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diff --git a/25585-tei/25585-tei.tei b/25585-tei/25585-tei.tei new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d2e386b --- /dev/null +++ b/25585-tei/25585-tei.tei @@ -0,0 +1,14818 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" ?> + +<!DOCTYPE TEI.2 SYSTEM "http://www.gutenberg.org/tei/marcello/0.4/dtd/pgtei.dtd" [ + +<!ENTITY u5 "http://www.tei-c.org/Lite/"> + +]> + +<TEI.2 lang="en"> +<teiHeader> + <fileDesc> + <titleStmt> + <title>Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher</title> + <author><name reg="Coleridge, S. T.">S. T. Coleridge</name></author> + </titleStmt> + <editionStmt> + <edition n="1">Edition 1</edition> + </editionStmt> + <publicationStmt> + <publisher>Project Gutenberg</publisher> + <date>May 24, 2008</date> + <idno type="etext-no">25585</idno> + <availability> + <p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and + with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it + away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg + License online at www.gutenberg.org/license</p> + </availability> + </publicationStmt> + <sourceDesc> + <bibl> + Created electronically. + </bibl> + </sourceDesc> + </fileDesc> + <encodingDesc> + </encodingDesc> + <profileDesc> + <langUsage> + <language id="en"></language> + <language id="it" /> + <language id="fr" /> + <language id="la" /> + </langUsage> + </profileDesc> + <revisionDesc> + <change> + <date value="2008-05-24">May 24, 2008</date> + <respStmt> + <name> + Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, David King, and the Online + Distributed Proofreading Team at <http://www.pgdp.net/>. + (This file was made using scans of public domain works from the + University of Mochigan Digital Libraries.) + Page-images available at + <http://www.pgdp.net/projects/projectID44006ca6acbb7/> + </name> + </respStmt> + <item>Project Gutenberg TEI edition 1</item> + </change> + </revisionDesc> +</teiHeader> + +<pgExtensions> + <pgStyleSheet> + .boxed { x-class: boxed } + .rules { x-class: rules; rules: all } + .indent { margin-left: 2 } + .bold { font-weight: bold } + .italic { font-style: italic } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps } + </pgStyleSheet> + + <pgCharMap formats="txt.iso-8859-1"> + <char id="U0x2014"> + <charName>mdash</charName> + <desc>EM DASH</desc> + <mapping>--</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x2003"> + <charName>emsp</charName> + <desc>EM SPACE</desc> + <mapping> </mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x2026"> + <charName>hellip</charName> + <desc>HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS</desc> + <mapping>...</mapping> + </char> + </pgCharMap> +</pgExtensions> + +<text lang="en"> + <front> + <div> + <divGen type="pgheader" /> + </div> + <div> + <divGen type="encodingDesc" /> + </div> + + <div rend="page-break-before: always"> + <p rend="font-size: xx-large; text-align: center; bold">Shakespeare</p> + <p rend="font-size: xx-large; text-align: center">Ben Jonson</p> + <p rend="font-size: xx-large; text-align: center">Beaumont And Fletcher</p> + <p rend="font-size: large; text-align: center">Notes and Lectures</p> + <p rend="font-size: xx-large; text-align: center">by S. T. Coleridge</p> + <p rend="font-size: large; text-align: center">New Edition</p> + <p rend="text-align: center">Liverpool</p> + <p rend="text-align: center">Edward Howell</p> + <p rend="text-align: center">MDCCCLXXIV</p> + </div> + <div rend="page-break-before: always"> + <head>Contents</head> + <divGen type="toc" /> + </div> + </front> +<body> + +<pb n='001'/><anchor id='Pg001'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc" level1="Shakespeare"/> +<index index="pdf" level1="Shakespeare"/> +<head>Shakespeare, With introductory matter on Poetry, the +Drama, and the Stage. +</head> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Definition Of Poetry.</head> + +<p> +Poetry is not the proper antithesis to prose, +but to science. Poetry is opposed to science, +and prose to metre. The proper and immediate +object of science is the acquirement, or communication, +of truth; the proper and immediate object +of poetry is the communication of immediate pleasure. +This definition is useful; but as it would +include novels and other works of fiction, which +yet we do not call poems, there must be some +additional character by which poetry is not only +divided from opposites, but likewise distinguished +from disparate, though similar, modes of composition. +Now how is this to be effected? In animated +prose, the beauties of nature, and the passions and +accidents of human nature, are often expressed in +that natural language which the contemplation of +them would suggest to a pure and benevolent +mind; yet still neither we nor the writers call such +a work a poem, though no work could deserve that +name which did not include all this, together with +something else. What is this? It is that pleasurable +emotion, that peculiar state and degree of +excitement, which arises in the poet himself in the +act of composition;—and in order to understand +this, we must combine a more than ordinary sympathy +<pb n='002'/><anchor id='Pg002'/> +with the objects, emotions, or incidents contemplated +by the poet, consequent on a more than +common sensibility, with a more than ordinary +activity of the mind in respect of the fancy and +the imagination. Hence is produced a more vivid +reflection of the truths of nature and of the human +heart, united with a constant activity modifying +and correcting these truths by that sort of pleasurable +emotion, which the exertion of all our faculties +gives in a certain degree; but which can only +be felt in perfection under the full play of those +powers of mind, which are spontaneous rather than +voluntary, and in which the effort required bears +no proportion to the activity enjoyed. This is the +state which permits the production of a highly +pleasurable whole, of which each part shall also +communicate for itself a distinct and conscious +pleasure; and hence arises the definition, which I +trust is now intelligible, that poetry, or rather a +poem, is a species of composition, opposed to +science, as having intellectual pleasure for its +object, and as attaining its end by the use of +language natural to us in a state of excitement,—but +distinguished from other species of composition, +not excluded by the former criterion, by +permitting a pleasure from the whole consistent +with a consciousness of pleasure from the component +parts;—and the perfection of which is, to +communicate from each part the greatest immediate +pleasure compatible with the largest sum +of pleasure on the whole. This, of course, will +vary with the different modes of poetry;—and +that splendour of particular lines, which would +be worthy of admiration in an impassioned elegy, +or a short indignant satire, would be a blemish +<pb n='003'/><anchor id='Pg003'/> +and proof of vile taste in a tragedy or an epic +poem. +</p> + +<p> +It is remarkable, by the way, that Milton in +three incidental words has implied all which for +the purposes of more distinct apprehension, which +at first must be slow-paced in order to be distinct, +I have endeavoured to develope in a precise and +strictly adequate definition. Speaking of poetry, +he says, as in a parenthesis, <q>which is simple, +sensuous, passionate.</q> How awful is the power of +words!—fearful often in their consequences when +merely felt, not understood; but most awful when +both felt and understood!—Had these three words +only been properly understood by, and present in +the minds of, general readers, not only almost +a library of false poetry would have been either +precluded or still-born, but, what is of more consequence, +works truly excellent and capable of +enlarging the understanding, warming and purifying +the heart, and placing in the centre of the +whole being the germs of noble and manlike +actions, would have been the common diet of the +intellect instead. For the first condition, simplicity,—while, +on the one hand, it distinguishes +poetry from the arduous processes of science, +labouring towards an end not yet arrived at, and +supposes a smooth and finished road, on which the +reader is to walk onward easily, with streams murmuring +by his side, and trees and flowers and +human dwellings to make his journey as delightful +as the object of it is desirable, instead of +having to toil with the pioneers and painfully +make the road on which others are to travel,—precludes, +on the other hand, every affectation and +morbid peculiarity;—the second condition, sensuousness, +<pb n='004'/><anchor id='Pg004'/> +insures that framework of objectivity, +that definiteness and articulation of imagery, and +that modification of the images themselves, without +which poetry becomes flattened into mere +didactics of practice, or evaporated into a hazy, +unthoughtful, day-dreaming; and the third condition, +passion, provides that neither thought nor +imagery shall be simply objective, but that the +<foreign lang="it" rend="font-style: italic">passio vera</foreign> +of humanity shall warm and animate both. +</p> + +<p> +To return, however, to the previous definition, +this most general and distinctive character of a +poem originates in the poetic genius itself; and +though it comprises whatever can with any propriety +be called a poem (unless that word be a +mere lazy synonym for a composition in metre), +it yet becomes a just, and not merely discriminative, +but full and adequate, definition of poetry in +its highest and most peculiar sense, only so far +as the distinction still results from the poetic +genius, which sustains and modifies the emotions, +thoughts, and vivid representations of the poem +by the energy without effort of the poet's own +mind,—by the spontaneous activity of his imagination +and fancy, and by whatever else with +these reveals itself in the balancing and reconciling +of opposite or discordant qualities, sameness +with difference, a sense of novelty and freshness +with old or customary objects, a more than usual +state of emotion with more than usual order, self-possession +and judgment with enthusiasm and +vehement feeling,—and which, while it blends +and harmonizes the natural and the artificial, still +subordinates art to nature, the manner to the +matter, and our admiration of the poet to our +<pb n='005'/><anchor id='Pg005'/> +sympathy with the images, passions, characters, +and incidents of the poem:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Doubtless, this could not be, but that she turns</q></l> +<l>Bodies to <emph>spirit</emph> by sublimation strange,</l> +<l>As fire converts to fire the things it burns—</l> +<l>As we our food into our nature change!</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">From their gross matter she abstracts <emph>their</emph> forms,</q></l> +<l>And draws a kind of quintessence from things,</l> +<l>Which to her proper nature she transforms</l> +<l>To bear them light on her celestial wings!</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><emph>Thus</emph> doth she, when from <emph>individual states</emph></q></l> +<l>She doth abstract the universal kinds,</l> +<l><emph>Which then reclothed in divers names and fates</emph></l> +<l><q rend="post"><emph>Steal access thro' our senses to our minds</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +</div> + +<pb n='007'/><anchor id='Pg007'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Greek Drama.</head> + +<p> +It is truly singular that Plato,—whose philosophy +and religion were but exotic at home, +and a mere opposition to the finite in all things, +genuine prophet and anticipator as he was of the +Protestant Christian æra,—should have given in +his Dialogue of the Banquet, a justification of +our Shakespeare. For he relates that, when all +the other guests had either dispersed or fallen +asleep, Socrates only, together with Aristophanes +and Agathon, remained awake, and that, while he +continued to drink with them out of a large goblet, +he compelled them, though most reluctantly, to +admit that it was the business of one and the same +genius to excel in tragic and comic poetry, or that +the tragic poet ought, at the same time, to contain +within himself the powers of comedy. Now, as +this was directly repugnant to the entire theory of +the ancient critics, and contrary to all their experience, +it is evident that Plato must have fixed the +eye of his contemplation on the innermost essentials +of the drama, abstracted from the forms of +age or country. In another passage he even adds +the reason, namely, that opposites illustrate each +other's nature, and in their struggle draw forth +the strength of the combatants, and display the +conqueror as sovereign even on the territories of +the rival power. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing can more forcibly exemplify the separative +spirit of the Greek arts than their comedy as +opposed to their tragedy. But as the immediate +<pb n='008'/><anchor id='Pg008'/> +struggle of contraries supposes an arena common +to both, so both were alike ideal; that is, the +comedy of Aristophanes rose to as great a distance +above the ludicrous of real life, as the tragedy of +Sophocles above its tragic events and passions,—and +it is in this one point, of absolute ideality, +that the comedy of Shakespeare and the old comedy +of Athens coincide. In this also alone did the +Greek tragedy and comedy unite; in every thing +else they were exactly opposed to each other. +Tragedy is poetry in its deepest earnest; comedy +is poetry in unlimited jest. Earnestness consists +in the direction and convergence of all the powers +of the soul to one aim, and in the voluntary restraint +of its activity in consequence; the opposite, +therefore, lies in the apparent abandonment of all +definite aim or end, and in the removal of all +bounds in the exercise of the mind,—attaining its +real end, as an entire contrast, most perfectly, the +greater the display is of intellectual wealth squandered +in the wantonness of sport without an object, +and the more abundant the life and vivacity in the +creations of the arbitrary will. +</p> + +<p> +The later comedy, even where it was really +comic, was doubtless likewise more comic, the more +free it appeared from any fixed aim. Misunderstandings +of intention, fruitless struggles of absurd +passion, contradictions of temper, and laughable +situations there were; but still the form of the representation +itself was serious; it proceeded as +much according to settled laws, and used as much +the same means of art, though to a different purpose, +as the regular tragedy itself. But in the old +comedy the very form itself is whimsical; the +whole work is one great jest, comprehending a +<pb n='009'/><anchor id='Pg009'/> +world of jests within it, among which each maintains +its own place without seeming to concern +itself as to the relation in which it may stand to its +fellows. In short, in Sophocles, the constitution of +tragedy is monarchical, but such as it existed in +elder Greece, limited by laws, and therefore the +more venerable,—all the parts adapting and submitting +themselves to the majesty of the heroic +sceptre:—in Aristophanes, comedy, on the contrary, +is poetry in its most democratic form, and it +is a fundamental principle with it, rather to risk all +the confusion of anarchy, than to destroy the +independence and privileges of its individual constituents,—place, +verse, characters, even single +thoughts, conceits, and allusions, each turning on +the pivot of its own free will. +</p> + +<p> +The tragic poet idealizes his characters by giving +to the spiritual part of our nature a more decided +preponderance over the animal cravings and impulses, +than is met with in real life: the comic +poet idealizes his characters by making the animal +the governing power, and the intellectual the mere +instrument. But as tragedy is not a collection of +virtues and perfections, but takes care only that +the vices and imperfections shall spring from the +passions, errors, and prejudices which arise out of +the soul;—so neither is comedy a mere crowd of +vices and follies, but whatever qualities it represents, +even though they are in a certain sense +amiable, it still displays them as having their origin +in some dependence on our lower nature, accompanied +with a defect in true freedom of spirit and +self-subsistence, and subject to that unconnection +by contradictions of the inward being, to which +all folly is owing. +</p> + +<pb n='010'/><anchor id='Pg010'/> + +<p> +The ideal of earnest poetry consists in the union +and harmonious melting down, and fusion of the +sensual into the spiritual,—of man as an animal +into man as a power of reason and self-government. +And this we have represented to us most +clearly in the plastic art, or statuary; where the +perfection of outward form is a symbol of the perfection +of an inward idea; where the body is +wholly penetrated by the soul, and spiritualized +even to a state of glory, and like a transparent +substance, the matter, in its own nature darkness, +becomes altogether a vehicle and fixture of light, a +means of developing its beauties, and unfolding its +wealth of various colours without disturbing its +unity, or causing a division of the parts. The +sportive ideal, on the contrary, consists in the perfect +harmony and concord of the higher nature +with the animal, as with its ruling principle and its +acknowledged regent. The understanding and +practical reason are represented as the willing +slaves of the senses and appetites, and of the passions +arising out of them. Hence we may admit +the appropriateness to the old comedy, as a work +of defined art, of allusions and descriptions, which +morality can never justify, and, only with reference +to the author himself, and only as being the effect +or rather the cause of the circumstances in which +he wrote, can consent even to palliate. +</p> + +<p> +The old comedy rose to its perfection in Aristophanes, +and in him also it died with the freedom of +Greece. Then arose a species of drama, more fitly +called dramatic entertainment than comedy, but of +which, nevertheless, our modern comedy (Shakespeare's +altogether excepted) is the genuine descendant. +Euripides had already brought tragedy lower +<pb n='011'/><anchor id='Pg011'/> +down and by many steps nearer to the real world +than his predecessors had ever done, and the passionate +admiration which Menander and Philemon +expressed for him, and their open avowals that he +was their great master, entitle us to consider their +dramas as of a middle species, between tragedy and +comedy,—not the tragi-comedy, or thing of heterogeneous +parts, but a complete whole, founded on +principles of its own. Throughout we find the +drama of Menander distinguishing itself from tragedy, +but not as the genuine old comedy, contrasting +with, and opposing it. Tragedy, indeed, carried +the thoughts into the mythologic world, in order +to raise the emotions, the fears, and the hopes, +which convince the inmost heart that their final +cause is not to be discovered in the limits of mere +mortal life, and force us into a presentiment, however +dim, of a state in which those struggles of inward +free will with outward necessity, which form +the true subject of the tragedian, shall be reconciled +and solved;—the entertainment or new comedy, +on the other hand, remained within the circle of +experience. Instead of the tragic destiny, it introduced +the power of chance; even in the few fragments +of Menander and Philemon now remaining +to us, we find many exclamations and reflections +concerning chance and fortune, as in the tragic +poets concerning destiny. In tragedy, the moral +law, either as obeyed or violated, above all consequences—its +own maintenance or violation +constituting the most important of all consequences—forms +the ground; the new comedy, +and our modern comedy in general (Shakespeare +excepted as before) lies in prudence or imprudence, +enlightened or misled self-love. The whole moral +<pb n='012'/><anchor id='Pg012'/> +system of the entertainment exactly like that of +fable, consists in rules of prudence, with an exquisite +conciseness, and at the same time an +exhaustive fulness of sense. An old critic said +that tragedy was the flight or elevation of life, +comedy (that of Menander) its arrangement or +ordonnance. +</p> + +<p> +Add to these features a portrait-like truth of +character,—not so far indeed as that a <hi rend='italic'>bona fide</hi> +individual should be described or imagined, but yet +so that the features which give interest and permanence +to the class should be individualized. The old +tragedy moved in an ideal world,—the old comedy +in a fantastic world. As the entertainment, or new +comedy, restrained the creative activity both of +the fancy and the imagination, it indemnified the +understanding in appealing to the judgment for the +probability of the scenes represented. The ancients +themselves acknowledged the new comedy as an +exact copy of real life. The grammarian, Aristophanes, +somewhat affectedly exclaimed:—<q>O Life +and Menander! which of you two imitated the +other?</q> In short the form of this species of drama +was poetry, the stuff or matter was prose. It was +prose rendered delightful by the blandishments +and measured motions of the muse. Yet even this +was not universal. The mimes of Sophron, so +passionately admired by Plato, were written in +prose, and were scenes out of real life conducted +in dialogue. The exquisite feast of Adonis +(Συρακούσιαι ῆ Ἀδωνιάζουσαι) in Theocritus, we are +told, with some others of his eclogues, were close +imitations of certain mimes of Sophron—free translations +of the prose into hexameters. +</p> + +<p> +It will not be improper, in this place, to make a +<pb n='013'/><anchor id='Pg013'/> +few remarks on the remarkable character and functions +of the chorus in the Greek tragic drama. +</p> + +<p> +The chorus entered from below, close by the +orchestra, and there, pacing to and fro during the +choral odes, performed their solemn measured +dance. In the centre of the <hi rend='italic'>orchestra</hi>, directly +over against the middle of the <hi rend='italic'>scene</hi>, there stood an +elevation with steps in the shape of a large altar, +as high as the boards of the <hi rend='italic'>logeion</hi> or moveable +stage. This elevation was named the <hi rend='italic'>thymele</hi> +(θυμέλη), and served to recall the origin and original +purpose of the chorus, as an altar-song in honour +of the presiding deity. Here, and on these steps +the persons of the chorus sate collectively, when +they were not singing; attending to the dialogue +as spectators, and acting as (what in truth they +were) the ideal representatives of the real audience, +and of the poet himself in his own character, +assuming the supposed impressions made by the +drama, in order to direct and rule them. But when +the chorus itself formed part of the dialogue, then +the leader of the band, the foreman, or <hi rend='italic'>coryphæus</hi>, +ascended, as some think, the level summit of the +<hi rend='italic'>thymele</hi> in order to command the stage, or, perhaps, +the whole chorus advanced to the front of the orchestra, +and thus put themselves in ideal connection, +as it were, with the <hi rend='italic'>dramatis personæ</hi> there acting. +This <hi rend='italic'>thymele</hi> was in the centre of the whole edifice, +all the measurements were calculated, and the semi-circle +of the amphitheatre was drawn from this +point. It had a double use, a twofold purpose; it +constantly reminded the spectators of the origin of +tragedy as a religious service, and declared itself +as the ideal representative of the audience by +having its place exactly in the point, to which all +<pb n='014'/><anchor id='Pg014'/> +the radii from the different seats or benches converged. +</p> + +<p> +In this double character, as constituent parts, +and yet at the same time as spectators, of the drama, +the chorus could not but tend to enforce the unity +of place;—not on the score of any supposed improbability, +which the understanding or common sense +might detect in a change of place;—but because the +senses themselves put it out of the power of any +imagination to conceive a place coming to, and +going away from the persons, instead of the persons +changing their place. Yet there are instances, +in which, during the silence of the chorus, the poets +have hazarded this by a change in that part of the +scenery which represented the more distant objects +to the eye of the spectator—a demonstrative proof, +that this alternately extolled and ridiculed unity +(as ignorantly ridiculed as extolled) was grounded +on no essential principle of reason, but arose out of +circumstances which the poet could not remove, +and therefore took up into the form of the drama, +and co-organised it with all the other parts into a +living whole. +</p> + +<p> +The Greek tragedy may rather be compared to +our serious opera than to the tragedies of Shakespeare; +nevertheless, the difference is far greater +than the likeness. In the opera all is subordinated +to the music, the dresses, and the scenery;—the +poetry is a mere vehicle for articulation, and as +little pleasure is lost by ignorance of the Italian +language, so is little gained by the knowledge of it. +But in the Greek drama all was but as instruments +and accessaries to the poetry; and hence we should +form a better notion of the choral music from the +solemn hymns and psalms of austere church music +<pb n='015'/><anchor id='Pg015'/> +than from any species of theatrical singing. A +single flute or pipe was the ordinary accompaniment; +and it is not to be supposed, that any display +of musical power was allowed to obscure the distinct +hearing of the words. On the contrary, the +evident purpose was to render the words more +audible, and to secure by the elevations and pauses +greater facility of understanding the poetry. For +the choral songs are, and ever must have been, the +most difficult part of the tragedy; there occur in +them the most involved verbal compounds, the +newest expressions, the boldest images, the most +recondite allusions. Is it credible that the poets +would, one and all, have been thus prodigal of the +stores of art and genius, if they had known that in +the representation the whole must have been lost +to the audience,—at a time too, when the means of +after publication were so difficult and expensive, +and the copies of their works so slowly and narrowly +circulated? +</p> + +<p> +The masks also must be considered—their vast +variety and admirable workmanship. Of this we +retain proof by the marble masks which represented +them; but to this in the real mask we must add the +thinness of the substance and the exquisite fitting +on to the head of the actor; so that not only were +the very eyes painted with a single opening left for +the pupil of the actor's eye, but in some instances, +even the iris itself was painted, when the colour +was a known characteristic of the divine or heroic +personage represented. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, I will note down those fundamental +characteristics which contradistinguish the ancient +literature from the modern generally, but which +more especially appear in prominence in the tragic +<pb n='016'/><anchor id='Pg016'/> +drama. The ancient was allied to statuary, the +modern refers to painting. In the first there is a +predominance of rhythm and melody, in the second +of harmony and counterpoint. The Greeks idolized +the finite, and therefore were the masters of all grace, +elegance, proportion, fancy, dignity, majesty—of +whatever, in short, is capable of being definitely +conveyed by defined forms or thoughts: the moderns +revere the infinite, and affect the indefinite as a +vehicle of the infinite;—hence their passions, their +obscure hopes and fears, their wandering through +the unknown, their grander moral feelings, their +more august conception of man as man, their +future rather than their past—in a word, their +sublimity. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='017'/><anchor id='Pg017'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Progress Of The Drama.</head> + +<p> +Let two persons join in the same scheme to +ridicule a third, and either take advantage of, +or invent, some story for that purpose, and mimicry +will have already produced a sort of rude comedy. +It becomes an inviting treat to the populace, and +gains an additional zest and burlesque by following +the already established plan of tragedy; and the +first man of genius who seizes the idea, and reduces +it into form,—into a work of art,—by metre and +music, is the Aristophanes of the country. +</p> + +<p> +How just this account is will appear from the +fact that in the first or old comedy of the Athenians, +most of the <hi rend='italic'>dramatis personæ</hi> were living characters +introduced under their own names; and no doubt, +their ordinary dress, manner, person and voice +were closely mimicked. In less favourable states +of society, as that of England in the middle ages, +the beginnings of comedy would be constantly +taking place from the mimics and satirical minstrels; +but from want of fixed abode, popular government, +and the successive attendance of the same auditors, +it would still remain in embryo. I shall, perhaps, +have occasion to observe that this remark is not +without importance in explaining the essential +differences of the modern and ancient theatres. +</p> + +<p> +Phenomena, similar to those which accompanied +the origin of tragedy and comedy among the +Greeks, would take place among the Romans much +more slowly, and the drama would, in any case, +<pb n='018'/><anchor id='Pg018'/> +have much longer remained in its first irregular +form from the character of the people, their continual +engagements in wars of conquest, the nature +of their government, and their rapidly increasing +empire. But, however this might have been, the +conquest of Greece precluded both the process and +the necessity of it; and the Roman stage at once +presented imitations or translations of the Greek +drama. This continued till the perfect establishment +of Christianity. Some attempts, indeed, were +made to adapt the persons of Scriptural or ecclesiastical +history to the drama; and sacred plays, it +is probable, were not unknown in Constantinople +under the emperors of the East. The first of the +kind is, I believe, the only one preserved,—namely, +the Χριστὸς Πάσχων, or, <q>Christ in his sufferings,</q> +by Gregory Nazianzen,—possibly written in +consequence of the prohibition of profane literature +to the Christians by the apostate Julian. In the +West, however, the enslaved and debauched Roman +world became too barbarous for any theatrical +exhibitions more refined than those of pageants +and chariot-races; while the spirit of Christianity, +which in its most corrupt form still breathed general +humanity, whenever controversies of faith were +not concerned, had done away the cruel combats +of the gladiators, and the loss of the distant provinces +prevented the possibility of exhibiting the +engagements of wild beasts. +</p> + +<p> +I pass, therefore, at once to the feudal ages +which soon succeeded, confining my observation to +this country; though, indeed, the same remark +with very few alterations will apply to all the +other states, into which the great empire was +broken. Ages of darkness succeeded;—not, indeed, +<pb n='019'/><anchor id='Pg019'/> +the darkness of Russia or of the barbarous +lands unconquered by Rome; for from the time +of Honorius to the destruction of Constantinople +and the consequent introduction of ancient literature +into Europe, there was a continued succession +of individual intellects;—the golden chain was +never wholly broken, though the connecting links +were often of baser metal. A dark cloud, like +another sky, covered the entire cope of heaven,—but +in this place it thinned away, and white stains +of light showed a half eclipsed star behind it,—in +that place it was rent asunder, and a star +passed across the opening in all its brightness, +and then vanished. Such stars exhibited themselves +only; surrounding objects did not partake +of their light. There were deep wells of knowledge, +but no fertilizing rills and rivulets. For +the drama, society was altogether a state of chaos, +out of which it was, for a while at least, to proceed +anew, as if there had been none before it. And +yet it is not undelightful to contemplate the +education of good from evil. The ignorance of +the great mass of our countrymen was the efficient +cause of the reproduction of the drama; +and the preceding darkness and the returning +light were alike necessary in order to the creation +of a Shakespeare. +</p> + +<p> +The drama re-commenced in England, as it first +began in Greece, in religion. The people were not +able to read,—the priesthood were unwilling that +they should read; and yet their own interest +compelled them not to leave the people wholly +ignorant of the great events of sacred history. +They did that, therefore, by scenic representations, +which in after ages it has been attempted to do in +<pb n='020'/><anchor id='Pg020'/> +Roman Catholic countries by pictures. They presented +Mysteries, and often at great expense; and +reliques of this system still remain in the south of +Europe, and indeed throughout Italy, where at +Christmas the convents and the great nobles rival +each other in the scenic representation of the +birth of Christ and its circumstances. I heard +two instances mentioned to me at different times, +one in Sicily and the other in Rome, of noble +devotees, the ruin of whose fortunes was said to +have commenced in the extravagant expense +which had been incurred in presenting the +<hi rend='italic'>præsepe</hi> or manger. But these Mysteries, in +order to answer their design, must not only be +instructive, but entertaining; and as, when they +became so, the people began to take pleasure in +acting them themselves—in interloping—(against +which the priests seem to have fought hard and +yet in vain) the most ludicrous images were +mixed with the most awful personations; and +whatever the subject might be, however sublime, +however pathetic, yet the Vice and the Devil, +who are the genuine antecessors of Harlequin +and the Clown, were necessary component parts. +I have myself a piece of this kind, which I transcribed +a few years ago at Helmstadt, in Germany, +on the education of Eve's children, in +which after the fall and repentance of Adam, the +offended Maker, as in proof of his reconciliation, +condescends to visit them, and to catechise the +children,—who with a noble contempt of chronology +are all brought together from Abel to Noah. +The good children say the ten Commandments, +the Belief, and the Lord's Prayer; but Cain and +his rout, after he had received a box on the ear +<pb n='021'/><anchor id='Pg021'/> +for not taking off his hat, and afterwards offering +his left hand, is prompted by the devil so to +blunder in the Lord's Prayer as to reverse the +petitions and say it backward! +</p> + +<p> +Unaffectedly I declare I feel pain at repetitions +like these, however innocent. As historical documents +they are valuable; but I am sensible that +what I can read with my eye with perfect innocence, +I cannot without inward fear and +misgivings pronounce with my tongue. +</p> + +<p> +Let me, however, be acquitted of presumption +if I say that I cannot agree with Mr. Malone, +that our ancestors did not perceive the ludicrous +in these things, or that they paid no separate +attention to the serious and comic parts. Indeed +his own statement contradicts it. For what purpose +should the Vice leap upon the Devil's back +and belabour him, but to produce this separate +attention? The people laughed heartily, no +doubt. Nor can I conceive any meaning attached +to the words <q>separate attention,</q> that +is not fully answered by one part of an exhibition +exciting seriousness or pity, and the other +raising mirth and loud laughter. That they felt +no impiety in the affair is most true. For it is +the very essence of that system of Christian polytheism, +which in all its essentials is now fully as +gross in Spain, in Sicily, and the South of Italy, as +it ever was in England in the days of Henry VI. +(nay, more so, for a Wicliffe had not then appeared +only, but scattered the good seed widely),—it +is an essential part, I say, of that system to draw +the mind wholly from its own inward whispers and +quiet discriminations, and to habituate the conscience +to pronounce sentence in every case according +<pb n='022'/><anchor id='Pg022'/> +to the established verdicts of the church and +the casuists. I have looked through volume after +volume of the most approved casuists,—and still I +find disquisitions whether this or that act is right, +and under what circumstances, to a minuteness +that makes reasoning ridiculous, and of a callous +and unnatural immodesty, to which none but a +monk could harden himself, who has been stripped +of all the tender charities of life, yet is goaded on +to make war against them by the unsubdued +hauntings of our meaner nature, even as dogs are +said to get the <hi rend='italic'>hydrophobia</hi> from excessive thirst. +I fully believe that our ancestors laughed as +heartily, as their posterity do at Grimaldi;—and +not having been told that they would be punished +for laughing, they thought it very innocent;—and +if their priests had left out murder in the catalogue +of their prohibitions (as indeed they did under +certain circumstances of heresy), the greater part +of them,—the moral instincts common to all men +having been smothered and kept from development,—would +have thought as little of murder. +</p> + +<p> +However this may be, the necessity of at once +instructing and gratifying the people produced the +great distinction between the Greek and the English +theatres;—for to this we must attribute the +origin of tragi-comedy, or a representation of +human events more lively, nearer the truth, and +permitting a larger field of moral instruction, a +more ample exhibition of the recesses of the human +heart, under all the trials and circumstances that +most concern us, than was known or guessed at by +Æschylus, Sophocles, or Euripides;—and at the +same time we learn to account for, and—relatively +to the author—perceive the necessity of, the Fool +<pb n='023'/><anchor id='Pg023'/> +or Clown or both, as the substitutes of the Vice +and the Devil, which our ancestors had been so +accustomed to see in every exhibition of the stage, +that they could not feel any performance perfect +without them. Even to this day in Italy, every +opera—(even Metastasio obeyed the claim throughout)—must +have six characters, generally two pairs +of cross lovers, a tyrant and a confidant, or a +father and two confidants, themselves lovers;—and +when a new opera appears, it is the universal +fashion to ask—which is the tyrant, which the +lover? &c. +</p> + +<p> +It is the especial honour of Christianity, that in +its worst and most corrupted form it cannot wholly +separate itself from morality;—whereas the other +religions in their best form (I do not include +Mohammedanism, which is only an anomalous corruption +of Christianity, like Swedenborgianism) +have no connection with it. The very impersonation +of moral evil under the name of Vice, +facilitated all other impersonations; and hence we +see that the Mysteries were succeeded by Moralities, +or dialogues and plots of allegorical personages. +Again, some character in real history had become +so famous, so proverbial, as Nero for instance, that +they were introduced instead of the moral quality, +for which they were so noted;—and in this manner +the stage was moving on to the absolute production +of heroic and comic real characters, when the restoration +of literature, followed by the ever-blessed +Reformation, let in upon the kingdom not only new +knowledge, but new motive. A useful rivalry commenced +between the metropolis on the one hand,—the +residence, independently of the court and +nobles, of the most active and stirring spirits who +<pb n='024'/><anchor id='Pg024'/> +had not been regularly educated, or who, from mischance +or otherwise, had forsaken the beaten track +of preferment,—and the universities on the other. +The latter prided themselves on their closer approximation +to the ancient rules and ancient regularity—taking +the theatre of Greece, or rather its +dim reflection, the rhetorical tragedies of the poet +Seneca, as a perfect ideal, without any critical +collation of the times, origin, or circumstances;—whilst, +in the mean time, the popular writers, who +could not and would not abandon what they had +found to delight their countrymen sincerely, and +not merely from inquiries first put to the recollection +of rules, and answered in the affirmative, as if +it had been an arithmetical sum, did yet borrow +from the scholars whatever they advantageously +could, consistently with their own peculiar means +of pleasing. +</p> + +<p> +And here let me pause for a moment's contemplation +of this interesting subject. +</p> + +<p> +We call, for we see and feel, the swan and the +dove both transcendantly beautiful. As absurd as +it would be to institute a comparison between their +separate claims to beauty from any abstract rule +common to both, without reference to the life and +being of the animals themselves,—or as if, having +first seen the dove, we abstracted its outlines, gave +them a false generalization, called them the principles +or ideal of bird-beauty, and then proceeded +to criticise the swan or the eagle;—not less absurd +is it to pass judgment on the works of a poet on +the mere ground that they have been called by the +same class-name with the works of other poets in +other times and circumstances, or on any ground, +indeed, save that of their inappropriateness to their +<pb n='025'/><anchor id='Pg025'/> +own end and being, their want of significance, as +symbols or physiognomy. +</p> + +<p> +O! few have there been among critics, who have +followed with the eye of the imagination the imperishable +yet ever wandering spirit of poetry +through its various metempsychoses, and consequent +metamorphoses;—or who have rejoiced in +the light of clear perception at beholding with +each new birth, with each rare <hi rend='italic'>avatar</hi>, the human +race frame to itself a new body, by assimilating +materials of nourishment out of its new circumstances, +and work for itself new organs of power +appropriate to the new sphere of its motion and +activity! +</p> + +<p> +I have before spoken of the Romance, or the +language formed out of the decayed Roman and +the Northern tongues; and comparing it with the +Latin, we find it less perfect in simplicity and relation—the +privileges of a language formed by the +mere attraction of homogeneous parts;—but yet +more rich, more expressive and various, as one +formed by more obscure affinities out of a chaos of +apparently heterogeneous atoms. As more than a +metaphor,—as an analogy of this, I have named +the true genuine modern poetry the romantic; and +the works of Shakespeare are romantic poetry, revealing +itself in the drama. If the tragedies of +Sophocles are in the strict sense of the word +tragedies, and the comedies of Aristophanes comedies, +we must emancipate ourselves from a false +association arising from misapplied names, and find +a new word for the plays of Shakespeare. For they +are, in the ancient sense, neither tragedies nor +comedies, nor both in one,—but a different <hi rend='italic'>genus</hi>, +diverse in kind, and not merely different in degree. +<pb n='026'/><anchor id='Pg026'/> +They may be called romantic dramas, or dramatic +romances. +</p> + +<p> +A deviation from the simple forms and unities +of the ancient stage is an essential principle, and, +of course, an appropriate excellence, of the romantic +drama. For these unities were to a great +extent the natural form of that which in its +elements was homogeneous, and the representation +of which was addressed pre-eminently to the +outward senses;—and though the fable, the +language, and the characters appealed to the +reason rather than to the mere understanding, +inasmuch as they supposed an ideal state rather +than referred to an existing reality,—yet it was a +reason which was obliged to accommodate itself +to the senses, and so far became a sort of more +elevated understanding. On the other hand, the +romantic poetry—the Shakespearian drama—appealed +to the imagination rather than to the +senses, and to the reason as contemplating our +inward nature, and the workings of the passions +in their most retired recesses. But the reason, +as reason, is independent of time and space; it +has nothing to do with them: and hence the +certainties of reason have been called eternal +truths. As for example—the endless properties +of the circle:—what connection have they with +this or that age, with this or that country?—The +reason is aloof from time and space; the imagination +is an arbitrary controller over both;—and +if only the poet have such power of exciting our +internal emotions as to make us present to the +scene in imagination chiefly, he acquires the right +and privilege of using time and space as they +exist in imagination, and obedient only to the +<pb n='027'/><anchor id='Pg027'/> +laws by which the imagination itself acts. These +laws it will be my object and aim to point out as +the examples occur, which illustrate them. But +here let me remark what can never be too often +reflected on by all who would intelligently study +the works either of the Athenian dramatists, or of +Shakespeare, that the very essence of the former +consists in the sternest separation of the diverse in +kind and the disparate in the degree, whilst the +latter delights in interlacing, by a rainbow-like +transfusion of hues, the one with the other. +</p> + +<p> +And here it will be necessary to say a few words +on the stage and on stage-illusion. +</p> + +<p> +A theatre, in the widest sense of the word, is +the general term for all places of amusement +through the ear or eye, in which men assemble in +order to be amused by some entertainment presented +to all at the same time and in common. +Thus an old Puritan divine says:—<q>Those who +attend public worship and sermons only to amuse +themselves, make a theatre of the church, and turn +God's house into the devil's. +<foreign lang="la" rend="font-style: italic">Theatra ædes diabololatricæ.</foreign></q> +The most important and dignified +species of this <hi rend='italic'>genus</hi> is, doubtless, the stage +(<foreign lang="la" rend="font-style: italic">res +theatralis histrionica</foreign>), which, in addition to the generic +definition above given, may be characterized in +its idea, or according to what it does, or ought to, +aim at, as a combination of several or of all the +fine arts in an harmonious whole, having a distinct +end of its own, to which the peculiar end of each +of the component arts, taken separately, is made +subordinate and subservient,—that, namely, of +imitating reality—whether external things, actions, +or passions—-under a semblance of reality. +Thus, Claude imitates a landscape at sunset, but +<pb n='028'/><anchor id='Pg028'/> +only as a picture; while a forest-scene is not presented +to the spectators as a picture, but as a +forest; and though, in the full sense of the word, +we are no more deceived by the one than by the +other, yet are our feelings very differently affected; +and the pleasure derived from the one is not composed +of the same elements as that afforded by the +other, even on the supposition that the <hi rend='italic'>quantum</hi> of +both were equal. In the former, a picture, it is a +condition of all genuine delight that we should +not be deceived; in the latter, stage-scenery (inasmuch +as its principle end is not in or for itself, as +is the case in a picture, but to be an assistance and +means to an end out of itself), its very purpose is +to produce as much illusion as its nature permits. +These, and all other stage presentations, are to +produce a sort of temporary half-faith, which the +spectator encourages in himself and supports by a +voluntary contribution on his own part, because +he knows that it is at all times in his power to see +the thing as it really is. I have often observed +that little children are actually deceived by stage-scenery, +never by pictures; though even these +produce an effect on their impressible minds, +which they do not on the minds of adults. The +child, if strongly impressed, does not indeed positively +think the picture to be the reality; but yet +he does not think the contrary. As Sir George +Beaumont was shewing me a very fine engraving +from Rubens, representing a storm at sea without +any vessel or boat introduced, my little boy, then +about five years old, came dancing and singing +into the room, and all at once (if I may so say) +<emph>tumbled in</emph> upon the print. He instantly started, +stood silent and motionless, with the strongest expression, +<pb n='029'/><anchor id='Pg029'/> +first of wonder and then of grief in his +eyes and countenance, and at length said <q>And +where is the ship? But that is sunk, and the men +are all drowned!</q> still keeping his eyes fixed on +the print. Now what pictures are to little children, +stage illusion is to men, provided they retain +any part of the child's sensibility; except, that in +the latter instance, the suspension of the act of +comparison, which permits this sort of negative +belief, is somewhat more assisted by the will, than +in that of a child respecting a picture. +</p> + +<p> +The true stage-illusion in this and in all other +things consists—not in the mind's judging it to be +a forest, but, in its remission of the judgment that +it is not a forest. And this subject of stage-illusion +is so important, and so many practical errors and +false criticisms may arise, and indeed have arisen, +either from reasoning on it as actual delusion (the +strange notion, on which the French critics built +up their theory, and on which the French poets +justify the construction of their tragedies), or +from denying it altogether (which seems the end +of Dr. Johnson's reasoning, and which, as extremes +meet, would lead to the very same consequences, +by excluding whatever would not be judged probable +by us in our coolest state of feeling, with all +our faculties in even balance), that these few remarks +will, I hope, be pardoned, if they should +serve either to explain or to illustrate the point. +For not only are we never absolutely deluded—or +any thing like it, but the attempt to cause the +highest delusion possible to beings in their senses +sitting in a theatre, is a gross fault, incident only +to low minds, which, feeling that they cannot +affect the heart or head permanently, endeavour to +<pb n='030'/><anchor id='Pg030'/> +call forth the momentary affections. There ought +never to be more pain than is compatible with coexisting +pleasure, and to be amply repaid by +thought. +</p> + +<p> +Shakespeare found the infant stage demanding +an intermixture of ludicrous character as imperiously +as that of Greece did the chorus, and high +language accordant. And there are many advantages +in this;—a greater assimilation to nature, a +greater scope of power, more truths, and more +feelings;—the effects of contrast, as in Lear and +the Fool; and especially this, that the true +language of passion becomes sufficiently elevated +by your having previously heard, in the same +piece, the lighter conversation of men under no +strong emotion. The very nakedness of the stage, +too, was advantageous,—for the drama thence +became something between recitation and a representation; +and the absence or paucity of scenes +allowed a freedom from the laws of unity of place +and unity of time, the observance of which must +either confine the drama to as few subjects as may +be counted on the fingers, or involve gross improbabilities, +far more striking than the violation +would have caused. Thence, also, was precluded +the danger of a false ideal,—of aiming at more +than what is possible on the whole. What play +of the ancients, with reference to their ideal, does +not hold out more glaring absurdities than any in +Shakespeare? On the Greek plan a man could +more easily be a poet than a dramatist; upon our +plan more easily a dramatist than a poet. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='031'/><anchor id='Pg031'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>The Drama Generally, And Public Taste.</head> + +<p> +Unaccustomed to address such an audience, +and having lost by a long interval of confinement +the advantages of my former short schooling, +I had miscalculated in my last Lecture the proportion +of my matter to my time, and by bad +economy and unskilful management, the several +heads of my discourse failed in making the entire +performance correspond with the promise publicly +circulated in the weekly annunciation of the subjects +to be treated. It would indeed have been +wiser in me, and perhaps better on the whole, if I +had caused my Lectures to be announced only as +continuations of the main subject. But if I be, +as perforce I must be, gratified by the recollection +of whatever has appeared to give you pleasure, I +am conscious of something better, though less +flattering, a sense of unfeigned gratitude for your +forbearance with my defects. Like affectionate +guardians, you see without disgust the awkwardness, +and witness with sympathy the growing +pains, of a youthful endeavour, and look forward +with a hope, which is its own reward, to the +contingent results of practice—to its intellectual +maturity. +</p> + +<p> +In my last address I defined poetry to be the +art, or whatever better term our language may +afford, of representing external nature and human +thoughts, both relatively to human affections, so as +<pb n='032'/><anchor id='Pg032'/> +to cause the production of as great immediate +pleasure in each part, as is compatible with the +largest possible sum of pleasure on the whole. +Now this definition applies equally to painting +and music as to poetry; and in truth the term +poetry is alike applicable to all three. The vehicle +alone constitutes the difference; and the term +<q>poetry</q> is rightly applied by eminence to +measured words, only because the sphere of their +action is far wider, the power of giving permanence +to them much more certain, and incomparably +greater the facility, by which men, not +defective by nature or disease, may be enabled to +derive habitual pleasure and instruction from +them. On my mentioning these considerations +to a painter of great genius, who had been, from +a most honourable enthusiasm, extolling his own +art, he was so struck with their truth, that he +exclaimed, <q>I want no other arguments;—poetry, +that is, verbal poetry, must be the greatest; all +that proves final causes in the world, proves this; +it would be shocking to think otherwise!