"written in a manner so natural and so judicious, "that, though he was then only a copy, he is now "an original. No author has ever had a more exact "sense of pure nature. Of Cecilius, since we have only a few fragments, I shall say nothing. All "that we know of him is told us by Varrus, that he "was happy in the choice of subjects." 66 It Rapin omits many others for the same reason, that we have not enough of their works to qualify us for judges. While we are upon this subject, it will perhaps not displease the reader to see what that critic's opinion is of Lopes de Vega and Moliere. will appear, that, with respect to Lopes de Vega, he is rather too profuse of praise: that in speaking of Moliere, he is too parsimonious. This piece will, however, be of use to our design, when we shall examine to the bottom what it is that ought to make the character of comedy. "No man has ever had a greater genius for comedy "than Lopes de Vega the Spaniard. He had a fertility "of wit, joined with great beauty of conception, and "a wonderful readiness of composition; for he has "written more than three hundred comedies. His "name alone gave reputation to his pieces; for his reputation was so well established, that a work, which I came from his hands, was sure to claim the approbation of the public. He had a mind too ex"tensive to be subjected to rules, or restrained by "limits. For that reason he gave himself up to his 66 66 66 own genius, on which he could always depend "with confidence. When he wrote, he consulted no "other laws than the taste of his auditors, and regu "lated his manner more by the success of his work than by the rules of reason. Thus he discarded all "scruples of unity, and all the superstitions of probability." (This is certainly not said with a design to praise him, and must be connected with that which immediately follows.) "But as for the most part, "he endeavours at too much jocularity, and carries "ridicule to too much refinement; his conceptions "are often rather happy than just, and rather wild “than natural; for, by subtilizing merriment too far, "it becomes too nice to be true, and his beauties lose "their power of striking by being too delicate and ❝ acute. "Among us, nobody has carried ridicule in co"medy farther than Moliere. Our ancient comic “writers brought no characters higher than servants, "to make sport upon the theatre; but we are di"verted upon the theatre of Moliere by marquises "and people of quality. Others have exhibited in "comedy no species of life above that of a citizen; "but Moliere shews us all Paris, and the court. He "is the only man amongst us, who has laid open "those features of nature by which he is exactly "marked, and may be accurately known. The "beauties of his pictures are so natural, that they "are felt by persons of the least discernment, and his power of pleasantry received half its force from his 66 power of copying. His Misanthrope is, in my opi❝nion, the most complete, and likewise the most "singular character that has ever appeared upon the 66 stage: but the disposition of his comedies is always "defective some way or another. This is all which "we can observe in general upon comedy." Such are the thoughts of one of the most refined judges of works of genius, from which, though they are not all oraculous, some advantages may be drawn, as they always make some approaches to truth. 66 Madame Dacier*, having her mind full of the merit of Aristophanes, expresses herself in this manner: "No man had ever more discernment than him, in finding out the ridiculous, nor a more ingenious "manner of shewing it to others. His remarks are “natural and easy, and, what very rarely can be "found, with great copiousness he has great delicacy. "To say all at once, the Attic wit, of which the an"cients made such boast, appears more in Aristophanes than in any other that I know of in antiquity. But what is most of all to be admired in "him is, that he is always so much master of the subject before him, that, without doing any vio"lence to himself, he finds a way to introduce naturally things which at first appeared most distant "from his purpose; and even the most quick and "unexpected of his desultory sallies appear the ne 66 66 cessary consequence of the foregoing incidents. This "is that art which sets the dialogues of Plato above "imitation, which we must consider as so many dra"matic pieces, which are equally entertaining by the "action and by the dialogue. The style of Aristo 66 phanes is no less pleasing than his fancy; for, be"sides its clearness, its vigour, and its sweetness, "there is in it a certain harmony so delightful to "the ear, that there is no pleasure equal to that of "reading it. When he applies himself to vulgar "mediocrity of style, he descends without meanness ; *Preface to Plautus. Paris, 1684, 66 "when he attempts the sublime, he is elevated with"out obscurity; and no man has ever had the art of blending all the different kinds of writing so equally together. After having studied all that is left us "of Grecian learning, if we have not read Aristophanes, we cannot yet know all the charms and "beauties of that language." 66 Plutarch's sentiment upon Aristophanes and Menander. IX. This is a pompous elogium: but let us suspend our opinion, and hear that of Plutarch, who, being an ancient, well deserves our attention, at least after we have heard the moderns before him. This is then the sum of his judgment concerning Aristophanes and Menander. To Menander he gives the preference, without allowing much competition. He objects to Aristophanes, that he carries all his thoughts beyond nature, that he writes rather to the crowd than to men of character; that he affects a style obscure and licentious; tragical, pompous, and mean, sometimes serious, and sometimes ludicrous, even to puerility; that he makes none of his personages speak according to any distinct character, so that in his scenes the son cannot be known from the father, the citizen from the boor, the hero from the shopkeeper, or the divine from the serving-man. Whereas the diction of Menander, which is always uniform and pure, is very justly adapted to different characters, rising when it is necessary to vigorous and sprightly comedy, yet without transgressing the proper limits, or losing sight of nature, in which Menander, says Plutarch, has attained a perfection to which no other writer has arrived. For, what man, besides himself, has ever found the art of making a diction equally suitable to women and children, to old and young, to divinities and heroes? Now Menander has found this happy secret, in the equality and flexibility of his diction, which, though always the same, is nevertheless different upon different occasions; like a current of clear water (to keep closely to the thoughts of Plutarch), which running through banks differently turned, complies with all their turns backward and forward, without changing any thing of its nature or its purity. Plutarch mentions it as a part of the merit of Menander, that he began very young, and was stopped only by old age, at a time when he would have produced the greatest wonders, if death had not prevented him. This, joined to a reflection, which he makes as he returns to Aristophanes, shews that Aristophanes continued a long time to display his powers: for his poetry, says Plutarch, is a strumpet that affects sometimes the airs of a prude, but whose impudence cannot be forgiven by the people, and whose affected modesty is despised by men of decency. Menander, on the contrary, always shews himself a man agreeable and witty, a companion desirable upon the stage, at table, and in gay assemblies; an extract of all the treasures of Greece, who deserves always to be read, and always to please. His irresistible power of persuasion, and the reputation which he has had, of being the best master of language of Greece, sufficiently shews the delightfulness of his style. Upon this article of Menander, Plutarch does not know how to make an end: he says, that he is the delight of philosophers fatigued with study; that they use his works as a meadow enamelled with flowers, where a purer air gratifies the sense; that, notwithstanding the powers of the other comic poets of Athens, Menander has always been considered as possessing a salt |