ENGLISH 313: AUGUSTAN WRITERS I
(English Literature, 1660-1714)
Fall 1999

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From John Dryden's Of Dramatic Poesy: An Essay, 1668

[On Shakespeare and Jonson]

To begin with Shakespeare; he was the man who of all modern, and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul.  All the images of nature were still present to him, and he drew them not laboriously, but luckily: when he describes anything, you more than see it, you feel it too.  Those who accuse him to have wanted learning, give him the greater commendation: he was naturally learned; he needed not the spectacles of books to read nature; he looked inwards, and found her there.  I cannot say he is everywhere alike; were he so, I should do him injury to compare him with the greatest of mankind.  He is many times flat, insipid; his comic wit degenerating into clenches, his serious swelling into bombast.  But he is always great when some great occasion is presented to him: no man can say he ever had a fit subject for his wit and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets, Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.

    The consideration of this made Mr. Hales of Eton say that there was no subject of which any poet ever writ, but he would produce it much better done in Shakespeare; and however others are now generally preferred before him, yet the age wherein he lived, which had contemporaries with him, Fletcher and Johnson, never equalled them to him in their esteem.  And in the last king's Court, when Ben's reputation was at highest, Sir John Suckling, and with him the greater part of the courtiers, set our Shakespeare far above him.

...

    As for Jonson, to whose character I am now arrived, if we look upon him while he was himself (for his last plays were but his dotages), I think him the most learned and judicious writer which any theatre ever had.  He was a most severe judge of himself as well as others.  One cannot say he wanted wit, but rather that he was frugal of it.  In his works you find little to retrench or alter.  Wit and language, and humour also in some measure we had before him; but something of art was wanting to the drama till he came.  He managed his strength to more advantage than any who preceded him.  You seldom find him making love in any of his scenes, or endeavouring to move the passions; his genius was too sullen and saturnine to do it gracefully, especially when he knew he came after those who had performed both to such an height.  Humour was his proper sphere, and in that he delighted most to represent mechanic people.  He was deeply conversant in the Ancients, both Greek and Latin, and he borrowed boldly from them.  There is scarce a poet or historian among the Roman authors of those times whom he has not translated in Sejanus and Catiline.   But he has done his robberies so openly, that one may see he fears not to be taxed by any law.  He invades authors like a monarch, and what would be theft in other poets, is only victory in him.  With the spoils of these writers he so represents old Rome to us, in its rites, ceremonies, and customs, that if one of their poets had written either of his tragedies, we had seen less of it than in him.  If there was any fault in his language, 'twas that he weaved it too closely and laboriously, in his comedies especially: perhaps too, he did a little too much romanize our tongue, leaving the words which he translated almost as much Latin as he found them: wherein though he learnedly followed their language, he did not enough comply with the idiom of ours.  If I would compare him with Shakespeare, I must acknowledge him the more correct poet, but Shakespeare the greater wit.  Shakespeare was the Homer, or father of our dramatic poets; Jonson was the Virgil, the pattern of elaborate writing.  I admire him, but I love Shakespeare.


From John Dryden's A Discourse Concerning the Original and Progress of Satire, 1693

[On Horace and Juvenal]
Let the chastisements of Juvenal be never so necessary for his new kind of satire; let him declaim as wittily and sharply as he pleases: yet still the nicest and most delicate touches of satire consist in fine raillery....How easy is it to call rogue and villain, and that wittily!  But how hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead, or a knave, without using any of those opprobrious terms!  To spare the grossness of the names, and to do the thing yet more severely, is to draw a full face, and to make the nose and cheeks stand out, and yet not to employ any depth of shadowing.  This is the mystery of that noble trade, which yet no master can teach to his apprentice: he may give the rules, but the scholar is never the nearer in his practice.  Neither is it true that this fineness of raillery is offensive.  A witty man is tickled while he is hurt in this manner, and a fool feels it not.  The occasion of an offence may possibly be given, but he cannot take it.  If it be granted that in effect this way does more mischief; that a man is secretly wounded, and though he be not sensible himself, yet the malicious world will find it for him: yet there is still a vast difference betwixt the slovenly butchering of a man, and the fineness of a stroke that separates the head from the body, and leaves it standing in its place. . . .

It must be granted by the favourers of Juvenal, that Horace is the more copious and profitable in his instructions of human life.  But in my particular opinion, which I set not up for a standard to better judgements, Juvenal is the more delightful author.   I am profited by both, I am pleased with both; but I owe more to Horace for my instruction, and more to Juvenal, for my pleasure...