</q>—And +in truth, deeply, O! far more than words can +express, as I venerate the Last Judgment and the +Prophets of Michel Angelo Buonarotti,—yet the +very pain which I repeatedly felt as I lost myself +in gazing upon them, the painful consideration +that their having been painted in +<foreign lang="it" rend="font-style: italic">fresco</foreign> was the +sole cause that they had not been abandoned to all +the accidents of a dangerous transportation to a +distant capital, and that the same caprice, which +made the Neapolitan soldiery destroy all the exquisite +masterpieces on the walls of the church of +<hi rend='italic'>Trinitado Monte</hi>, after the retreat of their antagonist +barbarians, might as easily have made vanish +<pb n='033'/><anchor id='Pg033'/> +the rooms and open gallery of Raffael, and the yet +more unapproachable wonders of the sublime +Florentine in the Sixtine Chapel, forced upon my +mind the reflection: How grateful the human +race ought to be that the works of Euclid, Newton, +Plato, Milton, Shakespeare, are not subjected +to similar contingencies,—that they and their +fellows, and the great, though inferior, peerage of +undying intellect, are secured;—secured even +from a second irruption of Goths and Vandals, in +addition to many other safeguards, by the vast +empire of English language, laws, and religion +founded in America, through the overflow of the +power and the virtue of my country;—and that +now the great and certain works of genuine fame +can only cease to act for mankind, when men +themselves cease to be men, or when the planet on +which they exist, shall have altered its relations, +or have ceased to be. Lord Bacon, in the language +of the gods, if I may use an Homeric phrase, has +expressed a similar thought:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>Lastly, leaving the vulgar arguments, that by learning man excelleth +man in that wherein man excelleth beasts; that by learning +man ascendeth to the heavens and their motions, where in body he +cannot come, and the like; let us conclude with the dignity and +excellency of knowledge and learning in that whereunto man's +nature doth most aspire, which is immortality or continuance: for +to this tendeth generation, and raising of houses and families; to +this tend buildings, foundations, and monuments; to this tendeth +the desire of memory, fame, and celebration, and in effect the +strength of all other human desires. We see then how far the +monuments of wit and learning are more durable than the monuments +of power, or of the hands. For have not the verses of Homer +continued twenty-five hundred years, or more, without the loss of a +syllable or letter; during which time, infinite palaces, temples, +castles, cities, have been decayed and demolished? It is not possible +to have the true pictures or statues of Cyrus, Alexander, +Cæsar; no, nor of the kings or great personages of much later +years; for the originals cannot last, and the copies cannot but lose +of the life and truth. But the images of men's wits and knowledges +<pb n='034'/><anchor id='Pg034'/> +remain in books, exempted from the wrong of time, and capable of +perpetual renovation. Neither are they fitly to be called images, +because they generate still, and cast their seeds in the minds of +others, provoking and causing infinite actions and opinions in succeeding +ages: so that, if the invention of the ship was thought so +noble, which carrieth riches and commodities from place to place, +and consociateth the most remote regions in participation of their +fruits; how much more are letters to be magnified, which, as ships, +pass through the vast seas of time, and make ages so distant to participate +of the wisdom, illuminations, and inventions, the one of the +other?</q> +</quote> + +<p> +But let us now consider what the drama should +be. And first, it is not a copy, but an imitation, of +nature. This is the universal principle of the fine +arts. In all well laid out grounds what delight do +we feel from that balance and antithesis of feelings +and thoughts! How natural! we say;—but the +very wonder that caused the exclamation, implies +that we perceived art at the same moment. We +catch the hint from nature itself. Whenever in +mountains or cataracts we discover a likeness to +any thing artificial which yet we know is not artificial—what +pleasure! And so it is in appearances +known to be artificial, which appear to be natural. +This applies in due degrees, regulated by steady +good sense, from a clump of trees to the <hi rend='italic'>Paradise +Lost</hi> or <hi rend='italic'>Othello</hi>. It would be easy to apply it to +painting and even, though with greater abstraction +of thought, and by more subtle yet equally just +analogies—to music. But this belongs to others; +suffice it that one great principle is common to all +the fine arts, a principle which probably is the +condition of all consciousness, without which we +should feel and imagine only by discontinuous +moments, and be plants or brute animals instead +of men;—I mean that ever-varying balance, or +balancing, of images, notions, or feelings, conceived +as in opposition to each other;—in short, the +<pb n='035'/><anchor id='Pg035'/> +perception of identity and contrariety; the least +degree of which constitutes likeness, the greatest +absolute difference; but the infinite gradations between +these two form all the play and all the +interest of our intellectual and moral being, till it +leads us to a feeling and an object more awful than +it seems to me compatible with even the present subject +to utter aloud, though I am most desirous to +suggest it. For there alone are all things at once +different and the same; there alone, as the principle +of all things, does distinction exist unaided +by division; there are will and reason, succession +of time and unmoving eternity, infinite change and +ineffable rest!— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Return Alpheus! the dread voice is past</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Which shrunk thy streams!</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 4">——<q rend="pre">Thou honour'd flood,</q></l> +<l>Smooth-<emph>flowing</emph> Avon, crown'd with vocal reeds,</l> +<l>That strain I heard, was of a higher mood!—</l> +<l><q rend="post">But now my <emph>voice</emph> proceeds.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +We may divide a dramatic poet's characteristics +before we enter into the component merits of any +one work, and with reference only to those things +which are to be the materials of all, into language, +passion, and character; always bearing in mind +that these must act and react on each other,—the +language inspired by the passion, and the language +and the passion modified and differenced by the +character. To the production of the highest excellencies +in these three, there are requisite in the +mind of the author;—good sense, talent, sensibility, +imagination;—and to the perfection of a +work we should add two faculties of lesser importance, +yet necessary for the ornaments and foliage +of the column and the roof—fancy and a quick +sense of beauty. +</p> + +<pb n='036'/><anchor id='Pg036'/> + +<p> +As to language;—it cannot be supposed that +the poet should make his characters say all that +they would, or that, his whole drama considered, +each scene, or paragraph should be such as, on cool +examination, we can conceive it likely that men in +such situations would say, in that order, or with +that perfection. And yet, according to my feelings, +it is a very inferior kind of poetry, in which, +as in the French tragedies, men are made to talk +in a style which few indeed even of the wittiest +can be supposed to converse in, and which both is, +and on a moment's reflection appears to be, the +natural produce of the hot-bed of vanity, namely, +the closet of an author, who is actuated originally +by a desire to excite surprise and wonderment at +his own superiority to other men,—instead of +having felt so deeply on certain subjects, or in +consequence of certain imaginations, as to make it +almost a necessity of his nature to seek for sympathy,—no +doubt, with that honourable desire of +permanent action, which distinguishes genius.—Where +then is the difference?—In this that each +part should be proportionate, though the whole +may be perhaps, impossible. At all events, it +should be compatible with sound sense and logic in +the mind of the poet himself. +</p> + +<p> +It is to be lamented that we judge of books by +books, instead of referring what we read to our +own experience. One great use of books is to +make their contents a motive for observation. The +German tragedies have in some respects been justly +ridiculed. In them the dramatist often becomes a +novelist in his directions to the actors, and thus +degrades tragedy into pantomime. Yet still the +consciousness of the poet's mind must be diffused +<pb n='037'/><anchor id='Pg037'/> +over that of the reader or spectator; but he himself, +according to his genius, elevates us, and by +being always in keeping, prevents us from perceiving +any strangeness, though we feel great +exultation. Many different kinds of style may be +admirable, both in different men, and in different +parts of the same poem. +</p> + +<p> +See the different language which strong feelings +may justify in Shylock, and learn from Shakespeare's +conduct of that character the terrible force +of every plain and calm diction, when known to +proceed from a resolved and impassioned man. +</p> + +<p> +It is especially with reference to the drama, and +its characteristics in any given nation, or at any +particular period, that the dependence of genius on +the public taste becomes a matter of the deepest +importance. I do not mean that taste which +springs merely from caprice or fashionable imitation, +and which, in fact, genius can, and by degrees +will, create for itself; but that which arises out of +wide-grasping and heart-enrooted causes, which +is epidemic, and in the very air that all breathe. +This it is which kills, or withers, or corrupts. +Socrates, indeed, might walk arm in arm with +Hygeia, whilst pestilence, with a thousand furies +running to and fro, and clashing against each +other in a complexity and agglomeration of horrors, +was shooting her darts of fire and venom all around +him. Even such was Milton; yea, and such, in +spite of all that has been babbled by his critics in +pretended excuse for his damning, because for them +too profound excellencies,—such was Shakespeare. +But alas! the exceptions prove the rule. For who +will dare to force his way out of the crowd,—not +of the mere vulgar,—but of the vain and banded +<pb n='038'/><anchor id='Pg038'/> +aristocracy of intellect, and presume to join the +almost supernatural beings that stand by themselves +aloof? +</p> + +<p> +Of this diseased epidemic influence there are two +forms especially preclusive of tragic worth. The +first is the necessary growth of a sense and love of +the ludicrous, and a morbid sensibility of the assimilative +power,—an inflammation produced by +cold and weakness,—which in the boldest bursts of +passion will lie in wait for a jeer at any phrase, +that may have an accidental coincidence in the +mere words with something base or trivial. For +instance,—to express woods, not on a plain, but +clothing a hill, which overlooks a valley, or dell, +or river, or the sea,—the trees rising one above +another, as the spectators in an ancient theatre,—I +know no other word in our language (bookish +and pedantic terms out of the question), but <emph>hanging</emph> +woods, the +<foreign lang="la" rend="font-style: italic">sylvæ superimpendentes</foreign> +of Catullus; +yet let some wit call out in a slang tone,—<q>the +gallows!</q> and a peal of laughter would damn the +play. Hence it is that so many dull pieces have +had a decent run, only because nothing unusual +above, or absurd below, mediocrity furnished an +occasion,—a spark for the explosive materials collected +behind the orchestra. But it would take a +volume of no ordinary size, however laconically the +sense were expressed, if it were meant to instance +the effects, and unfold all the causes, of this disposition +upon the moral, intellectual, and even +physical character of a people, with its influences +on domestic life and individual deportment. A +good document upon this subject would be the +history of Paris society and of French, that is, +Parisian, literature from the commencement of the +<pb n='039'/><anchor id='Pg039'/> +latter half of the reign of Louis XIV. to that of +Buonaparte, compared with the preceding philosophy +and poetry even of Frenchmen themselves. +</p> + +<p> +The second form, or more properly, perhaps, +another distinct cause, of this diseased disposition +is matter of exultation to the philanthropist and +philosopher, and of regret to the poet, the painter, +and the statuary alone, and to them only as poets, +painters, and statuaries;—namely, the security, the +comparative equability, and ever increasing sameness +of human life. Men are now so seldom thrown +into wild circumstances, and violences of excitement, +that the language of such states, the laws of +association of feeling with thought, the starts and +strange far-flights of the assimilative power on the +slightest and least obvious likeness presented by +thoughts, words, or objects,—these are all judged +of by authority, not by actual experience,—by what +men have been accustomed to regard as symbols of +these states, and not the natural symbols, or self-manifestations +of them. +</p> + +<p> +Even so it is in the language of man, and in +that of nature. The sound <hi rend='italic'>sun</hi>, or the figures +<hi rend='italic'>s</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>u</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>n</hi>, are purely arbitrary modes of recalling the +object, and for visual mere objects they are not +only sufficient, but have infinite advantages from +their very nothingness <hi rend='italic'>per se</hi>. But the language +of nature is a subordinate <hi rend='italic'>Logos</hi>, that was in the +beginning, and was with the thing it represented, +and was the thing it represented. +</p> + +<p> +Now the language of Shakespeare, in his <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi> +for instance, is a something intermediate between +these two; or rather it is the former blended with +the latter,—the arbitrary, not merely recalling the +cold notion of the thing, but expressing the reality +<pb n='040'/><anchor id='Pg040'/> +of it, and, as arbitrary language is an heir-loom of +the human race, being itself a part of that which +it manifests. What shall I deduce from the preceding +positions? Even this,—the appropriate, +the never to be too much valued advantage of the +theatre, if only the actors were what we know they +have been,—a delightful, yet most effectual remedy +for this dead palsy of the public mind. What +would appear mad or ludicrous in a book, when presented +to the senses under the form of reality, and +with the truth of nature, supplies a species of actual +experience. This is indeed the special privilege of +a great actor over a great poet. No part was ever +played in perfection, but nature justified herself in +the hearts of all her children, in what state soever +they were, short of absolute moral exhaustion, or +downright stupidity. There is no time given to +ask questions, or to pass judgments; we are taken +by storm, and, though in the histrionic art many a +clumsy counterfeit, by caricature of one or two +features, may gain applause as a fine likeness, yet +never was the very thing rejected as a counterfeit. +O! when I think of the inexhaustible mine of virgin +treasure in our Shakespeare, that I have been +almost daily reading him since I was ten years old,—that +the thirty intervening years have been unintermittingly +and not fruitlessly employed in +the study of the Greek, Latin, English, Italian, +Spanish, and German <hi rend='italic'>belle lettrists</hi>, and the last +fifteen years in addition, far more intensely in the +analysis of the laws of life and reason as they exist +in man,—and that upon every step I have made +forward in taste, in acquisition of facts from history +or my own observation, and in knowledge of the +different laws of being and their apparent exceptions, +<pb n='041'/><anchor id='Pg041'/> +from accidental collision of disturbing forces,—that +at every new accession of information, after +every successful exercise of meditation, and every +fresh presentation of experience, I have unfailingly +discovered a proportionate increase of wisdom and +intuition in Shakespeare;—when I know this, and +know too, that by a conceivable and possible, though +hardly to be expected, arrangement of the British +theatres, not all, indeed, but a large, a very large, +proportion of this indefinite all—(round which no +comprehension has yet drawn the line of circumscription, +so as to say to itself, <q>I have seen the +whole</q>)—might be sent into the heads and hearts—into +the very souls of the mass of mankind, to +whom, except by this living comment and interpretation, +it must remain for ever a sealed volume, +a deep well without a wheel or a windlass;—it +seems to me a pardonable enthusiasm to steal away +from sober likelihood, and share in so rich a feast +in the faery world of possibility! Yet even in the +grave cheerfulness of a circumspect hope, much, +very much, might be done; enough, assuredly, +to furnish a kind and strenuous nature with ample +motives for the attempt to effect what may be +effected. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='043'/><anchor id='Pg043'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Shakespeare, A Poet Generally.</head> + +<p> +Clothed in radiant armour, and authorized by +titles sure and manifold, as a poet, Shakespeare +came forward to demand the throne of fame, as the +dramatic poet of England. His excellences compelled +even his contemporaries to seat him on that +throne, although there were giants in those days +contending for the same honour. Hereafter I +would fain endeavour to make out the title of the +English drama as created by, and existing in, +Shakespeare, and its right to the supremacy of +dramatic excellence in general. But he had shown +himself a poet, previously to his appearance as a +dramatic poet; and had no <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi>, +no <hi rend='italic'>Othello</hi>, no <hi rend='italic'>Henry IV.</hi>, +no <hi rend='italic'>Twelfth Night</hi> ever appeared, we +must have admitted that Shakespeare possessed the +chief, if not every, requisite of a poet,—deep feeling +and exquisite sense of beauty, both as exhibited +to the eye in the combinations of form, and to the +ear in sweet and appropriate melody; that these +feelings were under the command of his own will; +that in his very first productions he projected his +mind out of his own particular being, and felt, and +made others feel, on subjects no way connected +with himself, except by force of contemplation and +that sublime faculty by which a great mind becomes +that on which it meditates. To this must be +added that affectionate love of nature and natural +<pb n='044'/><anchor id='Pg044'/> +objects, without which no man could have observed +so steadily, or painted so truly and passionately, +the very minutest beauties of the external world:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare,</q></l> +<l>Mark the poor wretch; to overshoot his troubles,</l> +<l>How he outruns the wind, and with what care,</l> +<l>He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles;</l> +<l>The many musits through the which he goes</l> +<l>Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Sometimes he runs among the flock of sheep,</q></l> +<l>To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell;</l> +<l>And sometime where earth-delving conies keep,</l> +<l>To stop the loud pursuers in their yell;</l> +<l>And sometime sorteth with the herd of deer:</l> +<l>Danger deviseth shifts, wit waits on fear.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">For there his smell with others' being mingled,</q></l> +<l>The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt,</l> +<l>Ceasing their clamorous cry, till they have singled</l> +<l>With much ado, the cold fault cleanly out,</l> +<l>Then do they spend their mouths; echo replies,</l> +<l>As if another chase were in the skies.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">By this poor Wat far off, upon a hill,</q></l> +<l>Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear,</l> +<l>To harken if his foes pursue him still:</l> +<l>Anon their loud alarums he doth hear,</l> +<l>And now his grief may be compared well</l> +<l>To one sore-sick, that hears the passing bell.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch</q></l> +<l>Turn, and return, indenting with the way:</l> +<l>Each envious briar his weary legs doth scratch,</l> +<l>Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay.</l> +<l>For misery is trodden on by many,</l> +<l><q rend="post">And being low, never relieved by any.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Venus and Adonis.</hi></l> +</lg> + +<p> +And the preceding description:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">But lo! from forth a copse that neighbours by,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">A breeding jennet, lusty, young and proud,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +is much more admirable, but in parts less fitted for +quotation. +</p> + +<pb n='045'/><anchor id='Pg045'/> + +<p> +Moreover Shakespeare had shown that he possessed +fancy, considered as the faculty of bringing +together images dissimilar in the main by some one +point or more of likeness, as in such a passage as +this:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Full gently now she takes him by the hand,</q></l> +<l>A lily prisoned in a jail of snow,</l> +<l>Or ivory in an alabaster band:</l> +<l><q rend="post">So white a friend ingirts so white a foe!</q>—<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi></l> +</lg> + +<p> +And still mounting the intellectual ladder, he +had as unequivocally proved the indwelling in his +mind of imagination, or the power by which one +image or feeling is made to modify many others, +and by a sort of fusion to force many into one;—that +which afterwards showed itself in such might +and energy in Lear, where the deep anguish of a +father spreads the feeling of ingratitude and cruelty +over the very elements of heaven;—and which, +combining many circumstances into one moment of +consciousness, tends to produce that ultimate end +of all human thought and human feeling, unity, +and thereby the reduction of the spirit to its principle +and fountain, who is alone truly one. Various +are the workings of this the greatest faculty of the +human mind, both passionate and tranquil. In +its tranquil and purely pleasurable operation, it +acts chiefly by creating out of many things, as they +would have appeared in the description of an ordinary +mind, detailed in unimpassioned succession, a +oneness, even as nature, the greatest of poets, acts +upon us, when we open our eyes upon an extended +prospect. Thus the flight of Adonis in the dusk of +the evening:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Look! how a bright star shooteth from the sky;</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">So glides he in the night from Venus' eye!</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='046'/><anchor id='Pg046'/> + +<p> +How many images and feelings are here brought +together without effort and without discord, in the +beauty of Adonis, the rapidity of his flight, the +yearning, yet hopelessness, of the enamoured gazer, +while a shadowy ideal character is thrown over the +whole! Or this power acts by impressing the stamp +of humanity, and of human feelings, on inanimate +or mere natural objects:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest,</q></l> +<l>From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,</l> +<l>And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast</l> +<l>The sun ariseth in his majesty,</l> +<l>Who doth the world so gloriously behold,</l> +<l><q rend="post">The cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Or again, it acts by so carrying on the eye of +the reader as to make him almost lose the consciousness +of words,—to make him see every thing +flashed, as Wordsworth has grandly and appropriately +said:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Flashed</hi> upon the inward eye</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Which is the bliss of solitude;</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +and this without exciting any painful or laborious +attention, without any anatomy of description (a +fault not uncommon in descriptive poetry),—but +with the sweetness and easy movement of nature. +This energy is an absolute essential of poetry, and +of itself would constitute a poet, though not one of +the highest class;—it is, however, a most hopeful +symptom, and the <hi rend='italic'>Venus and Adonis</hi> is one continued +specimen of it. +</p> + +<p> +In this beautiful poem there is an endless activity +of thought in all the possible associations of thought +with thought, thought with feeling, or with words, +of feelings with feelings, and of words with words. +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Even as the sun, with purple-colour'd face,</q></l> +<l>Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,</l> +<pb n='047'/><anchor id='Pg047'/> +<l>Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase:</l> +<l>Hunting he loved, but love he laughed to scorn.</l> +<l>Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,</l> +<l><q rend="post">And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Remark the humanizing imagery and circumstances +of the first two lines, and the activity of +thought in the play of words in the fourth line. +The whole stanza presents at once the time, the +appearance of the morning, and the two persons +distinctly characterised, and in six simple lines +puts the reader in possession of the whole argument +of the poem. +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Over one arm the lusty courser's rein,</q></l> +<l>Under the other was the tender boy,</l> +<l>Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,</l> +<l>With leaden appetite, unapt to toy,</l> +<l>She red and hot, as coals of glowing fire,</l> +<l><q rend="post">He red for shame, but frosty to desire:</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This stanza and the two following afford good instances +of that poetic power, which I mentioned +above, of making every thing present to the imagination—both +the forms, and the passions which +modify those forms, either actually, as in the representations +of love or anger, or other human affections; +or imaginatively, by the different manner in +which inanimate objects, or objects unimpassioned +themselves, are caused to be seen by the mind in +moments of strong excitement, and according to +the kind of the excitement,—whether of jealousy, +or rage, or love, in the only appropriate sense of +the word, or of the lower impulses of our nature, or +finally of the poetic feeling itself. It is, perhaps, +chiefly in the power of producing and reproducing +the latter that the poet stands distinct. +</p> + +<p> +The subject of the <hi rend='italic'>Venus and Adonis</hi> is unpleasing; +but the poem itself is for that very reason +<pb n='048'/><anchor id='Pg048'/> +the more illustrative of Shakespeare. There are +men who can write passages of deepest pathos and +even sublimity on circumstances personal to themselves +and stimulative of their own passions; but +they are not, therefore, on this account poets. +Read that magnificent burst of woman's patriotism +and exultation, <hi rend='italic'>Deborah's Song of Victory</hi>; it is +glorious, but nature is the poet there. It is quite +another matter to become all things and yet remain +the same,—to make the changeful god be felt in the +river, the lion, and the flame;—this it is, that is +the true imagination. Shakespeare writes in this +poem, as if he were of another planet, charming +you to gaze on the movements of Venus and Adonis, +as you would on the twinkling dances of two vernal +butterflies. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, in this poem and the <hi rend='italic'>Rape of Lucrece</hi>, +Shakespeare gave ample proof of his possession of +a most profound, energetic, and philosophical mind, +without which he might have pleased, but could +not have been a great dramatic poet. Chance and +the necessity of his genius combined to lead him to +the drama his proper province: in his conquest of +which we should consider both the difficulties which +opposed him, and the advantages by which he was +assisted. +</p> + +</div> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Shakespeare's Judgment equal to his Genius.</head> + +<p> +Thus then Shakespeare appears, from his <hi rend='italic'>Venus +and Adonis</hi> and <hi rend='italic'>Rape of Lucrece</hi> alone, apart from +all his great works, to have possessed all the conditions +of the true poet. Let me now proceed to +destroy, as far as may be in my power, the popular +notion that he was a great dramatist by mere instinct, +<pb n='049'/><anchor id='Pg049'/> +that he grew immortal in his own despite, +and sank below men of second or third rate power, +when he attempted aught beside the drama—even +as bees construct their cells and manufacture their +honey to admirable perfection; but would in vain +attempt to build a nest. Now this mode of reconciling +a compelled sense of inferiority with a feeling +of pride, began in a few pedants, who having read +that Sophocles was the great model of tragedy, and +Aristotle the infallible dictator of its rules, and +finding that the <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Hamlet</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Othello</hi> and other +master-pieces were neither in imitation of Sophocles, +nor in obedience to Aristotle,—and not having +(with one or two exceptions) the courage to affirm, +that the delight which their country received from +generation to generation, in defiance of the alterations +of circumstances and habits, was wholly +groundless,—took upon them, as a happy medium +and refuge, to talk of Shakespeare as a sort of +beautiful <hi rend='italic'>lusus naturæ</hi>, a delightful monster,—wild, +indeed, and without taste or judgment, but like the +inspired idiots so much venerated in the East, +uttering, amid the strangest follies, the sublimest +truths. In nine places out of ten in which I find +his awful name mentioned, it is with some epithet +of <q>wild,</q> <q>irregular,</q> <q>pure child of nature,</q> +&c. If all this be true, we must submit to it; +though to a thinking mind it cannot but be painful +to find any excellence, merely human, thrown +out of all human analogy, and thereby leaving us +neither rules for imitation, nor motives to imitate;—but +if false, it is a dangerous falsehood;—for it +affords a refuge to secret self-conceit,—enables a +vain man at once to escape his reader's indignation +by general swoln panegyrics, and merely by his +<pb n='050'/><anchor id='Pg050'/> +<hi rend='italic'>ipse dixit</hi> to treat, as contemptible, what he has not +intellect enough to comprehend, or soul to feel, +without assigning any reason, or referring his +opinion to any demonstrative principle;—thus leaving +Shakespeare as a sort of grand Lama, adored +indeed, and his very excrements prized as relics, +but with no authority or real influence. I grieve +that every late voluminous edition of his works +would enable me to substantiate the present charge +with a variety of facts, one-tenth of which would +of themselves exhaust the time allotted to me. +Every critic, who has or has not made a collection +of black letter books—in itself a useful +and respectable amusement,—puts on the seven-league +boots of self-opinion, and strides at once +from an illustrator into a supreme judge, and +blind and deaf, fills his three-ounce phial at the +waters of Niagara; and determines positively the +greatness of the cataract to be neither more nor +less than his three-ounce phial has been able to +receive. +</p> + +<p> +I think this a very serious subject. It is my +earnest desire—my passionate endeavour—to enforce +at various times and by various arguments +and instances the close and reciprocal connection +of just taste with pure morality. Without that +acquaintance with the heart of man, or that docility +and childlike gladness to be made acquainted +with it, which those only can have, who dare look +at their own hearts—and that with a steadiness +which religion only has the power of reconciling +with sincere humility;—without this, and the +modesty produced by it, I am deeply convinced +that no man, however wide his erudition, however +patient his antiquarian researches, can possibly +<pb n='051'/><anchor id='Pg051'/> +understand, or be worthy of understanding, the +writings of Shakespeare. +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly that criticism of Shakespeare will alone +be genial which is reverential. The Englishman +who, without reverence—a proud and affectionate +reverence—can utter the name of William Shakespeare, +stands disqualified for the office of critic. +He wants one at least of the very senses, the +language of which he is to employ, and will discourse +at best but as a blind man, while the whole +harmonious creation of light and shade with all +its subtle interchange of deepening and dissolving +colours rises in silence to the silent <hi rend='italic'>fiat</hi> of the uprising +Apollo. However inferior in ability I may +be to some who have followed me, I own I am +proud that I was the first in time who publicly +demonstrated to the full extent of the position, +that the supposed irregularity and extravagances +of Shakespeare were the mere dreams of a pedantry +that arraigned the eagle because it had not the +dimensions of the swan. In all the successive +courses of lectures delivered by me, since my first +attempt at the Royal Institution, it has been, and +it still remains, my object, to prove that in all +points from the most important to the most +minute, the judgment of Shakespeare is commensurate +with his genius,—nay, that his genius +reveals itself in his judgment, as in its most +exalted form. And the more gladly do I recur +to this subject from the clear conviction, that to +judge aright, and with distinct consciousness of +the grounds of our judgment, concerning the +works of Shakespeare, implies the power and the +means of judging rightly of all other works of +intellect, those of abstract science alone excepted. +</p> + +<pb n='052'/><anchor id='Pg052'/> + +<p> +It is a painful truth, that not only individuals, +but even whole nations, are ofttimes so enslaved +to the habits of their education and immediate +circumstances, as not to judge disinterestedly even +on those subjects, the very pleasure arising from +which consists in its disinterestedness, namely, on +subjects of taste and polite literature. Instead of +deciding concerning their own modes and customs +by any rule of reason, nothing appears rational, +becoming, or beautiful to them, but what coincides +with the peculiarities of their education. In this +narrow circle, individuals may attain to exquisite +discrimination, as the French critics have done in +their own literature; but a true critic can no more +be such without placing himself on some central +point, from which he may command the whole,—that +is, some general rule, which, founded in +reason, or the faculties common to all men, must +therefore apply to each,—than an astronomer can +explain the movements of the solar system without +taking his stand in the sun. And let me remark, +that this will not tend to produce despotism, but, +on the contrary, true tolerance, in the critic. He +will, indeed, require, as the spirit and substance of +a work, something true in human nature itself, +and independent of all circumstances; but in the +mode of applying it, he will estimate genius and +judgment according to the felicity with which the +imperishable soul of intellect shall have adapted +itself to the age, the place, and the existing manners. +The error he will expose, lies in reversing +this, and holding up the mere circumstances as +perpetual to the utter neglect of the power which +can alone animate them. For art cannot exist +without, or apart from nature; and what has man +<pb n='053'/><anchor id='Pg053'/> +of his own to give to his fellow man, but his own +thoughts and feelings, and his observations, so far +as they are modified by his own thoughts or +feelings? +</p> + +<p> +Let me, then, once more submit this question to +minds emancipated alike from national, or party, +or sectarian prejudice:—Are the plays of Shakespeare +works of rude uncultivated genius, in +which the splendour of the parts compensates, if +aught can compensate, for the barbarous shapelessness +and irregularity of the whole?—Or is the +form equally admirable with the matter, and the +judgment of the great poet not less deserving our +wonder than his genius?—Or, again, to repeat the +question in other words:—is Shakespeare a great +dramatic poet on account only of those beauties +and excellences which he possesses in common +with the ancients, but with diminished claims to +our love and honour to the full extent of his differences +from them?—Or are these very differences +additional proofs of poetic wisdom, at once results +and symbols of living power as contrasted with +lifeless mechanism—of free and rival originality +as contradistinguished from servile imitation, or, +more accurately, a blind copying of effects, instead +of a true imitation of the essential principles?—Imagine +not that I am about to oppose genius to +rules. No! the comparative value of these rules +is the very cause to be tried. The spirit of poetry, +like all other living powers, must of necessity +circumscribe itself by rules, were it only to unite +power with beauty. It must embody in order to +reveal itself; but a living body is of necessity an +organized one; and what is organization but the +connection of parts in and for a whole, so that +<pb n='054'/><anchor id='Pg054'/> +each part is at once end and means?—This is no +discovery of criticism;—it is a necessity of the +human mind; and all nations have felt and obeyed +it, in the invention of metre, and measured +sounds, as the vehicle and <hi rend='italic'>involucrum</hi> of poetry—itself +a fellow-growth from the same life,—even +as the bark is to the tree! +</p> + +<p> +No work of true genius dares want its appropriate +form, neither indeed is there any danger of +this. As it must not, so genius cannot, be lawless; +for it is even this that constitutes it genius—the +power of acting creatively under laws of its own +origination. How then comes it that not only +single <hi rend='italic'>Zoili</hi>, but whole nations have combined in +unhesitating condemnation of our great dramatist, +as a sort of African nature, rich in beautiful +monsters—as a wild heath where islands of fertility +look the greener from the surrounding +waste, where the loveliest plants now shine out +among unsightly weeds, and now are choked by +their parasitic growth, so intertwined that we cannot +disentangle the weed without snapping the +flower?—In this statement I have had no reference +to the vulgar abuse of Voltaire, save as far +as his charges are coincident with the decisions of +Shakespeare's own commentators and (so they +would tell you) almost idolatrous admirers. The +true ground of the mistake lies in the confounding +mechanical regularity with organic form. The +form is mechanic, when on any given material we +impress a pre-determined form, not necessarily +arising out of the properties of the material;—as +when to a mass of wet clay we give whatever +shape we wish it to retain when hardened. The +organic form, on the other hand is innate; it +<pb n='055'/><anchor id='Pg055'/> +shapes, as it developes, itself from within, and the +fulness of its development is one and the same +with the perfection of its outward form. Such as +the life is, such is the form. Nature, the prime +genial artist, inexhaustible in diverse powers, is +equally inexhaustible in forms;—each exterior is +the physiognomy of the being within,—its true +image reflected and thrown out from the concave +mirror;—and even such is the appropriate excellence +of her chosen poet, of our own Shakespeare,—himself +a nature humanized, a genial +understanding directing self-consciously a power +and an implicit wisdom deeper even than our consciousness. +</p> + +<p> +I greatly dislike beauties and selections in +general; but as proof positive of his unrivalled +excellence, I should like to try Shakespeare by +this criterion. Make out your amplest catalogue +of all the human faculties, as reason or the moral +law, the will, the feeling of the coincidence of the +two (a feeling <hi rend='italic'>sui generis et demonstratio demonstrationum</hi>) +called the conscience, the understanding +or prudence, wit, fancy, imagination, judgment,—and +then of the objects on which these are to be +employed, as the beauties, the terrors, and the +seeming caprices of nature, the realities and the +capabilities, that is, the actual and the ideal, of +the human mind, conceived as an individual or as +a social being, as in innocence or in guilt, in a +play-paradise, or in a war-field of temptation;—and +then compare with Shakespeare under each +of these heads all or any of the writers in prose +and verse that have ever lived! Who, that is +competent to judge, doubts the result?—And ask +your own hearts—ask your own common-sense—to +<pb n='056'/><anchor id='Pg056'/> +conceive the possibility of this man being—I +say not, the drunken savage of that wretched +sciolist, whom Frenchmen, to their shame, have +honoured before their elder and better worthies,—but +the anomalous, the wild, the irregular, genius +of our daily criticism! What! are we to have +miracles in sport?—Or, I speak reverently, does +God choose idiots by whom to convey divine +truths to man? +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='057'/><anchor id='Pg057'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Recapitulation, And Summary +Of the Characteristics of Shakespeare's Dramas.</head> + +<p> +In lectures, of which amusement forms a large +part of the object, there are some peculiar difficulties. +The architect places his foundation out +of sight, and the musician tunes his instrument +before he makes his appearance; but the lecturer +has to try his chords in the presence of the assembly; +an operation not likely, indeed, to produce +much pleasure, but yet indispensably necessary to +a right understanding of the subject to be developed. +</p> + +<p> +Poetry in essence is as familiar to barbarous as +to civilized nations. The Laplander and the savage +Indian are cheered by it as well as the inhabitants +of London and Paris;—its spirit takes up and +incorporates surrounding materials, as a plant +clothes itself with soil and climate, whilst it exhibits +the working of a vital principle within +independent of all accidental circumstances. And +to judge with fairness of an author's works, we +ought to distinguish what is inward and essential +from what is outward and circumstantial. It is +essential to poetry that it be simple, and appeal to +the elements and primary laws of our nature; +that it be sensuous, and by its imagery elicit truth +at a flash; that it be impassioned, and be able to +<pb n='058'/><anchor id='Pg058'/> +move our feelings and awaken our affections. In +comparing different poets with each other, we +should inquire which have brought into the fullest +play our imagination and our reason, or have +created the greatest excitement and produced the +completest harmony. If we consider great exquisiteness +of language and sweetness of metre alone, +it is impossible to deny to Pope the character of a +delightful writer; but whether he be a poet, must +depend upon our definition of the word; and, doubtless, +if everything that pleases be poetry, Pope's +satires and epistles must be poetry. This, I must +say, that poetry, as distinguished from other modes +of composition, does not rest in metre, and that it is +not poetry, if it make no appeal to our passions or +our imagination. One character belongs to all +true poets, that they write from a principle within, +not originating in any thing without; and that +the true poet's work in its form, its shapings, and +its modifications, is distinguished from all other +works that assume to belong to the class of poetry, +as a natural from an artificial flower, or as the +mimic garden of a child from an enamelled +meadow. In the former the flowers are broken +from their stems and stuck into the ground; they +are beautiful to the eye and fragrant to the sense, +but their colours soon fade, and their odour is +transient as the smile of the planter;—while the +meadow may be visited again and again with renewed +delight; its beauty is innate in the soil, +and its bloom is of the freshness of nature. +</p> + +<p> +The next ground of critical judgment, and point +of comparison, will be as to how far a given poet +has been influenced by accidental circumstances. +As a living poet must surely write, not for the +<pb n='059'/><anchor id='Pg059'/> +ages past, but for that in which he lives, and those +which are to follow, it is on the one hand natural +that he should not violate, and on the other necessary +that he should not depend on, the mere +manners and modes of his day. See how little +does Shakespeare leave us to regret that he was +born in his particular age! The great æra in +modern times was what is called the Restoration +of Letters;—the ages preceding it are called the +dark ages; but it would be more wise, perhaps, to +call them the ages in which we were in the dark. +It is usually overlooked that the supposed dark +period was not universal, but partial and successive, +or alternate; that the dark age of England +was not the dark age of Italy, but that one country +was in its light and vigour, whilst another was +in its gloom and bondage. But no sooner had the +Reformation sounded through Europe like the +blast of an archangel's trumpet, than from king +to peasant there arose an enthusiasm for knowledge; +the discovery of a manuscript became the +subject of an embassy; Erasmus read by moonlight, +because he could not afford a torch, and +begged a penny, not for the love of charity, but +for the love of learning. The three great points +of attention were religion, morals, and taste; men +of genius, as well as men of learning, who in this +age need to be so widely distinguished, then alike +became copyists of the ancients; and this, indeed, +was the only way by which the taste of mankind +could be improved, or their understandings informed. +Whilst Dante imagined himself a humble +follower of Virgil, and Ariosto of Homer, they +were both unconscious of that greater power working +within them, which in many points carried +<pb n='060'/><anchor id='Pg060'/> +them beyond their supposed originals. All great +discoveries bear the stamp of the age in which +they are made;—hence we perceive the effects of +the purer religion of the moderns visible for the +most part in their lives; and in reading their +works we should not content ourselves with the +mere narratives of events long since passed, but +should learn to apply their maxims and conduct +to ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +Having intimated that times and manners lend +their form and pressure to genius, let me once +more draw a slight parallel between the ancient +and modern stage,—the stages of Greece and of +England. The Greeks were polytheists; their +religion was local; almost the only object of all +their knowledge, art, and taste, was their gods; +and, accordingly, their productions were, if the +expression may be allowed, statuesque, whilst +those of the moderns are picturesque. The Greeks +reared a structure, which, in its parts, and as a +whole, filled the mind with the calm and elevated +impression of perfect beauty, and symmetrical proportion. +The moderns also produced a whole—a +more striking whole; but it was by blending +materials, and fusing the parts together. And as +the Pantheon is to York Minster or Westminster +Abbey, so is Sophocles compared with Shakespeare; +in the one a completeness, a satisfaction, an excellence, +on which the mind rests with complacency; +in the other a multitude of interlaced +materials, great and little, magnificent and mean, +accompanied, indeed, with the sense of a falling +short of perfection, and yet, at the same time, so +promising of our social and individual progression, +that we would not, if we could, exchange it for +<pb n='061'/><anchor id='Pg061'/> +that repose of the mind which dwells on the forms +of symmetry in the acquiescent admiration of +grace. This general characteristic of the ancient +and modern drama might be illustrated by a +parallel of the ancient and modern music;—the +one consisting of melody arising from a succession +only of pleasing sounds,—the modern embracing +harmony also, the result of combination, and the +effect of a whole. +</p> + +<p> +I have said, and I say it again, that great as +was the genius of Shakespeare, his judgment was +at least equal to it. Of this any one will be convinced, +who attentively considers those points in +which the dramas of Greece and England differ, +from the dissimilitude of circumstances by which +each was modified and influenced. The Greek +stage had its origin in the ceremonies of a sacrifice, +such as of the goat to Bacchus, whom we +most erroneously regard as merely the jolly god of +wine;—for among the ancients he was venerable, +as the symbol of that power which acts without +our consciousness in the vital energies of nature—the +<hi rend='italic'>vinum mundi</hi>—as Apollo was that of the conscious +agency of our intellectual being. The +heroes of old, under the influences of this Bacchic +enthusiasm, performed more than human actions; +hence tales of the favourite champions soon passed +into dialogue. On the Greek stage the chorus +was always before the audience; the curtain was +never dropped, as we should say; and change of +place being therefore, in general, impossible, the +absurd notion of condemning it merely as improbable +in itself was never entertained by any one. +If we can believe ourselves at Thebes in one act, +we may believe ourselves at Athens in the next. +</p> + +<pb n='062'/><anchor id='Pg062'/> + +<p> +If a story lasts twenty-four hours or twenty-four +years, it is equally improbable. There seems to +be no just boundary but what the feelings prescribe. +But on the Greek stage, where the same +persons were perpetually before the audience, +great judgment was necessary in venturing on +any such change. The poets never, therefore, +attempted to impose on the senses by bringing +places to men, but they did bring men to places, +as in the well-known instance in the <hi rend='italic'>Eumenides</hi>, +where, during an evident retirement of the chorus +from the orchestra, the scene is changed to +Athens, and Orestes is first introduced in the +temple of Minerva, and the chorus of Furies come +in afterwards in pursuit of him. +</p> + +<p> +In the Greek drama there were no formal divisions +into scenes and acts; there were no means, +therefore, of allowing for the necessary lapse of +time between one part of the dialogue and another, +and unity of time in a strict sense was, of course, +impossible. To overcome that difficulty of accounting +for time, which is effected on the modern +stage by dropping a curtain, the judgment and +great genius of the ancients supplied music and +measured motion, and with the lyric ode filled up +the vacuity. In the story of the <hi rend='italic'>Agamemnon</hi> of +Æschylus, the capture of Troy is supposed to be +announced by a fire lighted on the Asiatic shore, +and the transmission of the signal by successive +beacons to Mycenæ. The signal is first seen at +the 21st line, and the herald from Troy itself +enters at the 486th, and Agamemnon himself at +the 783rd line. But the practical absurdity of +this was not felt by the audience, who, in imagination +stretched minutes into hours, while they +<pb n='063'/><anchor id='Pg063'/> +listened to the lofty narrative odes of the chorus +which almost entirely filled up the interspace. +Another fact deserves attention here, namely, that +regularly on the Greek stage a drama, or acted +story, consisted in reality of three dramas, called +together a trilogy, and performed consecutively in +the course of one day. Now you may conceive a +tragedy of Shakespeare's as a trilogy connected in +one single representation. Divide <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi> into three +parts, and each would be a play with the ancients; +or take the three Æschylean dramas of <hi rend='italic'>Agamemnon</hi>, +and divide them into, or call them, as many +acts, and they together would be one play. The +first act would comprise the usurpation of Ægisthus, +and the murder of Agamemnon; the second, +the revenge of Orestes, and the murder of his +mother; and the third, the penance