figs, he
ordered his servant to drive her away; the man made no great haste,
and the ass eat them all: "Well done," says Philemon, "now give her
some wine."--Apuleius and Quintilian placed this writer much below
Menander, but give him the second place.

[5] Greek Theatre, part i. vol. i.

[6] Hor. Ar. Poet. v. 275.

[7] Poet. ch. 4.

[8] Ibid.

[9] "The alterations, which have been made in tragedy, were perceptible,
and the authors of them known; but comedy has lain in obscurity,
being not cultivated, like tragedy, from the time of its original;
for it was long before the magistrates began to give comick
choruses. It was first exhibited by actors, who played voluntarily,
without orders of the magistrates. From the time that it began to
take some settled form, we know its authors, but are not informed
who first used masks, added prologues, increased the numbers of the
actors, and joined all the other things which now belong to it. The
first that thought of forming comick fables were Epicharmus and
Phormys, and, consequently, this manner came from Sicily. Crates was
the first Athenian that adopted it, and forsook the practice of
gross raillery that prevailed before." Aristot. ch. 5. Crates
flourished in the 82nd Olympiad, 450 years before our aera, twelve
or thirteen years before Aristophanes.

[10] Eupolis was an Athenian; his death, which we shall mention
presently, is represented differently by authors, who almost all
agree that he was drowned. Elian adds an incident which deserves to
be mentioned: he says (book x. Of Animals,) that one Augeas of
Eleusis, made Eupolis a present of a fine mastiff, who was so
faithful to his master as to worry to death a slave, who was
carrying away some of his comedies. He adds, that, when the poet
died at Egina, his dog staid by his tomb till he perished by grief
and hunger.

[11] Cratinus of Athens, who was son of Callimedes, died at the age of
ninety-seven. He composed twenty comedies, of which nine had the
prize: he was a daring writer, but a cowardly warriour.

[12] Hertelius has collected the sentences of fifty Greek poets of the
different ages of comedy.

[13] Interlude of the second act of the comedy entitled the Acharnians.

[14] Epigram attributed to Plato.

[15] This history of the three ages of comedy, and their different
characters, is taken in part from the valuable fragments of
Platonius.

[16] It will be shown, how, and in what sense, this was allowed.

[17] Perhaps the chorus was forbid in the middle age of the comedy.
Platonius seems to say so.

[18] Despreaux Art Poet. chant. 8.

[19] The year of Rome 514, the first year of the 135th Olympiad.

[20] Praetextae, Togatae, Tabernariae.

[21] Suet. de Claris Grammat. says, that C. Melissus, librarian to
Augustus, was the author of it.

[22] Homer, Odyssey.

[23] Orat. pro Archia Poeta.

[24] In the year of the 85th Olympiad; 437 before our aera, and 317 of
the foundation of Rome.

[25] The Greek comedies have been regarded, by many, in the light of
political journals, the Athenian newspapers of the day, where,
amidst the distortions of caricature, the lineaments of the times
were strongly drawn. See Madame de Stael de la Literature, c. iii.
--Ed.

[26] Preface to Plautus. Paris, 1684.

[27] Brumoy has mistaken Lucretius for Virgil.

[28] "Morum hujus temporis picturam, velut in speculo, suis in comoediis
repraesentavit Aristophanes." Valckenaer, Oratio de publicis
Atheniensium moribus.--Ed.

[29]
Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
Pope's Essay on Man, ii. 217.