...I must confess, that the delight which Horace gives me is but languishing.  Be pleased still to understand that I speak of my own taste only.  He may ravish other men, but I am too stupid and insensible to be tickled.  Where he barely grins himself, and, as Scaliger says, only shows his white teeth, he cannot provoke me to any laughter.  His urbanity, that is, his good manners, are to be commended; but his wit is faint, and his salt, if I may dare to say so, almost insipid.  Juvenal is of a more vigorous and masculine wit; he gives me as much pleasure as I can bear....Add to this, that his thoughts are as just as those of Horace, and much more elevated.  His expressions are sonorous and more noble; his verse more numerous; and his words are suitable to his thoughts, sublime and lofty.  All these contribute to the pleasure of the reader, and the greater the soul of him who reads, his transports are the greater.   Horace is always on the amble, Juvenal on the gallop, but his way is perpetually on carpet ground.  He goes with more impetuosity than Horace, but as securely; and the swiftness adds a more lively agitation to the spirits....
    The meat of Horace is more nourishing; but the cookery of Juvenal more exquisite; so that, granting Horace to be the more general philosopher, we cannot deny that Juvenal was the greater poet, I mean in satire.  His thoughts are sharper, his indignation against vice is more vehement; his spirit has more of the commonwealth genius; he treats tyranny, and all the vices attending it, as they deserve, with the utmost rigour; and consequently, a noble soul is better pleased with a zealous vindicator of Roman liberty than with a temporizing poet, a well mannered court slave, and a man who is often afraid of laughing in the right place, who is ever decent because he is naturally servile.  After all, Horace had the disadvantage of the times in which he lived; they were better for the man, but worse for the satirist.  'Tis generally said that those enormous vices, which were practised under the reign of Domitian, were unknown in the time of Augustus Caesar, that therefore Juvenal had a larger field than horace.  Little follies were out of doors, when oppression was to be scourged instead of avarice.  It was no longer time to turn into ridicule the false opinions of philosophers, when the Roman liberty was to be asserted.


From Dryden's "An Account of the Ensuing Poem" Prefixed to Annus Mirabilis, 1666

[wit vs. fancy]
The composition of all poems is or ought to be of wit, and wit in the poet, or wit writing (if you will give me leave to use a school distinction), is no other than the faculty of imagination in the writer, which, like a nimble spaniel, beats over and ranges through the field of memory, till it springs the quarry it hunted after; or, without metaphor, which searches over all the memory for the species or ideas of those things which it designs to represent.  Wit written, is that which is well defined the happy result of thought, or product of that imagination.  But to proceed from wit in the general notion of it to the proper wit of an heroic or historical poem, I judge it chiefly to consist in the delightful imaging of persons, actions, passions, or things.  'Tis not the jerk or sting of an epigram, nor the seeming contradiction of a poor antithesis (the delight of an ill-judging audience in a play of rhyme), nor the jingle of a more poor paranomasia: neither is it so much the morality of a grave sentence, affected by Lucan, but more sparingly used by Virgil; but it is some lively and apt description, dressed in such colours of speech, that it sets before youre eyes the absent object as perfectly and more delightfully than nature.  so then, the first happiness of the poet's imagination is properly invention, or finding of the thought; the second is fancy or the variation, driving or moulding of that thought, as the judgement represents it proper to the subject; the third is elocution, or that art of clothing and adorning that thought so found and varied, in apt, significant, and sounding words: the quickness of the imagination is seen in the invention, the fertility in the fancy, and the accuracy in the expression.   For the two first of these Ovid is famous amongst the poets, for the latter Virgil.   Ovid images more often the movements and affections of the mind, either combating between two contrary passions, or extremely discomposed by one: his words therefore are the least part of his care, for he pictures nature in disorder, with which the study and choice of words is inconsistent.  This is the proper wit of dialogue or discourse, and consequently, of the drama, where all that is said is to be supposed the effect of sudden thought; which, though it excludes not the quickness of wit in repartees, yet admits not a too curious election of words, too frequent allusions, or use of tropes, or, in fine, anything that shows remoteness of thought, or labour in the writer.  On the other side, Virgil speaks not so often to us in the person of another, like Ovid, but in his own; he relates almost all things as from himself, and thereby gains more liberty than the other to express his thoughts with all the graces of elocution, to write more figuratively, and to confess as well the labour as the force of his imagination.


From A Defense of an Essay of Dramatic Poesy (1668)

Imagination in a man, or reasonable creature, is supposed to participate of reason, and when that governs, as it does in the belief of fiction, reason is not destroyed, but misled, or blinded: that can prescribe tot he reason, during the time of the representation, somewhat like a weak belief of what it sees and hears; and reason suffers itself to be so hoodwinked, that it may better enjoy the pleasures of the fiction: but it is never so wholly made a captive as to be drawn headlong into a persuasion of those things which are most remote from probability: 'tis in that case a free-born subject, not a slave; it will contribute willingly its assent, as far as it sees convenient, but will not be forced....Fancy and reason go hand in hand; the first cannot leave the last behind; and though fancy, when it sees the wide gulf, would venture over, as the nimbler; yet it is withheld by reason, which will refuse to take the leap, when the distance over it appears too large.

 

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