and absolution +of Orestes;—occupying a period of twenty-two +years. +</p> + +<p> +The stage in Shakespeare's time was a naked +room with a blanket for a curtain; but he made +it a field for monarchs. That law of unity, which +has its foundations, not in the factitious necessity +of custom, but in nature itself, the unity of feeling, +is everywhere and at all times observed by Shakespeare +in his plays. Read <hi rend='italic'>Romeo and Juliet</hi>;—all +is youth and spring;—youth with its follies, its +virtues, its precipitancies;—spring with its odours, +its flowers, and its transiency; it is one and the +same feeling that commences, goes through, and +ends the play. The old men, the Capulets and +Montagues, are not common old men; they have +an eagerness, a heartiness, a vehemence, the effect +of spring; with Romeo, his change of passion, his +sudden marriage, and his rash death, are all the +<pb n='064'/><anchor id='Pg064'/> +effects of youth;—whilst in Juliet love has all that +is tender and melancholy in the nightingale, all +that is voluptuous in the rose, with whatever is +sweet in the freshness of spring; but it ends with +a long deep sigh like the last breeze of the Italian +evening. This unity of feeling and character pervades +every drama of Shakespeare. +</p> + +<p> +It seems to me that his plays are distinguished +from those of all other dramatic poets by the +following characteristics:— +</p> + +<p> +1. Expectation in preference to surprise. It is +like the true reading of the passage—<q>God said, +Let there be light, and there was <emph>light</emph>;</q>—not, +there <emph>was</emph> light. As the feeling with which we +startle at a shooting star compared with that of +watching the sunrise at the pre-established moment, +such and so low is surprise compared with +expectation. +</p> + +<p> +2. Signal adherence to the great law of nature, +that all opposites tend to attract and temper each +other. Passion in Shakespeare generally displays +libertinism, but involves morality; and if there +are exceptions to this, they are, independently of +their intrinsic value, all of them indicative of individual +character, and, like the farewell admonitions +of a parent, have an end beyond the parental +relation. Thus the Countess's beautiful precepts +to Bertram, by elevating her character, raise that +of Helena her favourite, and soften down the point +in her which Shakespeare does not mean us not to +see, but to see and to forgive, and at length to +justify. And so it is in Polonius, who is the personified +memory of wisdom no longer actually +possessed. This admirable character is always +misrepresented on the stage. Shakespeare never +<pb n='065'/><anchor id='Pg065'/> +intended to exhibit him as a buffoon; for although +it was natural that Hamlet—a young man of fire +and genius, detesting formality, and disliking +Polonius on political grounds, as imagining that +he had assisted his uncle in his usurpation—should +express himself satirically, yet this must not be +taken as exactly the poet's conception of him. In +Polonius a certain induration of character had +arisen from long habits of business; but take his +advice to Laertes, and Ophelia's reverence for his +memory, and we shall see that he was meant to be +represented as a statesman somewhat past his +faculties,—his recollections of life all full of wisdom, +and showing a knowledge of human nature, +whilst what immediately takes place before him, +and escapes from him, is indicative of weakness. +</p> + +<p> +But as in Homer all the deities are in armour, +even Venus; so in Shakespeare all the characters +are strong. Hence real folly and dulness are +made by him the vehicles of wisdom. There is no +difficulty for one being a fool to imitate a fool; +but to be, remain, and speak like a wise man and +a great wit, and yet so as to give a vivid representation +of a veritable fool,—<hi rend='italic'>hic labor, hoc opus est</hi>. +A drunken constable is not uncommon, nor hard +to draw; but see and examine what goes to make +up a Dogberry. +</p> + +<p> +3. Keeping at all times in the high road of life. +Shakespeare has no innocent adulteries, no interesting +incests, no virtuous vice;—he never renders +that amiable which religion and reason alike +teach us to detest, or clothes impurity in the garb +of virtue, like Beaumont and Fletcher, the Kotzebues +of the day. Shakespeare's fathers are +roused by ingratitude, his husbands stung by unfaithfulness; +<pb n='066'/><anchor id='Pg066'/> +in him, in short, the affections are +wounded in those points in which all may, nay, +must, feel. Let the morality of Shakespeare be +contrasted with that of the writers of his own, or +the succeeding age, or of those of the present day, +who boast their superiority in this respect. No +one can dispute that the result of such a comparison +is altogether in favour of Shakespeare;—even +the letters of women of high rank in his age were +often coarser than his writings. If he occasionally +disgusts a keen sense of delicacy, he never +injures the mind; he neither excites, nor flatters, +passion, in order to degrade the subject of it; he +does not use the faulty thing for a faulty purpose, +nor carries on warfare against virtue, by causing +wickedness to appear as no wickedness, through +the medium of a morbid sympathy with the unfortunate. +In Shakespeare vice never walks as in +twilight; nothing is purposely out of its place;—he +inverts not the order of nature and propriety,—does +not make every magistrate a drunkard or +glutton, nor every poor man meek, humane, and +temperate; he has no benevolent butchers, nor any +sentimental rat-catchers. +</p> + +<p> +4. Independence of the dramatic interest on the +plot. The interest in the plot is always in fact on +account of the characters, not <hi rend='italic'>vice versa</hi>, as in +almost all other writers; the plot is a mere canvass +and no more. Hence arises the true justification +of the same stratagem being used in regard to +Benedict and Beatrice,—the vanity in each being +alike. Take away from the <hi rend='italic'>Much Ado about +Nothing</hi> all that which is not indispensable to the +plot, either as having little to do with it, or, at +best, like Dogberry and his comrades, forced into +<pb n='067'/><anchor id='Pg067'/> +the service, when any other less ingeniously +absurd watchmen and night-constables would have +answered the mere necessities of the action;—take +away Benedict, Beatrice, Dogberry, and the +reaction of the former on the character of Hero,—and +what will remain? In other writers the main +agent of the plot is always the prominent character; +in Shakespeare it is so, or is not so, as the +character is in itself calculated, or not calculated, +to form the plot. Don John is the main-spring of +the plot of this play; but he is merely shown and +then withdrawn. +</p> + +<p> +5. Independence of the interest on the story as +the ground-work of the plot. Hence Shakespeare +never took the trouble of inventing stories. It +was enough for him to select from those that had +been already invented or recorded such as had one +or other, or both, of two recommendations, namely, +suitableness to his particular purpose, and their +being parts of popular tradition,—names of which +we had often heard, and of their fortunes, and as +to which all we wanted was, to see the man himself. +So it is just the man himself—the Lear, +the Shylock, the Richard—that Shakespeare +makes us for the first time acquainted with. +Omit the first scene in <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi>, and yet everything +will remain; so the first and second scenes in +the <hi rend='italic'>Merchant of Venice</hi>. Indeed it is universally +true. +</p> + +<p> +6. Interfusion of the lyrical—that which in its +very essence is poetical—not only with the dramatic, +as in the plays of Metastasio, where at the end +of the scene comes the <hi rend='italic'>aria</hi> +as the <emph>exit</emph> speech of +the character,—but also in and through the dramatic. +Songs in Shakespeare are introduced as songs +<pb n='068'/><anchor id='Pg068'/> +only, just as songs are in real life, beautifully as +some of them are characteristic of the person who +has sung or called for them, as Desdemona's +<q>Willow,</q> and Ophelia's wild snatches, and the +sweet carollings in <hi rend='italic'>As You Like It</hi>. But the +whole of the <hi rend='italic'>Midsummer Night's Dream</hi> is one +continued specimen of the dramatised lyrical. +And observe how exquisitely the dramatic of Hotspur;— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Marry, and I'm glad on't with all my heart;</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">I'd rather be a kitten and cry—mew.</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +melts away into the lyric of Mortimer;— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">I understand thy looks: that pretty Welsh</q></l> +<l>Which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens,</l> +<l><q rend="post">I am too perfect in,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Henry IV.</hi> part i. act iii, sc. 1.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +7. The characters of the <hi rend='italic'>dramatis personæ</hi>, like +those in real life, are to be inferred by the reader;—they +are not told to him. And it is well worth +remarking that Shakespeare's characters, like those +in real life, are very commonly misunderstood, and +almost always understood by different persons in +different ways. The causes are the same in either +case. If you take only what the friends of the +character say, you may be deceived, and still more +so, if that which his enemies say; nay, even the +character himself sees himself through the medium +of his character, and not exactly as he is. Take +all together, not omitting a shrewd hint from the +clown or the fool, and perhaps your impression will +be right; and you may know whether you have in +fact discovered the poet's own idea, by all the +speeches receiving light from it, and attesting its +reality by reflecting it. +</p> + +<pb n='069'/><anchor id='Pg069'/> + +<p> +Lastly, in Shakespeare the heterogeneous is +united, as it is in nature. You must not suppose +a pressure or passion always acting on or in the +character!—passion in Shakespeare is that by +which the individual is distinguished from others, +not that which makes a different kind of him. +Shakespeare followed the main march of the +human affections. He entered into no analysis of +the passions or faiths of men, but assured himself +that such and such passions and faiths were +grounded in our common nature, and not in the +mere accidents of ignorance or disease. This is an +important consideration, and constitutes our Shakespeare +the morning star, the guide and the pioneer, +of true philosophy. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='071'/><anchor id='Pg071'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Outline Of An Introductory Lecture Upon Shakespeare.</head> + +<p> +Of that species of writing termed tragi-comedy, +much has been produced and doomed to the +shelf. Shakespeare's comic are continually reacting +upon his tragic characters. Lear, wandering +amidst the tempest, has all his feelings of distress +increased by the overflowings of the wild wit +of the Fool, as vinegar poured upon wounds exacerbates +their pain. Thus, even his comic humour +tends to the development of tragic passion. +</p> + +<p> +The next characteristic of Shakespeare is his +keeping at all times in the high road of life, &c. +Another evidence of his exquisite judgment is, +that he seizes hold of popular tales; <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi> and the +<hi rend='italic'>Merchant of Venice</hi> were popular tales, but are so +excellently managed, that both are the representations +of men in all countries and of all times. +</p> + +<p> +His dramas do not arise absolutely out of some +one extraordinary circumstance, the scenes may +stand independently of any such one connecting +incident, as faithful representations of men and +manners. In his mode of drawing characters +there are no pompous descriptions of a man by +himself; his character is to be drawn, as in real +life, from the whole course of the play, or out of +the mouths of his enemies or friends. This may +<pb n='072'/><anchor id='Pg072'/> +be exemplified in Polonius, whose character has +been often misrepresented. Shakespeare never +intended him for a buffoon, &c. +</p> + +<p> +Another excellence of Shakespeare, in which no +writer equals him, is in the language of nature. +So correct is it, that we can see ourselves in every +page. The style and manner have also that +felicity, that not a sentence can be read, without +its being discovered if it is Shakespearian. In +observation of living characters—of landlords and +postilions—Fielding has great excellence; but in +drawing from his own heart, and depicting that +species of character, which no observation could +teach, he failed in comparison with Richardson, +who perpetually places himself, as it were, in a +day-dream. Shakespeare excels in both. Witness +the accuracy of character in Juliet's name; while +for the great characters of Iago, Othello, Hamlet, +Richard III., to which he could never have seen +anything similar, he seems invariably to have +asked himself—How should I act or speak in such +circumstances? His comic characters are also +peculiar. A drunken constable was not uncommon; +but he makes folly a vehicle for wit, as +in Dogberry: everything is a <hi rend='italic'>sub-stratum</hi> on which +his genius can erect the mightiest superstructure. +</p> + +<p> +To distinguish that which is legitimate in +Shakespeare from what does not belong to him, +we must observe his varied images symbolical of +novel truth, thrusting by, and seeming to trip up +each other, from an impetuosity of thought, producing +a flowing metre, and seldom closing with +the line. In <hi rend='italic'>Pericles</hi>, a play written fifty years +before, but altered by Shakespeare, his additions +may be recognised to half a line, from the metre, +<pb n='073'/><anchor id='Pg073'/> +which has the same perfection in the flowing continuity +of interchangeable metrical pauses in his +earliest plays, as in <hi rend='italic'>Love's Labour's Lost</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, contrast his <emph>morality</emph> with the writers of +his own or of the succeeding age, &c. If a man +speak injuriously of our friend, our vindication of +him is naturally warm. Shakespeare has been +accused of profaneness. I for my part have +acquired from perusal of him, a habit of looking +into my own heart, and am confident that Shakespeare +is an author of all others the most calculated +to make his readers better as well as wiser. +</p> + +<milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 5"/> + +<p> +Shakespeare, possessed of wit, humour, fancy, +and imagination, built up an outward world from +the stores within his mind, as the bee finds a hive +from a thousand sweets gathered from a thousand +flowers. He was not only a great poet but a great +philosopher. Richard III., Iago, and Falstaff are +men who reverse the order of things, who place +intellect at the head, whereas it ought to follow, +like Geometry, to prove and to confirm. No man, +either hero or saint, ever acted from an unmixed +motive; for let him do what he will rightly, still +Conscience whispers <q>it is your duty.</q> Richard, +laughing at conscience and sneering at religion, +felt a confidence in his intellect, which urged him +to commit the most horrid crimes, because he felt +himself, although inferior in form and shape, +superior to those around him; he felt he possessed +a power which they had not. Iago, on the same +principle, conscious of superior intellect, gave +scope to his envy, and hesitated not to ruin a +gallant, open, and generous friend in the moment +<pb n='074'/><anchor id='Pg074'/> +of felicity, because he was not promoted as he expected. +Othello was superior in place, but Iago +felt him to be inferior in intellect, and, unrestrained +by conscience, trampled upon him. Falstaff, +not a degraded man of genius, like Burns, +but a man of degraded genius, with the same +consciousness of superiority to his companions, +fastened himself on a young Prince, to prove how +much his influence on an heir-apparent would +exceed that of a statesman. With this view he +hesitated not to adopt the most contemptible of all +characters, that of an open and professed liar: +even his sensuality was subservient to his intellect: +for he appeared to drink sack, that he might have +occasion to show off his wit. One thing, however, +worthy of observation, is the perpetual contrast of +labour in Falstaff to produce wit, with the ease +with which Prince Henry parries his shafts; and +the final contempt which such a character deserves +and receives from the young king, when Falstaff +exhibits the struggle of inward determination with +an outward show of humility. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='075'/><anchor id='Pg075'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Order Of Shakespeare's Plays.</head> + +<p> +Various attempts have been made to arrange +the plays of Shakespeare, each according to +its priority in time, by proofs derived from external +documents. How unsuccessful these attempts have +been might easily be shewn, not only from the +widely different results arrived at by men, all +deeply versed in the black-letter books, old plays, +pamphlets, manuscript records, and catalogues of +that age, but also from the fallacious and unsatisfactory +nature of the facts and assumptions on +which the evidence rests. In that age, when the +press was chiefly occupied with controversial or +practical divinity,—when the law, the Church, and +the State engrossed all honour and respectability,—when +a degree of disgrace, <hi rend='italic'>levior quædam infamiæ +macula</hi>, was attached to the publication of poetry, +and even to have sported with the Muse, as a +private relaxation, was supposed to be—a venial +fault, indeed, yet—something beneath the gravity +of a wise man,—when the professed poets were so +poor, that the very expenses of the press demanded +the liberality of some wealthy individual, so that +two-thirds of Spenser's poetic works, and those +most highly praised by his learned admirers and +friends, remained for many years in manuscript, +and in manuscript perished,—when the amateurs +of the stage were comparatively few, and therefore +for the greater part more or less known to each +<pb n='076'/><anchor id='Pg076'/> +other,—when we know that the plays of Shakespeare, +both during and after his life, were the +property of the stage, and published by the +players, doubtless according to their notions of +acceptability with the visitants of the theatre,—in +such an age, and under such circumstances, can an +allusion or reference to any drama or poem in the +publication of a contemporary be received as conclusive +evidence, that such drama or poem had at +that time been published? Or, further, can the +priority of publication itself prove anything in +favour of actually prior composition? +</p> + +<p> +We are tolerably certain, indeed, that the <hi rend='italic'>Venus +and Adonis</hi>, and the <hi rend='italic'>Rape of Lucrece</hi>, were his two +earliest poems, and though not printed until 1593, +in the twenty-ninth year of his age, yet there can +be little doubt that they had remained by him in +manuscript many years. For Mr. Malone has +made it highly probable that he had commenced +as a writer for the stage in 1591, when he was +twenty-seven years old, and Shakespeare himself +assures us that the <hi rend='italic'>Venus and Adonis</hi> was the first +heir of his invention. +</p> + +<p> +Baffled, then, in the attempt to derive any satisfaction +from outward documents, we may easily +stand excused if we turn our researches towards +the internal evidences furnished by the writings +themselves, with no other positive <hi rend='italic'>data</hi> than the +known facts that the <hi rend='italic'>Venus and Adonis</hi> was printed +in 1593, the <hi rend='italic'>Rape of Lucrece</hi> in 1594, and that the +<hi rend='italic'>Romeo and Juliet</hi> had appeared in 1595,—and +with no other presumptions than that the poems, +his very first productions, were written many +years earlier—(for who can believe that Shakespeare +could have remained to his twenty-ninth or +<pb n='077'/><anchor id='Pg077'/> +thirtieth year without attempting poetic composition +of any kind?),—and that between these and +<hi rend='italic'>Romeo and Juliet</hi> there had intervened one or two +other dramas, or the chief materials, at least of +them, although they may very possibly have +appeared after the success of the <hi rend='italic'>Romeo and Juliet</hi>, +and some other circumstances, had given the poet +an authority with the proprietors, and created a +prepossession in his favour with the theatrical +audiences. +</p> + +<p> +CLASSIFICATION ATTEMPTED, 1802. +</p> + +<p> +FIRST EPOCH. +</p> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>The London Prodigal.</item> +<item>Cromwell.</item> +<item>Henry VI., three parts, first edition.</item> +<item>The old King John.</item> +<item>Edward III.</item> +<item>The old Taming of the Shrew.</item> +<item>Pericles.</item> +</list> + +<p> +All these are transition works, <hi rend='italic'>Uebergangswerke</hi>; +not his, yet of him. +</p> + +<p> +SECOND EPOCH. +</p> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>All's Well that Ends Well;—but afterwards +worked up afresh (<hi rend='italic'>umgearbeitet</hi>), +especially Parolles.</item> +<item>The Two Gentlemen of Verona; a sketch.</item> +<item>Romeo and Juliet; first draft of it.</item> +</list> + +<p> +THIRD EPOCH +</p> + +<p> +rises into the full, although youthful, Shakespeare; +it was the negative period of his perfection. +</p> + +<pb n='078'/><anchor id='Pg078'/> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>Love's Labour's Lost.</item> +<item>Twelfth Night.</item> +<item>As You Like It.</item> +<item>Midsummer Night's Dream.</item> +<item>Richard II.</item> +<item>Henry IV. and V.</item> +<item>Henry VIII.; <hi rend='italic'>Gelegenheitsgedicht</hi>.</item> +<item>Romeo and Juliet, as at present.</item> +<item>Merchant of Venice.</item> +</list> + +<p> +FOURTH EPOCH. +</p> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>Much Ado about Nothing.</item> +<item>Merry Wives of Windsor; first edition.</item> +<item>Henry VI.; <hi rend='italic'>rifacimento</hi>.</item> +</list> + +<p> +FIFTH EPOCH. +</p> + +<p> +The period of beauty was now past; and that of +δεινότης and grandeur succeeds. +</p> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>Lear.</item> +<item>Macbeth.</item> +<item>Hamlet.</item> +<item>Timon of Athens; an after vibration of +Hamlet.</item> +<item>Troilus and Cressida; <hi rend='italic'>Uebergang in die +Ironie</hi>.</item> +<item>The Roman Plays.</item> +<item>King John, as at present.</item> +<item>Merry Wives of Windsor</item> +<item>Taming of the Shrew <hi rend='italic'>umgearbeitet.</hi></item> +<item>Measure for Measure.</item> +<item>Othello.</item> +<item>Tempest.</item> +<item>Winter's Tale.</item> +<item>Cymbeline.</item> +</list> + +<pb n='079'/><anchor id='Pg079'/> + +<p> +CLASSIFICATION ATTEMPTED, 1810. +</p> + +<p> +Shakespeare's earliest dramas I take to be— +</p> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>Love's Labour's Lost.</item> +<item>All's Well that Ends Well.</item> +<item>Comedy of Errors.</item> +<item>Romeo and Juliet.</item> +</list> + +<p> +In the second class I reckon— +</p> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>Midsummer Night's Dream.</item> +<item>As You Like It.</item> +<item>Tempest.</item> +<item>Twelfth Night.</item> +</list> + +<p> +In the third, as indicating a greater energy—not +merely of poetry, but of all the world of +thought, yet still with some of the growing pains, +and the awkwardness of growth—I place— +</p> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>Troilus and Cressida.</item> +<item>Cymbeline.</item> +<item>Merchant of Venice.</item> +<item>Much Ado about Nothing.</item> +<item>Taming of the Shrew.</item> +</list> + +<p> +In the fourth, I place the plays containing the +greatest characters— +</p> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>Macbeth.</item> +<item>Lear.</item> +<item>Hamlet.</item> +<item>Othello.</item> +</list> + +<p> +And lastly, the historic dramas, in order to be +able to show my reasons for rejecting some whole +plays, and very many scenes in others. +</p> + +<pb n='080'/><anchor id='Pg080'/> + +<p> +CLASSIFICATION ATTEMPTED, 1819. +</p> + +<p> +I think Shakespeare's earliest dramatic attempt—perhaps +even prior in conception to the <hi rend='italic'>Venus +and Adonis</hi>, and planned before he left Stratford—was +<hi rend='italic'>Love's Labour's Lost</hi>. Shortly afterwards I +suppose <hi rend='italic'>Pericles</hi> and certain +scenes in <hi rend='italic'>Jeronymo</hi> to +have been produced; and in the same epoch, I +place the <hi rend='italic'>Winter's Tale</hi> +and <hi rend='italic'>Cymbeline</hi>, differing +from the <hi rend='italic'>Pericles</hi> by the +entire <hi rend='italic'>rifacimento</hi> of it, +when Shakespeare's celebrity as poet, and his interest, +no less than his influence, as manager, +enabled him to bring forward the laid-by labours +of his youth. The example of <hi rend='italic'>Titus Andronicus</hi>, +which, as well as <hi rend='italic'>Jeronymo</hi>, was most popular in +Shakespeare's first epoch, had led the young +dramatist to the lawless mixture of dates and +manners. In this same epoch I should place the +<hi rend='italic'>Comedy of Errors</hi>, remarkable as being the only +specimen of poetical farce in our language, that is, +intentionally such; so that all the distinct kinds +of drama, which might be educed <hi rend='italic'>a priori</hi>, have +their representatives in Shakespeare's works. I +say intentionally such; for many of Beaumont +and Fletcher's plays, and the greater part of Ben +Jonson's comedies, are farce plots. I add <hi rend='italic'>All's +Well that Ends Well</hi>, originally intended as the +counterpart of <hi rend='italic'>Love's Labour's Lost</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Taming of the Shrew</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Midsummer Night's Dream</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Much Ado +about Nothing</hi>, and <hi rend='italic'>Romeo and Juliet</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +SECOND EPOCH. +</p> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>Richard II.</item> +<item>King John.</item> +<item>Henry VI.,—<hi rend='italic'>rifacimento</hi> only.</item> +<item>Richard III.</item> +</list> + +<pb n='081'/><anchor id='Pg081'/> + +<p> +THIRD EPOCH. +</p> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>Henry IV.</item> +<item>Henry V.</item> +<item>Merry Wives of Windsor.</item> +<item>Henry VIII.,—a sort of historical masque, +or show play.</item> +</list> + +<p> +FOURTH EPOCH +</p> + +<p> +gives all the graces and facilities of a genius in +full possession and habitual exercise of power, and +peculiarly of the feminine, the <emph>lady's</emph> character. +</p> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>Tempest.</item> +<item>As You Like It</item> +<item>Merchant of Venice.</item> +<item>Twelfth Night.</item> +</list> + +<p> +And, finally, at its very point of culmination— +</p> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>Lear.</item> +<item>Hamlet.</item> +<item>Macbeth.</item> +<item>Othello.</item> +</list> + +<p> +LAST EPOCH. +</p> + +<p> +when the energies of intellect in the cycle of +genius were, though in a rich and more potentiated +form, becoming predominant over passion +and creative self-manifestation— +</p> + +<list type="simple"> +<item>Measure for Measure,</item> +<item>Timon of Athens.</item> +<item>Coriolanus.</item> +<item>Julius Cæsar.</item> +<item>Antony and Cleopatra.</item> +<item>Troilus and Cressida.</item> +</list> + +<p> +Merciful, wonder-making Heaven! what a man +was this Shakespeare! Myriad-minded, indeed, +he was. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='083'/><anchor id='Pg083'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Notes On The <q>Tempest.</q></head> + +<p> +There is a sort of improbability with which +we are shocked in dramatic representation, +not less than in a narrative of real life. Consequently, +there must be rules respecting it; and as +rules are nothing but means to an end previously +ascertained—(inattention to which simple truth +has been the occasion of all the pedantry of the +French school),—we must first determine what the +immediate end or object of the drama is. And +here, as I have previously remarked, I find two +extremes of critical decision;—the French, which +evidently presupposes that a perfect delusion is to be +aimed at,—an opinion which needs no fresh confutation; +and the exact opposite to it, brought forward +by Dr. Johnson, who supposes the auditors +throughout in the full reflective knowledge of the +contrary. In evincing the impossibility of delusion, +he makes no sufficient allowance for an intermediate +state, which I have before distinguished +by the term illusion, and have attempted to illustrate +its quality and character by reference to our +mental state when dreaming. In both cases we +simply do not judge the imagery to be unreal; +there is a negative reality, and no more. Whatever, +therefore, tends to prevent the mind from +placing itself, or being placed, gradually in that +state in which the images have such negative +reality for the auditor, destroys this illusion, and +is dramatically improbable. +</p> + +<pb n='084'/><anchor id='Pg084'/> + +<p> +Now, the production of this effect—a sense of +improbability—will depend on the degree of excitement +in which the mind is supposed to be. +Many things would be intolerable in the first +scene of a play, that would not at all interrupt our +enjoyment in the height of the interest, when the +narrow cockpit may be made to hold +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">The vasty field of France, or we may cram</q></l> +<l>Within its wooden O, the very casques,</l> +<l><q rend="post">That did affright the air at Agincourt.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Again, on the other hand, many obvious improbabilities +will be endured, as belonging to the +groundwork of the story rather than to the drama +itself, in the first scenes, which would disturb or +disentrance us from all illusion in the acme of our +excitement; as for instance, Lear's division of his +kingdom, and the banishment of Cordelia. +</p> + +<p> +But, although the other excellences of the drama +besides this dramatic probability, as unity of interest, +with distinctness and subordination of the +characters, and appropriateness of style, are all, so +far as they tend to increase the inward excitement, +means towards accomplishing the chief end, that +of producing and supporting this willing illusion,—yet +they do not on that account cease to be ends +themselves; and we must remember that, as such, +they carry their own justification with them, as +long as they do not contravene or interrupt the +total illusion. It is not even always, or of necessity, +an objection to them, that they prevent the +illusion from rising to as great a height as it +might otherwise have attained;—it is enough that +they are simply compatible with as high a degree +of it as is requisite for the purpose. Nay, upon +<pb n='085'/><anchor id='Pg085'/> +particular occasions, a palpable improbability may +be hazarded by a great genius for the express purpose +of keeping down the interest of a merely instrumental +scene, which would otherwise make too +great an impression for the harmony of the entire +illusion. Had the panorama been invented in the +time of Pope Leo X., Raffael would still, I doubt +not, have smiled in contempt at the regret, that +the broom twigs and scrubby bushes at the back of +some of his grand pictures were not as probable +trees as those in the exhibition. +</p> + +<p> +The <hi rend='italic'>Tempest</hi> is a specimen of the purely romantic +drama, in which the interest is not historical, +or dependent upon fidelity of portraiture, +or the natural connection of events, but is a birth +of the imagination, and rests only upon the coaptation +and union of the elements granted to, or +assumed by, the poet. It is a species of drama +which owes no allegiance to time or space, and in +which, therefore, errors of chronology and geography—no +mortal sins in any species—are venial +faults, and count for nothing. It addresses itself +entirely to the imaginative faculty; and although +the illusion may be assisted by the effect on the +senses of the complicated scenery and decorations +of modern times, yet this sort of assistance is +dangerous. For the principal and only genuine +excitement ought to come from within—from the +moved and sympathetic imagination; whereas, +where so much is addressed to the mere external +senses of seeing and bearing, the spiritual vision +is apt to languish, and the attraction from without +will withdraw the mind from the proper and only +legitimate interest which is intended to spring +from within. +</p> + +<pb n='086'/><anchor id='Pg086'/> + +<p> +The romance opens with a busy scene admirably +appropriate to the kind of drama, and giving, as +it were, the key-note to the whole harmony. It +prepares and initiates the excitement required for +the entire piece, and yet does not demand anything +from the spectators, which their previous +habits had not fitted them to understand. It is +the bustle of a tempest, from which the real +horrors are abstracted;—therefore it is poetical, +though not in strictness natural—(the distinction +to which I have so often alluded)—and is purposely +restrained from concentering the interest +on itself, but used merely as an induction or tuning +for what is to follow. +</p> + +<p> +In the second scene, Prospero's speeches, till the +entrance of Ariel, contain the finest example I remember +of retrospective narration for the purpose +of exciting immediate interest, and putting the +audience in possession of all the information necessary +for the understanding of the plot. Observe, +too, the perfect probability of the moment chosen +by Prospero (the very Shakespeare himself, as it +were, of the tempest) to open out the truth to his +daughter, his own romantic bearing, and how +completely anything that might have been disagreeable +to us in the magician, is reconciled and +shaded in the humanity and natural feelings of the +father. In the very first speech of Miranda, the +simplicity and tenderness of her character are at +once laid open;—it would have been lost in direct +contact with the agitation of the first scene. The +opinion once prevailed, but happily is now abandoned, +that Fletcher alone wrote for women;—the +truth is, that with very few, and those partial exceptions, +the female characters in the plays of +<pb n='087'/><anchor id='Pg087'/> +Beaumont and Fletcher are, when of the light +kind, not decent; when heroic, complete viragos. +But in Shakespeare all the elements of womanhood +are holy, and there is the sweet yet dignified +feeling of all that <emph>continuates</emph> society, as sense of +ancestry and of sex, with a purity unassailable by +sophistry, because it rests not in the analytic processes, +but in that sane equipoise of the faculties, +during which the feelings are representative of all +past experience,—not of the individual only, but of +all those by whom she has been educated, and +their predecessors, even up to the first mother that +lived. Shakespeare saw that the want of prominence, +which Pope notices for sarcasm, was the +blessed beauty of the woman's character, and knew +that it arose not from any deficiency, but from the +more exquisite harmony of all the parts of the +moral being constituing one living total of head +and heart. He has drawn it, indeed, in all its distinctive +energies of faith, patience, constancy, fortitude,—shown +in all of them as following the +heart, which gives its results by a nice tact and +happy intuition, without the intervention of the +discursive faculty, sees all things in and by the +light of the affections, and errs, if it ever err, in +the exaggerations of love alone. In all the Shakespearian +women there is essentially the same +foundation and principle; the distinct individuality +and variety are merely the result of modification +of circumstances, whether in Miranda the +maiden, in Imogen the wife, or in Katherine the +queen. +</p> + +<p> +But to return. The appearance and characters +of the super or ultra natural servants are finely +contrasted. Ariel has in everything the airy tint +<pb n='088'/><anchor id='Pg088'/> +which gives the name; and it is worthy of remark +that Miranda is never directly brought into comparison +with Ariel, lest the natural and human of +the one and the supernatural of the other should +tend to neutralise each other; Caliban, on the +other hand, is all earth, all condensed and gross in +feelings and images; he has the dawnings of +understanding without reason or the moral sense, +and in him, as in some brute animals, this advance +to the intellectual faculties, without the moral sense, +is marked by the appearance of vice. For it is in +the primacy of the moral being only that man is +truly human; in his intellectual powers he is certainly +approached by the brutes, and, man's whole +system duly considered, those powers cannot be +considered other than means to an end—that is, +to morality. +</p> + +<p> +In this scene, as it proceeds, is displayed the +impression made by Ferdinand and Miranda on +each other; it is love at first sight;— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 7">... <q rend="pre">At the first sight</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">They have chang'd eyes;</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +and it appears to me, that in all cases of real love, +it is at one moment that it takes place. That moment +may have been prepared by previous esteem, +admiration, or even affection,—yet love seems to +require a momentary act of volition, by which a +tacit bond of devotion is imposed,—a bond not to +be thereafter broken without violating what should +be sacred in our nature. How finely is the true +Shakespearian scene contrasted with Dryden's +vulgar alteration of it, in which a mere ludicrous +psychological experiment, as it were, is tried—displaying +nothing but indelicacy without passion. +</p> + +<pb n='089'/><anchor id='Pg089'/> + +<p> +Prospero's interruption of the courtship has often +seemed to me to have had no sufficient motive; +still, his alleged reason— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 6">... <q rend="pre">Lest too light winning</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Make the prize light</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +is enough for the ethereal connections of the romantic +imagination, although it would not be so +for the historical. The whole courting scene, indeed, +in the beginning of the third act, between +the lovers, is a masterpiece; and the first dawn of +disobedience in the mind of Miranda to the command +of her father is very finely drawn, so as to +seem the working of the Scriptural command—<q>Thou +shalt leave father and mother,</q> &c. Oh! +with what exquisite purity this scene is conceived +and executed! Shakespeare may sometimes be +gross, but I boldly say that he is always moral and +modest. Alas! in this our day, decency of +manners is preserved at the expense of morality +of heart, and delicacies for vice are allowed, whilst +grossness against it is hypocritically, or at least +morbidly, condemned. +</p> + +<p> +In this play are admirably sketched the vices +generally accompanying a low degree of civilisation; +and in the first scene of the second act +Shakespeare has, as in many other places, shown +the tendency in bad men to indulge in scorn and +contemptuous expressions as a mode of getting rid +of their own uneasy feelings of inferiority to the +good, and also, by making the good ridiculous, of +rendering the transition of others to wickedness +easy. Shakespeare never puts habitual scorn into +the mouths of other than bad men, as here in the +instances of Antonio and Sebastian. The scene of +<pb n='090'/><anchor id='Pg090'/> +the intended assassination of Alonzo and Gonzalo +is an exact counterpart of the scene between Macbeth +and his lady, only pitched in a lower key +throughout, as designed to be frustrated and concealed, +and exhibiting the same profound management +in the manner of familiarising a mind, not +immediately recipient, to the suggestion of guilt, +by associating the proposed crime with something +ludicrous or out of place,—something not habitually +matter of reverence. By this kind of sophistry +the imagination and fancy are first bribed to +contemplate the suggested act, and at length to +become acquainted with it. Observe how the +effect of this scene is heightened by contrast with +another counterpart of it in low life,—that between +the conspirators Stephano, Caliban, and +Trinculo in the second scene of the third act, in +which there are the same essential characteristics. +</p> + +<p> +In this play, and in this scene of it, are also +shown the springs of the vulgar in politics,—of +that kind of politics which is inwoven with human +nature. In his treatment of this subject, wherever +it occurs, Shakespeare is quite peculiar. In other +writers we find the particular opinions of the individual; +in Massinger it is rank republicanism; in +Beaumont and Fletcher even <hi rend='italic'>jure divino</hi> principles +are carried to excess;—but Shakespeare never +promulgates any party tenets. He is always the +philosopher and the moralist, but at the same time +with a profound veneration for all the established +institutions of society, and for those classes which +form the permanent elements of the State,—especially +never introducing a professional character, +as such, otherwise than as respectable. If he must +have any name, he should be styled a philosophical +<pb n='091'/><anchor id='Pg091'/> +aristocrat, delighting in those hereditary institutions +which have a tendency to bind one age to +another, and in that distinction of ranks, of which, +although few may be in possession, all enjoy the +advantages. Hence, again, you will observe the +good nature with which he seems always to make +sport with the passions and follies of a mob, as +with an irrational animal. He is never angry +with it, but hugely content with holding up its +absurdities to its face; and sometimes you may +trace a tone of almost affectionate superiority, +something like that in which a father speaks of +the rogueries of a child. See the good-humoured +way in which he describes Stephano passing from +the most licentious freedom to absolute despotism +over Trinculo and Caliban. The truth is, Shakespeare's +characters are all <hi rend='italic'>genera</hi> intensely individualised; +the results of meditation, of which +observation supplied the drapery and the colours +necessary to combine them with each other. He +had virtually surveyed all the great component +powers and impulses of human nature,—had seen +that their different combinations and subordinations +were in fact the individualisers of men, and +showed how their harmony was produced by reciprocal +disproportions of excess or deficiency. +The language in which these truths are expressed +was not drawn from any set fashion, but from the +profoundest depths of his moral being, and is +therefore for all ages. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='093'/><anchor id='Pg093'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Love's Labour's Lost.</q></head> + +<p> +The characters in this play are either impersonated +out of Shakespeare's own multiformity +by imaginative self-position, or out of such +as a country town and schoolboy's observation +might supply,—the curate, the schoolmaster, the +Armado (who even in my time was not extinct in +the cheaper inns of North Wales), and so on. The +satire is chiefly on follies of words. Biron and +Rosaline are evidently the pre-existent state of +Benedict and Beatrice, and so, perhaps, is Boyet +of Lafeu, and Costard of the tapster in <hi rend='italic'>Measure +for Measure</hi>; and the frequency of the rhymes, +the sweetness as well as the smoothness of the +metre, and the number of acute and fancifully +illustrated aphorisms, are all as they ought to be +in a poet's youth. True genius begins by generalising +and condensing; it ends in realising and expanding. +It first collects the seeds. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, if this juvenile drama had been the only +one extant of our Shakespeare, and we possessed +the tradition only of his riper works, or accounts +of them in writers who had not even mentioned +this play,—how many of Shakespeare's characteristic +features might we not still have discovered in +<hi rend='italic'>Love's Labour's Lost</hi>, though as in a portrait taken +of him in his boyhood. +</p> + +<p> +I can never sufficiently admire the wonderful +activity of thought throughout the whole of the +first scene of the play, rendered natural, as it is, +<pb n='094'/><anchor id='Pg094'/> +by the choice of the characters, and the whimsical +determination on which the drama is founded. A +whimsical determination certainly;—yet not altogether +so very improbable to those who are conversant +in the history of the middle ages, with +their Courts of Love, and all that lighter drapery +of chivalry, which engaged even mighty kings +with a sort of serio-comic interest, and may well +be supposed to have occupied more completely the +smaller princes, at a time when the noble's or +prince's court contained the only theatre of the +domain or principality. This sort of story, too, +was admirably suited to Shakespeare's times, when +the English court was still the foster-mother of the +state and the muses; and when, in consequence, +the courtiers, and men of rank and fashion, affected +a display of wit, point, and sententious observation, +that would be deemed intolerable at present,—but +in which a hundred years of controversy, involving +every great political, and every dear domestic, +interest, had trained all but the lowest classes to +participate. Add to this the very style of the sermons +of the time, and the eagerness of the Protestants +to distinguish themselves by long and +frequent preaching, and it will be found that, from +the reign of Henry VIII. to the abdication of +James II. no country ever received such a national +education as England. +</p> + +<p> +Hence the comic matter chosen in the first instance +is a ridiculous imitation or apery of this +constant striving after logical precision and subtle +opposition of thoughts, together with a making +the most of every conception or image, by expressing +it under the least expected property belonging +to it, and this, again, rendered specially absurd by +<pb n='095'/><anchor id='Pg095'/> +being applied to the most current subjects and +occurrences. The phrases and modes of combination +in argument were caught by the most ignorant +from the custom of the age, and their ridiculous +misapplication of them is most amusingly exhibited +in Costard; whilst examples suited only to the +gravest propositions and impersonations, or apostrophes +to abstract thoughts impersonated, which +are in fact the natural language only of the most +vehement agitations of the mind, are adopted by +the coxcombry of Armado as mere artifices of +ornament. +</p> + +<p> +The same kind of intellectual action is exhibited +in a more serious and elevated strain in many +other parts of this play. Biron's speech at the +end of the Fourth Act is an excellent specimen of +it. It is logic clothed in rhetoric;—but observe +how Shakespeare, in his two-fold being of poet +and philosopher, avails himself of it to convey +profound truths in the most lively images,—the +whole remaining faithful to the character supposed +to utter the lines, and the expressions themselves +constituting a further development of that +character:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Other slow arts entirely keep the brain:</q></l> +<l>And therefore finding barren practisers,</l> +<l>Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil:</l> +<l>But love, first learned in a lady's eyes,</l> +<l>Lives not alone immured in the brain;</l> +<l>But, with the motion of all elements,</l> +<l>Courses as swift as thought in every power;</l> +<l>And gives to every power a double power,</l> +<l>Above their functions and their offices.</l> +<l>It adds a precious seeing to the eye,</l> +<l>A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;</l> +<l>A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,</l> +<l>When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd:</l> +<l>Love's feeling is more soft and sensible,</l> +<l>Than are the tender horns of cockled snails;</l> +<pb n='096'/><anchor id='Pg096'/> +<l>Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste;</l> +<l>For valour, is not love a Hercules,</l> +<l>Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?</l> +<l>Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical,</l> +<l>As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair;</l> +<l>And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods</l> +<l>Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.</l> +<l>Never durst poet touch a pen to write,</l> +<l>Until his ink were tempered with love's sighs;</l> +<l>Oh, then his lines would ravish savage ears,</l> +<l>And plant in tyrants mild humility.</l> +<l>From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:</l> +<l>They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;</l> +<l>They are the books, the arts, the academes,</l> +<l>That show, contain, and nourish all the world;</l> +<l>Else, none at all in aught proves excellent;</l> +<l>Then fools you were these women to forswear;</l> +<l>Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools.</l> +<l>For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love;</l> +<l>Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men;</l> +<l>Or for men's sake, the authors of these women;</l> +<l>Or women's sake, by whom we men are men;</l> +<l>Let us once lose our oaths, to find ourselves,</l> +<l>Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths:</l> +<l>It is religion to be thus forsworn:</l> +<l>For charity itself fulfils the law:</l> +<l><q rend="post">And who can sever love from charity?</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This is quite a study;—sometimes you see this +youthful god of poetry connecting disparate +thoughts purely by means of resemblances in the +words expressing them,—a thing in character in +lighter comedy, especially of that kind in which +Shakespeare delights, namely, the purposed display +of wit, though sometimes too, disfiguring his +graver scenes;—but more often you may see him +doubling the natural connection or order of logical +consequence in the thoughts by the introduction +of an artificial and sought for resemblance in the +words, as, for instance, in the third line of the +play,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>And then grace us in the disgrace of death;</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +this being a figure often having its force and propriety, +as justified by the law of passion, which, +<pb n='097'/><anchor id='Pg097'/> +inducing in the mind an unusual activity, seeks +for means to waste its superfluity,—when in the +highest degree—in lyric repetitions and sublime +tautology—<q>At her feet he bowed, he fell, he lay +down; at her feet he bowed, he fell; where he +bowed, there he fell down dead,</q>—and, in lower +degrees, in making the words themselves the subjects +and materials of that surplus action, and for +the same cause that agitates our limbs, and forces +our very gestures into a tempest in states of high +excitement. +</p> + +<p> +The mere style of narration in <hi rend='italic'>Love's Labour's +Lost</hi>, like that of Ægeon in the first scene of the +<hi rend='italic'>Comedy of Errors</hi>, and of the Captain in the +second scene of <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi>, seems imitated with its +defects and its beauties from Sir Philip Sidney; +whose <hi rend='italic'>Arcadia</hi>, though not then published, was +already well known in manuscript copies, and +could hardly have escaped the notice and admiration +of Shakespeare as the friend and client of the +Earl of Southampton. The chief defect consists +in the parentheses and parenthetic thoughts and +descriptions, suited neither to the passion of the +speaker, nor the purpose of the person to whom +the information is to be given, but manifestly betraying +the author himself,—not by way of continuous +undersong, but—palpably, and so as to +show themselves addressed to the general reader. +However, it is not unimportant to notice how +strong a presumption the diction and allusions of +this play afford, that, though Shakespeare's acquirements +in the dead languages might not be +such as we suppose in a learned education, his +habits had, nevertheless, been scholastic, and those +of a student. For a young author's first work +<pb n='098'/><anchor id='Pg098'/> +almost always bespeaks his recent pursuits, and +his first observations of life are either drawn from +the immediate employments of his youth, and from +the characters and images most deeply impressed +on his mind in the situations in which those employments +had placed him;—or else they are fixed +on such objects and occurrences in the world, as +are easily connected with, and seem to bear upon, +his studies and the hitherto exclusive subjects of +his meditation. Just as Ben Jonson, who applied +himself to the drama after having served in +Flanders, fills his earliest plays with true or pretended +soldiers, the wrongs and neglects of the +former, and the absurd boasts and knavery of +their counterfeits. So Lessing's first comedies are +placed in the universities, and consist of events +and characters conceivable in an academic life. +</p> + +<p> +I will only further remark the sweet and tempered +gravity, with which Shakespeare in the end +draws the only fitting moral which such a drama +afforded. Here Rosaline rises up to the full +height of Beatrice:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Ros.