Excerpt from "Essay on the Serious Drama" (1767)
I can lay no just claim to the dignity of author: both time and talent have been denied me; but some eight years ago, I amused myself by committing to paper a few ideas of the Serious Drama, that form which is a sort of intermediary between the heroic tragedy and the pleasing comedy. Of the several forms of the drama which I might have chosen, that was perhaps the least esteemed; and that was the very reason for my preference. I have always been so seriously occupied that I have sought nothing in the field of letters but an honorable means of recreation. Nequesem per arcum tendit Apollo. The subject pleased, and carried me along with it; but I was not long in learning that I was mistaken in endeavoring to convince by reason in a form where one ought rather to persuade by sentiment. I was soon seized with the desire to substitute example for precept: an infallible way of creating proselytes when one is successful, but which exposes the unfortunate mortal who is not, to the twofold chagrin of having failed to attain his object, and being the butt of ridicule for having presumed beyond his powers.
Too wrought up by my subject to be capable of this latter thought, I composed the play which I herewith publish. Miss Fanny, Miss Jenny, Miss Polly, and so on, charming books, my Eugénie would doubtless have gained much in taking you for models; but she was born before you were in existence—without which one can never serve as model at all. I refer your authors to the little Spanish novelette of the Comte de Belflor, in Le Diable boiteux; that was the source of my idea. The little I obtained therefrom will cause them small regret that they were unable to help me in any way.
The general outline of my plan of action—that rapid mass-work, indicating in a general way the situations, and sketching out the characters—developing very quickly under the white heat of my enthusiasm, saw no waning of my courage; but when it came to the part where I was forced to confine the subject within a certain space, or expand it, really work at it; then my poor brain, muddled with details of execution, was cognizant of real difficulties, took fright at the whole thing, and gave up both play and dissertation.…
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