[30] It is not certain, that Aristophanes did procure the death of
Socrates; but, however, he is certainly criminal for having, in the
Clouds, accused him, publickly, of impiety. B.--Many ingenious
arguments have been advanced, since the time of Brumoy and Johnson,
in vindication of Aristophanes, with regard to Socrates. It has
been urged, that a man, of the established character of Socrates,
could not be injured by the dramatic imputation of faults and
follies, from which every individual in the theatre believed him to
be exempt; while the vices of the sophists and rhetors, whom
Aristophanes was really attacking, were placed in a more ludicrous,
or more odious light, by a mental juxta-position with the pure and
stern virtue of the master of Plato. This is very plausible; but it
may still be doubted, whether the greater part of an Athenian
audience, with all their native acuteness and practical criticism,
would, at the moment, detect this subtile irony. If, indeed, it was
irony, for still, with deference to great names be it spoken, it
remains to be disproved, that the Clouds was the introductory step
to a state-impeachment. Irony is, at best, a dangerous weapon, and
has, too frequently, been wielded by vulgar hands, to purposes
widely different from those which its authors designed. The
Tartuffe exposed to the indignation of France, a character, which
every good man detests. But, was the cause of religious sincerity
benefited, by Moliere's representation of a sullen, sly, and
sensual hypocrite? Did the French populace discriminate between
such, and the sincere professor of christianity? The facts of the
revolution give an awful answer to the question. Cervantes
ridiculed the fooleries and affectation ingrafted upon knight
errantry. Did he intend to banish honour, humanity and virtue,
loyalty, courtesy and gentlemanly feeling from Spain? The people
understood not irony, and Don Quixote combined with other causes,
to degrade to its present abasement, a land, so long renowned for
her high and honourable chivalry, for "ladye-love, and feats of
knightly worth." See likewise note on Adventurer, 84, and the
references there made; and preface to the Idler.--Ed.

[31] Boileau, Art. Poet. chant, 3.

[32] Reflexions sur la poet. p. 154. Paris, 1684.
[Transcriber's note: Although opening quotes are present (..."is a
representation...) closing quotes appear to be missing. It is
therefore unclear where this quotation ends.]

[33] [Transcriber's note: "See note to preface to Shakespeare in this
volume, page 103" in original. Page 103 is the first page of the
chapter; the only note on this page reads, "Dr. Johnson's Preface
first appeared in 1765. Malone's Shakespeare, i. 108. and Boswell's
Life of Johnson, i."]

[34] See this subject treated with reference to Shakespeare in preface
to Shakespeare, and notes.

[35] Ar. Poet. v. 407.

[36] Moliere.

GENERAL CONCLUSION
TO BRUMOY'S GREEK THEATRE.

1. SUMMARY OF THE FOUR ARTICLES TREATED OF IN THIS DISCOURSE.

Thus I have given a faithful extract of the remains of Aristophanes.
That I have not shown them in their true form, I am not afraid that any
body will complain. I have given an account of every thing, as far as it
was consistent with moral decency. No pen, however cynical or
heathenish, would venture to produce, in open day, the horrid passages
which I have put out of sight; and, instead of regretting any part that
I have suppressed, the very suppression will easily show to what degree
the Athenians were infected with licentiousness of imagination, and
corruption of principles. If the taste of antiquity allows us to
preserve what time and barbarity have hitherto spared, religion and
virtue at least oblige us not to spread it before the eyes of mankind.
To end this work in an useful manner, let us examine, in a few words,
the four particulars which are most striking in the eleven pieces of
Aristophanes.

2. CHARACTER OF ANCIENT COMEDY.

The first is the character of the ancient comedy, which has no likeness
to any thing in nature. Its genius is so wild and strange, that it
scarce admits a definition. In what class of comedy must we place it? It
appears, to me, to be a species of writing by itself. If we had
Phrynicus, Plato, Eupolis, Cratinus, Ameipsias, and so many other
celebrated rivals of Aristophanes, of whom all that we can find are a
few fragments scattered in Plutarch, Athenaeus, and Suidas, we might
compare them with our poet, settle the general scheme, observe the
minuter differences, and form a complete notion of their comick stage.
But, for want of all this, we can fix only on Aristophanes; and it is
true that he may be, in some measure, sufficient to furnish a tolerable
judgment of the old comedy; for, if we believe him, and who can be
better credited? he was the most daring of all his brethren, the poets,
who practised the same kind of writing. Upon this supposition we may
conclude, that the comedy of those days consisted in an allegory drawn
out and continued; an allegory never very regular, but often ingenious,
and almost always carried beyond strict propriety; of satire keen and
biting, but diversified, sprightly, and unexpected; so that the wound
was given before it was perceived. Their points of satire were
thunderbolts, and their wild figures, with their variety and quickness,
had the effect of lightning. Their imitation was carried even to
resemblance of persons, and their common entertainments were a parody of
rival poets joined, if I may so express it, with a parody of manners and
habits.

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