</hi> Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron,</q></l> +<l>Before I saw you: and the world's large tongue</l> +<l>Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;</l> +<l>Full of comparisons, and wounding flouts,</l> +<l>Which you on all estates will execute</l> +<l>That lie within the mercy of your wit:</l> +<l>To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,</l> +<l>And therewithal, to win me, if you please</l> +<l>(Without the which I am not to be won),</l> +<l>You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day</l> +<l>Visit the speechless sick, and still converse</l> +<l>With groaning wretches; and your talk shall be,</l> +<l>With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,</l> +<l>To enforce the pained impotent to smile.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Biron.</hi> To move wild laughter in the throat of death?</l> +<l>It cannot be; it is impossible;</l> +<l>Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Ros.</hi> Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,</l> +<pb n='099'/><anchor id='Pg099'/> +<l>Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,</l> +<l>Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools;</l> +<l>A jest's prosperity lies in the ear</l> +<l>Of him that hears it, never in the tongue</l> +<l>Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,</l> +<l>Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans,</l> +<l>Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,</l> +<l>And I will have you, and that fault withal:</l> +<l>But, if they will not, throw away that spirit,</l> +<l>And I shall find you empty of that fault,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Right joyful of your reformation.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Act v. sc. 2. In Biron's speech to the Princess: +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10"><q rend="pre">And, therefore, like the eye,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Full of <emph>straying</emph> shapes, of habits, and of forms</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +either read <emph>stray</emph>, which I prefer; or throw <emph>full</emph> +back to the preceding lines,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 8"><q rend="pre">Like the eye, full</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Of straying shapes,</q> &c,</l> +</lg> + +<p> +In the same scene:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Biron.</hi> And what to me, my love? and what to me?</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Ros.</hi> You must be purged too, your sins are rank;</l> +<l>You are attaint with fault and perjury:</l> +<l>Therefore, if you my favour mean to get,</l> +<l>A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,</l> +<l><q rend="post">But seek the weary beds of people sick.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +There can be no doubt, indeed, about the propriety +of expunging this speech of Rosaline's; it soils +the very page that retains it. But I do not agree +with Warburton and others in striking out the +preceding line also. It is quite in Biron's character; +and Rosaline, not answering it immediately, +Dumain takes up the question for him, +and, after he and Longaville are answered, Biron, +with evident propriety, says:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><emph>Studies</emph> my mistress?</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +</div> + +<pb n='101'/><anchor id='Pg101'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Midsummer Night's Dream.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Her.</hi> O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low—</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Lys.</hi> Or else misgrafted in respect of years;</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Her.</hi> O spite! too old to be engaged to young—</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Lys.</hi> Or else it stood upon the choice of friends;</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Her.</hi> O hell! to chuse love by another's eye!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +There is no authority for any alteration;—but +I never can help feeling how great an improvement +it would be, if the two former of +Hermia's exclamations were omitted;—the third +and only appropriate one would then become a +beauty, and most natural. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Helena's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +I am convinced that Shakespeare availed himself +of the title of this play in his own mind, and +worked upon it as a dream throughout, but especially, +and perhaps unpleasingly, in this broad +determination of ungrateful treachery in Helena, +so undisguisedly avowed to herself, and this, too, +after the witty cool philosophising that precedes. +The act itself is natural, and the resolve so to act +is, I fear, likewise too true a picture of the lax +hold which principles have on a woman's heart, +when opposed to, or even separated from, passion +and inclination. For women are less hypocrites +to their own minds than men are, because in +general they feel less proportionate abhorrence of +moral evil in and for itself, and more of its outward +<pb n='102'/><anchor id='Pg102'/> +consequences, as detection and loss of character, +than men,—their natures being almost +wholly extroitive. Still, however just in itself, +the representation of this is not poetical; we +shrink from it, and cannot harmonise it with the +ideal. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1. Theobald's edition— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><emph>Through</emph> bush, <emph>through</emph> briar—</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><emph>Through</emph> flood, <emph>through fire</emph>—</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +What a noble pair of ears this worthy Theobald +must have had! The eight amphimacers or +cretics,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Ovĕr hīll, ōvĕr dāle,</q></l> +<l>Thōrŏ' būsh, thōrŏ' brīar,</l> +<l>Ovĕr pārk, ōvĕr pāle,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Thrōrŏ' flōōd, thōrŏ' fīre</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +have a delightful effect on the ear in their sweet +transition to the trochaic,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">I dŏ wāndĕr ēv'ry whērĕ</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Swīftĕr thān thĕ mōōnĕs sphērĕ,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +The last words, as sustaining the rhyme, must be +considered, as in fact they are, trochees in time. +</p> + +<p> +It may be worth while to give some correct +examples in English of the principle metrical +feet:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l>Pyrrhic or Dibrach, u u = <hi rend='italic'>bŏdy</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>spĭrĭt</hi>.</l> +<l>Tribrach, u u u = <hi rend='italic'>nŏbŏdy</hi>, hastily pronounced.</l> +<l>Iambus, u - = <hi rend='italic'>dĕlīght</hi>.</l> +<l>Trochee, - u = <hi rend='italic'>līghtlȳ</hi>.</l> +<l>Spondee, - - = <hi rend='italic'>Gōd spāke</hi>.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +The paucity of spondees in single words in English, +and indeed in the modern languages in general, +<pb n='103'/><anchor id='Pg103'/> +makes perhaps the greatest distinction, metrically +considered, between them and the Greek and +Latin. +</p> + +<lg> +<l>Dactyl, - u u = <hi rend='italic'>mērrĭlȳ</hi>.</l> +<l>Anapæst, u u - = <hi rend='italic'>ă prŏpōs</hi>, or the first three +syllables of <hi rend='italic'>cĕrĕmōny</hi>.</l> +<l>Amphibrachys, u - u = <hi rend='italic'>dĕlīghtfŭl</hi>.</l> +<l>Amphimacer, - u - = <hi rend='italic'>ōvĕr hīll</hi>.</l> +<l>Antibacchius, u - = <hi rend='italic'>thĕ Lōrd Gōd</hi>.</l> +<l>Bacchius, - - u = <hi rend='italic'>Hēlvēllȳn</hi>.</l> +<l>Molossus, - - - = <hi rend='italic'>Jōhn Jāmes Jōnes</hi>.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +These simple feet may suffice for understanding +the metres of Shakespeare, for the greater part at +least;—but Milton cannot be made harmoniously +intelligible without the composite feet, the Ionics, +Pæons, and Epitrites. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. Titania's speech (Theobald, adopting +Warburton's reading):— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Which she, with pretty and with swimming gate</q></l> +<l><emph>Follying</emph> (her womb then rich with my young squire)</l> +<l><q rend="post">Would imitate,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Oh! oh! Heaven have mercy on poor Shakespeare, +and also on Mr. Warburton's mind's eye! +</p> + +<p> +Act v. sc. 1. Theseus' speech (Theobald):— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">And what poor [<emph>willing</emph>] duty cannot do,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Noble respect takes it in might, not merit.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +To my ears it would read far more Shakespearian +thus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">And what poor duty cannot do, <emph>yet would</emph>,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Noble respect,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Puck.</hi> Now the hungry lion roars,</q></l> +<l rend="margin-left: 2">And the wolf behowls the moon;</l> +<l>Whilst the heavy ploughman snores</l> +<l rend="margin-left: 2"><q rend="post">All with weary task foredone,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<pb n='104'/><anchor id='Pg104'/> + +<p> +Very Anacreon in perfectness, proportion, grace, +and spontaneity! So far it is Greek;—but then +add, O! what wealth, what wild ranging, and yet +what compression and condensation of, English +fancy! In truth, there is nothing in Anacreon +more perfect than these thirty lines, or half so +rich and imaginative. They form a speckless +diamond. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='105'/><anchor id='Pg105'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Comedy Of Errors.</q></head> + +<p> +The myriad-minded man, our, and all men's +Shakespeare, has in this piece presented us +with a legitimate farce in exactest consonance with +the philosophical principles and character of farce, +as distinguished from comedy and from entertainments. +A proper farce is mainly distinguished +from comedy by the licence allowed, and even required, +in the fable, in order to produce strange +and laughable situations. The story need not be +probable, it is enough that it is possible. A +comedy would scarcely allow even the two Antipholuses; +because, although there have been instances +of almost indistinguishable likeness in two +persons, yet these are mere individual accidents, +<hi rend='italic'>casus ludentis naturæ</hi>, +and the <hi rend='italic'>verum</hi> will not excuse +the <hi rend='italic'>inverisimile</hi>. But farce dares add the two +Dromios, and is justified in so doing by the laws +of its end and constitution. In a word, farces +commence in a postulate, which must be granted. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='107'/><anchor id='Pg107'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>As You Like It.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1. +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Oli.</hi> What, boy!</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Orla.</hi> Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Oli.</hi> Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +There is a beauty here. The word <q>boy</q> +naturally provokes and awakens in Orlando +the sense of his manly powers; and with the +retort of <q>elder brother,</q> he grasps him with +firm hands, and makes him feel he is no boy. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<p> +<q><hi rend='italic'>Oli.</hi> Farewell, good Charles. Now will I stir this gamester: +I hope, I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, +hates nothing more than him. Yet he's gentle; never school'd, and +yet learn'd; full of noble device; of all sorts enchantingly beloved! +and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my +own people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised: +but it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all.</q> +</p> + +<p> +This has always appeared to me one of the most +un-Shakespearian speeches in all the genuine +works of our poet; yet I should be nothing surprised, +and greatly pleased, to find it hereafter a +fresh beauty, as has so often happened to me with +other supposed defects of great men.—1810. +</p> + +<p> +It is too venturous to charge a passage in +Shakespeare with want of truth to nature; and +yet at first sight this speech of Oliver's expresses +truths, which it seems almost impossible that any +mind should so distinctly, so livelily, and so +voluntarily, have presented to itself, in connection +with feelings and intentions so malignant, and so +contrary to those which the qualities expressed +would naturally have called forth. But I dare +<pb n='108'/><anchor id='Pg108'/> +not say that this seeming unnaturalness is not in +the nature of an abused wilfulness, when united +with a strong intellect. In such characters there +is sometimes a gloomy self-gratification in making +the absoluteness of the will (<hi rend='italic'>sit pro ratione +voluntas!</hi>) evident to themselves by setting the +reason and the conscience in full array against it.—1818. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2.— +</p> + +<p> +<q><hi rend='italic'>Celia.</hi> If your saw yourself with <emph>your</emph> +eyes, or knew yourself +with <emph>your</emph> judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you +to a more equal enterprise.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Surely it should be <q><emph>our</emph> eyes</q> and <q><emph>our</emph> +judgment.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc 3.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Cel.</hi> But is all this for your father?</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Ros.</hi> No; some of it is for +<emph>my child's father</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Theobald restores this as the reading of the +older editions. It may be so: but who can doubt +that it is a mistake for <q>my father's child,</q> meaning +herself? According to Theobald's note, a +most indelicate anticipation is put into the mouth +of Rosalind without reason;—and besides, what a +strange thought, and how out of place and unintelligible! +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 2.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Take thou no scorn</q></l> +<l>To wear the horn, the lusty horn;</l> +<l><q rend="post">It was a crest ere thou wast born.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I question whether there exists a parallel instance +of a phrase, that like this of <q>horns</q> is +universal in all languages, and yet for which no +one has discovered even a plausible origin. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='109'/><anchor id='Pg109'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Twelfth Night.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1. Duke's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 6">... <q rend="pre">So full of shapes is fancy,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">That it alone is high fantastical.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Warburton's alteration of <emph>is</emph> into <emph>in</emph> is +needless. <q>Fancy</q> may very well be interpreted +<q>exclusive affection,</q> or <q>passionate +preference.</q> Thus, bird-fanciers; gentlemen of +the fancy, that is, amateurs of boxing, &c. The +play of assimilation,—the meaning one sense +chiefly, and yet keeping both senses in view, is +perfectly Shakespearian. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 3. Sir Andrew's speech:— +</p> + +<p> +An explanatory note on <hi rend='italic'>Pigrogromitus</hi> would +have been more acceptable than Theobald's grand +discovery that <q>lemon</q> ought to be <q>leman.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Sir Toby's speech (Warburton's note on +the Peripatetic philosophy):— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three</q></l> +<l><q>souls out of one weaver?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +O genuine, and inimitable (at least I hope so) +Warburton! This note of thine, if but one in +five millions, would be half a one too much. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 4.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Duke.</hi> My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye</q></l> +<l>Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves;</l> +<l>Hath it not, boy?</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Vio.</hi> A little, by your favour.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Duke.</hi> What kind of woman is't?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +And yet Viola was to have been presented to +Orsino as a eunuch!—Act i. sc. 2. Viola's speech. +Either she forgot this, or else she had altered her +plan. +</p> + +<pb n='110'/><anchor id='Pg110'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Vio.</hi> A blank, my lord: she never told her love!—</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">But let concealment,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +After the first line (of which the last five words +should be spoken with, and drop down in, a deep +sigh), the actress ought to make a pause; and then +start afresh, from the activity of thought, born of +suppressed feelings, and which thought had accumulated +during the brief interval, as vital heat +under the skin during a dip in cold water. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 5.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Fabian.</hi> Though our silence be drawn from us by <emph>cars</emph>, yet</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">peace.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Perhaps, <q>cables.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>Clown.</hi> A sentence is but a <hi rend='italic'>cheveril</hi> glove to a good wit.</q></l> +<l>(Theobald's note.)</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Theobald's etymology of <q>cheveril</q> is, of course, +quite right;—but he is mistaken in supposing that +there were no such things as gloves of chicken-skin. +They were at one time a main article in +chirocosmetics. +</p> + +<p> +Act v. sc. 1. Clown's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">So that, <emph>conclusions to be as kisses</emph>, if your four negatives make</q></l> +<l>your two affirmatives, why, then, the worse for my friends, and the</l> +<l><q rend="post">better for my foes.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +(Warburton reads <q>conclusion to be asked, is.</q>) +</p> + +<p> +Surely Warburton could never have wooed by +kisses and won, or he would not have flounder-flatted +so just and humorous, nor less pleasing than +humorous, an image into so profound a nihility. +In the name of love and wonder, do not four kisses +make a double affirmative? The humour lies in +the whispered <q>No!</q> and the inviting <q>Don't!</q> +with which the maiden's kisses are accompanied, +and thence compared to negatives, which by repetition +constitute an affirmative. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='111'/><anchor id='Pg111'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>All's Well That Ends Well.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Count.</hi> If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes</q></l> +<l>it soon mortal.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Bert.</hi> <hi rend='italic'>Madam, I desire your holy wishes.</hi></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Laf.</hi> <hi rend='italic'>How understand we that?</hi></q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Bertram and Lafeu, I imagine, both speak +together,—Lafeu referring to the Countess's +rather obscure remark. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1. (Warburton's note.) +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>King.</hi> ... let <emph>higher</emph> Italy</q></l> +<l>(Those <emph>'bated</emph>, that inherit but the fall</l> +<l>Of the last monarchy) see, that you come</l> +<l><q rend="post">Not to woo honour, but to wed it.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +It would be, I own, an audacious and unjustifiable +change of the text; but yet, as a mere conjecture, +I venture to suggest <q>bastards,</q> for <q>'bated.</q> +As it stands, in spite of Warburton's note, I can +make little or nothing of it. Why should the king +except the then most illustrious states, which, as +being republics, were the more truly inheritors of +the Roman grandeur?—With my conjecture, the +sense would be;—<q>let higher, or the more northern +part of Italy—(unless <q>higher</q> be a corruption for +<q>hir'd,</q>—the metre seeming to demand a monosyllable) +(those bastards that inherit the infamy only +of their fathers) see,</q> &c. The following <q>woo</q> +and <q>wed</q> are so far confirmative as they indicate +Shakespeare's manner of connection by unmarked +influences of association from some preceding metaphor. +<pb n='112'/><anchor id='Pg112'/> +This it is which makes his style so peculiarly +vital and organic. Likewise <q>those girls of +Italy</q> strengthen the guess. The absurdity of +Warburton's gloss, which represents the king calling +Italy superior, and then excepting the only +part the lords were going to visit, must strike +every one. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Laf.</hi> They say, miracles are past; and we have our philosophical</q></l> +<l>persons to make modern and familiar, things supernatural</l> +<l><q rend="post">and <emph>causeless</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Shakespeare, inspired, as it might seem, with all +knowledge, here uses the word <q>causeless</q> in its +strict philosophical sense;—cause being truly predicable +only of <hi rend='italic'>phenomena</hi>, that is, things natural, +and not of <hi rend='italic'>noumena</hi>, or things supernatural. +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 5.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Dia.</hi> The Count Rousillon:—know you such a one?</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Hel.</hi> But by the ear that hears most nobly of him;</l> +<l><q rend="post">His face I know not.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Shall we say here, that Shakespeare has unnecessarily +made his loveliest character utter a lie?—Or +shall we dare think that, where to deceive was +necessary, he thought a pretended verbal verity a +double crime, equally with the other a lie to the +hearer, and at the same time an attempt to lie to +one's own conscience? +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='113'/><anchor id='Pg113'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Merry Wives Of Windsor.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>Shal.</hi> The luce is the fresh fish, the salt fish is +an old coat.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I cannot understand this. Perhaps there is +a corruption both of words and speakers. +Shallow no sooner corrects one mistake of Sir +Hugh's, namely, <q>louse</q> for <q>luce,</q> a pike, but +the honest Welchman falls into another, namely, +<q>cod</q> (<hi rend='italic'>baccalà</hi>). +<hi rend='italic'>Cambrice</hi>—<q>cot</q> for coat. +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Shal.</hi> The luce is the fresh fish—</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Evans.</hi> The salt fish is an old cot.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<q>Luce is a fresh fish, and not a louse;</q> says Shallow. +<q>Aye, aye,</q> quoth Sir Hugh; <q>the <emph>fresh</emph> +fish is the luce; it is an old cod that is the salt +fish.</q> At all events, as the text stands, there is +no sense at all in the words. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Fal.</hi> Now, the report goes, +she has all the rule of her husband's</q></l> +<l>purse; He hath a legion of angels.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Pist.</hi> As many devils +entertain; and <emph>To her, boy</emph>, say I.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Perhaps it is— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">As many devils enter (or enter'd) swine; +and <emph>to her, boy</emph>,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">say I:</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +a somewhat profane, but not un-Shakespearian, allusion +to the <q>legion</q> in St. Luke's <q>gospel.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='115'/><anchor id='Pg115'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Measure For Measure.</q></head> + +<p> +This play, which is Shakespeare's throughout, +is to me the most painful—say rather, the only +painful—part of his genuine works. The comic +and tragic parts equally border on the μισητὸν,—the +one being disgusting, the other horrible; and +the pardon and marriage of Angelo not merely +baffles the strong indignant claim of justice—(for +cruelty, with lust and damnable baseness, cannot +be forgiven, because we cannot conceive them as +being morally repented of); but it is likewise degrading +to the character of woman. Beaumont +and Fletcher, who can follow Shakespeare in his +errors only, have presented a still worse, because +more loathsome and contradictory, instance of the +same kind in the <hi rend='italic'>Night-Walker</hi>, in the marriage +of Alathe to Algripe. Of the counter-balancing +beauties of <hi rend='italic'>Measure for Measure</hi>, I need say nothing; +for I have already remarked that the play +is Shakespeare's throughout. +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Ay, but to die, and go we know not where,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<quote rend="display"> +<p> +<q rend="pre">This natural fear of Claudio, from the antipathy we have to +death, seems very little varied from that infamous wish of Mæcenas, +recorded in the 101st epistle of Seneca:—</q> +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Debilem facito manu,</hi></q></l> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Debilem pede, coxa</hi></q> +&c.—Warburton's note.</l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +I cannot but think this rather a heroic resolve, +than an infamous wish. It appears to me to be +the grandest symptom of an immortal spirit, when +<pb n='116'/><anchor id='Pg116'/> +even that bedimmed and overwhelmed spirit recked +not of its own immortality, still to seek to be,—to +be a mind, a will. +</p> + +<p> +As fame is to reputation, so heaven is to an +estate, or immediate advantage. The difference +is, that the self-love of the former cannot exist +but by a complete suppression and habitual supplantation +of immediate selfishness. In one point +of view, the miser is more estimable than the +spendthrift;—only that the miser's present feelings +are as much of the present as the spendthrift's. +But <hi rend='italic'>cæteris paribus</hi>, that is, upon the +supposition that whatever is good or lovely in the +one coexists equally in the other, then, doubtless, +the master of the present is less a selfish being, +an animal, than he who lives for the moment with +no inheritance in the future. Whatever can degrade +man, is supposed in the latter case; whatever +can elevate him, in the former. And as to +self;—strange and generous self! that can only +be such a self by a complete divestment of all that +men call self,—of all that can make it either +practically to others, or consciously to the individual +himself, different from the human race in +its ideal. Such self is but a perpetual religion, +an inalienable acknowledgment of God, the sole +basis and ground of being. In this sense, how +can I love God, and not love myself, as far as it +is of God? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Pattern in himself to know,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Grace to stand, and virtue go.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Worse metre, indeed, but better English would +be,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Grace to stand, virtue to go.</q></l> +</lg> + +</div> + +<pb n='117'/><anchor id='Pg117'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Cymbeline.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">You do not meet a man, but frowns: our bloods</q></l> +<l>No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers'</l> +<l><q rend="post">Still seem, as does the king's.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +There can be little doubt of Mr. Tyrwhitt's +emendations of <q>courtiers</q> and <q>king,</q> as +to the sense;—only it is not impossible that +Shakespeare's dramatic language may allow of the +word <q>brows</q> or <q>faces</q> being understood after +the word <q>courtiers',</q> which might then remain +in the genitive case plural. But the nominative +plural makes excellent sense, and is sufficiently +elegant, and sounds to my ear Shakespearian. +What, however, is meant by <q>our bloods no more +obey the heavens?</q>—Dr. Johnson's assertion +that <q>bloods</q> signify <q>countenances,</q> is, I think, +mistaken both in the thought conveyed—(for it +was never a popular belief that the stars governed +men's countenances)—and in the usage, which +requires an antithesis of the blood,—or the temperament +of the four humours, choler, melancholy, +phlegm, and the red globules, or the sanguine +portion, which was supposed not to be in our own +power, but to be dependent on the influences of +the heavenly bodies,—and the countenances which +are in our power really, though from flattery we +bring them into a no less apparent dependence on +<pb n='118'/><anchor id='Pg118'/> +the sovereign, than the former are in actual +dependence on the constellations. +</p> + +<p> +I have sometimes thought that the word <q>courtiers</q> +was a misprint for <q>countenances,</q> arising +from an anticipation, by foreglance of the compositor's +eye, of the word <q>courtier</q> a few lines +below. The written <hi rend='italic'>r</hi> is easily and often confounded +with, the written <hi rend='italic'>n</hi>. The compositor read +the first syllable <hi rend='italic'>court</hi>, and—his eye at the same +time catching the word <q>courtier</q> lower down—he +completed the word without reconsulting the +copy. It is not unlikely that Shakespeare intended +first to express, generally, the same +thought, which a little afterwards he repeats with +a particular application to the persons meant;—a +common usage of the pronominal <q>our,</q> where +the speaker does not really mean to include himself; +and the word <q>you</q> is an additional confirmation +of the <q>our,</q> being used in this place for +<q>men</q> generally and indefinitely,—just as <q>you +do not meet</q> is the same as <q>one does not meet.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1 Imogen's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">My dearest husband,</q></l> +<l>I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing</l> +<l>(Always reserved my holy duty) what</l> +<l><q rend="post">His rage can do on me;</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Place the emphasis on <q>me</q>; for <q>rage</q> is a +mere repetition of <q>wrath.</q> +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Cym.</hi> O disloyal thing;</q></l> +<l>That should'st repair my youth; thou heapest</l> +<l><q rend="post">A year's age on me!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +How is it that the commentators take no notice +of the un-Shakespearian defect in the metre of the +second line, and what in Shakespeare is the same, +<pb n='119'/><anchor id='Pg119'/> +in the harmony with the sense and feeling? Some +word or words must have slipped out after +<q>youth,</q>—possibly <q>and see</q>:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>That should'st repair my youth!—and see, thou heap'st,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. Pisanio's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">For so long</q></l> +<l>As he could make me with <emph>this</emph> eye or ear</l> +<l><q rend="post">Distinguish him from others,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +But <q><emph>this</emph> eye,</q> in spite of the supposition of its +being used δεικτικῶς, is very awkward. I should +think that either <q>or</q> or <q>the</q> was Shakespeare's +word;— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>As he could make me or with eye or ear.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 6. Iachimo's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 8">... <q rend="pre">Hath nature given them eyes</q></l> +<l>To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop</l> +<l>Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt</l> +<l>The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd stones</l> +<l><q rend="post">Upon the number'd beach.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I would suggest <q>cope</q> for <q>crop.</q> As to +<q>twinn'd stones</q>—may it not be a bold <hi rend='italic'>catachresis</hi> +for muscles, cockles, and other empty shells with +hinges, which are truly twinned? I would take +Dr. Farmer's <q>umber'd,</q> which I had proposed +before I ever heard of its having been already +offered by him: but I do not adopt his interpretation +of the word, which I think is not derived +from <hi rend='italic'>umbra</hi>, a shade, +but from <hi rend='italic'>umber</hi>, a dingy +yellow-brown soil, which most commonly forms +the mass of the sludge on the sea-shore, and on +the banks of tide-rivers at low water. One other +possible interpretation of this sentence has occurred +to me, just barely worth mentioning;—that +<pb n='120'/><anchor id='Pg120'/> +the <q>twinn'd stones</q> are the <hi rend='italic'>augrim</hi> stones +upon the number'd beech,—that is, the astronomical +tables of beech-wood. +</p> + +<p> +Act v. sc. 5.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>Sooth.</hi> When, as a lion's whelp,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +It is not easy to conjecture why Shakespeare +should have introduced this ludicrous scroll, which +answers no one purpose, either propulsive, or explicatory, +unless as a joke on etymology. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='121'/><anchor id='Pg121'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Titus Andronicus.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1. Theobald's note:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>I never heard it so much as intimated, that he (Shakespeare) +had turned his genius to stage-writing, before he associated with +the players, and became one of their body.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +That Shakespeare never <q>turned his genius to +stage-writing,</q> as Theobald most <hi rend='italic'>Theobaldice</hi> +phrases it, before he became an actor, is an assertion +of about as much authority as the precious +story that he left Stratford for deer-stealing, and +that he lived by holding gentlemen's horses at the +doors of the theatre, and other trash of that arch-gossip, +old Aubrey. The metre is an argument +against <hi rend='italic'>Titus Andronicus</hi> being Shakespeare's, +worth a score such chronological surmises. Yet +I incline to think that both in this play and in +<hi rend='italic'>Jeronymo</hi>, Shakespeare wrote some passages, and +that they are the earliest of his compositions. +</p> + +<p> +Act v. sc. 2. I think it not improbable that +the lines from— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">I am not mad; I know thee well enough;</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +to +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post">So thou destroy Rapine, and Murder there</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +were written by Shakespeare in his earliest period. +But instead of the text— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 4"><q rend="pre">Revenge, <emph>which makes +the foul offenders quake.</emph></q></l> +<l><q rend="post"><emph>Tit. Art thou</emph> Revenge? +and art thou sent to me?</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +the words in italics ought to be omitted. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='123'/><anchor id='Pg123'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Troilus And Cressida.</q></head> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>Mr. Pope (after Dryden) informs us that the story of <hi rend='italic'>Troilus +and Cressida</hi> was originally the work of one Lollius, a Lombard: +but Dryden goes yet further; he declares it to have been written in +Latin verse, and that Chaucer translated it. <emph>Lollius was a historiographer +of Urbino in Italy.</emph></q>—Note in Stockdale's edition, 1807. +</quote> + +<p> +<q>Lollius was a historiographer of Urbino in +Italy.</q> So affirms the notary to whom the +Sieur Stockdale committed the <hi rend='italic'>disfaciménto</hi> of +Ayscough's excellent edition of Shakespeare. +Pity that the researchful notary has not either +told us in what century, and of what history, he +was a writer, or been simply content to depose, +that Lollius, if a writer of that name existed at +all, was a somewhat somewhere. The notary +speaks of the <hi rend='italic'>Troy Boke</hi> of Lydgate, printed in +1513. I have never seen it; but I deeply regret +that Chalmers did not substitute the whole of +Lydgate's works from the MSS. extant, for the +almost worthless Gower. +</p> + +<p> +The <hi rend='italic'>Troilus and Cressida</hi> of Shakespeare can +scarcely be classed with his dramas of Greek and +Roman history; but it forms an intermediate link +between the fictitious Greek and Roman histories, +which we may call legendary dramas, and the +proper ancient histories,—that is, between the +<hi rend='italic'>Pericles</hi> or <hi rend='italic'>Titus Andronicus</hi>, +and the <hi rend='italic'>Coriolanus</hi> +or <hi rend='italic'>Julius Cæsar</hi>. +<hi rend='italic'>Cymbeline</hi> is a <hi rend='italic'>congener</hi> with +<hi rend='italic'>Pericles</hi>, and distinguished from +<hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi> by not +having any declared prominent object. But where +<pb n='124'/><anchor id='Pg124'/> +shall we class the <hi rend='italic'>Timon of Athens</hi>? Perhaps +immediately below <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi>. It is a <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi> of the +satirical drama; a <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi> of domestic or ordinary +life;—a local eddy of passion on the high road of +society, while all around is the week-day goings +on of wind and weather; a <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi>, therefore, without +its soul-searching flashes, its ear-cleaving +thunder-claps, its meteoric splendours,—without +the contagion and the fearful sympathies of +nature, the fates, the furies, the frenzied elements, +dancing in and out, now breaking through and +scattering,—now hand in hand with,—the fierce +or fantastic group of human passions, crimes, and +anguishes, reeling on the unsteady ground, in a +wild harmony to the shock and the swell of an +earthquake. But my present subject was <hi rend='italic'>Troilus +and Cressida</hi>; and I suppose that, scarcely knowing +what to say of it, I by a cunning of instinct +ran off to subjects on which I should find it difficult not +to say too much, though certain after all +that I should still leave the better part unsaid, +and the gleaning for others richer than my own +harvest. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, there is no one of Shakespeare's plays +harder to characterise. The name and the remembrances +connected with it, prepare us for the representation +of attachment no less faithful than +fervent on the side of the youth, and of sudden +and shameless inconstancy on the part of the lady. +And this is, indeed, as the gold thread on which +the scenes are strung, though often kept out of +sight and out of mind by gems of greater value +than itself. But as Shakespeare calls forth nothing +from the mausoleum of history, or the catacombs +of tradition, without giving, or eliciting, some +<pb n='125'/><anchor id='Pg125'/> +permanent and general interest, and brings forward +no subject which he does not moralise or +intellectualise,—so here he has drawn in Cressida +the portrait of a vehement passion, that, having +its true origin and proper cause in warmth of +temperament, fastens on, rather than fixes to, +some one object by liking and temporary preference. +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,</q></l> +<l>Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirit looks out</l> +<l><q rend="post">At every joint and motive of her body.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +This Shakespeare has contrasted with the profound +affection represented in Troilus, and alone +worthy the name of love;—affection, passionate +indeed,—swoln with the confluence of youthful +instincts and youthful fancy, and growing in the +radiance of hope newly risen, in short, enlarged +by the collective sympathies of nature;—but still +having a depth of calmer element in a will stronger +than desire, more entire than choice, and which +gives permanence to its own act by converting it +into faith and duty. Hence, with excellent judgment, +and with an excellence higher than mere +judgment can give, at the close of the play, when +Cressida has sunk into infamy below retrieval and +beneath hope, the same will, which had been the +substance and the basis of his love, while the restless +pleasures and passionate longings, like sea-waves, +had tossed but on its surface,—this same +moral energy is represented as snatching him aloof +from all neighbourhood with her dishonour, from +all lingering fondness and languishing regrets, +whilst it rushes with him into other and nobler +duties, and deepens the channel, which his heroic +brother's death had left empty for its collected +<pb n='126'/><anchor id='Pg126'/> +flood. Yet another secondary and subordinate +purpose Shakespeare has inwoven with his delineation +of these two characters,—that of opposing +the inferior civilisation, but purer morals, of the +Trojans to the refinements, deep policy, but duplicity +and sensual corruptions of the Greeks. +</p> + +<p> +To all this, however, so little comparative projection +is given,—nay, the masterly group of +Agamemnon, Nestor, and Ulysses, and, still more +in advance, that of Achilles, Ajax, and Thersites, +so manifestly occupying the fore-ground, that the +subservience and vassalage of strength and animal +courage to intellect and policy seems to be the +lesson most often in our poet's view, and which he +has taken little pains to connect with the former +more interesting moral impersonated in the titular +hero and heroine of the drama. But I am half +inclined to believe, that Shakespeare's main object, +or shall I rather say his ruling impulse, was to +translate the poetic heroes of paganism into the +not less rude, but more intellectually vigorous, +and more <emph>featurely</emph>, warriors of Christian chivalry,—and +to substantiate the distinct and graceful +profiles or outlines of the Homeric epic into the +flesh and blood of the romantic drama;—in short, +to give a grand history-piece in the robust style +of Albert Durer. +</p> + +<p> +The character of Thersites, in particular, well +deserves a more careful examination, as the Caliban +of demagogic life;—the admirable portrait of intellectual +power deserted by all grace, all moral +principle, all not momentary impulse;—just wise +enough to detect the weak head, and fool enough +to provoke the armed fist of his betters;—one whom +malcontent Achilles can inveigle from malcontent +<pb n='127'/><anchor id='Pg127'/> +Ajax, under the one condition, that he shall be +called on to do nothing but abuse and slander, and +that he shall be allowed to abuse as much and as +purulently as he likes, that is, as he can;—in short, +a mule,—quarrelsome by the original discord of his +nature;—a slave by tenure of his own baseness,—made +to bray and be brayed at, to despise and be +despicable. <q>Aye, Sir, but say what you will, he +is a very clever fellow, though the best friends will +fall out. There was a time when Ajax thought he +deserved to have a statue of gold erected to him +and handsome Achilles, at the head of the Myrmidons, +gave no little credit to his <hi rend='italic'>friend Thersites</hi>!</q> +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 5. Speech of Ulysses:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">That give a <emph>coasting</emph> welcome ere it comes</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Should it be <q>accosting?</q> <q>Accost her, knight, +accost!</q> in the <hi rend='italic'>Twelfth Night</hi>. Yet there sounds +a something so Shakespearian in the phrase—<q>give +a coasting welcome</q> (<q>coasting</q> being taken as +the epithet and adjective of <q>welcome</q>), that had +the following words been, <q>ere <emph>they land</emph>,</q> instead +of <q>ere it comes,</q> I should have preferred the +interpretation. The sense now is, <q>that give +welcome to a salute ere it comes.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='129'/><anchor id='Pg129'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Coriolanus.</q></head> + +<p> +This play illustrates the wonderfully philosophic +impartiality of Shakespeare's politics. His own +country's history furnished him with no matter +but what was too recent to be devoted to patriotism. +Besides, he knew that the instruction of ancient +history would seem more dispassionate. In <hi rend='italic'>Coriolanus</hi> +and <hi rend='italic'>Julius Cæsar</hi>, you see Shakespeare's +good-natured laugh at mobs. Compare this with +Sir Thomas Brown's aristocracy of spirit. +</p> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1. Marcius' speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">He that depends</q></l> +<l>Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead,</l> +<l><q rend="post">And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust ye?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I suspect that Shakespeare wrote it transposed! +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Trust ye? Hang ye!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 10. Speech of Aufidius:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Mine emulation</q></l> +<l>Hath not that honour in't, it had; for where</l> +<l>I thought to crush him in an equal force,</l> +<l>True sword to sword; I'll potch at him some way</l> +<l>Or wrath, or craft may get him.—</l> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... My valour (poison'd</l> +<l>With only suffering stain by him) for him</l> +<l>Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep, nor sanctuary,</l> +<l>Being naked, sick, nor fane, nor capitol,</l> +<l>The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifices,</l> +<l>Embankments all of fury, shall lift up</l> +<l>Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst</l> +<l><q rend="post">My hate to Marcius.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I have such deep faith in Shakespeare's heart-lore, +that I take for granted that this is in nature, +<pb n='130'/><anchor id='Pg130'/> +and not as a mere anomaly; although I cannot in +myself discover any germ of possible feeling, which +could wax and unfold itself into such sentiment as +this. However, I perceive that in this speech is +meant to be contained a prevention of shock at the +after-change in Aufidius's character. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1. Speech of Menenius:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>The most sovereign prescription in <hi rend='italic'>Galen</hi>,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Was it without, or in contempt of, historical information +that Shakespeare made the contemporaries +of Coriolanus quote Cato and Galen? I cannot +decide to my own satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. Speech of Coriolanus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Why in this wolvish toge should I stand hero</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +That the gown of the candidate was of whitened +wool, we know. Does <q>wolvish</q> or <q>woolvish</q> +mean <q>made of wool?</q> If it means <q>wolfish,</q> +what is the sense? +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 7. Speech of Aufidius:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>All places yield to him ere he sits down,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +I have always thought this, in itself so beautiful +speech, the least explicable from the mood and full +intention of the speaker of any in the whole works +of Shakespeare. I cherish the hope that I am +mistaken, and that, becoming wiser, I shall discover +some profound excellence in that, in which I +now appear to detect an imperfection. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='131'/><anchor id='Pg131'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Julius Cæsar.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Mar.</hi> What meanest <emph>thou</emph> +by that? Mend me, thou saucy</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">fellow!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The speeches of Flavius and Marullus are in +blank verse. Wherever regular metre can be +rendered truly imitative of character, passion, or +personal rank, Shakespeare seldom, if ever, neglects +it. Hence this line should be read:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>What mean'st by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I say regular metre: for even the prose has in the +highest and lowest dramatic personage, a Cobbler +or a Hamlet, a rhythm so felicitous and so severally +appropriate, as to be a virtual metre. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>Bru.</hi> A soothsayer bids you beware the Ides of March.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +If my ear does not deceive me, the metre of this +line was meant to express that sort of mild philosophic +contempt, characterising Brutus even in his +first casual speech. The line is a trimeter,—each +<hi rend='italic'>dipodia</hi> containing two accented and two unaccented +syllables, but variously arranged, as thus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l>u - - u | - u u - | u - u -</l> +<l>A soothsayer | bids you beware | the Ides of March.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Speech of Brutus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Set honour in one eye, and death i' the other,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">And I will look on <emph>both</emph> indifferently.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Warburton would read <q>death</q> for <q>both;</q> but +I prefer the old text. There are here three things, +<pb n='132'/><anchor id='Pg132'/> +the public good, the individual Brutus' honour, and +his death. The latter two so balanced each other, +that he could decide for the first by equipoise; nay—the +thought growing—that honour had more +weight than death. That Cassius understood it as +Warburton, is the beauty of Cassius as contrasted +with Brutus. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Cæsar's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">He loves no plays</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>This is not a trivial observation, nor does our poet mean barely +by it, that Cassius was not a merry, sprightly man; but that he had +not a due temperament of harmony in his disposition.</q>—Theobald's +note. +</quote> + +<p> +O Theobald! what a commentator wast thou, +when thou would'st affect to understand Shakespeare, +instead of contenting thyself with collating +the text! The meaning here is too deep for a line +ten-fold the length of thine to fathom. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. Cæsar's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Be <emph>factious</emph> for redress of all these griefs;</q></l> +<l>And I will set this foot of mine as far,</l> +<l><q rend="post">As who goes farthest.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I understand it thus: <q>You have spoken as a +conspirator; be so in <emph>fact</emph>, and I will join you. +Act on your principles, and realize them in a fact.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1. Speech of Brutus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">It must be by his death; and, for my part,</q></l> +<l>I know no personal cause to spurn at him,</l> +<l>But for the general. He would be crown'd:</l> +<l>How that might change his nature, there's the question.</l> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... And, to speak truth of Cæsar,</l> +<l>I have not known when his affections sway'd</l> +<l>More than his reason.</l> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... So Cæsar may;</l> +<l><q rend="post">Then, lest he may, prevent.