Elements of Criticism, Volume III.

by Lord Henry Home Kames

Ne pueros coram populo Medea trucidet;
Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus;
Aut in avem Progne vertatur, Cadmus in anguem.
Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi.

The French critics, as it appears to me, misapprehend the reason of this rule. Shedding blood upon the stage, say they, is barbarous and shocking to a polite audience. This no doubt is an additional reason for excluding bloodshed from the French stage, supposing the French to be in reality so delicate. But this evidently is not the reason that weighed with the Greeks: that polite people had no notion of such delicacy; witness the murder of Clytemnestra by her son Orestes, passing behind the scene, as represented by Sophocles. Her voice is heard calling out for mercy, bitter expostulations on his part, loud shrieks upon her being stabb’d, and then a deep silence. I appeal to every person of feeling, whether this scene be not more horrible, than if the deed had been committed in sight of the spectators upon a sudden gust of passion. According to the foregoing reasoning of the French critics, there is nothing to exclude from the stage a duel occasioned by an affair of honour, because in it there is nothing barbarous or shocking to a polite audience: yet a scene of this nature is excluded from the French stage; which shows, without more argument, that these critics have misapprehended the rule laid down by Horace. If Corneille, in representing the affair betwixt Horatius and his sister, upon which murder ensues behind the scene, had no other view than to remove from the spectators a scene of horror, he certainly was in a capital mistake: for murder in cold blood, which in some measure was the case as represented, is more horrible even where the conclusive stab is not seen, than the same act performed on the stage by violent and unpremeditated passion, as suddenly repented of as committed. I heartily agree with Addison[62], that no part of this incident ought to have been represented, but reserved for a narrative, with all the alleviating circumstances possible in favour of the hero. This is the only method to avoid the difficulties that unqualify this incident for representation, a deliberate murder on the one hand, and on the other a violent action performed on the stage, which must rouse the spectator from his dream of reality.

I shall finish with a few words upon the dialogue; which ought to be so conducted as to be a true representation of nature. I talk not here of the sentiments, nor of the language; for these come under different heads. I talk of what properly belongs to dialogue-writing; where every single speech, short or long, ought to arise from what is said by the former speaker, and furnish matter for what comes after, till the end of the scene. In this view, the whole speeches, from first to last, represent so many links, all connected together in one regular chain. No author, ancient or modern, possesses the art of dialogue equal to Shakespear. Dryden, in this particular, may justly be placed as his opposite. He frequently introduces three or four persons speaking upon the same subject, each throwing out his own sentiments separately, without regarding what is said by the rest. I give for an example the first scene of Aurenzebe. Sometimes he makes a number club in relating an event, not to a stranger, supposed ignorant of it, but to one another, for the sake merely of speaking. Of this notable sort of dialogue, we have a specimen in the first scene of the first part of the Conquest of Granada. In the second part of the same tragedy, scene second, the King, Abenamar, and Zulema, make their separate observations, like so many soliloquies, upon the fluctuating temper of the mob. It puts one in mind of a pastoral, where two shepherds are introduced reciting couplets alternately, each in praise of his own mistress, as if they were contending for a prize.

The bandying sentiments in this manner, beside an unnatural air, has another bad effect. It stays the course of the action, because it is not productive of any consequence. In Congreve’s comedies, the action is often suspended to make way for a play of wit. But of this more particularly in the chapter immediately following.

CHAP. XXIII.

The three Unities.

THe first chapter unfolds the pleasure we have in a chain of connected facts. In histories of the world, of a country, of a people, this pleasure is but faint; because the connections are slight or obscure. We find more entertainment in biography, where the incidents are connected by their relation to one person, who makes a figure and commands our attention. But the greatest entertainment of the kind, is afforded by the history of a single event, supposing it to be interesting. The history of one event produceth a more entire connection among the parts, than the history of one person. In the latter, the circumstances are not otherwise connected than by their relation to that person: in the former, the circumstances are connected by the strongest of all relations, that of cause and effect. Thus, the circumstances of a single event, having a mutual connection extremely intimate, form a delightful train: we survey with peculiar pleasure a number of facts that give birth to each other; and we pass with ease and satisfaction from the first to the last.

But this subject merits a more particular discussion. When we consider the chain of causes and effects in the material world, independent of purpose, design, or thought, we find a train of incidents in succession, without beginning, middle, or end. Every thing that happens is both a cause and an effect: it is the effect of something that goes before, and the cause of one or many things that follow. One incident may affect us more, another less; but all of them, great and small, are so many links in the universal chain. The mind, in viewing these incidents, cannot rest or settle ultimately upon any one; but is carried along in the train without any close.

But when the intellectual world is taken under view, in conjunction with the material, the scene is varied. Man acts with deliberation, will, and choice; he acts with a view to some end, glory, for example, or riches, or conquest, the procuring happiness to individuals, or to his country in general; and he proposes means and lays schemes to attain the end proposed. Here is recognised a capital end or event, connected with subordinate events or incidents by the relation of causation. In running over a series of subordinate events, we cannot rest upon any one; because they are presented to us as means only, leading to some end. But we rest with satisfaction upon the ultimate event; because there, the purpose, the plan, the aim, of the chief person or persons, is completed and brought to a final conclusion. This indicates a beginning, a middle, and an end, of what Aristotle calls an entire action[63]. The story naturally begins with describing those circumstances which move the distinguished person to form a plan, in order to compass some desired event. The prosecution of that plan, and the obstructions, carry the reader into the heat of action. The middle is properly where the action is the most involved; and the end is where the event is brought about, and the design accomplished.

A design or plan thus happily perfected, after many obstructions, affords wonderful delight to the reader. And to produce this delight, a principle mentioned above[64] mainly contributes; a principle that disposes the mind to complete every work commenced, and in general to carry every thing to its ultimate conclusion.