Lives Of The Poets, Vol. 1 (fiscle part-III), Samuel Johnson [good summer reads .TXT] 📗

And Showed

Many Faults: He Showed them, Indeed, With Anger, But He Found Them With

Acuteness, Such As Ought To Rescue His Criticism From Oblivion; Though,

At Last, It Will Have No Other Life Than It Derives From The Work Which

It Endeavours To Oppress.

 

 

 

Why He Pays No Regard To The Opinion Of The Audience, He Gives His

Reason, By Remarking, That,

 

 

 

"A Deference Is To Be Paid To A General Applause, When It Appears That

That Applause Is Natural And Spontaneous; But That Little Regard Is To

Be Had To It, When It Is Affected and Artificial. Of All The Tragedies

Which, In his Memory, Have Had Vast And Violent Runs, Not One Has Been

Excellent; Few Have Been Tolerable; Most Have Been Scandalous. When A

Poet Writes A Tragedy, Who Knows He Has Judgment, And Who Feels He Has

Genius, That Poet Presumes Upon His Own Merit, And Scorns To Make A

Cabal. That People Come Coolly To The Representation Of Such A Tragedy,

Without Any Violent Expectation, Or Delusive Imagination, Or Invincible

Prepossession; That Such An Audience Is Liable To Receive The Impressions

Which The Poem Shall Naturally Make On Them, And To Judge By Their Own

Reason, And Their Own Judgments, And That Reason And Judgment Are Calm

And Serene, Not Formed by Nature To Make Proselytes, And To Control And

Lord It Over The Imaginations Of Others. But That When An Author Writes A

Tragedy, Who Knows He Has Neither Genius Nor Judgment, He Has Recourse

To The Making a Party, And He Endeavours To Make Up In industry What

Is Wanting in talent, And To Supply By Poetical Craft The Absence Of

Poetical Art; That Such An Author Is Humbly Contented to Raise Men'S

Passions By A Plot Without Doors, Since He Despairs Of Doing it By

That Which He Brings Upon The Stage. That Party And Passion, And

Prepossession, Are Clamorous And Tumultuous Things, And So Much The

More Clamorous And Tumultuous By How Much The More Erroneous: That

They Domineer And Tyrannise Over The Imaginations Of Persons Who Want

Judgment, And Sometimes Too Of Those Who Have It; And, Like A Fierce

And Outrageous Torrent, Bear Down All Opposition Before Them." He Then

Condemns The Neglect Of Poetical Justice; Which Is Always One Of His

Favourite Principles.

 

 

 

"'Tis Certainly The Duty Of Every Tragick Poet, By The Exact Distribution

Of Poetical Justice, To Imitate The Divine Dispensation, And To Inculcate

A Particular Providence. 'Tis True, Indeed, Upon The Stage Of The World,

The Wicked sometimes Prosper, And The Guiltless Suffer. But That Is

Permitted by The Governor Of The World, To Show, From The Attribute Of

His Infinite Justice, That There Is A Compensation In futurity, To Prove

The Immortality Of The Human Soul, And The Certainty Of Future Rewards

And Punishments. But The Poetical Persons In tragedy Exist No Longer Than

The Reading, Or The Representation; The Whole Extent Of Their Entity

Is Circumscribed by Those; And, Therefore, During that Reading or

Representation, According to Their Merits Or Demerits, They Must Be

Punished or Rewarded. If This Is Not Done, There Is No Impartial

Distribution Of Poetical Justice, No Instructive Lecture Of A Particular

Providence, And No Imitation Of The Divine Dispensation. And Yet The

Author Of This Tragedy Does Not Only Run Counter To This, In the Fate Of

His Principal Character; But Every Where, Throughout It, Makes Virtue

Suffer, And Vice Triumph: For Not Only Cato Is Vanquished by Caesar,

But The Treachery And Perfidiousness Of Syphax Prevail Over The

Honest Simplicity And The Credulity Of Juba; And The Sly Subtlety And

Dissimulation Of Portius Over The Generous Frankness And Open-Heartedness

Of Marcus."

 

 

 

Whatever Pleasure There May Be In seeing crimes Punished and Virtue

Rewarded, Yet, Since Wickedness Often Prospers In real Life, The Poet Is

Certainly At Liberty To Give It Prosperity On The Stage. For If Poetry

Has An Imitation Of Reality, How Are Its Laws Broken By Exhibiting the

World In its True Form? The Stage May Sometimes Gratify Our Wishes; But,

If It Be Truly The "Mirror Of Life," It Ought To Show Us Sometimes What

We Are To Expect.