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +This speech is singular;—at least, I do not at +<pb n='133'/><anchor id='Pg133'/> +present see into Shakespeare's motive, his <emph>rationale</emph>, +or in what point of view he meant Brutus' character +to appear. For surely—(this, I mean, is what I say +to myself, with my present <hi rend='italic'>quantum</hi> of insight, +only modified by my experience in how many instances +I have ripened into a perception of beauties, +where I had before descried faults;) surely, nothing +can seem more discordant with our historical preconceptions +of Brutus, or more lowering to the +intellect of the Stoico-Platonic tyrannicide, than +the tenets here attributed to him—to him, the +stern Roman republican; namely,—that he would +have no objection to a king, or to Cæsar, a monarch +in Rome, would Cæsar but be as good a monarch +as he now seems disposed to be! How, too, could +Brutus say that he found no personal cause—none +in Cæsar's past conduct as a man? Had he not +passed the Rubicon? Had he not entered Rome as +a conqueror? Had he not placed his Gauls in the +Senate?—Shakespeare, it may be said, has not +brought these things forward—True;—and this is +just the ground of my perplexity. What character +did Shakespeare mean his Brutus to be? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Speech of Brutus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>For if thou <emph>path</emph>, thy native semblance on.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Surely, there need be no scruple in treating this +<q>path</q> as a mere misprint or mis-script for <q>put.</q> +In what place does Shakespeare—where does any +other writer of the same age—use <q>path</q> as a +verb for <q>walk?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. Cæsar's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>She dreamt to-night, she saw my <emph>statue</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +No doubt, it should be <hi rend='italic'>statua</hi>, as in the same age, +they more often pronounced <q>heroes</q> as a trisyllable +<pb n='134'/><anchor id='Pg134'/> +than dissyllable. A modern tragic poet would +have written,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Last night she dreamt that she my statue saw.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +But Shakespeare never avails himself of the supposed +license of transposition, merely for the metre. +There is always some logic either of thought or +passion to justify it. +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 1. Antony's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Pardon me, Julius—here wast thou bay'd, brave hart:</q></l> +<l>Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand</l> +<l>Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe.</l> +<l><emph>O world! thou wast the forest to this hart,</emph></l> +<l><q rend="post"><emph>And this, indeed, O world! the heart of thee.</emph></q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I doubt the genuineness of the last two lines;—not +because they are vile; but first, on account of +the rhythm, which is not Shakespearian, but just +the very tune of some old play, from which the +actor might have interpolated them;—and secondly, +because they interrupt, not only the sense and +connection, but likewise the flow both of the passion, +and (what is with me still more decisive) of +the Shakespearian link of association. As with +many another parenthesis or gloss slipt into the +text, we have only to read the passage without it, +to see that it never was in it. I venture to say +there is no instance in Shakespeare fairly like this. +Conceits he has; but they not only rise out of some +word in the lines before, but also lead to the thought +in the lines following. Here the conceit is a mere +alien: Antony forgets an image, when he is even +touching it, and then recollects it, when the thought +last in his mind must have led him away from it. +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 3. Speech of Brutus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">What, shall one of us,</q></l> +<l>That struck the foremost man of all this world,</l> +<l><q rend="post">But for <emph>supporting robbers</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='135'/><anchor id='Pg135'/> + +<p> +This seemingly strange assertion of Brutus is +unhappily verified in the present day. What is +an immense army, in which the lust of plunder has +quenched all the duties of the citizen, other than a +horde of robbers, or differenced only as fiends are +from ordinarily reprobate men? Cæsar supported, +and was supported by, such as these;—and even so +Buonaparte in our days. +</p> + +<p> +I know no part of Shakespeare that more impresses +on me the belief of his genius being superhuman, +than this scene between Brutus and Cassius. +In the Gnostic heresy it might have been credited +with less absurdity than most of their dogmas, that +the Supreme had employed him to create, previously +to his function of representing, characters. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='137'/><anchor id='Pg137'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Antony And Cleopatra.</q></head> + +<p> +Shakespeare can be complimented only by +comparison with himself: all other eulogies are +either heterogeneous, as when they are in reference +to Spenser or Milton; or they are flat truisms, as +when he is gravely preferred to Corneille, Racine, +or even his own immediate successors, Beaumont +and Fletcher, Massinger and the rest. The highest +praise, or rather form of praise, of this play, which +I can offer in my own mind, is the doubt which the +perusal always occasions in me, whether the <hi rend='italic'>Antony +and Cleopatra</hi> is not, in all exhibitions of a giant +power in its strength and vigour of maturity, a +formidable rival of <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Hamlet</hi>, and +<hi rend='italic'>Othello</hi>. <hi rend='italic'>Feliciter audax</hi> +is the motto for its style +comparatively with that of Shakespeare's other +works, even as it is the general motto of all his +works compared with those of other poets. Be it +remembered, too, that this happy valiancy of style +is but the representative and result of all the +material excellencies so expressed. +</p> + +<p> +This play should be perused in mental contrast +with <hi rend='italic'>Romeo and Juliet</hi>;—as the love of passion +and appetite opposed to the love of affection and +instinct. But the art displayed in the character of +Cleopatra is profound; in this, especially, that the +sense of criminality in her passion is lessened by +our insight into its depth and energy, at the very +moment that we cannot but perceive that the passion +<pb n='138'/><anchor id='Pg138'/> +itself springs out of the habitual craving of a +licentious nature, and that it is supported and +reinforced by voluntary stimulus and sought-for +associations, instead of blossoming out of spontaneous +emotion. +</p> + +<p> +Of all Shakespeare's historical plays, <hi rend='italic'>Antony and +Cleopatra</hi> is by far the most wonderful. There is +not one in which he has followed history so +minutely, and yet there are few in which he impresses +the notion of angelic strength so much;—perhaps +none in which he impresses it more +strongly. This is greatly owing to the manner in +which the fiery force is sustained throughout, and +to the numerous momentary flashes of nature counteracting +the historic abstraction. As a wonderful +specimen of the way in which Shakespeare lives up +to the very end of this play, read the last part of +the concluding scene. And if you would feel the +judgment as well as the genius of Shakespeare in +your heart's core, compare this astonishing drama +with Dryden's <hi rend='italic'>All For Love</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1. Philo's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">His captain's heart</q></l> +<l>Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst</l> +<l><q rend="post">The buckles on his breast, <emph>reneges</emph> all temper.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +It should be <q>reneagues,</q> or <q>reniegues,</q> as +<q>fatigues,</q> &c. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Take but good note, and you shall see in him</q></l> +<l>The triple pillar of the world transform'd</l> +<l><q rend="post">Into a strumpet's <emph>fool</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Warburton's conjecture of <q>stool</q> is ingenious, +and would be a probable reading, if the scene opening +had discovered Antony with Cleopatra on his +lap. But, represented as he is walking and jesting +with her, <q>fool</q> must be the word. Warburton's +<pb n='139'/><anchor id='Pg139'/> +objection is shallow, and implies that he confounded +the dramatic with the epic style. The <q>pillar</q> +of a state is so common a metaphor as to have lost +the image in the thing meant to be imaged. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Much is breeding;</q></l> +<l>Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life,</l> +<l><q rend="post">And not a serpent's poison.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +This is so far true to appearance, that a horse-hair, +<q>laid,</q> as Hollinshed says, <q>in a pail of +water,</q> will become the supporter of seemingly one +worm, though probably of an immense number of +small slimy water-lice. The hair will twirl round +a finger, and sensibly compress it. It is a common +experiment with school boys in Cumberland and +Westmoreland. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 2. Speech of Enobarbus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,</q></l> +<l>So many <emph>mermaids</emph>, tended her i' th' eyes,</l> +<l>And made their bends adornings. At the helm</l> +<l><q rend="post">A seeming mermaid steers.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I have the greatest difficulty in believing that +Shakespeare wrote the first <q>mermaids.</q> He +never, I think, would have so weakened by useless +anticipation the fine image immediately following. +The epithet <q>seeming</q> becomes so extremely improper +after the whole number had been positively +called <q>so many mermaids.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='141'/><anchor id='Pg141'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Timon Of Athens.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Tim.</hi> The man is honest.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Old Ath.</hi> <emph>Therefore he will be</emph>, Timon.</l> +<l><q rend="post">His honesty rewards him in itself.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Warburton's comment—<q>If the man be +honest, for that reason he will be so in this, +and not endeavour at the injustice of gaining my +daughter without my consent</q>—is, like almost all +his comments, ingenious in blunder; he can never +see any other writer's thoughts for the mist-working +swarm of his own. The meaning of the first line +the poet himself explains, or rather unfolds, in the +second. <q>The man is honest!</q>—<q>True;—and for +that very cause, and with no additional or extrinsic +motive, he will be so. No man can be justly called +honest, who is not so for honesty's sake, itself including +its own reward.</q> Note, that <q>honesty</q> in +Shakespeare's age retained much of its old dignity, +and that contradistinction of the <hi rend='italic'>honestum</hi> from the +<hi rend='italic'>utile</hi>, in which its very essence and definition consist. +If it be <hi rend='italic'>honestum</hi>, it cannot depend on the +<hi rend='italic'>utile</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Speech of Apemantus, printed as prose in +Theobald's edition:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>So, so! aches contract, and starve your supple joints!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I may remark here the fineness of Shakespeare's +sense of musical period, which would almost by itself +have suggested (if the hundred positive proofs +had not been extant) that the word <q>aches</q> was +<pb n='142'/><anchor id='Pg142'/> +then <hi rend='italic'>ad libitum</hi>, a +dissyllable—<hi rend='italic'>aitches</hi>. For read +it <q>aches,</q> in this sentence, and I would challenge +you to find any period in Shakespeare's writings +with the same musical or, rather dissonant, notation. +Try the one, and then the other, by your +ear, reading the sentence aloud, first with the word +as a dissyllable and then as a monosyllable, and you +will feel what I mean. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. Cupid's speech: Warburton's correction +of— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>There taste, touch, all pleas'd from thy table rise</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +into +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Th' ear, taste, touch, smell,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This is indeed an excellent emendation. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1. Senator's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Nor then silenc'd with</q></l> +<l><q>Commend me to your master</q>—<emph>and the cap</emph></l> +<l><q rend="post"><emph>Plays in the right hand, thus</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Either, methinks, <q>plays</q> should be <q>play'd,</q> +or <q>and</q> should be changed to <q>while.</q> I +can certainly understand it as a parenthesis, an +interadditive of scorn; but it does not sound to my +ear as in Shakespeare's manner. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. Timon's speech (Theobald):— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">And that unaptness made <emph>you</emph> minister,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Thus to excuse yourself.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Read <emph>your</emph>;—at least I cannot otherwise understand +the line. You made my chance indisposition +and occasional inaptness your minister—that is, the +ground on which you now excuse yourself. Or, +perhaps, no correction is necessary, if we construe +<q>made you</q> as <q>did you make;</q> <q>and that unaptness +did you make help you thus to excuse +yourself.</q> But the former seems more in Shakespeare's +<pb n='143'/><anchor id='Pg143'/> +manner, and is less liable to be misunderstood. +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 3. Servant's speech:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>How fairly this lord strives to appear foul!—takes virtuous +copies to be wicked; <emph>like those that under hot, ardent zeal would set +whole realms on fire. Of such a nature is his politic love</emph>.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +This latter clause I grievously suspect to have +been an addition of the players, which had hit, and, +being constantly applauded, procured a settled +occupation in the prompter's copy. Not that +Shakespeare does not elsewhere sneer at the Puritans; +but here it is introduced so <hi rend='italic'>nolenter volenter</hi> +(excuse the phrase) by the head and shoulders!—and +is besides so much more likely to have been +conceived in the age of Charles I. +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 3. Timon's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Raise me this beggar, and <emph>deny't</emph> that lord.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Warburton reads <q>denude.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I cannot see the necessity of this alteration. The +editors and commentators are, all of them, ready +enough to cry out against Shakespeare's laxities +and licenses of style, forgetting that he is not +merely a poet, but a dramatic poet; that, when the +head and the heart are swelling with fulness, a +man does not ask himself whether he has grammatically +arranged, but only whether (the context +taken in) he has conveyed his meaning. <q>Deny</q> +is here clearly equal to <q>withhold;</q> and the <q>it,</q> +quite in the genius of vehement conversation, which +a syntaxist explains by ellipses and <hi rend='italic'>subauditurs</hi> in +a Greek or Latin classic, yet triumphs over as +ignorances in a contemporary, refers to accidental +and artificial rank or elevation, implied in the verb +<q>raise.</q> Besides, does the word <q>denude</q> occur +in any writer before, or of, Shakespeare's age? +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='145'/><anchor id='Pg145'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Romeo And Juliet.</q></head> + +<p> +I have previously had occasion to speak at large +on the subject of the three unities of time, place, +and action, as applied to the drama in the abstract, +and to the particular stage for which Shakespeare +wrote, as far as he can be said to have written for +any stage but that of the universal mind. I hope +I have in some measure succeeded in demonstrating +that the former two, instead of being rules, +were mere inconveniences attached to the local +peculiarities of the Athenian drama; that the last +alone deserved the name of a principle, and that in +the preservation of this unity Shakespeare stood +pre-eminent. Yet, instead of unity of action, I +should greatly prefer the more appropriate, though +scholastic and uncouth, words homogeneity, proportionateness, +and totality of interest,—expressions, +which involve the distinction, or rather the +essential difference, betwixt the shaping skill of +mechanical talent, and the creative, productive, +life-power of inspired genius. In the former each +part is separately conceived, and then by a succeeding +act put together;—not as watches are +made for wholesale—(for there each part supposes +a pre-conception of the whole in some mind),—but +more like pictures on a motley screen. Whence +arises the harmony that strikes us in the wildest +natural landscapes,—in the relative shapes of rocks, +<pb n='146'/><anchor id='Pg146'/> +the harmony of colours in the heaths, ferns, and +lichens, the leaves of the beech and the oak, the +stems and rich brown branches of the birch and +other mountain trees, varying from verging autumn +to returning spring,—compared with the visual +effect from the greater number of artificial plantations?—From +this, that the natural landscape is +effected, as it were, by a single energy modified <hi rend='italic'>ab +intra</hi> in each component part. And as this is the +particular excellence of the Shakespearian drama +generally, so is it especially characteristic of the +<hi rend='italic'>Romeo and Juliet</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +The groundwork of the tale is altogether in +family life, and the events of the play have their +first origin in family feuds. Filmy as are the eyes +of party-spirit, at once dim and truculent, still +there is commonly some real or supposed object in +view, or principle to be maintained; and though +but the twisted wires on the plate of rosin in the +preparation for electrical pictures, it is still a guide +in some degree, an assimilation to an outline. But +in family quarrels, which have proved scarcely less +injurious to states, wilfulness, and precipitancy, and +passion from mere habit and custom can alone be +expected. With his accustomed judgment, Shakespeare +has begun by placing before us a lively +picture of all the impulses of the play; and, as +nature ever presents two sides, one for Heraclitus, +and one for Democritus, he has, by way of prelude, +shown the laughable absurdity of the evil by the +contagion of it reaching the servants who have so +little to do with it, but who are under the necessity +of letting the superfluity of sensoreal power fly +off through the escape-valve of wit-combats, and of +quarrelling with weapons of sharper edge, all in +<pb n='147'/><anchor id='Pg147'/> +humble imitation of their masters. Yet there is +a sort of unhired fidelity, an <hi rend='italic'>ourishness</hi> about all +this that makes it rest pleasant on one's feelings. +All the first scene, down to the conclusion of the +Prince's speech, is a motley dance of all ranks and +ages to one tune, as if the horn of Huon had been +playing behind the scenes. +</p> + +<p> +Benvolio's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Peer'd forth the golden window of the east</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +and, far more strikingly, the following speech of +old Montague:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Many a morning hath he there been seen</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +prove that Shakespeare meant the <hi rend='italic'>Romeo and Juliet</hi> +to approach to a poem, which, and indeed its early +date, may be also inferred from the multitude of +rhyming couplets throughout. And if we are right, +from the internal evidence, in pronouncing this one +of Shakespeare's early dramas, it affords a strong +instance of the fineness of his insight into the nature +of the passions, that Romeo is introduced already +love-bewildered. The necessity of loving creates +an object for itself in man and woman; and yet +there is a difference in this respect between the +sexes, though only to be known by a perception of +it. It would have displeased us if Juliet had been +represented as already in love, or as fancying herself +so;—but no one, I believe, ever experiences +any shock at Romeo's forgetting his Rosaline, who +had been a mere name for the yearning of his +youthful imagination, and rushing into his passion +for Juliet. Rosaline was a mere creation of his +fancy; and we should remark the boastful positiveness +<pb n='148'/><anchor id='Pg148'/> +of Romeo in a love of his own making, which +is never shown where love is really near the heart. +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">When the devout religion of mine eye</q></l> +<l>Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires!</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun</l> +<l><q rend="post">Ne'er saw her match, since first the world begun.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The character of the Nurse is the nearest of any +thing in Shakespeare to a direct borrowing from +mere observation; and the reason is, that as in +infancy and childhood the individual in nature is +a representative of a class,—just as in describing +one larch tree, you generalise a grove of them,—so +it is nearly as much so in old age. The generalisation +is done to the poet's hand. Here you have +the garrulity of age strengthened by the feelings of +a long-trusted servant, whose sympathy with the +mother's affections gives her privileges and rank +in the household; and observe the mode of connection +by accidents of time and place, and the +childlike fondness of repetition in a second childhood, +and also that happy humble, ducking under, +yet constant resurgence against, the check of her +superiors!— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Yes, madam!—Yet I cannot choose but laugh,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +In the fourth scene we have Mercutio introduced +to us. O! how shall I describe that exquisite +ebullience and overflow of youthful life, wafted on +over the laughing waves of pleasure and prosperity, +as a wanton beauty that distorts the face on which +she knows her lover is gazing enraptured, and +wrinkles her forehead in the triumph of its smoothness! +Wit ever wakeful, fancy busy and procreative +as an insect, courage, an easy mind that, +without cares of its own, is at once disposed to +<pb n='149'/><anchor id='Pg149'/> +laugh away those of others, and yet to be interested +in them,—these and all congenial qualities, +melting into the common <hi rend='italic'>copula</hi> of them all, the +man of rank and the gentleman, with all its excellencies +and all its weaknesses, constitute the character +of Mercutio! +</p> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 5.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Tyb.</hi> It fits when such a +villain is a guest;</q></l> +<l>I'll not endure him.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Cap.</hi> He shall be endur'd.</l> +<l>What, goodman boy!—I say, he shall:—Go to;—</l> +<l>Am I the master here, or you?—Go to.</l> +<l>You'll not endure him!—God shall mend my soul—</l> +<l>You'll make a mutiny among my guests!</l> +<l>You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Tyb.</hi> Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Cap.</hi> Go to, go to,</l> +<l><q rend="post">You are a saucy boy!</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +How admirable is the old man's impetuosity at +once contrasting, yet harmonised, with young +Tybalt's quarrelsome violence! But it would be +endless to repeat observations of this sort. Every +leaf is different on an oak tree; but still we can +only say—our tongues defrauding our eyes— <q>This +is another oak-leaf!</q> +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 2. The garden scene. +</p> + +<p> +Take notice in this enchanting scene of the contrast +of Romeo's love with his former fancy; and +weigh the skill shown in justifying him from his +inconstancy by making us feel the difference of his +passion. Yet this, too, is a love in, although not +merely of, the imagination. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Jul.</hi> +Well, do not swear; although I joy in thee,</q></l> +<l>I have no joy in this contract to-night:</l> +<l><q rend="post">It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +With love, pure love, there is always an anxiety +for the safety of the object, a disinterestedness, by +<pb n='150'/><anchor id='Pg150'/> +which it is distinguished from the counterfeits of +its name. Compare this scene with Act iii. sc. 1 +of the <hi rend='italic'>Tempest</hi>. I do not know a more wonderful +instance of Shakespeare's mastery in playing a +distinctly rememberable variety on the same remembered +air, than in the transporting love confessions +of Romeo and Juliet and Ferdinand and +Miranda. There seems more passion in the one, +and more dignity in the other; yet you feel that +the sweet girlish lingering and busy movement of +Juliet, and the calmer and more maidenly fondness +of Miranda, might easily pass into each other. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. The Friar's speech. +</p> + +<p> +The reverend character of the Friar, like all +Shakespeare's representations of the great professions, +is very delightful and tranquillising, yet it +is no digression, but immediately necessary to the +carrying on of the plot. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 4.— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q><hi rend='italic'>Rom.</hi> Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give +you?</q> &c. +</quote> + +<p> +Compare again Romeo's half-exerted, and half +real, ease of mind with his first manner when in +love with Rosaline! His will had come to the +clenching point. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 6.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Rom.</hi> Do thou but +close our hands with holy words,</q></l> +<l>Then love-devouring death do what he dare,</l> +<l><q rend="post">It is enough I may but call her mine.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The precipitancy, which is the character of the +play, is well marked in this short scene of waiting +for Juliet's arrival. +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q><hi rend='italic'>Mer.</hi> No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church +door; but 'tis enough: 'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you +shall find me a grave man,</q> &c. +</quote> + +<pb n='151'/><anchor id='Pg151'/> + +<p> +How fine an effect the wit and raillery habitual +to Mercutio, even struggling with his pain, give +to Romeo's following speech, and at the same time +so completely justifying his passionate revenge +on Tybalt! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Benvolio's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">But that he tilts</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +This small portion of untruth in Benvolio's +narrative is finely conceived. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. Juliet's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Indeed the whole of this speech is imagination +strained to the highest; and observe the blessed +effect on the purity of the mind. What would +Dryden have made of it? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Nurse.</hi> Shame come to Romeo.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Jul.</hi> Blister'd be thy tongue</l> +<l><q rend="post">For such a wish!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Note the Nurse's mistake of the mind's audible +struggles with itself for its decision <hi rend='italic'>in toto</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. Romeo's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven's here,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Where Juliet lives,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +All deep passions are a sort of atheists, that +believe no future. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 5.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Cap.</hi> Soft! +take me with you, take me with you, wife—How!</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">will she none?</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +A noble scene! Don't I see it with my own +eyes?—Yes! but not with Juliet's. And observe +in Capulet's last speech in this scene his mistake, +<pb n='152'/><anchor id='Pg152'/> +as if love's causes were capable of being +generalised. +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 3. Juliet's speech.:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost</q></l> +<l>Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body</l> +<l>Upon a rapier's point:—Stay, Tybalt, stay!—</l> +<l><q rend="post">Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Shakespeare provides for the finest decencies. +It would have been too bold a thing for a girl of +fifteen;—but she swallows the draught in a fit of +fright. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 5.— +</p> + +<p> +As the audience know that Juliet is not dead, +this scene is, perhaps, excusable. But it is a +strong warning to minor dramatists not to introduce +at one time many separate characters agitated +by one and the same circumstance. It is difficult +to understand what effect, whether that of pity or +of laughter, Shakespeare meant to produce;—the +occasion and the characteristic speeches are so +little in harmony! For example, what the Nurse +says is excellently suited to the Nurse's character, +but grotesquely unsuited to the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +Act v. sc. 1. Romeo's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">O mischief! thou art swift</q></l> +<l>To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!</l> +<l><q rend="post">I do remember an apothecary,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This famous passage is so beautiful as to be self-justified; +yet, in addition, what a fine preparation +it is for the tomb scene! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. Romeo's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Fly hence and leave me.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The gentleness of Romeo was shown before, as +softened by love; and now it is doubled by love +and sorrow and awe of the place where he is. +</p> + +<pb n='153'/><anchor id='Pg153'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Romeo's speech:—-- +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">How oft when men are at the point of death</q></l> +<l>Have they been merry! which their keepers call</l> +<l>A lightning before death. O, how may I</l> +<l><q rend="post">Call this a lightning?—--O, my love, my wife!</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Here, here, is the master example how beauty +can at once increase and modify passion! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Last scene. +</p> + +<p> +How beautiful is the close! The spring and +the winter meet;—winter assumes the character +of spring, and spring the sadness of winter. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='155'/><anchor id='Pg155'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Shakespeare's English Historical Plays.</head> + +<p> +The first form of poetry is the epic, the essence +of which may be stated as the successive in +events and characters. This must be distinguished +from narration, in which there must always be a +narrator, from whom the objects represented receive +a colouring and a manner;—whereas in the +epic, as in the so-called poems of Homer, the whole +is completely objective, and the representation is a +pure reflection. The next form into which poetry +passed was the dramatic;—both forms having a +common basis with a certain difference, and that +difference not consisting in the dialogue alone. +Both are founded on the relation of providence to +the human will; and this relation is the universal +element, expressed under different points of view +according to the difference of religion, and the +moral and intellectual cultivation of different +nations. In the epic poem fate is represented as +overruling the will, and making it instrumental +to the accomplishment of its designs:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l>... Διὸς τελείετο βονλή</l> +</lg> + +<p> +In the drama, the will is exhibited as struggling +with fate, a great and beautiful instance and illustration +of which is the <hi rend='italic'>Prometheus</hi> of Æschylus; +and the deepest effect is produced when the fate +<pb n='156'/><anchor id='Pg156'/> +is represented as a higher and intelligent will, and +the opposition of the individual as springing from +a defect. +</p> + +<p> +In order that a drama may be properly historical, +it is necessary that it should be the history +of the people to whom it is addressed. In the +composition, care must be taken that there appear +no dramatic improbability, as the reality is taken +for granted. It must, likewise, be poetical;—that +only, I mean, must be taken which is the permanent +in our nature, which is common, and +therefore deeply interesting to all ages. The +events themselves are immaterial, otherwise than +as the clothing and manifestation of the spirit +that is working within. In this mode, the unity +resulting from succession is destroyed, but is supplied +by a unity of a higher order, which connects +the events by reference to the workers, gives a +reason for them in the motives, and presents men +in their causative character. It takes, therefore, +that part of real history which is the least known, +and infuses a principle of life and organisation +into the naked facts, and makes them all the +framework of an animated whole. +</p> + +<p> +In my happier days, while I had yet hope and +onward-looking thoughts, I planned an historical +drama of King Stephen, in the manner of Shakespeare. +Indeed, it would be desirable that some +man of dramatic genius should dramatise all those +omitted by Shakespeare, as far down as Henry +VII. Perkin Warbeck would make a most interesting +drama. A few scenes of Marlow's +<hi rend='italic'>Edward II.</hi> might be preserved. After Henry +VIII., the events are too well and distinctly +known, to be, without plump inverisimilitude, +<pb n='157'/><anchor id='Pg157'/> +crowded together in one night's exhibition. +Whereas, the history of our ancient kings—the +events of the reigns, I mean—are like stars in the +sky;—whatever the real interspaces may be, and +however great, they seem close to each other. +The stars—the events—strike us and remain in +our eye, little modified by the difference of dates. +An historic drama is, therefore, a collection of +events borrowed from history, but connected together +in respect of cause and time, poetically and +by dramatic fiction. It would be a fine national +custom to act such a series of dramatic histories in +orderly succession, in the yearly Christmas holidays, +and could not but tend to counteract that +mock cosmopolitism, which under a positive term +really implies nothing but a negation of, or indifference +to, the particular love of our country. +By its nationality must every nation retain its +independence;—I mean a nationality <hi rend='italic'>quoad</hi> the +nation. Better thus;—nationality in each individual, +<hi rend='italic'>quoad</hi> his country, is equal to the sense of +individuality <hi rend='italic'>quoad</hi> himself; but himself as sub-sensuous +and central. Patriotism is equal to the +sense of individuality reflected from every other +individual. There may come a higher virtue in +both—just cosmopolitism. But this latter is not +possible but by antecedence of the former. +</p> + +<p> +Shakespeare has included the most important +part of nine reigns in his historical dramas;—namely—King +John, Richard II.—Henry IV. +(two)—Henry V.—Henry VI. (three) including +Edward V. and Henry VIII., in all ten plays. +There remain, therefore, to be done, with the exception +of a single scene or two that should be +adopted from Marlow—eleven reigns—of which +<pb n='158'/><anchor id='Pg158'/> +the first two appear the only unpromising subjects;—and +those two dramas must be formed wholly or +mainly of invented private stories, which, however, +could not have happened except in consequence +of the events and measures of these reigns, +and which should furnish opportunity both of exhibiting +the manners and oppressions of the times, +and of narrating dramatically the great events;—if +possible, the death of the two sovereigns, at +least of the latter, should be made to have some +influence on the finale of the story. All the rest +are glorious subjects; especially Henry I. (being +the struggle between the men of arms and of +letters, in the persons of Henry and Becket), +Stephen, Richard I., Edward II., and Henry VII. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='159'/><anchor id='Pg159'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>King John.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Bast.</hi> James Gurney, +wilt thou give us leave awhile?</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Gur.</hi> Good leave, good Philip.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Bast.</hi> Philip? +<emph>sparrow!</emph> James,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Theobald adopts Warburton's conjecture +of <q><emph>spare me</emph>.</q> +</p> + +<p> +O true Warburton! and the <hi rend='italic'>sancta simplicitas</hi> +of honest dull Theobald's faith in him! Nothing +can be more lively or characteristic than <q>Philip? +Sparrow!</q> Had Warburton read old Skelton's +<hi rend='italic'>Philip Sparrow</hi>, an exquisite and original poem, +and, no doubt, popular in Shakespeare's time, even +Warburton would scarcely have made so deep a +plunge into the <hi rend='italic'>bathetic</hi> as to have deathified +<q><emph>sparrow</emph></q> into <q><emph>spare me</emph>!</q> +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 2. Speech of Faulconbridge:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot;</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Some <emph>airy</emph> devil hovers in the sky,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Theobald adopts Warburton's conjecture of <q>fiery.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I prefer the old text: the word <q>devil</q> implies +<q>fiery.</q> You need only read the line, laying a +full and strong emphasis on <q>devil,</q> to perceive +the uselessness and tastelessness of Warburton's +alteration. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='161'/><anchor id='Pg161'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Richard II.</q></head> + +<p> +I have stated that the transitional link between +the epic poem and the drama is the +historic drama; that in the epic poem a pre-announced +fate gradually adjusts and employs the +will and the events as its instruments, whilst the +drama, on the other hand, places fate and will in +opposition to each other, and is then most perfect, +when the victory of fate is obtained in consequence +of imperfections in the opposing will, so as +to leave a final impression that the fate itself is +but a higher and a more intelligent will. +</p> + +<p> +From the length of the speeches, and the circumstance +that, with one exception, the events are +all historical, and presented in their results, not +produced by acts seen by, or taking place before, +the audience, this tragedy is ill suited to our present +large theatres. But in itself, and for the +closet, I feel no hesitation in placing it as the first +and most admirable of all Shakespeare's purely +historical plays. For the two parts of <hi rend='italic'>Henry IV.</hi> +form a species of themselves, which may be named +the mixed drama. The distinction does not depend +on the mere quantity of historical events in the +play compared with the fictions; for there is as +much history in <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi> as +in <hi rend='italic'>Richard</hi>, but in the +relation of the history to the plot. In the purely +historical plays, the history forms the plot; in the +mixed, it directs it; in the rest, as <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Hamlet</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Cymbeline</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi>, it subserves it. But, +<pb n='162'/><anchor id='Pg162'/> +however unsuited to the stage this drama may be, +God forbid that even there it should fall dead on +the hearts of jacobinised Englishmen! Then, +indeed, we might say—<hi rend='italic'>præteriit gloria mundi!</hi> +For the spirit of patriotic reminiscence is the all-permeating +soul of this noble work. It is, perhaps, +the most purely historical of Shakespeare's dramas. +There are not in it, as in the others, characters +introduced merely for the purpose of giving a +greater individuality and realness, as in the comic +parts of <hi rend='italic'>Henry IV.</hi>, by presenting as it were our +very selves. Shakespeare avails himself of every +opportunity to effect the great object of the historic +drama,—that, namely, of familiarising the +people to the great names of their country, and +thereby of exciting a steady patriotism, a love of +just liberty, and a respect for all those fundamental +institutions of social life, which bind men +together:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,</q></l> +<l>This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,</l> +<l>This other Eden, demi-paradise;</l> +<l>This fortress, built by nature for herself,</l> +<l>Against infection, and the hand of war;</l> +<l>This happy breed of men, this little world;</l> +<l>This precious stone set in the silver sea,</l> +<l>Which serves it in the office of a wall,</l> +<l>Or as a moat defensive to a home,</l> +<l>Against the envy of less happier lands;</l> +<l>This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,</l> +<l>This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Add the famous passage in <hi rend='italic'>King John</hi>:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">This England never did nor ever shall,</q></l> +<l>Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,</l> +<l>But when it first did help to wound itself.</l> +<l>Now these her princes are come home again,</l> +<l>Come the three corners of the world in arms,</l> +<l>And we shall shock them: nought shall make us rue,</l> +<l><q rend="post">If England to itself do rest but true.</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='163'/><anchor id='Pg163'/> + +<p> +And it certainly seems that Shakespeare's historic +dramas produced a very deep effect on the minds +of the English people, and in earlier times they +were familiar even to the least informed of all +ranks, according to the relation of Bishop Corbett. +Marlborough, we know, was not ashamed to confess +that his principal acquaintance with English +history was derived from them; and I believe that +a large part of the information as to our old names +and achievements even now abroad is due, directly +or indirectly, to Shakespeare. +</p> + +<p> +Admirable is the judgment with which Shakespeare +always in the first scenes prepares, yet how +naturally, and with what concealment of art, for +the catastrophe. Observe how he here presents +the germ of all the after events in Richard's insincerity, +partiality, arbitrariness, and favouritism, +and in the proud, tempestuous, temperament of +his barons. In the very beginning, also, is displayed +that feature in Richard's character, which +is never forgotten throughout the play—his attention +to decorum, and high feeling of the kingly +dignity. These anticipations show with what +judgment Shakespeare wrote, and illustrate his +care to connect the past and the future, and +unify them with the present by forecast and +reminiscence. +</p> + +<p> +It is interesting to a critical ear to compare the +six opening lines of the play— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +each closing at the tenth syllable, with the +rhythmless metre of the verse in <hi rend='italic'>Henry VI.</hi> and +<hi rend='italic'>Titus Andronicus</hi>, in order that the difference, +<pb n='164'/><anchor id='Pg164'/> +indeed, the heterogeneity, of the two may be felt +<hi rend='italic'>etiam in simillimis prima superficie</hi>. Here the +weight of the single words supplies all the relief +afforded by intercurrent verse, while the whole +represents the mood. And compare the apparently +defective metre of Bolingbroke's first line— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Many years of happy days befal</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +with Prospero's— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Twelve years since, Miranda! twelve years since.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The actor should supply the time by emphasis, +and pause on the first syllable of each of these +verses. +</p> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1. Bolingbroke's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">First (heaven be the record to my speech!),</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">In the devotion of a subject's love,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +I remember in the Sophoclean drama no more +striking example of the τὸ πρέπον καὶ σεμνὸν than +this speech; and the rhymes in the last six lines +well express the preconcertedness of Bolingbroke's +scheme so beautifully contrasted with the vehemence +and sincere irritation of Mowbray. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Bolingbroke's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries,</q></l> +<l>Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth,</l> +<l><q rend="post">To <emph>me</emph>, for justice and rough chastisement.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Note the δεινὸν of this <q>to me,</q> which is evidently +felt by Richard:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>How high a pitch his resolution soars!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +and the affected depreciation afterwards;— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>As he is but my father's brother's son.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Mowbray's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">In haste whereof, most heartily I pray</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Your highness to assign our trial day.</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='165'/><anchor id='Pg165'/> + +<p> +The occasional interspersion of rhymes, and the +more frequent winding up of a speech therewith—what +purpose was this designed to answer? In the +earnest drama, I mean. Deliberateness? An attempt, +as in Mowbray, to collect himself and be +cool at the close?—I can see that in the following +speeches the rhyme answers the end of the Greek +chorus, and distinguishes the general truths from +the passions of the dialogue; but this does not +exactly justify the practice, which is unfrequent in +proportion to the excellence of Shakespeare's plays. +One thing, however, is to be observed,—that the +speakers are historical, known, and so far formal +characters, and their reality is already a fact. This +should be borne in mind. The whole of this scene +of the quarrel between Mowbray and Bolingbroke +seems introduced for the purpose of showing by +anticipation the characters of Richard and Bolingbroke. +In the latter there is observable a decorous +and courtly checking of his anger in subservience +to a predetermined plan, especially in his calm +speech after receiving sentence of banishment compared +with Mowbray's unaffected lamentation. In +the one, all is ambitious hope of something yet to +come; in the other it is desolation and a looking +backward of the heart, +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Gaunt.</hi> God's is the quarrel; +for God's substitute,</q></l> +<l>His deputy anointed in his right,</l> +<l>Hath caus'd his death: the which, if wrongfully,</l> +<l>Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift</l> +<l><q rend="post">An angry arm against his minister.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Without the hollow extravagance of Beaumont +and Fletcher's ultra-royalism, how carefully does +Shakespeare acknowledge and reverence the eternal +distinction between the mere individual, and the +<pb n='166'/><anchor id='Pg166'/> +symbolic or representative, on which all genial law, +no less than patriotism, depends. The whole of +this second scene commences, and is anticipative +of, the tone and character of the play at large. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. In none of Shakespeare's fictitious +dramas, or in those founded on a history as unknown +to his auditors generally as fiction, is this +violent rupture of the succession of time found:—a +proof, I think, that the pure historic drama, like +<hi rend='italic'>Richard II.</hi> and +<hi rend='italic'>King John</hi>, had its own laws. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Mowbray's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">A dearer <emph>merit</emph></q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Have I deserved at your highness' hand.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +O, the instinctive propriety of Shakespeare in +the choice of words! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Richard's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Nor never by advised purpose meet,</q></l> +<l>To plot, contrive, or complot any ill,</l> +<l><q rend="post">'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Already the selfish weakness of Richard's character +opens. Nothing will such minds so readily +embrace, as indirect ways softened down to their +<hi rend='italic'>quasi</hi>-consciences by policy, expedience, &c. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Mowbray's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l>... <q>All the world's my way.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q>The world was all before him.</q>—<hi rend='italic'>Milt.</hi></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 2"><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Boling.</hi> +How long a time lies in one little word!</q></l> +<l>Four lagging winters, and four wanton springs,</l> +<l><q rend="post">End in a word: such is the breath of kings.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Admirable anticipation! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 4. This is a striking conclusion of a first +act,—letting the reader into the secret;—having +before impressed us with the dignified and kingly +manners of Richard, yet by well managed anticipations +leading us on to the full gratification of +<pb n='167'/><anchor id='Pg167'/> +pleasure in our own penetration. In this scene a +new light is thrown on Richard's character. Until +now he has appeared in all the beauty of royalty; +but here, as soon as he is left to himself, the inherent +weakness of his character is immediately +shown. It is a weakness, however, of a peculiar +kind, not arising from want of personal courage, +or any specific defect of faculty, but rather an intellectual +feminineness, which feels a necessity of +ever leaning on the breasts of others, and of reclining +on those who are all the while known to be +inferiors. To this must be attributed as its consequences +all Richard's vices, his tendency to +concealment, and his cunning, the whole operation +of which is directed to the getting rid of present +difficulties. Richard is not meant to be a debauchee; +but we see in him that sophistry which is common +to man, by which we can deceive our own hearts, +and at one and the same time apologize for, and +yet commit, the error. Shakespeare has represented +this character in a very peculiar manner. +He has not made him amiable with counterbalancing +faults; but has openly and broadly drawn those +faults without reserve, relying on Richard's disproportionate +sufferings and gradually emergent +good qualities for our sympathy; and this was +possible, because his faults are not positive vices, +but spring entirely from defect of character. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>K. Rich.</hi> Can sick men play so nicely +with their names?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Yes! on a death-bed there is a feeling which +may make all things appear but as puns and equivocations. +And a passion there is that carries off +its own excess by plays on words as naturally, and, +<pb n='168'/><anchor id='Pg168'/> +therefore, as appropriately to drama, as by gesticulations, +looks, or tones. This belongs to human +nature as such, independently of associations and +habits from any particular rank of life or mode of +employment; and in this consists Shakespeare's +vulgarisms, as in Macbeth's— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon!</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This is (to equivocate on Dante's words) in truth +the <hi rend='italic'>nobile volgare eloquenza</hi>. Indeed it is profoundly +true that there is a natural, an almost irresistible, +tendency in the mind, when immersed in one +strong feeling, to connect that feeling with every +sight and object around it; especially if there be +opposition, and the words addressed to it are in any +way repugnant to the feeling itself, as here in the +instance of Richard's unkind language:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Misery makes sport to mock itself.