Some Things are acted, others only told; But what we hear, moves less than what we see: Spectators only have their Eyes to trust, But Auditors must trust their Ears and you; Yet there are Things improper for a Scene, Which Men of Judgment only will relate. Medea must not draw her murd'ring Knife, And spill her Children's Blood upon the Stage; Nor Atreus there his horrid Feast prepare: Cadmus's and Progne's Metamorphosis, (She to a Swallow turn'd, he to a Snake) And whatsoever contradicts my Sense, I hate to see, and never can believe. Roscom.
We then have more Action, and less Narration, than the Ancients, who, in this Particular, are imitated in Tragedy, by the French, and most other Nations. But if our British Writers may presume to dissent from so great Authority, I would ask, Why may not Ladies of the first Rank be suppos'd to speak in Comedy; or Heroes sometimes combat, or even die upon the Stage, in Tragedy? There's no Absurdity in this; nothing contrary to Art or Nature; often much conducive to Terror or Compassion. No one, indeed, would bear to see Atreus represented boiling human Flesh; it is too ghastly a Spectacle to be expos'd to View; and, instead of Pity, or Terror, would excite Detestation. For the same Reason, Medea, killing her Sons, should not be exhibited. But there are still some images of Death less shocking, which may be well adapted to the Stage. I own, however, we are apt to introduce some Things publickly, which had better have been sunk in Narration, and some in Silence, if Regard were had to the inviolable Rules of Modesty, Decency, and Virtue. Upon the whole, then, the Ancients brought too little into Action, and we too much.
Upon this Head, I would only observe farther, that I have one Scruple remaining from these Words, incredulus odi, in the Passage I above cited from Horace. Things that are not at all incredible, may, for several other Reasons, be improper to be represented, tho' they may make a very becoming Narration: And what exceeds all Belief, we shall no more bear to hear, than behold. And even those Instances which Horace mentions as improper to be represented, have nothing incredible in them, but upon other Accounts are not fit to be obtruded upon the Spectators. The Answer to this Objection is, that the Words incredulus odi are not to be taken separately, but jointly. Of the Sights Horace mentions, some are odious, others incredible; not incredible in the Nature of Things, for they are suppos'd to be Miracles exceeding all human Power; but incredible in theatrical Representation. Such monstrous Changes, as of Progne into a Bird; Cadmus into a Serpent; are too gross to be impos'd upon the Senses: They are Representations, therefore, not so much odious, as ridiculous.
There is one Fault which almost all the dramatic Writers, both Tragic and Comic, Ancient and Modern, have fallen into; that, I mean, of introducing a Person who has no other Business but to hold out a Dialogue, and hear a Story. This, to omit other Examples, is the Case, in two of Terence's Comedies, the Andria, and Phormio. In the former of which, Sofia is introduc'd, that Simo may lay before him the whole Plot of the Play; afterwards we neither see him, nor hear a Word of him more. In the latter, Davus holds a Colloquy with Geta, only to hear the Amours of Phædria and Antipho, which he has nothing to do with: Then he goes off the Stage, and never sets Foot upon it more: Whereas, all that support a Dialogue of any Moment, ought, in some Measure, to be interested in the Business of the Play, from one End to the other. But these adventitious Persons destroy the Beauty and Symmetry of it; which ought not, like Gothick Buildings, to be disfigur'd with Props and Buttresses, and other superfluous Out-works; but form'd rather according to the Rules of ancient Architecture, where all the Columns, and several Parts of the Fabrick, mutually support each other; where there's nothing but what is necessary, nothing but what is beautiful; and the whole therefore beautiful, because every Thing is necessary.