 

 

 

Dennis Objects To The Characters, That They Are Not Natural, Or

Reasonable; But As Heroes And Heroines Are Not Beings That Are Seen Every

Day, It Is Hard To Find Upon What Principles Their Conduct Shall Be

Tried. It Is, However, Not Useless To Consider What He Says Of The Manner

In Which Cato Receives The Account Of His Son'S Death.

 

 

 

"Nor Is The Grief Of Cato, In the Fourth Act, One Jot More In nature Than

That Of His Son And Lucia In the Third. Cato Receives The News Of His

Son'S Death Not Only With Dry Eyes, But With A Sort Of Satisfaction; And,

In The Same Page, Sheds Tears For The Calamity Of His Country, And Does

The Same Thing in the Next Page Upon The Bare Apprehension Of The Danger

Of His Friends. Now, Since The Love Of One'S Country Is The Love Of One'S

Countrymen, As I Have Shown Upon Another Occasion, I Desire To Ask These

Questions: Of All Our Countrymen, Which Do We Love Most, Those Whom We

Know, Or Those Whom We Know Not? And Of Those Whom We Know, Which Do We

Cherish Most, Our Friends Or Our Enemies? And Of Our Friends, Which Are

The Dearest To Us, Those Who Are Related to Us, Or Those Who Are Not? And

Of All Our Relations, For Which Have We Most Tenderness, For Those Who

Are Near To Us, Or For Those Who Are Remote? And Of Our Near Relations,

Which Are The Nearest, And, Consequently, The Dearest To Us, Our

Offspring, Or Others? Our Offspring most Certainly; As Nature, Or, In

Other Words, Providence, Has Wisely Contrived for The Preservation Of

Mankind. Now, Does It Not Follow, From What Has Been Said, That For A Man

To Receive The News Of His Son'S Death With Dry Eyes, And To Weep At The

Same Time For The Calamities Of His Country, Is A Wretched affectation,

And A Miserable Inconsistency? Is Not That, In plain English, To Receive

With Dry Eyes The News Of The Deaths Of Those For Whose Sake Our Country

Is A Name So Dear To Us, And, At The Same Time, To Shed tears For Those

For Whose Sake Our Country Is Not A Name So Dear To Us?"

 

 

 

But This Formidable Assailant Is Least Resistible When He Attacks The

Probability Of The Action, And The Reasonableness Of The Plan. Every

Critical Reader Must Remark, That Addison Has, With A Scrupulosity Almost

Unexampled on The English Stage, Confined himself In time To A Single

Day, And In place To Rigorous Unity. The Scene Never Changes, And The

Whole Action Of The Play Passes In the Great Hall Of Cato'S House At

Utica. Much, Therefore, Is Done In the Hall, For Which Any Other Place

Had Been More Fit; And This Impropriety Affords Dennis Many Hints Of

Merriment, And Opportunities Of Triumph. The Passage Is Long; But As Such

Disquisitions Are Not Common, And The Objections Are Skilfully Formed

And Vigorously Urged, Those Who Delight In critical Controversy Will Not

Think It Tedious.

 

 

 

"Upon The Departure Of Portius, Sempronius Makes But One Soliloquy, And

Immediately In comes Syphax, And Then The Two Politicians Are At It

Immediately. They Lay Their Heads Together, With Their Snuffboxes In

Their Hands, As Mr. Bayes Has It, And League It Away. But In the Midst Of

That Wise Scene, Syphax Seems To Give A Seasonable Caution To Sempronius:

 

 

 

'_Syph_.

 

 

 

  But Is It True, Sempronius, That Your Senate

  Is Call'D Together? Gods! Thou Must Be Cautious;

  Cato Has Piercing eyes.'

 

 

 

"There Is A Great Deal Of Caution Shown Indeed, In meeting in a

Governor'S Own Hall To Carry On Their Plot Against Him. Whatever Opinion

They Have Of His Eyes, I Suppose They Had None Of His Ears, Or They Would

Never Have Talked at This Foolish Rate So Near:

 

 

 

  'Gods! Thou Must Be Cautious.'

 

 

 

Oh! Yes, Very Cautious, For If Cato Should Overhear You, And Turn You Off

For Politicians, Caesar Would Never Take You; No, Caesar Would Never Take

You.