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +No doubt, something of Shakespeare's punning +must be attributed to his age, in which direct and +formal combats of wit were a favourite pastime of +the courtly and accomplished. It was an age more +favourable, upon the whole, to vigour of intellect +than the present, in which a dread of being thought +pedantic dispirits and flattens the energies of original +minds. But independently of this, I have no +hesitation in saying that a pun, if it be congruous +with the feeling of the scene, is not only allowable +in the dramatic dialogue, but oftentimes one of the +most effectual intensives of passion. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>K. Rich.</hi> Right; you +say true, as Hereford's love, so his;</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The depth of this compared with the first scene:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>How high a pitch,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<pb n='169'/><anchor id='Pg169'/> + +<p> +There is scarcely anything in Shakespeare in its +degree, more admirably drawn than York's character; +his religious loyalty struggling with a deep +grief and indignation at the king's follies; his adherence +to his word and faith, once given in spite +of all, even the most natural, feelings. You see in +him the weakness of old age, and the overwhelmingness +of circumstances, for a time surmounting +his sense of duty,—the junction of both exhibited +in his boldness in words and feebleness in immediate +act; and then again his effort to retrieve himself +in abstract loyalty, even at the heavy price of +the loss of his son. This species of accidental and +adventitious weakness is brought into parallel with +Richard's continually increasing energy of thought, +and as constantly diminishing power of acting;—and +thus it is Richard that breathes a harmony and +a relation into all the characters of the play. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Queen.</hi> To please the king +I did; to please myself</q></l> +<l>I cannot do it; yet I know no cause</l> +<l>Why I should welcome such a guest as grief,</l> +<l>Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest</l> +<l>As my sweet Richard: yet again, methinks,</l> +<l>Some unborn sorrow, ripe in sorrow's womb,</l> +<l>Is coming toward me; and my inward soul</l> +<l>With nothing trembles: at something it grieves,</l> +<l><q rend="post">More than with parting from my lord the king.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +It is clear that Shakespeare never meant to represent +Richard as a vulgar debauchee, but a man +with a wantonness of spirit in external show, a +feminine <hi rend='italic'>friendism</hi>, an intensity of woman-like love +of those immediately about him, and a mistaking of +the delight of being loved by him for a love of him. +And mark in this scene Shakespeare's gentleness in +touching the tender superstitions, the <hi rend='italic'>terræ incognitæ</hi> +of presentiments, in the human mind; and +<pb n='170'/><anchor id='Pg170'/> +how sharp a line of distinction he commonly draws +between these obscure forecastings of general experience +in each individual, and the vulgar errors of +mere tradition. Indeed, it may be taken once for +all as the truth, that Shakespeare, in the absolute +universality of his genius, always reverences whatever +arises out of our moral nature; he never profanes +his muse with a contemptuous reasoning away +of the genuine and general, however unaccountable, +feelings of mankind. +</p> + +<p> +The amiable part of Richard's character is +brought full upon us by his queen's few words— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 6">... <q rend="pre">So sweet a guest</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">As my sweet Richard:</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +and Shakespeare has carefully shown in him an +intense love of his country, well-knowing how that +feeling would, in a pure historic drama, redeem him +in the hearts of the audience. Yet even in this +love there is something feminine and personal:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,—</q></l> +<l>As a long parted mother with her child</l> +<l>Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting;</l> +<l>So weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,</l> +<l><q rend="post">And do thee favour with my royal hands.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +With this is combined a constant overflow of emotions +from a total incapability of controlling them, +and thence a waste of that energy, which should +have been reserved for actions, in the passion and +effort of mere resolves and menaces. The consequence +is moral exhaustion, and rapid alternations +of unmanly despair and ungrounded hope,—every +feeling being abandoned for its direct opposite upon +the pressure of external accident. And yet when +Richard's inward weakness appears to seek refuge +in his despair, and his exhaustion counterfeits repose, +the old habit of kingliness, the effect of +<pb n='171'/><anchor id='Pg171'/> +flatterers from his infancy, is ever and anon producing +in him a sort of wordy courage which only +serves to betray more clearly his internal impotence. +The second and third scenes of the third +act combine and illustrate all this:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Aumerle.</hi> He means, +my lord, that we are too remiss;</q></l> +<l>Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,</l> +<l>Grows strong and great, in substance, and in friends.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>K. Rich.</hi> Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not,</l> +<l>That when the searching eye of heaven is hid</l> +<l>Behind the globe, that lights the lower world,</l> +<l>Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen,</l> +<l>In murders and in outrage, bloody here;</l> +<l>But when, from under this terrestrial ball,</l> +<l>He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines,</l> +<l>And darts his light through every guilty hole,</l> +<l>Then murders, treasons, and detested sins,</l> +<l>The cloke of night being pluckt from off their backs,</l> +<l>Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves?</l> +<l>So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, &c.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Aumerle.</hi> Where is the Duke my father with his power?</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>K. Rich.</hi> No matter where; of comfort no man speak:</l> +<l>Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs,</l> +<l>Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes</l> +<l>Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth, &c.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Aumerle.</hi> My father hath a power, enquire of him;</l> +<l>And learn to make a body of a limb.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>K. Rich.</hi> Thou chid'st me well: proud Bolingbroke, I come</l> +<l>To change blows with thee for our day of doom.</l> +<l>This ague-fit of fear is over-blown;</l> +<l>An easy task it is to win our own.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Scroop.</hi> Your uncle York hath join'd +with Bolingbroke.—</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>K. Rich.</hi> Thou hast said enough,</l> +<l>Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth</l> +<l>Of that sweet way I was in to despair!</l> +<l>What say you now? what comfort have we now?</l> +<l>By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly,</l> +<l><q rend="post">That bids me be of comfort any more.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 3. Bolingbroke's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Noble lord,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<pb n='172'/><anchor id='Pg172'/> + +<p> +Observe the fine struggle of a haughty sense of +power and ambition in Bolingbroke with the necessity +for dissimulation. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 4. See here the skill and judgment of +our poet in giving reality and individual life, by the +introduction of accidents in his historic plays, and +thereby making them dramas, and not histories. +How beautiful an islet of repose—a melancholy +repose, indeed—is this scene with the Gardener and +his Servant. And how truly affecting and realising +is the incident of the very horse Barbary, in the +scene with the Groom in the last act!— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Groom.</hi> I was a poor groom of +thy stable, King,</q></l> +<l>When thou wert King; who, travelling towards York,</l> +<l>With much ado, at length have gotten leave</l> +<l>To look upon my sometimes master's face.</l> +<l>O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld,</l> +<l>In London streets, that coronation day,</l> +<l>When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary!</l> +<l>That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid;</l> +<l>That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd!</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>K. Rich.</hi> Rode he on Barbary?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Bolingbroke's character, in general, is an instance +how Shakespeare makes one play introductory to +another; for it is evidently a preparation for Henry +IV., as Gloster in the third part of <hi rend='italic'>Henry VI.</hi> is +for Richard III. +</p> + +<p> +I would once more remark upon the exalted idea +of the only true loyalty developed in this noble and +impressive play. We have neither the rants of +Beaumont and Fletcher, nor the sneers of Massinger;—the +vast importance of the personal character +of the sovereign is distinctly enounced, whilst, at +the same time, the genuine sanctity which surrounds +him is attributed to, and grounded on, the position +in which he stands as the convergence and exponent +of the life and power of the state. +</p> + +<pb n='173'/><anchor id='Pg173'/> + +<p> +The great end of the body politic appears to be +to humanise, and assist in the progressiveness of, +the animal man;—but the problem is so complicated +with contingencies as to render it nearly impossible +to lay down rules for the formation of a state. And +should we be able to form a system of government, +which should so balance its different powers as to +form a check upon each, and so continually remedy +and correct itself, it would, nevertheless, defeat its +own aim;—for man is destined to be guided by +higher principles, by universal views, which can +never be fulfilled in this state of existence,—by a +spirit of progressiveness which can never be accomplished, +for then it would cease to be. Plato's +Republic is like Bunyan's Town of Man-Soul,—a +description of an individual, all of whose faculties +are in their proper subordination and inter-dependence; +and this it is assumed may be the prototype +of the state as one great individual. But there is +this sophism in it, that it is forgotten that the +human faculties, indeed, are parts and not separate +things; but that you could never get chiefs who +were wholly reason, ministers who were wholly +understanding, soldiers all wrath, labourers all concupiscence, +and so on through the rest. Each of +these partakes of, and interferes with, all the +others. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='175'/><anchor id='Pg175'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Henry IV.—Part I.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1. King Henry's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">No more the thirsty entrance of this soil</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +A most obscure passage: but I think Theobald's +interpretation right, namely, that +<q>thirsty entrance</q> means the dry penetrability, or +bibulous drought, of the soil. The obscurity of +this passage is of the Shakespearian sort. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. In this, the first introduction of Falstaff, +observe the consciousness and the intentionality +of his wit, so that when it does not flow of its +own accord, its absence is felt, and an effort visibly +made to recall it. Note also throughout how Falstaff's +pride is gratified in the power of influencing +a prince of the blood, the heir apparent, by means +of it. Hence his dislike to Prince John of Lancaster, +and his mortification when he finds his wit +fail on him:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>P. John.</hi> Fare you well, +Falstaff: I, in my condition,</q></l> +<l>Shall better speak of you than you deserve.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Fal.</hi> I would you had but the wit; 'twere better than your</l> +<l>dukedom.—Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth</l> +<l><q rend="post">not love me;—nor a man cannot make him laugh.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1. Second Carrier's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l>... <q>breeds fleas like a <emph>loach</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Perhaps it is a misprint, or a provincial pronunciation, +for <q>leach,</q> that is, blood-suckers. Had it +<pb n='176'/><anchor id='Pg176'/> +been gnats, instead of fleas, there might have been +some sense, though small probability, in Warburton's +suggestion of the Scottish <q>loch.</q> Possibly +<q>loach,</q> or <q>lutch,</q> may be some lost word for +dovecote, or poultry-lodge, notorious for breeding +fleas. In Stevens's or my reading, it should properly +be <q>loaches,</q> or <q>leeches,</q> in the plural; except +that I think I have heard anglers speak of +trouts like <hi rend='italic'>a</hi> salmon. +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>Glend.</hi> <emph>Nay</emph>, if you melt, +then will she run mad.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +This <q>nay</q> so to be dwelt on in speaking, as to +be equivalent to a dissyllable - u, is characteristic +of the solemn Glendower; but the imperfect line +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><emph>She bids you</emph></q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Upon the wanton rushes lay you down,</q> &c.,</l> +</lg> + +<p> +is one of those fine hair-strokes of exquisite judgment +peculiar to Shakespeare;—thus detaching the +Lady's speech, and giving it the individuality and +entireness of a little poem, while he draws attention +to it. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='177'/><anchor id='Pg177'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Henry IV.—Part II.</q></head> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 2— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>P. Hen.</hi> Sup any women with him?</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Page.</hi> None, my lord, but old mistress Quickly, and mistress</l> +<l>Doll Tear-sheet.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>P. Hen.</hi> This Doll Tear-sheet should +be some road.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I am sometimes disposed to think that this respectable +young lady's name is a very old corruption +for Tear-street—street-walker, <hi rend='italic'>terere stratam</hi> +(<hi rend='italic'>viam</hi>). Does not the Prince's question rather +show this?— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>This Doll Tear-street should be some road?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 1. King Henry's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 8">... <q rend="pre">Then, <emph>happy low, +lie down</emph>;</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I know no argument by which to persuade any +one to be of my opinion, or rather of my feeling; +but yet I cannot help feeling that <q>Happy low-lie-down!</q> +is either a proverbial expression, or the +burthen of some old song, and means, <q>Happy the +man, who lays himself down on his straw bed or +chaff pallet on the ground or floor!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. Shallow's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><emph>Rah, tah, tah</emph>, would 'a say; <emph>bounce</emph>, +would 'a say,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +That Beaumont and Fletcher have more than +once been guilty of sneering at their great master, +cannot, I fear, be denied; but the passage quoted +by Theobald from the <hi rend='italic'>Knight of the Burning Pestle</hi> +is an imitation. If it be chargeable with any fault, +it is with plagiarism, not with sarcasm. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='179'/><anchor id='Pg179'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Henry V.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 2. Westmoreland's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">They know your <emph>grace</emph> hath cause, +and means, and might;</q></l> +<l>So hath your <emph>highness</emph>; never King of England</l> +<l><q rend="post">Had nobles richer,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Does <q>grace</q> mean the king's own peculiar +domains and legal revenue, and <q>highness</q> +his feudal rights in the military service of his +nobles?—I have sometimes thought it possible +that the words <q>grace</q> and <q>cause</q> may have been +transposed in the copying or printing;— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>They know your cause hath grace,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +What Theobald meant, I cannot guess. To me +his pointing makes the passage still more obscure. +Perhaps the lines ought to be recited dramatically +thus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">They know your Grace hath cause, and means, and might:—</q></l> +<l>So <emph>hath</emph> your Highness—never King of England</l> +<l><q rend="post"><emph>Had</emph> nobles richer,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +He breaks off from the grammar and natural +order from earnestness, and in order to give the +meaning more passionately. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Exeter's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Yet that is but a <emph>crush'd</emph> necessity.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Perhaps it may be <q>crash</q> for <q>crass</q> from +<hi rend='italic'>crassus</hi>, clumsy; or it may be <q>curt,</q> defective, +imperfect: anything would be better than Warburton's +<q>'scus'd,</q> which honest Theobald, of course, +adopts. By the by, it seems clear to me that this +<pb n='180'/><anchor id='Pg180'/> +speech of Exeter's properly belongs to Canterbury, +and was altered by the actors for convenience. +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 3. King Henry's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">We would not <emph>die</emph> in that man's company</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">That fears his fellowship to die with us.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Should it not be <q>live</q> in the first line? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 5.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Const.</hi> <emph>O diable!</emph></q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Orl.</hi> <hi rend='italic'>O seigneur! le jour +est perdu, tout est perdu!</hi></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Dan.</hi> <hi rend='italic'>Mort de ma vie!</hi> +all is confounded, all!</l> +<l>Reproach and everlasting shame</l> +<l>Sit mocking in our plumes!—<hi rend='italic'>O meschante fortune!</hi></l> +<l><q rend="post">Do not run away!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Ludicrous as these introductory scraps of French +appear, so instantly followed by good, nervous +mother-English, yet they are judicious, and produce +the impression which Shakespeare intended,—a +sudden feeling struck at once on the ears, as well +as the eyes, of the audience, that <q>here come the +French, the baffled French braggards!</q>—And this +will appear still more judicious, when we reflect on +the scanty apparatus of distinguishing dresses in +Shakespeare's tyring-room. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='181'/><anchor id='Pg181'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Henry VI.—Part I.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1. Bedford's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!</q></l> +<l>Comets, importing change of times and states,</l> +<l>Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky;</l> +<l>And with them scourge the bad revolting stars</l> +<l>That have consented unto Henry's death!</l> +<l>Henry the fifth, too famous to live long!</l> +<l><q rend="post">England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Read aloud any two or three passages in blank +verse even from Shakespeare's earliest dramas, +as <hi rend='italic'>Love's Labour's Lost</hi>, or +<hi rend='italic'>Romeo and Juliet</hi>; and +then read in the same way this speech, with especial +attention to the metre; and if you do not feel the +impossibility of the latter having been written by +Shakespeare, all I dare suggest is, that you may +have ears,—for so has another animal,—but an ear +you cannot have, <hi rend='italic'>me judice</hi>. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='183'/><anchor id='Pg183'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Richard III.</q></head> + +<p> +This play should be contrasted with <hi rend='italic'>Richard +II.</hi> Pride of intellect is the characteristic of +Richard, carried to the extent of even boasting to +his own mind of his villany, whilst others are present +to feed his pride of superiority; as in his first +speech, act ii. sc. 1. Shakespeare here, as in all +his great parts, developes in a tone of sublime +morality the dreadful consequences of placing the +moral, in subordination to the mere intellectual, +being. In Richard there is a predominance of +irony, accompanied with apparently blunt manners +to those immediately about him, but formalised +into a more set hypocrisy towards the people as +represented by their magistrates. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='185'/><anchor id='Pg185'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Lear.</q></head> + +<p> +Of all Shakespeare's plays <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi> is the most +rapid, <hi rend='italic'>Hamlet</hi> the slowest, in +movement. <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi> +combines length with rapidity,—like the hurricane +and the whirlpool, absorbing while it advances. It +begins as a stormy day in summer, with brightness; +but that brightness is lurid, and anticipates +the tempest. +</p> + +<p> +It was not without forethought, nor is it without +its due significance, that the division of Lear's +kingdom is in the first six lines of the play stated +as a thing already determined in all its particulars, +previously to the trial of professions, as the relative +rewards of which the daughters were to be made to +consider their several portions. The strange, yet +by no means unnatural, mixture of selfishness, +sensibility, and habit of feeling derived from, and +fostered by, the particular rank and usages of the +individual;—the intense desire of being intensely +beloved,—selfish, and yet characteristic of the selfishness +of a loving and kindly nature alone;—the +self-supportless leaning for all pleasure on another's +breast;—the craving after sympathy with a prodigal +disinterestedness, frustrated by its own ostentation, +and the mode and nature of its claims;—the +anxiety, the distrust, the jealousy, which more +or less accompany all selfish affections, and are +amongst the surest contradistinctions of mere fondness +from true love, and which originate Lear's +eager wish to enjoy his daughter's violent professions, +<pb n='186'/><anchor id='Pg186'/> +whilst the inveterate habits of sovereignty +convert the wish into claim and positive right, and +an incompliance with it into crime and treason;—these +facts, these passions, these moral verities, on +which the whole tragedy is founded, are all prepared +for, and will to the retrospect be found +implied, in these first four or five lines of the play. +They let us know that the trial is but a trick; and +that the grossness of the old king's rage is in part +the natural result of a silly trick suddenly and +most unexpectedly baffled and disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +It may here be worthy of notice, that <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi> is +the only serious performance of Shakespeare, the +interest and situations of which are derived from +the assumption of a gross improbability; whereas +Beaumont and Fletcher's tragedies are, almost all +of them, founded on some out of the way accident +or exception to the general experience of mankind. +But observe the matchless judgment of our Shakespeare. +First, improbable as the conduct of Lear +is in the first scene, yet it was an old story rooted +in the popular faith,—a thing taken for granted +already, and consequently without any of the effects +of improbability. Secondly, it is merely the canvass +for the characters and passions,—a mere occasion +for,—and not, in the manner of Beaumont and +Fletcher, perpetually recurring as the cause, and +<hi rend='italic'>sine qua non</hi> of,—the incidents and emotions. Let +the first scene of this play have been lost, and let +it only be understood that a fond father had been +duped by hypocritical professions of love and duty +on the part of two daughters to disinherit the third, +previously, and deservedly, more dear to him;—and +all the rest of the tragedy would retain its +interest undiminished, and be perfectly intelligible. +</p> + +<pb n='187'/><anchor id='Pg187'/> + +<p> +The accidental is nowhere the groundwork of the +passions, but that which is catholic, which in all +ages has been, and ever will be, close and native to +the heart of man,—parental anguish from filial +ingratitude, the genuineness of worth, though +coffined in bluntness, and the execrable vileness of +a smooth iniquity. Perhaps I ought to have added +the <hi rend='italic'>Merchant of Venice</hi>; but here too the same +remarks apply. It was an old tale; and substitute +any other danger than that of the pound of flesh +(the circumstance in which the improbability lies), +yet all the situations and the emotions appertaining +to them remain equally excellent and appropriate. +Whereas take away from the <hi rend='italic'>Mad Lover</hi> of Beaumont +and Fletcher the fantastic hypothesis of his +engagement to cut out his own heart, and have it +presented to his mistress, and all the main scenes +must go with it. +</p> + +<p> +Kotzebue is the German Beaumont and Fletcher, +without their poetic powers, and without their <hi rend='italic'>vis +comica</hi>. But, like them, he always deduces his +situations and passions from marvellous accidents, +and the trick of bringing one part of our moral +nature to counteract another; as our pity for misfortune +and admiration of generosity and courage +to combat our condemnation of guilt as in adultery, +robbery, and other heinous crimes;—and, like +them too, he excels in his mode of telling a story +clearly and interestingly, in a series of dramatic +dialogues. Only the trick of making tragedy-heroes +and heroines out of shopkeepers and barmaids was +too low for the age, and too unpoetic for the genius, +of Beaumont and Fletcher, inferior in every respect +as they are to their great predecessor and contemporary. +How inferior would they have appeared, +<pb n='188'/><anchor id='Pg188'/> +had not Shakespeare existed for them to imitate;—which +in every play, more or less, they do, and in +their tragedies most glaringly:—and yet—(O +shame! shame!)—they miss no opportunity of +sneering at the divine man, and sub-detracting +from his merits! +</p> + +<p> +To return to <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi>. Having thus in the fewest +words, and in a natural reply to as natural a question,—which +yet answers the secondary purpose of +attracting our attention to the difference or diversity +between the characters of Cornwall and Albany,—provided +the <hi rend='italic'>prémisses</hi> and <hi rend='italic'>data</hi>, as it were, for our +after insight into the mind and mood of the person, +whose character, passions, and sufferings are the +main subject-matter of the play;—from Lear, the +<hi rend='italic'>persona patiens</hi> of his drama, Shakespeare passes +without delay to the second in importance, the chief +agent and prime mover, and introduces Edmund to +our acquaintance, preparing us with the same felicity +of judgment, and in the same easy and natural +way, for his character in the seemingly casual communication +of its origin and occasion. From the +first drawing up of the curtain Edmund has stood +before us in the united strength and beauty of +earliest manhood. Our eyes have been questioning +him. Gifted as he is with high advantages of person, +and further endowed by nature with a powerful +intellect and a strong energetic will, even +without any concurrence of circumstances and +accident, pride will necessarily be the sin that most +easily besets him. But Edmund is also the known +and acknowledged son of the princely Gloster: he, +therefore, has both the germ of pride, and the conditions +best fitted to evolve and ripen it into a +predominant feeling. Yet hitherto no reason appears +<pb n='189'/><anchor id='Pg189'/> +why it should be other than the not unusual +pride of person, talent, and birth,—a pride auxiliary, +if not akin, to many virtues, and the natural +ally of honourable impulses. But alas! in his own +presence his own father takes shame to himself for +the frank avowal that he is his father,—he has +<q>blushed so often to acknowledge him that he is +now brazed to it!</q> Edmund hears the circumstances +of his birth spoken of with a most degrading +and licentious levity,—his mother described as a +wanton by her own paramour, and the remembrance +of the animal sting, the low criminal +gratifications connected with her wantonness and +prostituted beauty, assigned as the reason why +<q>the whoreson must be acknowledged!</q> This, +and the consciousness of its notoriety; the gnawing +conviction that every show of respect is an effort of +courtesy, which recalls, while it represses, a contrary +feeling;—this is the ever trickling flow of +wormwood and gall into the wounds of pride,—the +corrosive <hi rend='italic'>virus</hi> which inoculates pride with a +venom not its own, with envy, hatred, and a lust +for that power which in its blaze of radiance would +hide the dark spots on his disc,—with pangs of +shame personally undeserved, and therefore felt as +wrongs, and with a blind ferment of vindictive +working towards the occasions and causes, especially +towards a brother, whose stainless birth and +lawful honours were the constant remembrancers +of his own debasement, and were ever in the way +to prevent all chance of its being unknown, or +overlooked and forgotten. Add to this, that with +excellent judgment, and provident for the claims of +the moral sense,—for that which, relatively to the +drama, is called poetic justice, and as the fittest +<pb n='190'/><anchor id='Pg190'/> +means for reconciling the feelings of the spectators +to the horrors of Gloster's after sufferings,—at +least, of rendering them somewhat less unendurable—(for +I will not disguise my conviction, that +in this one point the tragic in this play has been +urged beyond the outermost mark and <hi rend='italic'>ne plus ultra</hi> +of the dramatic);—Shakespeare has precluded all +excuse and palliation of the guilt incurred by both +the parents of the base-born Edmund, by Gloster's +confession that he was at the time a married man, +and already blest with a lawful heir of his fortunes. +The mournful alienation of brotherly love, occasioned +by the law of primogeniture in noble families, +or rather by the unnecessary distinctions engrafted +thereon, and this in children of the same stock, is +still almost proverbial on the continent,—especially, +as I know from my own observation, in the south +of Europe,—and appears to have been scarcely less +common in our own island before the Revolution +of 1688, if we may judge from the characters and +sentiments so frequent in our elder comedies. +There is the younger brother, for instance, in +Beaumont and Fletcher's play of the <hi rend='italic'>Scornful +Lady</hi>, on the one side, and Oliver in Shakespeare's +<hi rend='italic'>As You Like It</hi>, on the other. Need it be said how +heavy an aggravation, in such a case, the stain +of bastardy must have been, were it only that the +younger brother was liable to hear his own dishonour +and his mother's infamy related by his +father with an excusing shrug of the shoulders, +and in a tone betwixt waggery and shame! +</p> + +<p> +By the circumstances here enumerated as so +many predisposing causes, Edmund's character +might well be deemed already sufficiently explained; +and our minds prepared for it. But in +<pb n='191'/><anchor id='Pg191'/> +this tragedy the story or fable constrained Shakespeare +to introduce wickedness in an outrageous +form in the persons of Regan and Goneril. He +had read nature too heedfully not to know that +courage, intellect, and strength of character are +the most impressive forms of power, and that to +power in itself, without reference to any moral +end, an inevitable admiration and complacency +appertains, whether it be displayed in the conquests +of a Buonaparte or Tamerlane, or in the +foam and the thunder of a cataract. But in the +exhibition of such a character it was of the highest +importance to prevent the guilt from passing into +utter monstrosity,—which again depends on the +presence or absence of causes and temptations +sufficient to account for the wickedness, without +the necessity of recurring to a thorough fiendishness +of nature for its origination. For such are +the appointed relations of intellectual power to +truth, and of truth to goodness, that it becomes +both morally and poetically unsafe to present +what is admirable—what our nature compels us to +admire—in the mind, and what is most detestable +in the heart, as co-existing in the same individual +without any apparent connection, or any modification +of the one by the other. That Shakespeare +has in one instance, that of Iago, approached to +this, and that he has done it successfully, is +perhaps the most astonishing proof of his genius, +and the opulence of its resources. But in the +present tragedy, in which he was compelled to +present a Goneril and a Regan, it was most carefully +to be avoided;—and therefore the only one +conceivable addition to the inauspicious influences +on the preformation of Edmund's character is +<pb n='192'/><anchor id='Pg192'/> +given, in the information that all the kindly +counteractions to the mischievous feelings of +shame, which might have been derived from co-domestication +with Edgar and their common +father, had been cut off by his absence from home, +and foreign education from boyhood to the present +time, and a prospect of its continuance, as if to +preclude all risk of his interference with the +father's views for the elder and legitimate son:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Cor.</hi> Nothing my lord.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Lear.</hi> Nothing?</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Cor.</hi> Nothing.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Lear.</hi> Nothing can come of nothing: speak again.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Cor.</hi> Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave</l> +<l>My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty</l> +<l><q rend="post">According to my bond; nor more, nor less.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +There is something of disgust at the ruthless +hypocrisy of her sisters, and some little faulty +admixture of pride and sullenness in Cordelia's +<q>Nothing;</q> and her tone is well contrived, indeed, +to lessen the glaring absurdity of Lear's +conduct, but answers the yet more important purpose +of forcing away the attention from the +nursery-tale, the moment it has served its end, +that of supplying the canvas for the picture. This +is also materially furthered by Kent's opposition, +which displays Lear's moral incapability of resigning +the sovereign power in the very act of disposing +of it. Kent is, perhaps, the nearest to +perfect goodness in all Shakespeare's characters, +and yet the most individualised. There is an +extraordinary charm, in his bluntness, which is +that only of a nobleman, arising from a contempt +of overstrained courtesy, and combined with easy +<pb n='193'/><anchor id='Pg193'/> +placability where goodness of heart is apparent. +His passionate affection for, and fidelity to, Lear +act on our feelings in Lear's own favour: virtue +itself seems to be in company with him. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. Edmund's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take</q></l> +<l>More composition and fierce quality</l> +<l><q rend="post">Than doth,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Warburton's note upon a quotation from Vanini. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Vanini!—Any one but Warburton would +have thought this precious passage more characteristic +of Mr. Shandy than of atheism. If the +fact really were so (which it is not, but almost the +contrary) I do not see why the most confirmed +theist might not very naturally utter the same +wish. But it is proverbial that the youngest son +in a large family is commonly the man of the +greatest talents in it; and as good an authority as +Vanini has said—<q>incalescere in venerem ardentius, +spei sobolis injuriosum esse.</q> +</p> + +<p> +In this speech of Edmund you see, as soon as a +man cannot reconcile himself to reason, how his +conscience flies off by way of appeal to nature, +who is sure upon such occasions never to find +fault, and also how shame sharpens a predisposition +in the heart to evil. For it is a profound +moral, that shame will naturally generate guilt; +the oppressed will be vindictive, like Shylock, and +in the anguish of undeserved ignominy the delusion +secretly springs up of getting over the moral +quality of an action by fixing the mind on the +mere physical act alone. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Edmund's speech:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>This is the excellent foppery of the world! that, when we are +sick in fortune (often the surfeit of our own behaviour), we make +guilty of our disasters, the sun, the moon, and the stars,</q> &c. +</quote> + +<pb n='194'/><anchor id='Pg194'/> + +<p> +Thus scorn and misanthropy are often the anticipations +and mouth-pieces of wisdom in the detection +of superstitions. Both individuals and +nations may be free from such prejudices by being +below them, as well as by rising above them. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. The Steward should be placed in +exact antithesis to Kent, as the only character of +utter irredeemable baseness in Shakespeare. Even +in this the judgment and invention of the poet are +very observable;—for what else could the willing +tool of a Goneril be? Not a vice but this of baseness +was left open to him. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 4. In Lear old age is itself a character,—its +natural imperfections being increased by +life-long habits of receiving a prompt obedience. +Any addition of individuality would have been +unnecessary and painful; for the relations of +others to him, of wondrous fidelity and of frightful +ingratitude, alone sufficiently distinguish him. +Thus Lear becomes the open and ample play-room +of nature's passions. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Knight.</hi> Since my +young lady's going into France, Sir; the</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">fool hath much pined away.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The Fool is no comic buffoon to make the +groundlings laugh,—no forced condescension of +Shakespeare's genius to the taste of his audience. +Accordingly the poet prepares for his introduction, +which he never does with any of his common +clowns and fools, by bringing him into living connection +with the pathos of the play. He is as +wonderful a creation as Caliban;—his wild babblings, +and inspired idiocy, articulate and gauge +the horrors of the scene. +</p> + +<p> +The monster Goneril prepares what is necessary, +<pb n='195'/><anchor id='Pg195'/> +while the character of Albany renders a still more +maddening grievance possible—namely, Regan +and Cornwall in perfect sympathy of monstrosity. +Not a sentiment, not an image, which can give +pleasure on its own account is admitted; whenever +these creatures are introduced, and they are +brought forward as little as possible, pure horror +reigns throughout. In this scene and in all the +early speeches of Lear, the one general sentiment +of filial ingratitude prevails as the main-spring of +the feelings;—in this early stage the outward +object causing the pressure on the mind, which is +not yet sufficiently familiarised with the anguish +for the imagination to work upon it. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Gon.</hi> Do you mark that, my lord?</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Alb.</hi> I cannot be so partial, Goneril,</l> +<l>To the great love I bear you.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Gon.</hi> Pray you content,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Observe the baffled endeavour of Goneril to act +on the fears of Albany, and yet his passiveness, +his <emph>inertia</emph>; he is not convinced, and yet he is +afraid of looking into the thing. Such characters +always yield to those who will take the trouble of +governing them, or for them. Perhaps the influence +of a princess, whose choice of him had +royalised his state, may be some little excuse for +Albany's weakness. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 5.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Lear.</hi> O let me not be mad, +not mad, sweet heaven!</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Keep me in temper! I would not be mad!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The mind's own anticipation of madness! The +deepest tragic notes are often struck by a half +sense of an impending blow. The Fool's conclusion +of this act by a grotesque prattling seems to +<pb n='196'/><anchor id='Pg196'/> +indicate the dislocation of feeling that has begun +and is to be continued. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1. Edmund's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">He replied,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Thou unpossessing bastard!</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Thus the secret poison in Edmund's own heart +steals forth; and then observe poor Gloster's— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Loyal and <emph>natural</emph> boy!</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +as if praising the crime of Edmund's birth! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Compare Regan's— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">What, did <emph>my father's</emph> godson seek your life?</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">He whom <emph>my father</emph> named?</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +with the unfeminine violence of her— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>All vengeance comes too short,</q> &c.—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +and yet no reference to the guilt, but only to the +accident, which she uses as an occasion for sneering +at her father. Regan is not, in fact, a greater +monster than Goneril, but she has the power of +casting more venom. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. Cornwall's speech:—- +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">This is some fellow,</q></l> +<l>Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect</l> +<l><q rend="post">A saucy roughness,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +In thus placing these profound general truths +in the mouths of such men as Cornwall, Edmund, +Iago, &c., Shakespeare at once gives them utterance, +and yet shows how indefinite their application +is. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. Edgar's assumed madness serves the +great purpose of taking off part of the shock +which would otherwise be caused by the true +madness of Lear, and further displays the profound +difference between the two. In every +attempt at representing madness throughout the +<pb n='197'/><anchor id='Pg197'/> +whole range of dramatic literature, with the single +exception of Lear, it is mere lightheadedness, as +especially in Otway. In Edgar's ravings Shakespeare +all the while lets you see a fixed purpose, a +practical end in view;—in Lear's, there is only +the brooding of the one anguish, an eddy without +progression. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 4. Lear's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">The king would speak with Cornwall; the dear father</q></l> +<l>Would with his daughter speak, &c.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post">No, but not yet: may be he is not well,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +The strong interest now felt by Lear to try to +find excuses for his daughter is most pathetic. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Lear's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Beloved Regan,</q></l> +<l>Thy sister's naught;—O Regan, she hath tied</l> +<l>Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here.</l> +<l>I can scarce speak to thee;—thou'lt not believe</l> +<l>Of how deprav'd a quality—O Regan!</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Reg.</hi> I pray you, Sir, take patience; I have hope,</l> +<l>You less know how to value her desert,</l> +<l>Than she to scant her duty.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Lear.</hi> Say, how is that?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Nothing is so heart-cutting as a cold unexpected +defence or palliation of a cruelty passionately +complained of, or so expressive of thorough hard-heartedness. +And feel the excessive horror of +Regan's <q>O, Sir, you are old!</q>—and then her +drawing from that universal object of reverence +and indulgence the very reason for her frightful +conclusion— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Say, you have wrong'd her!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +All Lear's faults increase our pity for him. We +refuse to know them otherwise than as means of +his sufferings, and aggravations of his daughters' +ingratitude. +</p> + +<pb n='198'/><anchor id='Pg198'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Lear's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">O, reason not the need: our basest beggars</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Are in the poorest thing superfluous,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Observe that the tranquillity which follows the +first stunning of the blow permits Lear to reason. +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 4. O, what a world's convention of +agonies is here! All external nature in a storm, +all moral nature convulsed,—the real madness of +Lear, the feigned madness of Edgar, the babbling +of the Fool, the desperate fidelity of Kent—surely +such a scene was never conceived before or since! +Take it but as a picture for the eye only, it is +more terrific than any which a Michael Angelo, +inspired by a Dante, could have conceived, and +which none but a Michael Angelo could have +executed. Or let it have been uttered to the +blind, the howlings of nature would seem converted +into the voice of conscious humanity. This +scene ends with the first symptoms of positive +derangement; and the intervention of the fifth +scene is particularly judicious,—the interruption +allowing an interval for Lear to appear in full +madness in the sixth scene. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 7. Gloster's blinding. +</p> + +<p> +What can I say of this scene?—There is my +reluctance to think Shakespeare wrong, and yet— +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 6. Lear's speech:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>Ha! Goneril!—with a white beard!—They flattered me like a +dog; and told me, I had white hairs in my beard, ere the black ones +were there. To say <emph>Ay</emph> and <emph>No</emph> to every thing +I said!—Ay and +No too was no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me +once,</q> &c. +</quote> + +<p> +The thunder recurs, but still at a greater distance +from our feelings. +</p> + +<pb n='199'/><anchor id='Pg199'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 7. Lear's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Where have I been? Where am I?—Fair daylight?—</q></l> +<l>I am mightily abused.—I should even die with pity</l> +<l><q rend="post">To see another thus,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +How beautifully the affecting return of Lear to +reason, and the mild pathos of these speeches prepare +the mind for the last sad, yet sweet, consolation +of the aged sufferer's death! +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='201'/><anchor id='Pg201'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Hamlet.</q></head> + +<p> +Hamlet was the play, or rather Hamlet himself +was the character, in the intuition and +exposition of which I first made my turn for philosophical +criticism, and especially for insight into +the genius of Shakespeare, noticed. This happened +first amongst my acquaintances, as Sir George +Beaumont will bear witness; and subsequently, +long before Schlegel had delivered at Vienna the +lectures on Shakespeare, which he afterwards published, +I had given on the same subject eighteen +lectures substantially the same, proceeding from +the very same point of view, and deducing the +same conclusions, so far as I either then agreed, +or now agree, with him. I gave these lectures at +the Royal Institution, before six or seven hundred +auditors of rank and eminence, in the spring of the +same year, in which Sir Humphrey Davy, a fellow-lecturer, +made his great revolutionary discoveries +in chemistry. Even in detail the coincidence of +Schlegel with my lectures was so extraordinary, +that all who at a later period heard the same words, +taken by me from my notes of the lectures at the +Royal Institution, concluded a borrowing on my +part from Schlegel. Mr. Hazlitt, whose hatred of +me is in such an inverse ratio to my zealous kindness +towards him, as to be defended by his warmest +admirer, Charles Lamb—(who, God bless him! +besides his characteristic obstinacy of adherence to +old friends, as long at least as they are at all down +<pb n='202'/><anchor id='Pg202'/> +in the world, is linked as by a charm to Hazlitt's +conversation)—only as <q>frantic;</q>—Mr. Hazlitt, I +say, himself replied to an assertion of my plagiarism +from Schlegel in these words;—<q>That is a lie; +for I myself heard the very same character of +Hamlet from Coleridge before he went to Germany, +and when he had neither read nor could +read a page of German!</q> Now Hazlitt was on a +visit to me at my cottage at Nether Stowey, Somerset, +in the summer of the year 1798, in the September +of which year I first was out of sight of the +shores of Great Britain.—Recorded by me, S. T. +Coleridge, 7th January, 1819. +</p> + +<p> +The seeming inconsistencies in the conduct and +character of Hamlet have long exercised the conjectural +ingenuity of critics; and, as we are always +loth to suppose that the cause of defective apprehension +is in ourselves, the mystery has been too +commonly explained by the very easy process of +setting it down as in fact inexplicable, and by resolving +the phenomenon into a misgrowth or <hi rend='italic'>lusus</hi> +of the capricious and irregular genius of Shakespeare. +The shallow and stupid arrogance of these +vulgar and indolent decisions I would fain do my +best to expose. I believe the character of Hamlet +may be traced to Shakespeare's deep and accurate +science in mental philosophy. Indeed, that this +character must have some connection with the +common fundamental laws of our nature may be +assumed from the fact, that Hamlet has been the +darling of every country in which the literature of +England has been fostered. In order to understand +him, it is essential that we should reflect on +the constitution of our own minds. Man is distinguished +from the brute animals in proportion as +<pb n='203'/><anchor id='Pg203'/> +thought prevails over sense: but in the healthy +processes of the mind, a balance is constantly maintained +between the impressions from outward objects +and the inward operations of the intellect;—for +if there be an overbalance in the contemplative +faculty, man thereby becomes the creature of mere +meditation, and loses his natural power of action. +Now one of Shakespeare's modes of creating characters +is, to conceive any one intellectual or moral +faculty in morbid excess, and then to place himself, +Shakespeare, thus mutilated or diseased, under given +circumstances. In Hamlet he seems to have wished +to exemplify the moral necessity of a due balance +between our attention to the objects of our senses, +and our meditation on the workings of our minds,—an +<emph>equilibrium</emph> between the real and the imaginary +worlds. In Hamlet this balance is disturbed: his +thoughts, and the images of his fancy, are far more +vivid than his actual perceptions, and his very perceptions, +instantly passing through the <emph>medium</emph> of +his contemplations, acquire, as they pass, a form +and a colour not naturally their own. Hence we +see a great, an almost enormous, intellectual activity, +and a proportionate aversion to real action, +consequent upon it, with all its symptoms and +accompanying qualities. This character Shakespeare +places in circumstances, under which it is +obliged to act on the spur of the moment:—Hamlet +is brave and careless of death; but he vacillates +from sensibility, and procrastinates from thought, +and loses the power of action in the energy of +resolve. Thus it is that this tragedy presents a +direct contrast to that of <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi>; the one proceeds +with the utmost slowness, the other with a +crowded and breathless rapidity. +</p> + +<pb n='204'/><anchor id='Pg204'/> + +<p> +The effect of this overbalance of the imaginative +power is beautifully illustrated in the everlasting +broodings and superfluous activities of Hamlet's +mind, which, unseated from its healthy relation, is +constantly occupied with the world within, and abstracted +from the world without,—giving substance +to shadows, and throwing a mist over all commonplace +actualities. It is the nature of thought to be +indefinite;—definiteness belongs to external imagery +alone. Hence it is that the sense of sublimity +arises, not from the sight of an outward object, +but from the beholder's reflection upon it;—not +from the sensuous impression, but from the imaginative +reflex. Few have seen a celebrated waterfall +without feeling something akin to disappointment: +it is only subsequently that the image comes back +full into the mind, and brings with it a train of +grand or beautiful associations. Hamlet feels this; +his senses are in a state of trance, and he looks +upon external things as hieroglyphics. His soliloquy— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>O! that this too too solid flesh would melt,</q> &c.—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +springs from that craving after the indefinite—for +that which is not—which most easily besets men +of genius; and the self-delusion common to this +temper of mind is finely exemplified in the character +which Hamlet gives of himself;— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">It cannot be</q></l> +<l>But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall</l> +<l><q rend="post">To make oppression bitter.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +He mistakes the seeing his chains for the breaking +them, delays action till action is of no use, and dies +the victim of mere circumstance and accident. +</p> + +<p> +There is a great significancy in the names of +Shakespeare's plays. In the <hi rend='italic'>Twelfth Night</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Midsummer +<pb n='205'/><anchor id='Pg205'/> +Night's Dream</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>As You Like It</hi>, and +<hi rend='italic'>Winter's Tale</hi>, the total effect is produced by a +co-ordination of the characters as in a wreath of +flowers. But in <hi rend='italic'>Coriolanus</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Romeo and Juliet</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Hamlet</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Othello</hi>, &c., +the effect arises from the subordination +of all to one, either as the prominent +person, or the principal object. <hi rend='italic'>Cymbeline</hi> is the +only exception; and even that has its advantages +in preparing the audience for the chaos of time, +place, and costume, by throwing the date back +into a fabulous king's reign. +</p> + +<p> +But as of more importance, so more striking, is +the judgment displayed by our truly dramatic poet, +as well as poet of the drama, in the management +of his first scenes. With the single exception of +<hi rend='italic'>Cymbeline</hi>, they either place before us at one glance +both the past and the future in some effect, which +implies the continuance and full agency of its cause, +as in the feuds and party-spirit of the servants of +the two houses in the first scene of <hi rend='italic'>Romeo and +Juliet</hi>; or in the degrading passion for shows and +public spectacles, and the overwhelming attachment +for the newest successful war-chief in the +Roman people, already become a populace, contrasted +with the jealousy of the nobles in <hi rend='italic'>Julius +Cæsar</hi>;—or they at once commence the action so +as to excite a curiosity for the explanation in the +following scenes, as in the storm of wind and waves, +and the boatswain in the <hi rend='italic'>Tempest</hi>, instead of anticipating +our curiosity, as in most other first scenes, +and in too many other first acts;—or they act, by +contrast of diction suited to the characters, at once +to heighten the effect, and yet to give a naturalness +to the language and rhythm of the principal personages, +either as that of Prospero and Miranda +<pb n='206'/><anchor id='Pg206'/> +by the appropriate lowness of the style, or as in +<hi rend='italic'>King John</hi>, by the equally appropriate stateliness +of official harangues or narratives, so that the after +blank verse seems to belong to the rank and quality +of the speakers, and not to the poet;—or they +strike at once the key-note, and give the predominant +spirit of the play, as in the <hi rend='italic'>Twelfth Night</hi> and +in <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi>;—or finally, the first scene comprises +all these advantages at once, as in <hi rend='italic'>Hamlet</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +Compare the easy language of common life, in +which this drama commences, with the direful music +and wild wayward rhythm and abrupt lyrics of +the opening of <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi>. The tone is quite familiar;—there +is no poetic description of night, no elaborate +information conveyed by one speaker to another +of what both had immediately before their senses—(such +as the first distich in Addison's <hi rend='italic'>Cato</hi>, which +is a translation into poetry of <q>Past four o'clock +and a dark morning!</q>);—and yet nothing bordering +on the comic on the one hand, nor any striving +of the intellect on the other. It is precisely the +language of sensation among men who feared no +charge of effeminacy for feeling what they had no +want of resolution to bear. Yet the armour, the +dead silence, the watchfulness that first interrupts +it, the welcome relief of the guard, the cold, the +broken expressions of compelled attention to bodily +feelings still under control—all excellently accord +with, and prepare for, the after gradual rise into +tragedy;—but, above all, into a tragedy, the interest +of which is as eminently <hi rend='italic'>ad et apud intra</hi>, as +that of <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi> is directly <hi rend='italic'>ad extra</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +In all the best attested stories of ghosts and +visions, as in that of Brutus, of Archbishop Cranmer, +that of Benvenuto Cellini recorded by himself, +<pb n='207'/><anchor id='Pg207'/> +and the vision of Galileo communicated by him to +his favourite pupil Torricelli, the ghost-seers were +in a state of cold or chilling damp from without, +and of anxiety inwardly. It has been with all of +them as with Francisco on his guard,—alone, in +the depth and silence of the night; <q>'twas bitter +cold, and they were sick at heart, and <emph>not a mouse +stirring</emph>.</q> The attention to minute sounds,—naturally +associated with the recollection of minute +objects, and the more familiar and trifling, the more +impressive from the unusualness of their producing +any impression at all—gives a philosophic pertinency +to this last image; but it has likewise its +dramatic use and purpose. For its commonness in +ordinary conversation tends to produce the sense of +reality, and at once hides the poet, and yet approximates +the reader or spectator to that state in which +the highest poetry will appear, and in its component +parts, though not in the whole composition, really +is, the language of nature. If I should not speak +it, I feel that I should be thinking it;—the voice +only is the poet's,—the words are my own. That +Shakespeare meant to put an effect in the actor's +power in the very first words—<q>Who's there?</q>—is +evident from the impatience expressed by the +startled Francisco in the words that follow—<q>Nay, +answer me: stand and unfold yourself.</q> A brave +man is never so peremptory, as when he fears that +he is afraid. Observe the gradual transition from +the silence and the still recent habit of listening in +Francisco's—<q>I think I hear them</q>—to the more +cheerful call out, which a good actor would observe, +in the—<q>Stand ho! Who is there?</q> Bernardo's +inquiry after Horatio, and the repetition of his +name and in his own presence indicate a respect or +<pb n='208'/><anchor id='Pg208'/> +an eagerness that implies him as one of the persons +who are in the foreground; and the scepticism +attributed to him,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Horatio says, 'tis but our fantasy;</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">And will not let belief take hold of him,</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +prepares us for Hamlet's after eulogy on him as +one whose blood and judgment were happily commingled. +The actor should also be careful to distinguish +the expectation and gladness of Bernardo's +<q>Welcome, Horatio!</q> from the mere courtesy of +his <q>Welcome, good Marcellus!</q> +</p> + +<p> +Now observe the admirable indefiniteness of the +first opening out of the occasion of all this anxiety. +The preparation informative of the audience is just +as much as was precisely necessary, and no more;—it +begins with the uncertainty appertaining to +a question:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>Mar.</hi> What, has <emph>this thing</emph> +appear'd again to-night?</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Even the word <q>again</q> has its <emph>credibilising</emph> effect. +Then Horatio, the representative of the ignorance +of the audience, not himself, but by Marcellus to +Bernardo, anticipates the common solution—<q>'tis +but our fantasy!</q> upon which Marcellus rises +into— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>This dreaded sight, twice seen of us</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +which immediately afterwards becomes <q>this apparition,</q> +and that, too, an intelligent spirit—that +is, to be spoken to! Then comes the confirmation +of Horatio's disbelief;— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Tush! tush! 'twill not appear!</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +and the silence, with which the scene opened, is +again restored in the shivering feeling of Horatio +sitting down, at such a time, and with the two +eye-witnesses, to hear a story of a ghost, and that, +<pb n='209'/><anchor id='Pg209'/> +too, of a ghost which had appeared twice before at +the very same hour. In the deep feeling which +Bernardo has of the solemn nature of what he is +about to relate, he makes an effort to master his +own imaginative terrors by an elevation of style,—itself +a continuation of the effort,—and by turning +off from the apparition, as from something +which would force him too deeply into himself, to +the outward objects, the realities of nature, which +had accompanied it:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Ber.</hi> Last night of all,</q></l> +<l>When yon same star, that's westward from the pole</l> +<l>Had made his course to illume that part of heaven</l> +<l>Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,</l> +<l><q rend="post">The bell then beating one.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +This passage seems to contradict the critical +law that what is told, makes a faint impression +compared with what is beholden; for it does +indeed convey to the mind more than the eye can +see; whilst the interruption of the narrative at the +very moment when we are most intensely listening +for the sequel, and have our thoughts diverted +from the dreaded sight in expectation of the +desired, yet almost dreaded, tale—this gives all +the suddenness and surprise of the original appearance:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>Mar.</hi> Peace, break thee off; +look, where it comes again!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Note the judgment displayed in having the two +persons present, who, as having seen the Ghost +before, are naturally eager in confirming their +former opinions,—whilst the sceptic is silent, and +after having been twice addressed by his friends, +answers with two hasty syllables—<q>Most like,</q>—and +a confession of horror:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>It harrows me with fear and wonder.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +O heaven! words are wasted on those who feel, +<pb n='210'/><anchor id='Pg210'/> +and to those who do not feel the exquisite judgment +of Shakespeare in this scene, what can be +said? Hume himself could not but have had +faith in this Ghost dramatically, let his anti-ghostism +have been as strong as Sampson against +other ghosts less powerfully raised. +</p> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Mar.</hi> Good now, sit down, and tell +me, he that knows,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Why this same strict and most observant watch,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +How delightfully natural is the transition, to the +retrospective narrative! And observe, upon the +Ghost's reappearance, how much Horatio's courage +is increased by having translated the late individual +spectator into general thought and past +experience,—and the sympathy of Marcellus and +Bernardo with his patriotic surmises in daring to +strike at the Ghost; whilst in a moment, upon its +vanishing, the former solemn awe-stricken feeling +returns upon them:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">We do it wrong, being so majestical,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">To offer it the show of violence.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Horatio's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">I have heard,</q></l> +<l>The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,</l> +<l>Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat</l> +<l><q rend="post">Awake the god of day,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +No Addison could be more careful to be poetical +in diction than Shakespeare in providing the +grounds and sources of its propriety. But how to +elevate a thing almost mean by its familiarity, +young poets may learn in this treatment of the +cock-crow. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Horatio's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">And, by my advice,</q></l> +<l>Let us impart what we have seen to-night</l> +<l>Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,</l> +<l><q rend="post">The spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='211'/><anchor id='Pg211'/> + +<p> +Note the inobtrusive and yet fully adequate mode +of introducing the main character, <q>young +Hamlet,</q> upon whom it transferred all the interest +excited for the acts and concerns of the king his +father. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. The audience are now relieved by a +change of scene to the royal court, in order that +Hamlet may not have to take up the leavings of +exhaustion. In the king's speech, observe the set +and pedantically antithetic form of the sentences +when touching that which galled the heels of conscience,—the +strain of undignified rhetoric,—and +yet in what follows concerning the public weal, a +certain appropriate majesty. Indeed was he not a +royal brother?— +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> King's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Thus with great art Shakespeare introduces a most +important, but still subordinate character first, +Laertes, who is yet thus graciously treated in consequence +of the assistance given to the election +of the late king's brother instead of his son by +Polonius. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> A little more than kin, +and less than kind.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>King.</hi> How is it that the clouds still hang on you?</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> Not so, my lord, I +am too much i' the sun.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Hamlet opens his mouth with a playing on +words, the complete absence of which throughout +characterises Macbeth. This playing on words +may be attributed to many causes or motives, as +either to an exuberant activity of mind, as in the +higher comedy of Shakespeare generally;—or to an +imitation of it as a mere fashion, as if it were said—<q>Is +not this better than groaning?</q>—or to a contemptuous +<pb n='212'/><anchor id='Pg212'/> +exultation in minds vulgarised and overset +by their success, as in the poetic instance of +Milton's Devils in the battle;—or it is the language +of resentment, as is familiar to every one who has +witnessed the quarrels of the lower orders, where +there is invariably a profusion of punning invective, +whence, perhaps, nicknames have in a considerable +degree sprung up;—or it is the language +of suppressed passion, and especially of a hardly +smothered personal dislike. The first and last of +these combine in Hamlet's case; and I have little +doubt that Farmer is right in supposing the equivocation +carried on in the expression <q>too much i' +the sun,</q> or son. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> Ay, madam, it is common.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Here observe Hamlet's delicacy to his mother, and +how the suppression prepares him for the overflow +in the next speech, in which his character is more +developed by bringing forward his aversion to externals, +and which betrays his habit of brooding +over the world within him, coupled with a prodigality +of beautiful words, which are the half embodyings +of thought, and are more than thought, +and have an outness, a reality <hi rend='italic'>sui generis</hi>, and yet +retain their correspondence and shadowy affinity +to the images and movements within. Note also +Hamlet's silence to the long speech of the king +which follows, and his respectful, but general, +answer to his mother. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Hamlet's first soliloquy:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">O, that this too too solid flesh would melt,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This <hi rend='italic'>tædium vitæ</hi> is a common oppression on +minds cast in the Hamlet mould, and is caused by +<pb n='213'/><anchor id='Pg213'/> +disproportionate mental exertion, which necessitates +exhaustion of bodily feeling. Where there +is a just coincidence of external and internal +action, pleasure is always the result; but where +the former is deficient, and the mind's appetency +of the ideal is unchecked, realities will seem cold +and unmoving. In such cases, passion combines +itself with the indefinite alone. In this mood of +his mind the relation of the appearance of his +father's spirit in arms is made all at once to +Hamlet:—it is—Horatio's speech in particular—a +perfect model of the true style of dramatic narrative;—the +purest poetry, and yet in the most +natural language, equally remote from the ink-horn +and the plough. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. This scene must be regarded as one +of Shakespeare's lyric movements in the play, and +the skill with which it is interwoven with the +dramatic parts is peculiarly an excellence of our +poet. You experience the sensation of a pause +without the sense of a stop. You will observe in +Ophelia's short and general answer to the long +speech of Laertes the natural carelessness of innocence, +which cannot think such a code of cautions +and prudences necessary to its own preservation. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Speech of Polonius (in Stockdale's +edition):— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase),</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Wronging it thus, you'll tender me a fool.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I suspect this <q>wronging</q> is here used much in +the same sense as <q>wringing</q> or <q>wrenching,</q> +and that the parenthesis should be extended to +<q>thus.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Speech of Polonius:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">How prodigal the soul</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Lends the tongue vows:—these blazes, daughter,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<pb n='214'/><anchor id='Pg214'/> + +<p> +A spondee has, I doubt not, dropped out of the +text. Either insert <q>Go to</q> after <q>vows</q>;— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Lends the tongue vows: Go to, these blazes, daughter</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +or read— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Lends the tongue vows:—These blazes, daughter, mark you</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Shakespeare never introduces a catalectic line +without intending an equivalent to the foot omitted +in the pauses, or the dwelling emphasis, or the +diffused retardation. I do not, however, deny that +a good actor might, by employing the last mentioned +means—namely, the retardation, or solemn +knowing drawl—supply the missing spondee with +good effect. But I do not believe that in this or +any other of the foregoing speeches of Polonius, +Shakespeare meant to bring out the senility or +weakness of that personage's mind. In the great +ever-recurring dangers and duties of life, where +to distinguish the fit objects for the application of +the maxims collected by the experience of a long +life, requires no fineness of tact, as in the admonitions +to his son and daughter, Polonius is uniformly +made respectable. But if an actor were +even capable of catching these shades in the character, +the pit and the gallery would be malcontent +at their exhibition. It is to Hamlet that Polonius +is, and is meant to be, contemptible, because in +inwardness and uncontrollable activity of movement, +Hamlet's mind is the logical contrary to +that of Polonius; and besides, as I have observed +before, Hamlet dislikes the man as false to his true +allegiance in the matter of the succession to the +crown. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 4. The unimportant conversation with +which this scene opens is a proof of Shakespeare's +<pb n='215'/><anchor id='Pg215'/> +minute knowledge of human nature. It is a well +established fact, that on the brink of any serious +enterprise, or event of moment, men almost invariably +endeavour to elude the pressure of their +own thoughts by turning aside to trivial objects +and familiar circumstances: thus this dialogue on +the platform begins with remarks on the coldness +of the air, and inquiries, obliquely connected, +indeed, with the expected hour of the visitation, +but thrown out in a seeming vacuity of topics, as +to the striking of the clock and so forth. The +same desire to escape from the impending thought +is carried on in Hamlet's account of, and moralizing +on, the Danish custom of wassailing: he runs off +from the particular to the universal, and, in his +repugnance to personal and individual concerns, +escapes, as it were, from himself in generalisations, +and smothers the impatience and uneasy feelings +of the moment in abstract reasoning. Besides +this, another purpose is answered;—for by thus +entangling the attention of the audience in the +nice distinctions and parenthetical sentences of +this speech of Hamlet's, Shakespeare takes them +completely by surprise on the appearance of the +Ghost, which comes upon them in all the suddenness +of its visionary character. Indeed, no modern +writer would have dared, like Shakespeare, to have +preceded this last visitation by two distinct appearances,—or +could have contrived that the third +should rise upon the former two in impressiveness +and solemnity of interest. +</p> + +<p> +But in addition to all the other excellences of +Hamlet's speech concerning the wassail-music—so +finely revealing the predominant idealism, the +ratiocinative meditativeness, of his character—it +<pb n='216'/><anchor id='Pg216'/> +has the advantage of giving nature and probability +to the impassioned continuity of the speech +instantly directed to the Ghost. The <emph>momentum</emph> +had been given to his mental activity; the full +current of the thoughts and words had set in, and +the very forgetfulness, in the fervour of his argumentation, +of the purpose for which he was there, +aided in preventing the appearance from benumbing +the mind. Consequently, it acted as a new +impulse,—a sudden stroke which increased the +velocity of the body already in motion, whilst it +altered the direction. The co-presence of Horatio, +Marcellus, and Bernardo is most judiciously contrived; +for it renders the courage of Hamlet, and +his impetuous eloquence, perfectly intelligible. +The knowledge,—the unthought of consciousness,—the +sensation of human auditors—of flesh and +blood sympathists—acts as a support and a stimulation +<hi rend='italic'>a tergo</hi>, while the front of the mind, the +whole consciousness of the speaker, is filled, yea, +absorbed, by the apparition. Add too, that the +apparition itself has, by its previous appearances, +been brought nearer to a thing of this world. +This accrescence of objectivity in a Ghost that yet +retains all its ghostly attributes and fearful subjectivity, +is truly wonderful. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 5. Hamlet's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else?</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">And shall I couple hell?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I remember nothing equal to this burst, unless +it be the first speech of Prometheus in the Greek +drama, after the exit of Vulcan and the two +Afrites. But Shakespeare alone could have produced +the vow of Hamlet to make his memory a +blank of all maxims and generalised truths, that +<pb n='217'/><anchor id='Pg217'/> +<q>observation had copied there,</q>—followed immediately +by the speaker noting down the generalised +fact,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Mar.</hi> Hillo, ho, ho, my lord!</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> Hillo, ho, ho, boy! +come bird, come,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This part of the scene, after Hamlet's interview +with the Ghost, has been charged with an improbable +eccentricity. But the truth is, that after the +mind has been stretched beyond its usual pitch +and tone, it must either sink into exhaustion and +inanity, or seek relief by change. It is thus well +known, that persons conversant in deeds of cruelty +contrive to escape from conscience by connecting +something of the ludicrous with them, and by inventing +grotesque terms, and a certain technical +phraseology, to disguise the horror of their practices. +Indeed, paradoxical as it may appear, the +terrible by a law of the human mind always +touches on the verge of the ludicrous. Both arise +from the perception of something out of the +common order of things—something, in fact, out +of its place; and if from this we can abstract +danger, the uncommonness will alone remain, and +the sense of the ridiculous be excited. The close +alliance of these opposites—they are not contraries—appears +from the circumstance, that laughter is +equally the expression of extreme anguish and +horror as of joy: as there are tears of sorrow and +tears of joy, so is there a laugh of terror and a +laugh of merriment. These complex causes will +naturally have produced in Hamlet the disposition +to escape from his own feelings of the overwhelming +and supernatural by a wild transition +<pb n='218'/><anchor id='Pg218'/> +to the ludicrous,—a sort of cunning bravado, +bordering on the flights of delirium. For you +may, perhaps, observe that Hamlet's wildness is +but half false; he plays that subtle trick of pretending +to act only when he is very near really +being what he acts. +</p> + +<p> +The subterraneous speeches of the Ghost are +hardly defensible;—but I would call your attention +to the characteristic difference between this Ghost, +as a superstition connected with the most mysterious +truths of revealed religion,—and Shakespeare's +consequent reverence in his treatment of +it,—and the foul earthly witcheries and wild +language in <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1. Polonius and Reynaldo. +</p> + +<p> +In all things dependent on, or rather made up +of, fine address, the manner is no more or otherwise +rememberable than the light notions, steps, and +gestures of youth and health. But this is almost +everything:—no wonder, therefore, if that which +can be put down by rule in the memory should +appear to us as mere poring, maudlin, cunning,—slyness +blinking through the watery eye of superannuation. +So in this admirable scene, Polonius, +who is throughout the skeleton of his own former +skill and statecraft, hunts the trail of policy at a +dead scent, supplied by the weak fever-smell in his +own nostrils. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. Speech of Polonius:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>My liege, and madam, to expostulate,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Warburton's note. +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>Then as to the jingles, and play on words, let us but look into +the sermons of Dr. Donne (the wittiest man of that age), and we +shall find them full of this vein.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +I have, and that most carefully, read Dr. Donne's +<pb n='219'/><anchor id='Pg219'/> +sermons, and find none of these jingles. The great +art of an orator—to make whatever he talks of +appear of importance—this, indeed, Donne has +effected with consummate skill. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> Excellent well;</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">You are a fishmonger.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +That is, you are sent to fish out this secret. This +is Hamlet's own meaning. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> For if the sun breed maggots in +a dead dog,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Being a god, kissing carrion.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +These purposely obscure lines, I rather think, refer +to some thought in Hamlet's mind, contrasting the +lovely daughter with such a tedious old fool, her +father, as he, Hamlet, represents Polonius to himself:—<q>Why, +fool as he is, he is some degrees in +rank above a dead dog's carcase; and if the sun, +being a god that kisses carrion, can raise life out of +a dead dog,—why may not good fortune, that +favours fools, have raised a lovely girl out of this +dead-alive old fool?</q> Warburton is often led +astray, in his interpretations, by his attention to +general positions without the due Shakespearian +reference to what is probably passing in the mind +of his speaker, characteristic, and expository of his +particular character and present mood. The subsequent +passage,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>O Jephthah, judge of Israel! what a treasure hadst thou!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +is confirmatory of my view of these lines. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> You cannot, Sir, take from me any thing +that I will</q></l> +<l>more willingly part withal; except my life, except my life, except</l> +<l><q rend="post">my life.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +This repetition strikes me as most admirable. +</p> + +<pb n='220'/><anchor id='Pg220'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> Then are our beggars, bodies; +and our monarchs, and</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">out-stretched heroes, the beggars' shadows?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I do not understand this; and Shakespeare seems +to have intended the meaning not to be more than +snatched at:—<q>By my fay, I cannot reason!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>The rugged Pyrrhus—he whose sable arms,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This admirable substitution of the epic for the +dramatic, giving such a reality to the impassioned +dramatic diction of Shakespeare's own dialogue, +and authorised too, by the actual style of the +tragedies before his time (<hi rend='italic'>Porrex and Ferrex</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Titus Andronicus</hi>, &c.)—is well worthy of notice. The +fancy, that a burlesque was intended, sinks below +criticism: the lines, as epic narrative, are superb. +</p> + +<p> +In the thoughts, and even in the separate parts +of the diction, this description is highly poetical: +in truth, taken by itself, that is its fault that it is +too poetical!—the language of lyric vehemence and +epic pomp, and not of the drama. But if Shakespeare +had made the diction truly dramatic, where +would have been the contrast between Hamlet and +the play in <hi rend='italic'>Hamlet</hi>? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l>... <q>Had seen the <emph>mobled</emph> queen,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +A mob-cap is still a word in common use for a +morning cap, which conceals the whole head of +hair, and passes under the chin. It is nearly the +same as the night-cap, that is, it is an imitation of +it, so as to answer the purpose (<q>I am not drest +for company</q>), and yet reconciling it with neatness +and perfect purity. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Hamlet's soliloquy:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<pb n='221'/><anchor id='Pg221'/> + +<p> +This is Shakespeare's own attestation to the truth +of the idea of Hamlet which I have before put forth. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">The spirit that I have seen,</q></l> +<l>May be a devil: and the devil hath power</l> +<l>To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and, perhaps</l> +<l>Out of my weakness, and my melancholy</l> +<l>(As he is very potent with such spirits),</l> +<l><q rend="post">Abuses me to damn me.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +See Sir Thomas Brown:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>I believe ... that those apparitions and ghosts of departed +persons are not the wandering souls of men, but the unquiet walks +of devils, prompting and suggesting us unto mischief, blood, and +villany, instilling and stealing into our hearts, that the blessed +spirits are not at rest in their graves, but wander solicitous of the +affairs of the world.</q>—<hi rend='italic'>Relig. Med.</hi> part. i. sect. 37. +</quote> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 1. Hamlet's soliloquy:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>To be, or not to be, that is the question,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This speech is of absolutely universal interest,—and +yet to which of all Shakespeare's characters +could it have been appropriately given but to +Hamlet? For Jaques it would have been too +deep, and for Iago too habitual a communion with +the heart; which in every man belongs, or ought +to belong, to all mankind. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">No traveller returns.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Theobald's note in defence of the supposed contradiction +of this in the apparition of the Ghost. +</p> + +<p> +O miserable defender! If it be necessary to +remove the apparent contradiction,—if it be not +rather a great beauty,—surely, it were easy to say, +that no traveller returns to this world, as to his +home, or abiding-place. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> Ha, ha! are you honest?</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Oph.</hi> My lord?</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> Are you fair?</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='222'/><anchor id='Pg222'/> + +<p> +Here it is evident that the penetrating Hamlet +perceives, from the strange and forced manner of +Ophelia, that the sweet girl was not acting a part +of her own, but was a decoy; and his after speeches +are not so much directed to her as to the listeners +and spies. Such a discovery in a mood so anxious +and irritable accounts for a certain harshness in +him;—and yet a wild up-working of love, sporting +with opposites in a wilful self-tormenting strain of +irony, is perceptible throughout. <q>I did love you +once:</q>—<q>I lov'd you not:</q>—and particularly in +his enumeration of the faults of the sex from which +Ophelia is so free, that the mere freedom therefrom +constitutes her character. Note Shakespeare's +charm of composing the female character by the +absence of characters, that is, marks and out-juttings. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Hamlet's speech:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>I say, we will have no more marriages: those that are married +already, all but one, shall live: the rest shall keep as they are.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +Observe this dallying with the inward purpose, +characteristic of one who had not brought his mind +to the steady acting point. He would fain sting +the uncle's mind;—but to stab his body!—The +soliloquy of Ophelia, which follows, is the perfection +of love—so exquisitely unselfish! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. This dialogue of Hamlet with the +players is one of the happiest instances of Shakespeare's +power of diversifying the scene while he +is carrying on the plot. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> My lord, you played once i' the university, +you say?</q></l> +<l>(<hi rend='italic'>To Polonius.</hi>)</l> +</lg> + +<p> +To have kept Hamlet's love for Ophelia before the +audience in any direct form, would have made a +<pb n='223'/><anchor id='Pg223'/> +breach in the unity of the interest;—but yet to +the thoughtful reader it is suggested by his spite +to poor Polonius, whom he cannot let rest. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> The style of the interlude here is distinguished +from the real dialogue by rhyme, as in +the first interview with the players by epic verse. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Ros.</hi> My lord, you once did love me.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> <emph>So</emph> I do still, by these +pickers and stealers.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I never heard an actor give this word <q>so</q> its +proper emphasis. Shakespeare's meaning is—<q>lov'd +you? Hum!—<emph>so</emph> I do still,</q> &c. There +has been no change in my opinion:—I think as ill +of you as I did. Else Hamlet tells an ignoble +falsehood, and a useless one, as the last speech to +Guildenstern—<q>Why look you now,</q> &c.—proves. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Hamlet's soliloquy:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 4"><q rend="pre">Now could I drink hot blood,</q></l> +<l>And do such business as the bitter day</l> +<l><q rend="post">Would quake to look on.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The utmost at which Hamlet arrives, is a disposition, +a mood, to do something:—but what to do, +is still left undecided, while every word he utters +tends to betray his disguise. Yet observe how +perfectly equal to any call of the moment is Hamlet, +let it only not be for the future. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. Speech of Polonius. Polonius's volunteer +obtrusion of himself into this business, while +it is appropriate to his character, still itching after +former importance, removes all likelihood that +Hamlet should suspect his presence, and prevents +us from making his death injure Hamlet in our +opinion. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> The king's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<pb n='224'/><anchor id='Pg224'/> + +<p> +This speech well marks the difference between +crime and guilt of habit. The conscience here is +still admitted to audience. Nay, even as an audible +soliloquy, it is far less improbable than is supposed +by such as have watched men only in the beaten +road of their feelings. But the final—<q>all may +be well!</q> is remarkable;—the degree of merit +attributed by the self-flattering soul to its own +struggle, though baffled, and to the indefinite half-promise, +half-command, to persevere in religious +duties. The solution is in the divine <emph>medium</emph> of the +Christian doctrine of expiation:—not what you +have done, but what you are, must determine. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Hamlet's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying:</q></l> +<l>And now I'll do't:—And so he goes to heaven:</l> +<l><q rend="post">And so am I revenged? That would be scann'd,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Dr. Johnson's mistaking of the marks of reluctance +and procrastination for impetuous, horror-striking, +fiendishness!—Of such importance is it to understand +the germ of a character. But the interval +taken by Hamlet's speech is truly awful! And +then— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +O what a lesson concerning the essential difference +between wishing and willing, and the folly of +all motive-mongering, while the individual self +remains! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 4.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> A bloody deed;—almost as bad, +good mother,</q></l> +<l>As kill a king, and marry with his brother.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Queen.</hi> As kill a king?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I confess that Shakespeare has left the character +of the Queen in an unpleasant perplexity. Was +she, or was she not, conscious of the fratricide? +</p> + +<pb n='225'/><anchor id='Pg225'/> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 2.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Ros.</hi> Take you me for a spunge, my lord?</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Ham.</hi> Ay, Sir; that soaks up the King's countenance, his</l> +<l><q rend="post">rewards, his authorities,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Hamlet's madness is made to consist in the free +utterance of all the thoughts that had passed +through his mind before;—in fact, in telling +home-truths. +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 5. Ophelia's singing. O, note the +conjunction here of these two thoughts that had +never subsisted in disjunction, the love for Hamlet, +and her filial love, with the guileless floating on the +surface of her pure imagination of the cautions so +lately expressed, and the fears not too delicately +avowed, by her father and brother, concerning the +dangers to which her honour lay exposed. Thought, +affliction, passion, murder itself—she turns to favour +and prettiness. This play of association is instanced +in the close:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>My brother shall know of it, and I thank you for your good +counsel.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Gentleman's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">And as the world were now but to begin</q></l> +<l>Antiquity forgot, custom not known,</l> +<l>The ratifiers and props of every word—</l> +<l><q rend="post">They cry,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Fearful and self-suspicious as I always feel, when +I seem to see an error of judgment in Shakespeare, +yet I cannot reconcile the cool, and, as Warburton +calls it, <q>rational and consequential,</q> reflection in +these lines with the anonymousness, or the alarm, +of this Gentleman or Messenger, as he is called in +other editions. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> King's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">There's such divinity doth hedge a king,</q></l> +<l>That treason can but peep to what it would,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Acts little of his will.</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='226'/><anchor id='Pg226'/> + +<p> +Proof, as indeed all else is, that Shakespeare +never intended us to see the King with Hamlet's +eyes; though, I suspect, the managers have long +done so. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Speech of Laertes:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil!</q></l> +</lg> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>Laertes is a <emph>good</emph> character, but,</q> +&c.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Warburton.</hi> +</quote> + +<p> +Mercy on Warburton's notion of goodness! +Please to refer to the seventh scene of this act;— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">I will do't;</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">And for that purpose I'll anoint my sword,</q> &c.—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +uttered by Laertes after the King's description of +Hamlet;— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">He being remiss,</q></l> +<l>Most generous, and free from all contriving,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Will not peruse the foils.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Yet I acknowledge that Shakespeare evidently +wishes, as much as possible, to spare the character +of Laertes,—to break the extreme turpitude of his +consent to become an agent and accomplice of the +King's treachery;—and to this end he re-introduces +Ophelia at the close of this scene to afford a +probable stimulus of passion in her brother. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 6. Hamlet's capture by the pirates. +This is almost the only play of Shakespeare, in +which mere accidents, independent of all will, form +an essential part of the plot;—but here how +judiciously in keeping with the character of the +over-meditative Hamlet, ever at last determined +by accident or by a fit of passion! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 7. Note how the King first awakens +Laertes's vanity by praising the reporter, and then +gratifies it by the report itself, and finally points it +by— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Sir, this report of his</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy!</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='227'/><anchor id='Pg227'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> King's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">For goodness, growing to a <emph>pleurisy</emph>,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Dies in his own too much.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Theobald's note from Warburton, who conjectures +<q>plethory.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I rather think that Shakespeare meant <q>pleurisy,</q> +but involved in it the thought of <emph>plethora</emph>, as +supposing pleurisy to arise from too much blood; +otherwise I cannot explain the following line— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">And then this <emph>should</emph> is like a spendthrift sigh,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">That hurts by easing.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +In a stitch in the side every one must have heaved +a sigh that <q>hurt by easing.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Since writing the above I feel confirmed that +<q>pleurisy</q> is the right word; for I find that in +the old medical dictionaries the pleurisy is often +called the <q>plethory.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Queen.</hi> Your sister's drown'd, Laertes.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Laer.</hi> Drown'd! O, where?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +That Laertes might be excused in some degree for +not cooling, the Act concludes with the affecting +death of Ophelia,—who in the beginning lay like +a little projection of land into a lake or stream, +covered with spray-flowers, quietly reflected in +the quiet waters, but at length is undermined or +loosened, and becomes a faery isle, and after a brief +vagrancy sinks almost without an eddy! +</p> + +<p> +Act v. sc. 1. O, the rich contrast between the +Clowns and Hamlet, as two extremes! You see in +the former the mockery of logic, and a traditional +wit valued, like truth, for its antiquity, and +treasured up, like a tune, for use. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 1 and 2. Shakespeare seems to mean all +Hamlet's character to be brought together before +<pb n='228'/><anchor id='Pg228'/> +his final disappearance from the scene;—his meditative +excess in the grave-digging, his yielding to +passion with Laertes, his love for Ophelia blazing +out, his tendency to generalise on all occasions in +the dialogue with Horatio, his fine gentlemanly +manners with Osrick, and his and Shakespeare's +own fondness for presentment:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>But thou wouldst not think, how ill all's here about my heart: +but it is no matter.</q> +</quote> + +</div> + +<pb n='229'/><anchor id='Pg229'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Macbeth.</q></head> + +<p> +<q>Macbeth</q> stands in contrast throughout +with <hi rend='italic'>Hamlet</hi>; in the manner of opening +more especially. In the latter, there is a gradual +ascent from the simplest forms of conversation to +the language of impassioned intellect,—yet the +intellect still remaining the seat of passion: in +the former, the invocation is at once made to the +imagination and the emotions connected therewith. +Hence the movement throughout is the +most rapid of all Shakespeare's plays; and hence +also, with the exception of the disgusting passage +of the Porter (Act ii. sc. 3), which I dare pledge +myself to demonstrate to be an interpolation of +the actors, there is not, to the best of my remembrance, +a single pun or play on words in the whole +drama. I have previously given an answer to the +thousand times repeated charge against Shakespeare +upon the subject of his punning, and I here +merely mention the fact of the absence of any +puns in <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi>, as justifying a candid doubt, at +least, whether even in these figures of speech and +fanciful modifications of language, Shakespeare +may not have followed rules and principles that +merit and would stand the test of philosophic +examination. And hence, also, there is an entire +absence of comedy, nay, even of irony and philosophic +contemplation in <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi>,—the play being +wholly and purely tragic. For the same cause, +<pb n='230'/><anchor id='Pg230'/> +there are no reasonings of equivocal morality, +which would have required a more leisurely state +and a consequently greater activity of mind;—no +sophistry of self-delusion,—except only that previously +to the dreadful act, Macbeth mistranslates +the recoilings and ominous whispers of conscience +into prudential and selfish reasonings; and, after +the deed done, the terrors of remorse into fear +from external dangers,—like delirious men who +run away from the phantoms of their own brains, +or, raised by terror to rage, stab the real object +that is within their reach:—whilst Lady Macbeth +merely endeavours to reconcile his and her own +sinkings of heart by anticipations of the worst, +and an affected bravado in confronting them. In +all the rest, Macbeth's language is the grave +utterance of the very heart, conscience-sick, even +to the last faintings of moral death. It is the +same in all the other characters. The variety +arises from rage, caused ever and anon by disruption +of anxious thought, and the quick transition +of fear into it. +</p> + +<p> +In <hi rend='italic'>Hamlet</hi> and <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi> the scene opens with +superstition; but, in each it is not merely different, +but opposite. In the first it is connected with the +best and holiest feelings; in the second with the +shadowy, turbulent, and unsanctified cravings of +the individual will. Nor is the purpose the same; +in the one the object is to excite, whilst in the +other it is to mark a mind already excited. +Superstition, of one sort or another, is natural +to victorious generals; the instances are too +notorious to need mentioning. There is so much +of chance in warfare, and such vast events are +connected with the acts of a single individual,—the +<pb n='231'/><anchor id='Pg231'/> +representative, in truth, of the efforts of +myriads, and yet to the public, and doubtless to +his own feelings, the aggregate of all,—that the +proper temperament for generating or receiving +superstitious impressions is naturally produced. +Hope, the master element of a commanding genius, +meeting with an active and combining intellect, +and an imagination of just that degree of vividness +which disquiets and impels the soul to try to +realise its images, greatly increases the creative +power of the mind; and hence the images become +a satisfying world of themselves, as is the case in +every poet and original philosopher:—but hope +fully gratified, and yet the elementary basis of the +passion remaining, becomes fear; and, indeed, the +general, who must often feel, even though he may +hide it from his own consciousness, how large a +share chance had in his successes, may very naturally +be irresolute in a new scene, where he knows +that all will depend on his own act and election. +</p> + +<p> +The Weird Sisters are as true a creation of +Shakespeare's, as his Ariel and Caliban,—fates, +furies, and materialising witches being the elements. +They are wholly different from any representation +of witches in the contemporary +writers, and yet presented a sufficient external resemblance +to the creatures of vulgar prejudice to +act immediately on the audience. Their character +consists in the imaginative disconnected from the +good; they are the shadowy obscure and fearfully +anomalous of physical nature, the lawless of +human nature,—elemental avengers without sex +or kin:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Fair is foul, and foul is fair;</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Hover through the fog and filthy air.