But farther; that all the Parts may rightly cohere together, some Reason should appear, why each Person goes out, and comes in. This is a Rule of great Moment, tho' generally over-look'd; and yet there is nothing in the whole Compass of the Drama, more elegant, or more difficult; nothing in which Art and Judgment are more nearly concern'd. Exit such an one, says the Poet; enter another: But a Reason may often be ask'd, both for one, and the other. It is not enough to answer, it was necessary, for the Author's main Design, that it should be so. The Audience ought to be appriz'd of the Business for which the several Persons come in, and go out, and on what Account the Stay of any of them would have been improper. With these Notices, every Thing will appear to them easy and natural; but Otherwise, forc'd, and inconsistent. As a Play is divided into Acts, so are the Acts into Scenes. The former the more ancient Division of the two. The Act concludes, when the Stage is left entirely empty; and a new one begins, as soon as one or more Persons come on again; the intermediate Time being taken up with Dancing or Music. The Scene changes as every Actor comes in, or goes out, according to the general Opinion; but in mine, I think a Play had better be divided into Acts only, without any Distinction of Scenes between the Acts: For the Place, during one Act, is always the same, and without intermission of Persons or Discourse. Thus, I say, it is, in all Performances, that are writ according to the true Rules of the Drama. But if any one shall maintain, that the Scene ought to change with every Actor's coming in, or going out, I shall not contend much about it, since it is a Dispute about Words, rather than Things. This, however, is certain, that what we call broken Scenes, ought to be totally avoided; those, I mean, where, in one and the same Act, the Play is disjointed, and the Stage, for some Time, left vacant. To omit the innumerable Instances I might give of this, among the Moderns, as well as Ancients, I shall mention Terence only, and one only of his Plays, the Eunuch. In the third Act, Thais, Thraso, Parmeno, Gnatho, and Pythias, make up the second Scene; and at the Conclusion of it they all leave the Stage. In the third Scene Chremes appears alone, and, for some Time, talks by himself; at length, Pythias comes in to him, and, after a few Speeches, both go out together: In the next Scene enters Antipho, he again alone. In the first Scene of the fourth Act Dorias comes in alone; she goes out, and then comes Phædria alone. This incoherent Connexion of the several Parts of a Play, is not less disagreeable than it would be in Architecture. The different Parts of a Fabrick are to be divided; but in an artful and commodious Manner. The several Acts in a Play resemble the Wings of a Building; but broken Scenes are like gaping, disjointed Walls.
This leads me naturally to say somewhat of Soliloquies, too much in Use with Terence, and others. They are not, indeed, totally to be rejected, but very suitable to some sort of Matter, provided they are sparingly us'd; particularly, they serve to unload the Mind of too much Grief or Joy; but are of more especial Use in Speeches of the deliberative Kind. They are more adapted to Tragedy than Comedy; for it is most natural for Men to converse with themselves, when Matters of Moment and Concern lie heavy upon their Minds[381]. But Terence often introduces a Person, not to deliberate about Difficulties, but to relate what has pass'd. In which Case, the Narration must be made to the Audience, or the Walls; and it is hard to say which of the two is the more absurd Supposition.
Donatus, speaking upon this Subject of the Drama, lays it down for a Rule, as Vossius cites him, that no Person ought to go off the Stage, above five Times. And Vossius[382] himself says, immediately after: That this Rule, tho' it holds good in Tragedy, where the Persons, as they are grave, so are likewise few; yet in Comedy is not always regarded. No, say I, nor ought it to be regarded, either in Tragedy, or Comedy. And if I may be so bold as to dissent from so great a Name as Horace, I cannot see the Reason of that Rule of his, pretty much to the same Purpose:
[383] —Nec quarta loqui persona laboret.
And in one Scene no more than three shou'd speak. Roscommon.
What should hinder, but every one may go in or out above five, six, or even ten Times, either in Tragedy, or Comedy, if he pleases? Or where's the Impropriety of more than three Speakers upon the Stage at once? There are Maxims that have no Foundation in Truth, nor do they in the least promote the Order of the Drama, or the Pleasure of the Audience. They don't flow from the Nature of Things, but only from the arbitrary Will of the Directors. A Poet shackles himself to no Purpose, with these Fetters; and only makes his Performance appear stiff and lifeless, with the Severity of them. He might with as much Reason prescribe to himself the determinate Number of Lines his Play should consist of. In all these Things a Writer is left to his Liberty, and the only Rule that can be given is, to observe none.