 

 

 

"When Cato, Act The Second, Turns The Senators Out Of The Hall, Upon

Pretence Of Acquainting juba With The Result Of Their Debates, He Appears

To Me To Do A Thing which Is Neither Reasonable Nor Civil. Juba Might

Certainly Have Better Been Made Acquainted with The Result Of That Debate

In Some Private Apartment Of The Palace. But The Poet Was Driven Upon

This Absurdity To Make Way For Another; And That Is, To Give Juba An

Opportunity To Demand Marcia Of Her Father. But The Quarrel And Rage Of

Juba And Syphax, In the Same Act; The Invectives Of Syphax Against The

Romans And Cato; The Advice That He Gives Juba, In her Father'S Hall, To

Bear Away Marcia By Force; And His Brutal And Clamorous Rage Upon His

Refusal, And At A Time When Cato Was Scarcely Out Of Sight, And, Perhaps,

Not Out Of Hearing, At Least Some Of His Guards Or Domesticks Must

Necessarily Be Supposed to Be Within Hearing; Is A Thing that Is So Far

From Being probable, That It Is Hardly Possible.

 

 

 

"Sempronius, In the Second Act, Comes Back Once More In the Same Morning

To The Governor'S Hall, To Carry On The Conspiracy With Syphax Against

The Governor, His Country, And His Family; Which Is So Stupid, That It Is

Below The Wisdom Of The O--'S, The Mac'S, And The Teague'S; Even Eustace

Cummins Himself Would Never Have Gone To Justice-Hall To Have Conspired

Against The Government. If Officers At Portsmouth Should Lay Their Heads

Together, In order To The Carrying off[201] J---- G----'S Niece Or

Daughter, Would They Meet In j--- G---'S Hall, To Carry On That

Conspiracy? There Would Be No Necessity For Their Meeting there, At Least

Till They Came To The Execution Of Their Plot, Because There Would Be

Other Places To Meet In. There Would Be No Probability That They

Should Meet There, Because There Would Be Places More Private And More

Commodious. Now There Ought To Be Nothing in a Tragical Action But What

Is Necessary Or Probable.

 

 

 

"But Treason Is Not The Only Thing that Is Carried on In this Hall; That,

And Love, And Philosophy, Take Their Turns In it, Without Any Manner

Of Necessity Or Probability Occasioned by The Action, As Duly And As

Regularly, Without Interrupting one Another, As If There Were A Triple

League Between Them, And A Mutual Agreement That Each Should Give Place

To, And Make Way For The Other, In a Due And Orderly Succession.

 

 

 

"We Now Come To The Third Act. Sempronius, In this Act, Comes Into The

Governor'S Hall, With The Leaders Of The Mutiny; But, As Soon As Cato

Is Gone, Sempronius, Who But Just Before Had Acted like An Unparalleled

Knave, Discovers Himself, Like An Egregious Fool, To Be An Accomplice In

The Conspiracy.

 

 

 

'_Semp_.

 

 

 

  Know, Villains, When Such Paltry Slaves Presume

  To Mix In treason, If The Plot Succeeds,

  They'Re Thrown Neglected by; But, If It Fails,

  They'Re Sure To Die Like Dogs, As You Shall Do.

  Here, Take These Factious Monsters, Drag Them Forth

  To Sudden Death.'--

 

 

 

"'Tis True, Indeed, The Second Leader Says, There Are None There But

Friends; But Is That Possible At Such A Juncture? Can A Parcel Of Rogues

Attempt To Assassinate The Governor Of A Town Of War, In his Own House,

In Mid-Day, And, After They Are Discovered, And Defeated, Can There

Be None Near Them But Friends? Is It Not Plain, From These Words Of

Sempronius,

 

 

 

  'Here, Take These Factious Monsters, Drag Them Forth

  To Sudden Death'--

 

 

 

And From The Entrance Of The Guards Upon The Word Of Command, That

Those Guards Were Within Ear-Shot? Behold Sempronius, Then, Palpably

Discovered. How Comes It To Pass, Then, That Instead Of Being hanged

Up With The Rest, He Remains Secure In the Governor'S Hall, And There

Carries On His Conspiracy Against The Government, The Third Time In the

Same Day, With His Old Comrade Syphax, Who Enters At The Same Time That

The Guards Are Carrying away The Leaders, Big With The News Of The Defeat

Of Sempronius; Though Where He Had His Intelligence So Soon Is Difficult

To Imagine? And Now The Reader May Expect A Very Extraordinary Scene:

There Is Not Abundance Of Spirit Indeed, Nor A Great Deal Of Passion, But

There Is Wisdom More Than Enough To Supply All Defects.

 

 

 

'_Syph_.

 

 

 

  Still There Remains An After-Game To Play:

 

 

 

  My Troops Are Mounted, Their Numidian Steeds

  Snuff Up The Winds, And Long To Scour The Desert.

  Let But Sempronius Lead Us In our Flight,

  We'Ll Force The Gate, Where Marcus Keeps His Guard,

  And Hew Down All That Would Oppose Our Passage;

  A Day Will Bring us Into Caesar'S Camp.

 

 

 

  '_Semp_. Confusion! I Have Fail'D Of Half My Purpose;

  Marcia, The Charming