[132] Proluit insano contorquens vortice silvas Fluviorum Rex Eridanus, camposque per omnes Cum stabulis armenta tulit.
Eridanus, supreme of Rivers, With roaring Inundation o'er the Plains Whirl'd Woods away, and Cattle with their Stalls.
It is a great Fault, to be always upon the Sublime: In those Poems, whose Subject leads them to be most so, some Things occur, that ought to be express'd in the plainest Diction, that scarce admit, much less require the lofty or the splendid.
Lastly, 'tis to be observed, that the Style of Comedy is not properly a poetical Style, but an elegant kind of Prose. It would be absurd if it were otherwise; since the Language of Comedy is to imitate familiar Discourse, and such as passes in common Conversation. For this Reason, some (as Horace tells us) have made a Doubt whether this Species of the Drama is to be accounted a Species of Poetry, or not:
[133] Idcirco quidam, Comœdia, necne, poema Esset, quæsivere; quod acer spiritus, ac vis, Nec verbis, nec rebus, inest; nisi quod pede certo Differt sermoni, sermo merus.
And therefore some do doubt (tho' some allow) If Comedy be Poetry, or no: Because it wants that Spirit, Flame and Force, And bate the Numbers, 'tis but plain Discourse. Creech.
'Tis Certain the Style of the ancient Comedy had nothing poetical in it but the Feet and Measure, and those very little different from Prose; and rejected all those Modes of Speech, which we have mention'd above as peculiar to Poetry. What, therefore, Comedy has in common with Poetry, does not consist in the Diction, but partly in the Measure, and chiefly in the Invention, the Conduct of the Plot, and the Disposal of the Parts.
I am very sensible a great Question may arise in relation to our Comedies, whether they are to be deem'd Poems, since they want those metrical Numbers, which in our former Dissertation we made essential to a Poem. This Question undoubtedly bears much harder upon our English Comedies, than upon the ancient Greek and Latin ones; which are manifestly writ in some certain Measure, tho' a loose one, and the nearest possible to Prose; but our's pretend to be nothing else but Prose, only with a Distich or two at the Conclusion of every Act. It may be question'd, likewise, on the other Hand, whether the French Poets are to be commended, who write entire Comedies not only in Ryme, but even Heroic Verse. These Doubts I shall at present wave, since a more proper Opportunity will offer to discuss them fully, when I make Comedy the Subject of an entire Dissertation.
As Style is my present Subject, and I shall make Thought my next; it may not be improper to inquire into the Relation between the Beauty of the one and the other, and what Connexion there is between writing well, and thinking justly, and how they mutually conspire to promote each other. This Enquiry is somewhat of a middle Nature between the Subject of our present Discourse and the following; and, like a Partition Wall, may serve to join, and yet divide them.
I lay it down for a Rule, that no one can write clearly, or elegantly, that does not think so. If you are obscure to yourself, you must have great good Luck indeed, if you are perspicuous to others. And if your Thought is bad, shining Language only serves to make both ridiculous. 'Tis like dressing up a disagreeable Person in rich Cloaths, which receive Disgrace from the Wearer, and make his Deformity more contemptible. On the other Hand, 'tis scarce possible, but he whose Thoughts are clear and bright, will be so in his Style too, provided he is well vers'd in the best Authors, and Master of the Language he writes in. When we speak or write, our Thoughts break forth, like the Light, diffuse themselves around, and, by their natural Force, enter the Minds of our Hearers or Readers, as that does the Eyes of the Beholders. Words (if we may believe Quintilian) almost necessarily follow a clear Imagination, as the Shadow does a Substance. And if once we have a Conception of any Thing beautiful or sublime, suitable Expressions will arise, if we think proper to make use of them. If we think proper, I say, to make use of them; for it is not to be supposed, that the one will necessarily accompany the other, whether we will let them or not, or that Quintilian meant to extend the Necessity so far. It is possible the Thoughts may be beautiful and sublime, and the Words, out of Choice, plain and simple; and the Plainness of these may sometimes not only shew, but add to the Sublimity of those. To this Purpose Longinus cites that short Narration of the divine Historian, as a remarkable Instance of Sublimity: And God said, Let there be Light, and there was Light. So Horace: