every case we are conscious that the subject itself
is not brought immediately before us, but that we
view it through the medium of a different way of thinking.
When, however, by a dextrous manoeuvre, the poet allows
us an occasional glance at the less brilliant reverse
of the medal, then he makes, as it were, a sort of
secret understanding with the select circle of the
more intelligent of his readers or spectators; he
shows them that he had previously seen and admitted
the validity of their tacit objections; that he himself
is not tied down to the represented subject, but soars
freely above it; and that, if he chose, he could unrelentingly
annihilate the beautiful and irresistibly attractive
scenes which his magic pen has produced. No doubt,
wherever the proper tragic enters, everything like
irony immediately ceases; but from the avowed raillery
of Comedy, to the point where the subjection of mortal
beings to an inevitable destiny demands the highest
degree of seriousness, there are a multitude of human
relations which unquestionably may be considered in
an ironical view, without confounding the eternal
line of separation between good and evil. This
purpose is answered by the comic characters and scenes
which are interwoven with the serious parts in most
of those pieces of Shakespeare where romantic fables
or historical events are made the subject of a noble
and elevating exhibition. Frequently an intentional
parody of the serious part is not to be mistaken in
them; at other times the connection is more arbitrary
and loose, and the more so, the more marvelous the
invention of the whole and the more entirely it has
become a light reveling of the fancy. The comic
intervals everywhere serve to prevent the pastime
from being converted into a business, to preserve
the mind in the possession of its serenity, and to
keep off that gloomy and inert seriousness which so
easily steals upon the sentimental, but not tragical,
drama. Most assuredly Shakespeare did not intend
thereby, in defiance to his own better judgment, to
humor the taste of the multitude: for in various
pieces, and throughout considerable portions of others,
and especially when the catastrophe is approaching,
and the mind consequently is more on the stretch and
no longer likely to give heed to any amusement which
would distract their attention, he has abstained from
all such comic intermixtures. It was also an
object with him, that the clowns or buffoons should
not occupy a more important place than that which
he had assigned them: he expressly condemns the
extemporizing with which they loved to enlarge their
parts.[26] Johnson founds the justification of the
species of drama in which seriousness and mirth are
mixed, on this, that in real life the vulgar is found
close to the sublime, that the merry and the sad usually
accompany and succeed each other. But it does
not follow that, because both are found together,
therefore they must not be separable in the compositions
of art. The observation is in other respects