</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='232'/><anchor id='Pg232'/> + +<p> +How much it were to be wished in playing <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi>, +that an attempt should be made to introduce +the flexile character-mask of the ancient pantomime;—that +Flaxman would contribute his genius +to the embodying and making sensuously perceptible +that of Shakespeare! +</p> + +<p> +The style and rhythm of the Captain's speeches +in the second scene should be illustrated by reference +to the interlude in <hi rend='italic'>Hamlet</hi>, in which the epic +is substituted for the tragic, in order to make the +latter be felt as the real-life diction. In <hi rend='italic'>Macbeth</hi> +the poet's object was to raise the mind at once to +the high tragic tone, that the audience might be +ready for the precipitate consummation of guilt in +the early part of the play. The true reason for +the first appearance of the Witches is to strike +the key-note of the character of the whole drama, +as is proved by their re-appearance in the third +scene, after such an order of the king's as establishes +their supernatural power of information. I +say information,—for so it only is as to Glamis +and Cawdor; the <q>king hereafter</q> was still contingent,—still +in Macbeth's moral will; although, +if he should yield to the temptation, and thus +forfeit his free agency, the link of cause and effect +<hi rend='italic'>more physico</hi> would then commence. I need not +say, that the general idea is all that can be required +from the poet,—not a scholastic logical +consistency in all the parts so as to meet metaphysical +objectors. But O! how truly Shakespearian +is the opening of Macbeth's character +given in the <emph>unpossessedness</emph> of Banquo's mind, +wholly present to the present object,—an unsullied, +unscarified mirror! And how strictly +true to nature it is that Banquo, and not Macbeth +<pb n='233'/><anchor id='Pg233'/> +himself, directs our notice to the effect produced +on Macbeth's mind, rendered temptible by previous +dalliance of the fancy with ambitious +thoughts:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Good Sir, why do you start; and seem to fear</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Things that do sound so fair?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +And then, again, still unintroitive, addresses the +Witches:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 6">... <q rend="pre">I' the name of truth,</q></l> +<l>Are ye fantastical, or that indeed</l> +<l><q rend="post">Which outwardly ye show?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Banquo's questions are those of natural curiosity,—such +as a girl would put after hearing a gipsy +tell her schoolfellow's fortune;—all perfectly +general, or rather, planless. But Macbeth, lost +in thought, raises himself to speech only by the +Witches being about to depart:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +and all that follows is reasoning on a problem +already discussed in his mind,—on a hope which +he welcomes, and the doubts concerning the +attainment of which he wishes to have cleared up. +Compare his eagerness,—the keen eye with which +he has pursued the Witches' evanishing— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Speak, I charge you!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +with the easily satisfied mind of the self-uninterested +Banquo:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">The air hath bubbles, as the water has,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">And these are of them:—Whither are they vanish'd?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +and then Macbeth's earnest reply,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Into the air; and what seem'd corporal, melted</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">As breath into the wind.—<emph>Would they had +stay'd!</emph></q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Is it too minute to notice the appropriateness of +the simile <q>as breath,</q> &c., in a cold climate? +</p> + +<pb n='234'/><anchor id='Pg234'/> + +<p> +Still again Banquo goes on wondering like any +common spectator,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Were such things here as we do speak about?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +whilst Macbeth persists in recurring to the self-concerning:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Your children shall be kings.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Ban.</hi> You shall be king.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Macb.</hi> And thane of Cawdor too: went it +not so?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +So surely is the guilt in its germ anterior to the +supposed cause, and immediate temptation! Before +he can cool, the confirmation of the tempting half +of the prophecy arrives, and the concatenating +tendency of the imagination is fostered by the +sudden coincidence:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Glamis, and thane of Cawdor:</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">The greatest is behind.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Oppose this to Banquo's simple surprise:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>What, can the devil speak true?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Banquo's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">That, trusted home,</q></l> +<l>Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Besides the thane of Cawdor.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I doubt whether <q>enkindle</q> has not another +sense than that of <q>stimulating;</q> I mean of +<q>kind</q> and <q>kin,</q> as when rabbits are said to +<q>kindle.</q> However, Macbeth no longer hears +anything <hi rend='italic'>ab extra</hi>:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Two truths are told,</q></l> +<l>As happy prologues to the swelling act</l> +<l><q rend="post">Of the imperial theme.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Then in the necessity of recollecting himself,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>I thank you, gentlemen.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Then he relapses into himself again, and every +word of his soliloquy shows the early birth-date of +his guilt. He is all-powerful without strength; +<pb n='235'/><anchor id='Pg235'/> +he wishes the end, but is irresolute as to the +means; conscience distinctly warns him, and he +lulls it imperfectly:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Without my stir.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Lost in the prospective of his guilt, he turns round +alarmed lest others may suspect what is passing +in his own mind, and instantly vents the lie of +ambition:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">My dull brain was wrought</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">With things <emph>forgotten</emph>;</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +and immediately after pours forth the promising +courtesies of a usurper in intention:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 8">... <q rend="pre">Kind gentlemen, your pains</q></l> +<l>Are register'd where every day I turn</l> +<l><q rend="post">The leaf to read them.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Macbeth's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Present <emph>fears</emph></q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Are less than horrible imaginings.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Warburton's note, and substitution of <q>feats</q> for +<q>fears.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Mercy on this most wilful ingenuity of blundering, +which, nevertheless, was the very Warburton +of Warburton—his inmost being! <q>Fears,</q> +here, are present fear-striking objects, <hi rend='italic'>terribilia +adstantia</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 4. O! the affecting beauty of the death +of Cawdor, and the presentimental speech of the +king:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">There's no art</q></l> +<l>To find the mind's construction in the face:</l> +<l>He was a gentleman on whom I built</l> +<l><q rend="post">An absolute trust.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Interrupted by— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>O worthiest cousin!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +on the entrance of the deeper traitor for whom +<pb n='236'/><anchor id='Pg236'/> +Cawdor had made way! And here in contrast with +Duncan's <q>plenteous joys,</q> Macbeth has nothing +but the common-places of loyalty, in which he hides +himself with <q>our duties.</q> Note the exceeding +effort of Macbeth's addresses to the king, his +reasoning on his allegiance, and then especially +when a new difficulty, the designation of a successor, +suggests a new crime. This, however, seems +the first distinct notion, as to the plan of realising +his wishes; and here, therefore, with great propriety, +Macbeth's cowardice of his own conscience +discloses itself. I always think there is something +especially Shakespearian in Duncan's speeches +throughout this scene, such pourings forth, such +abandonments, compared with the language of +vulgar dramatists, whose characters seem to have +made their speeches as the actors learn them. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib:</hi> Duncan's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Sons, kinsmen, thanes,</q></l> +<l>And you whose places are the nearest, know,</l> +<l>We will establish our estate upon</l> +<l>Our eldest Malcolm, whom we name hereafter</l> +<l>The Prince of Cumberland: which honour must</l> +<l>Not unaccompanied, invest him only;</l> +<l>But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine</l> +<l><q rend="post">On all deservers.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +It is a fancy;—but I can never read this and +the following speeches of Macbeth, without involuntarily +thinking of the Miltonic Messiah and +Satan. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 5. Macbeth is described by Lady Macbeth +so as at the same time to reveal her own +character. Could he have every thing he wanted, +he would rather have it innocently;—ignorant, as +alas! how many of us are, that he who wishes a +temporal end for itself, does in truth will the +means; and hence the danger of indulging fancies. +</p> + +<pb n='237'/><anchor id='Pg237'/> + +<p> +Lady Macbeth, like all in Shakespeare, is a class +individualised:—of high rank, left much alone, +and feeding herself with day-dreams of ambition, +she mistakes the courage of fantasy for the power +of bearing the consequences of the realities of guilt. +His is the mock fortitude of a mind deluded by +ambition; she shames her husband with a superhuman +audacity of fancy which she cannot support, +but sinks in the season of remorse, and dies in +suicidal agony. Her speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Come, you spirits</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,</q> &c.—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +is that of one who had habitually familiarised her +imagination to dreadful conceptions, and was trying +to do so still more. Her invocations and +requisitions are all the false efforts of a mind +accustomed only hitherto to the shadows of the +imagination, vivid enough to throw the every-day +substances of life into shadow, but never as yet +brought into direct contact with their own correspondent +realities. She evinces no womanly life, +no wifely joy, at the return of her husband, no +pleased terror at the thought of his past dangers, +whilst Macbeth bursts forth naturally— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>My dearest love</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +and shrinks from the boldness with which she presents +his own thoughts to him. With consummate +art she at first uses as incentives the very circumstances, +Duncan's coming to their house, &c., which +Macbeth's conscience would most probably have +adduced to her as motives of abhorrence or repulsion. +Yet Macbeth is not prepared:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>We will speak further.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 6. The lyrical movement with which this +<pb n='238'/><anchor id='Pg238'/> +scene opens, and the free and unengaged mind of +Banquo, loving nature, and rewarded in the love +itself, form a highly dramatic contrast with the +laboured rhythm and hypocritical over-much of +Lady Macbeth's welcome, in which you cannot +detect a ray of personal feeling, but all is thrown +upon the <q>dignities,</q> the general duty. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 7. Macbeth's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">We will proceed no further in this business:</q></l> +<l>He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought</l> +<l>Golden opinions from all sorts of people,</l> +<l>Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Not cast aside so soon.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Note the inward pangs and warnings of conscience +interpreted into prudential reasonings. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1. Banquo's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,</q></l> +<l>And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers!</l> +<l>Restrain in me the cursed thoughts, that nature</l> +<l><q rend="post">Gives way to in repose.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The disturbance of an innocent soul by painful +suspicions of another's guilty intentions and wishes, +and fear of the cursed thoughts of sensual nature. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. Now that the deed is done or doing—now +that the first reality commences, Lady Macbeth +shrinks. The most simple sound strikes +terror, the most natural consequences are horrible, +whilst previously every thing, however awful, +appeared a mere trifle; conscience, which before +had been hidden to Macbeth in selfish and prudential +fears, now rushes in upon him in her own +veritable person:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Methought I heard a voice cry—Sleep no more!</q></l> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">I could not say Amen,</l> +<l><q rend="post">When they did say, God bless us!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +And see the novelty given to the most familiar +images by a new state of feeling. +</p> + +<pb n='239'/><anchor id='Pg239'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. This low soliloquy of the Porter and +his few speeches afterwards, I believe to have been +written for the mob by some other hand, perhaps +with Shakespeare's consent; and that finding it +take, he with the remaining ink of a pen otherwise +employed, just interpolated the words— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>I'll devil-porter it no further: I had thought to have let in +some of all professions, that go the primrose way to the everlasting +bonfire.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +Of the rest not one syllable has the ever-present +being of Shakespeare. +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 1. Compare Macbeth's mode of working +on the murderers in this place with Schiller's +mistaken scene between Butler, Devereux, and +Macdonald in <hi rend='italic'>Wallenstein</hi>.—(Part II. act iv. sc. 2.) +The comic was wholly out of season. Shakespeare +never introduces it, but when it may react on the +tragedy by harmonious contrast. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. Macbeth's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer,</q></l> +<l>Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep</l> +<l>In the affliction of these terrible dreams</l> +<l><q rend="post">That shake us nightly.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Ever and ever mistaking the anguish of conscience +for fears of selfishness, and thus as a punishment +of that selfishness, plunging still deeper in +guilt and ruin. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Macbeth's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Till thou applaud the deed.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +This is Macbeth's sympathy with his own feelings, +and his mistaking his wife's opposite state. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 4.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Macb.</hi> It will have blood; they say, +blood will have blood:</q></l> +<l>Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak;</l> +<l>Augurs, and understood relations, have</l> +<l>By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth</l> +<l><q rend="post">The secret'st man of blood.</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='240'/><anchor id='Pg240'/> + +<p> +The deed is done; but Macbeth receives no +comfort, no additional security. He has by guilt +torn himself live-asunder from nature, and is, +therefore, himself in a preternatural state: no +wonder, then, that he is inclined to superstition, +and faith in the unknown of signs and tokens, and +super-human agencies. +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Len.</hi> 'Tis two or three, my lord, that +bring you word</q></l> +<l>Macduff is fled to England.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Macb.</hi> Fled to England!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The acme of the avenging conscience. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2. This scene, dreadful as it is, is still a +relief, because a variety, because domestic, and +therefore soothing, as associated with the only real +pleasures of life. The conversation between Lady +Macduff and her child heightens the pathos, and is +preparatory for the deep tragedy of their assassination. +Shakespeare's fondness for children is everywhere +shown;—in Prince Arthur, in <hi rend='italic'>King John</hi>; +in the sweet scene in the <hi rend='italic'>Winter's Tale</hi> between +Hermione and her son; nay, even in honest +Evans's examination of Mrs. Page's schoolboy. +To the objection that Shakespeare wounds the +moral sense by the unsubdued, undisguised +description of the most hateful atrocity—that he +tears the feelings without mercy, and even outrages +the eye itself with scenes of insupportable +horror—I, omitting <hi rend='italic'>Titus Andronicus</hi>, as not +genuine, and excepting the scene of Gloster's +blinding in <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi>, answer boldly in the name of +Shakespeare, not guilty. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. Malcolm's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 9">... <q rend="pre">Better Macbeth,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Than such an one to reign.</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='241'/><anchor id='Pg241'/> + +<p> +The moral is—the dreadful effects even on the +best minds of the soul-sickening sense of insecurity. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> How admirably Macduff's grief is in harmony +with the whole play! It rends, not dissolves, +the heart. <q>The tune of it goes manly.</q> Thus +is Shakespeare always master of himself and of his +subject,—a genuine Proteus:—we see all things in +him, as images in a calm lake, most distinct, most +accurate,—only more splendid, more glorified. +This is correctness in the only philosophical sense. +But he requires your sympathy and your submission; +you must have that recipiency of moral +impression without which the purposes and ends +of the drama would be frustrated, and the absence +of which demonstrates an utter want of all imagination, +a deadness to that necessary pleasure of +being innocently—shall I say, deluded?—or +rather, drawn away from ourselves to the music of +noblest thought in harmonious sounds. Happy +he, who not only in the public theatre, but in the +labours of a profession, and round the light of his +own hearth, still carries a heart so pleasure-fraught! +</p> + +<p> +Alas for Macbeth! now all is inward with him; +he has no more prudential prospective reasonings. +His wife, the only being who could have had any +seat in his affections, dies; he puts on despondency, +the final heart-armour of the wretched, and would +fain think every thing shadowy and unsubstantial, +as indeed all things are to those who cannot regard +them as symbols of goodness:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10"><q rend="pre">Out, out, brief candle!</q></l> +<l>Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,</l> +<l>That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,</l> +<l>And then is heard no more; it is a tale</l> +<l>Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Signifying nothing.</q></l> +</lg> + +</div> + +<pb n='243'/><anchor id='Pg243'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Winter's Tale.</q></head> + +<p> +Although, on the whole, this play is exquisitely +respondent to its title, and even in the +fault I am about to mention, still a winter's tale; +yet it seems a mere indolence of the great bard not +to have provided in the oracular response (Act ii. +sc. 2.) some ground for Hermione's seeming death +and fifteen years' voluntary concealment. This +might have been easily effected by some obscure +sentence of the oracle, as for example:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q><q>Nor shall he ever recover an heir, if he have a wife before +that recovery.</q></q> +</quote> + +<p> +The idea of this delightful drama is a genuine +jealousy of disposition, and it should be immediately +followed by the perusal of <hi rend='italic'>Othello</hi>, which +is the direct contrast of it in every particular. +For jealousy is a vice of the mind, a culpable +tendency of the temper, having certain well-known +and well-defined effects and concomitants, all of +which are visible in Leontes, and, I boldly say, not +one of which marks its presence in Othello;—such +as, first, an excitability by the most inadequate +causes, and an eagerness to snatch at proofs; +secondly, a grossness of conception, and a disposition +to degrade the object of the passion by sensual +fancies and images; thirdly, a sense of shame of +his own feelings exhibited in a solitary moodiness +of humour, and yet from the violence of the passion +forced to utter itself, and therefore catching occasions +<pb n='244'/><anchor id='Pg244'/> +to ease the mind by ambiguities, equivoques, +by talking to those who cannot, and who are known +not to be able to, understand what is said to them,—in +short, by soliloquy in the form of dialogue, +and hence a confused, broken, and fragmentary, +manner; fourthly, a dread of vulgar ridicule, as +distinct from a high sense of honour, or a mistaken +sense of duty; and lastly, and immediately, consequent +on this, a spirit of selfish vindictiveness. +</p> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1, 2.— +</p> + +<p> +Observe the easy style of chitchat between +Camillo and Archidamus as contrasted with the +elevated diction on the introduction of the kings +and Hermione in the second scene: and how +admirably Polixenes' obstinate refusal to Leontes +to stay,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">There is no tongue that moves; none, none i' the world</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">So soon as yours, could win me;</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +prepares for the effect produced by his afterwards +yielding to Hermione;—which is, nevertheless, +perfectly natural from mere courtesy of sex, and +the exhaustion of the will by former efforts of +denial, and well calculated to set in nascent action +the jealousy of Leontes. This, when once excited, +is unconsciously increased by Hermione,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Yet, good deed, Leontes,</q></l> +<l>I love thee not a jar o' the clock behind</l> +<l><q rend="post">What lady she her lord;</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +accompanied, as a good actress ought to represent +it, by an expression and recoil of apprehension that +she had gone too far. +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>At my request, he would not:</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +The first working of the jealous fit;— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Too hot, too hot:</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<pb n='245'/><anchor id='Pg245'/> + +<p> +The morbid tendency of Leontes to lay hold of +the merest trifles, and his grossness immediately +afterwards,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Paddling palms and pinching fingers;</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +followed by his strange loss of self-control in his +dialogue with the little boy. +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 2. Paulina's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing;</q></l> +<l>That did but show thee, of a <emph>fool</emph>, inconstant,</l> +<l><q rend="post">And damnable ingrateful.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Theobald reads <q>soul.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I think the original word is Shakespeare's. +1. My ear feels it to be Shakespearian; 2. The +involved grammar is Shakespearian—<q>show thee, +being a fool naturally, to have improved thy folly +by inconstancy;</q> 3. The alteration is most flat, +and un-Shakespearian. As to the grossness of +the abuse—she calls him <q>gross and foolish</q> a +few lines below. +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 3. Speech of Autolycus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>For the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Fine as this is, and delicately characteristic of +one who had lived and been reared in the best +society, and had been precipitated from it by dice +and drabbing; yet still it strikes against my feelings +as a note out of tune, and as not coalescing +with that pastoral tint which gives such a charm +to this act. It is too Macbeth-like in the <q>snapper +up of unconsidered trifles.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 4. Perdita's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>From Dis's waggon! daffodils.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +An epithet is wanted here, not merely or chiefly +for the metre, but for the balance, for the æsthetic +<pb n='246'/><anchor id='Pg246'/> +logic. Perhaps <q>golden</q> was the word which +would set off the <q>violets dim.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Pale primroses</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">That die unmarried.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Milton's— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>And the rathe primrose that forsaken dies.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Perdita's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Even here undone:</q></l> +<l>I was not much afraid; for once or twice</l> +<l>I was about to speak, and tell him plainly,</l> +<l>The self-same sun, that shines upon his court,</l> +<l>Hides not his visage from our cottage, but</l> +<l>Looks on alike. Will't please you, Sir, be gone!</l> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">(<hi rend='italic'>To Florizel.</hi>)</l> +<l>I told you, what would come of this. Beseech you,</l> +<l>Of your own state take care: this dream of mine,</l> +<l>Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther,</l> +<l><q rend="post">But milk my ewes, and weep.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +O how more than exquisite is this whole speech! +And that profound nature of noble pride and grief +venting themselves in a momentary peevishness of +resentment toward Florizel:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l>... <q>Will't please you, Sir, be gone!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Speech of Autolycus:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>Let me have no lying; it becomes none but tradesmen, and +they often give us soldiers the lie; but we pay them for it with +stamped coin, not stabbing steel;—therefore they do not +<emph>give</emph> us the lie.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +As we <emph>pay</emph> them, they, therefore, do not <emph>give</emph> +it us. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='247'/><anchor id='Pg247'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Othello.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<p> +Admirable is the preparation, so truly and +peculiarly Shakespearian, in the introduction +of Roderigo, as the dupe on whom Iago shall first +exercise his art, and in so doing display his own +character. Roderigo, without any fixed principle, +but not without the moral notions and sympathies +with honour, which his rank and connections had +hung upon him, is already well fitted and predisposed +for the purpose; for very want of character +and strength of passion, like wind loudest in an +empty house, constitute his character. The first +three lines happily state the nature and foundation +of the friendship between him and Iago,—the +purse,—as also the contrast of Roderigo's intemperance +of mind with Iago's coolness,—the coolness +of a preconceiving experimenter. The mere +language of protestation,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>If ever I did dream of such a matter, abhor me,</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +which, falling in with the associative link, determines +Roderigo's continuation of complaint,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy hate,</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +elicits at length a true feeling of Iago's mind, the +dread of contempt habitual to those who encourage +in themselves, and have their keenest pleasure in, +the expression of contempt for others. Observe +Iago's high self-opinion, and the moral, that a +<pb n='248'/><anchor id='Pg248'/> +wicked man will employ real feelings, as well as +assume those most alien from his own, as instruments +of his purposes:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10"><q rend="pre">And, by the faith of man,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">I know my price, I am worth no worse a place.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I think Tyrwhitt's reading of <q>life</q> for +<q>wife</q>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>A fellow almost damn'd in a fair <emph>wife</emph></q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +the true one, as fitting to Iago's contempt for +whatever did not display power, and that intellectual +power. In what follows, let the reader +feel how by and through the glass of two passions, +disappointed vanity and envy, the very vices of +which he is complaining, are made to act upon +him as if they were so many excellences, and the +more appropriately, because cunning is always +admired and wished for by minds conscious of +inward weakness;—but they act only by half, +like music on an inattentive auditor, swelling the +thoughts which prevent him from listening to it. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Rod.</hi> What a full fortune does the +<emph>thick-lips</emph> owe,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">If he can carry 't thus.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Roderigo turns off to Othello; and here comes +one, if not the only, seeming justification of our +blackamoor or negro Othello. Even if we supposed +this an uninterrupted tradition of the +theatre, and that Shakespeare himself, from want +of scenes, and the experience that nothing could +be made too marked for the senses of his audience, +had practically sanctioned it,—would this prove +aught concerning his own intention as a poet for +all ages? Can we imagine him so utterly ignorant +as to make a barbarous negro plead royal birth,—at +a time, too, when negroes were not known +<pb n='249'/><anchor id='Pg249'/> +except as slaves? As for Iago's language to +Brabantio, it implies merely that Othello was a +Moor,—that is, black. Though I think the rivalry +of Roderigo sufficient to account for his wilful +confusion of Moor and Negro,—yet, even if compelled +to give this up, I should think it only +adapted for the acting of the day, and should +complain of an enormity built on a single word, +in direct contradiction to Iago's <q>Barbary horse.</q> +Besides, if we could in good earnest believe Shakespeare +ignorant of the distinction, still why should +we adopt one disagreeable possibility instead of a +ten times greater and more pleasing probability? +It is a common error to mistake the epithets +applied by the <hi rend='italic'>dramatis personæ</hi> to each other, as +truly descriptive of what the audience ought to +see or know. No doubt Desdemona saw Othello's +visage in his mind; yet, as we are constituted, +and most surely as an English audience was disposed +in the beginning of the seventeenth century, +it would be something monstrous to conceive this +beautiful Venetian girl falling in love with a veritable +negro. It would argue a disproportionateness, +a want of balance, in Desdemona, which Shakespeare +does not appear to have in the least contemplated. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Brabantio's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>This accident is not unlike my dream.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The old careful senator, being caught careless, +transfers his caution to his dreaming power at +least. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Iago's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">For their souls,</q></l> +<l>Another of his fathom they have not,</l> +<l><q rend="post">To lead their business.</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='250'/><anchor id='Pg250'/> + +<p> +The forced praise of Othello, followed by the +bitter hatred of him in this speech! And observe +how Brabantio's dream prepares for his recurrence +to the notion of philtres, and how both prepare for +carrying on the plot of the arraignment of Othello +on this ground. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 2.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>Oth.</hi> 'Tis better as it is.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +How well these few words impress at the outset +the truth of Othello's own character of himself at +the end—<q>that he was not easily wrought!</q> His +self-government contradistinguishes him throughout +from Leontes. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Othello's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">And my demerits</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">May speak, <emph>unbonneted</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The argument in Theobald's note, where <q>and +bonneted</q> is suggested, goes on the assumption +that Shakespeare could not use the same word +differently in different places; whereas I should +conclude, that as in the passage in <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi> the word +is employed in its direct meaning, so here it is +used metaphorically; and this is confirmed by +what has escaped the editors, that it is not <q>I,</q> +but <q>my demerits</q> that may speak unbonneted,—without +the symbol of a petitioning inferior. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. Othello's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">So please your grace, my ancient;</q></l> +<l>A man he is of honesty and trust:</l> +<l><q rend="post">To his conveyance I assign my wife.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Compare this with the behaviour of Leontes to +his true friend Camillo. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Bra.</hi> Look to her, Moor; if thou hast +eyes to see;</q></l> +<l>She has deceived her father, and may thee.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Oth.</hi> My life upon her faith.</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='251'/><anchor id='Pg251'/> + +<p> +In real life, how do we look back to little +speeches as presentimental of, or contrasted with, +an affecting event! Even so, Shakespeare, as +secure of being read over and over, of becoming a +family friend, provides this passage for his readers, +and leaves it to them. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Iago's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves, that we are thus, or thus,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This speech comprises the passionless character +of Iago. It is all will in intellect; and therefore +he is here a bold partizan of a truth, but yet of a +truth converted into a falsehood by the absence of +all the necessary modifications caused by the frail +nature of man. And then comes the last sentiment:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>Our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts, +whereof I take this, that you call—love, to be a sect or scion!</q> +</quote> + +<p> +Here is the true Iagoism of, alas! how many! +Note Iago's pride of mastery in the repetition of +<q>Go, make money!</q> to his anticipated dupe, +even stronger than his love of lucre: and when +Roderigo is completely won,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>I am chang'd. I'll go sell all my land,</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +when the effect has been fully produced, the +repetition of triumph:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Go to; farewell; put money enough in your purse!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The remainder—Iago's soliloquy—the motive-hunting +of a motiveless malignity—how awful it +is! Yea, whilst he is still allowed to bear the +divine image, it is too fiendish for his own steady +view,—for the lonely gaze of a being next to +devil, and only not quite devil,—and yet a character +which Shakespeare has attempted and executed, +without disgust and without scandal! +</p> + +<pb n='252'/><anchor id='Pg252'/> + +<p> +Dr. Johnson has remarked that little or nothing +is wanting to render the <hi rend='italic'>Othello</hi> a regular tragedy, +but to have opened the play with the arrival of +Othello in Cyprus, and to have thrown the preceding +act into the form of narration. Here then +is the place to determine whether such a change +would or would not be an improvement;—nay +(to throw down the glove with a full challenge), +whether the tragedy would or not by such an +arrangement become more regular,—that is, more +consonant with the rules dictated by universal +reason, on the true common-sense of mankind, in +its application to the particular case. For in all +acts of judgment, it can never be too often recollected, +and scarcely too often repeated, that rules +are means to ends, and, consequently, that the end +must be determined and understood before it can +be known what the rules are or ought to be. +Now, from a certain species of drama, proposing +to itself the accomplishment of certain ends,—these +partly arising from the idea of the species +itself, but in part, likewise, forced upon the +dramatist by accidental circumstances beyond his +power to remove or control,—three rules have +been abstracted;—in other words, the means most +conducive to the attainment of the proposed ends +have been generalised, and prescribed under the +names of the three unities,—the unity of time, the +unity of place, and the unity of action—which +last would, perhaps, have been as appropriately, +as well as more intelligibly, entitled the unity of +interest. With this last the present question has +no immediate concern: in fact, its conjunction +with the former two is a mere delusion of words. +It is not properly a rule, but in itself the great +<pb n='253'/><anchor id='Pg253'/> +end not only of the drama, but of the epic poem, +the lyric ode, of all poetry, down to the candle-flame +cone of an epigram,—nay, of poesy in +general, as the proper generic term inclusive of +all the fine arts as its species. But of the unities +of time and place, which alone are entitled to the +name of rules, the history of their origin will be +their best criterion. You might take the Greek +chorus to a place, but you could not bring a place +to them without as palpable an equivoque as +bringing Birnam wood to Macbeth at Dunsinane. +It was the same, though in a less degree, with +regard to the unity of time:—the positive fact, +not for a moment removed from the senses, the +presence, I mean, of the same identical chorus, +was a continued measure of time;—and although +the imagination may supersede perception, yet it +must be granted to be an imperfection—however +easily tolerated—to place the two in broad contradiction +to each other. In truth, it is a mere +accident of terms; for the Trilogy of the Greek +theatre was a drama in three acts, and notwithstanding +this, what strange contrivances as to +place there are in the Aristophanic Frogs. Besides, +if the law of mere actual perception is once +violated—as it repeatedly is, even in the Greek +tragedies—why is it more difficult to imagine +three hours to be three years than to be a whole +day and night? +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<p> +Observe in how many ways Othello is made, +first, our acquaintance, then our friend, then the +object of our anxiety, before the deeper interest is +to be approached! +</p> + +<pb n='254'/><anchor id='Pg254'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Mont.</hi> But, good lieutenant, is your +general wived?</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Cas.</hi> Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid</l> +<l>That paragons description, and wild fame;</l> +<l>One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,</l> +<l>And, in the essential vesture of creation,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Does tire the ingener.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Here is Cassio's warm-hearted, yet perfectly disengaged, +praise of Desdemona, and sympathy with +the <q>most fortunately</q> wived Othello;—and yet +Cassio is an enthusiastic admirer, almost a worshipper, +of Desdemona. Oh, that detestable code +that excellence cannot be loved in any form that +is female, but it must needs be selfish! Observe +Othello's <q>honest</q> and Cassio's <q>bold</q> Iago, and +Cassio's full guileless-hearted wishes for the safety +and love-raptures of Othello and <q>the divine +Desdemona.</q> And also note the exquisite circumstance +of Cassio's kissing Iago's wife, as if it +ought to be impossible that the dullest auditor +should not feel Cassio's religious love of Desdemona's +purity. Iago's answers are the sneers +which a proud bad intellect feels towards women, +and expresses to a wife. Surely it ought to be +considered a very exalted compliment to women, +that all the sarcasms on them in Shakespeare are +put in the mouths of villains. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>Des.</hi> I am not merry; but I do beguile,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +The struggle of courtesy in Desdemona to abstract +her attention. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>(<hi rend='italic'>Iago aside</hi>). He takes her by the palm: Ay, well said, whisper; +with as little a web as this, will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. +Ay, smile upon her, do,</q> &c. +</quote> + +<p> +The importance given to trifles, and made fertile +by the villany of the observer. +</p> + +<pb n='255'/><anchor id='Pg255'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Iago's dialogue with Roderigo. +</p> + +<p> +This is the rehearsal on the dupe of the traitor's +intentions on Othello. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Iago's soliloquy:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">But partly led to diet my revenge,</q></l> +<l>For that I do suspect the lusty Moor</l> +<l><q rend="post">Hath leap'd into my seat.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +This thought, originally by Iago's own confession +a mere suspicion, is now ripening, and gnaws +his base nature as his own <q>poisonous mineral</q> is +about to gnaw the noble heart of his general. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. Othello's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">I know, Iago,</q></l> +<l>Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Making it light to Cassio.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Honesty and love! Ay, and who but the reader of +the play could think otherwise? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Iago's soliloquy:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">And what's he then that says—I play the villain?</q></l> +<l>When this advice is free I give, and honest,</l> +<l>Provable to thinking, and, indeed, the course</l> +<l><q rend="post">To win the Moor again.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +He is not, you see, an absolute fiend; or, at +least, he wishes to think himself not so. +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 3.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Des.</hi> Before Æmilia here,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">I give thee warrant of thy place.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The over-zeal of innocence in Desdemona. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Enter Desdemona and Æmilia.</hi></q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Oth.</hi> If she be false, O, then, heaven mocks itself!</l> +<l><q rend="post">I'll not believe't.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Divine! The effect of innocence and the better +genius! +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 3.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Æmil.</hi> Why, the wrong is but a wrong i' +the world; and</q></l> +<l>having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your own world,</l> +<l><q rend="post">and you might quickly make it right.</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='256'/><anchor id='Pg256'/> + +<p> +Warburton's note. +</p> + +<p> +What any other man, who had learning enough, +might have quoted as a playful and witty illustration +of his remarks against the Calvinistic <hi rend='italic'>thesis</hi>, +Warburton gravely attributes to Shakespeare as +intentional; and this, too, in the mouth of a lady's +woman! +</p> + +<p> +Act v. last scene. Othello's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l>... <q rend="pre">Of one, whose hand,</q></l> +<l>Like the base <hi rend='italic'>Indian</hi>, threw a pearl away</l> +<l><q rend="post">Richer than all his tribe,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Theobald's note from Warburton. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it is for no-poets to comment on the +greatest of poets! To make Othello say that he, +who had killed his wife, was like Herod who killed +Mariamne!—O, how many beauties, in this one +line, were impenetrable to the ever thought-swarming, +but idealess, Warburton! Othello +wishes to excuse himself on the score of ignorance, +and yet not to excuse himself,—to excuse himself +by accusing. This struggle of feeling is finely +conveyed in the word <q>base,</q> which is applied to +the rude Indian, not in his own character, but +as the momentary representative of Othello's. +<q>Indian</q>—for I retain the old reading—means +American, a savage <hi rend='italic'>in genere</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, let me repeat that Othello does not kill +Desdemona in jealousy, but in a conviction forced +upon him by the almost superhuman art of Iago, +such a conviction as any man would and must +have entertained who had believed Iago's honesty +as Othello did. We, the audience, know that +Iago is a villain, from the beginning; but in considering +the essence of the Shakespearian Othello, +we must perseveringly place ourselves in his situation, +<pb n='257'/><anchor id='Pg257'/> +and under his circumstances. Then we shall +immediately feel the fundamental difference between +the solemn agony of the noble Moor, and +the wretched fishing jealousies of Leontes, and the +morbid suspiciousness of Leonatus, who is, in other +respects, a fine character. Othello had no life but +in Desdemona:—the belief that she, his angel, had +fallen from the heaven of her native innocence, +wrought a civil war in his heart. She is his +counterpart; and, like him, is almost sanctified in +our eyes by her absolute unsuspiciousness, and +holy entireness of love. As the curtain drops, +which do we pity the most? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Extremum hunc</hi>——. There are three +powers:—Wit, which discovers partial likeness +hidden in general diversity; subtlety, which discovers +the diversity concealed in general apparent +sameness;—and profundity, which discovers an +essential unity under all the semblances of +difference. +</p> + +<p> +Give to a subtle man fancy, and he is a wit; to +a deep man imagination, and he is a philosopher. +Add, again, pleasurable sensibility in the threefold +form of sympathy with the interesting in morals, +the impressive in form, and the harmonious in +sound,—and you have the poet. +</p> + +<p> +But combine all,—wit, subtlety, and fancy, with +profundity, imagination, and moral and physical +susceptibility of the pleasurable,—and let the +object of action be man universal; and we shall +have—O, rash prophecy! say, rather, we have—a +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Shakespeare</hi>! +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<pb n='261'/><anchor id='Pg261'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Notes on Ben Jonson.</head> + +<p> +It would be amusing to collect out of our dramatists +from Elizabeth to Charles I. proofs of +the manners of the times. One striking symptom +of general coarseness of manners, which may co-exist +with great refinement of morals, as, alas! +<hi rend='italic'>vice versa</hi>, is to be seen in the very frequent allusions +to the olfactories with their most disgusting +stimulants, and these, too, in the conversation of +virtuous ladies. This would not appear so strange +to one who had been on terms of familiarity with +Sicilian and Italian women of rank: and bad as +they may, too many of them, actually be, yet I +doubt not that the extreme grossness of their +language has impressed many an Englishman of +the present era with far darker notions than the +same language would have produced in the mind +of one of Elizabeth's or James's courtiers. Those +who have read Shakespeare only, complain of +occasional grossness in his plays; but compare +him with his contemporaries, and the inevitable +conviction, is that of the exquisite purity of his +imagination. +</p> + +<p> +The observation I have prefixed to the <hi rend='italic'>Volpone</hi> +is the key to the faint interest which these noble +efforts of intellectual power excite, with the +exception of the fragment of the <hi rend='italic'>Sad Shepherd</hi>; +because in that piece only is there any character +with whom you can morally sympathise. On the +<pb n='262'/><anchor id='Pg262'/> +other hand, <hi rend='italic'>Measure for Measure</hi> is the only play +of Shakespeare's in which there are not some one +or more characters, generally many, whom you +follow with affectionate feeling. For I confess that +Isabella, of all Shakespeare's female characters, +pleases me the least; and <hi rend='italic'>Measure for Measure</hi> is, +indeed, the only one of his genuine works, which +is painful to me. +</p> + +<p> +Let me not conclude this remark, however, +without a thankful acknowledgment to the <hi rend='italic'>manes</hi> +of Ben Jonson, that the more I study his writings, +I the more admire them; and the more my study +of him resembles that of an ancient classic, in the +<hi rend='italic'>minutiæ</hi> of his rhythm, metre, choice of words, +forms of connection, and so forth, the more +numerous have the points of my admiration +become. I may add, too, that both the study and +the admiration cannot but be disinterested, for to +expect therefrom any advantage to the present +drama would be ignorance. The latter is utterly +heterogeneous from the drama of the Shakespearian +age, with a diverse object and contrary principle. +The one was to present a model by imitation of +real life, taking from real life all that in it which +it ought to be, and supplying the rest;—the other +is to copy what is, and as it is,—at best a tolerable +but most frequently a blundering, copy. In the +former the difference was an essential element; in +the latter an involuntary defect. We should think +it strange, if a tale in dance were announced, and +the actors did not dance at all;—and yet such is +modern comedy. +</p> + +<pb n='263'/><anchor id='Pg263'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Whalley's Preface.</head> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>But Jonson was soon sensible, how inconsistent this medley of +names and manners was in reason and nature; and with how little +propriety it could ever have a place in a legitimate and just picture +of real life.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +But did Jonson reflect that the very essence of +a play, the very language in which it is +written, is a fiction to which all the parts must +conform? Surely, Greek manners in English +should be a still grosser improbability than a +Greek name transferred to English manners. Ben's +<hi rend='italic'>personæ</hi> are too often not characters, but derangements;—the +hopeless patients of a mad-doctor +rather,—exhibitions of folly betraying itself in +spite of exciting reason and prudence. He not +poetically, but painfully exaggerates every trait; +that is, not by the drollery of the circumstance, +but by the excess of the originating feeling. +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>But to this we might reply, that far from being thought to +build his characters upon abstract ideas, he was really accused of +representing particular persons then existing; and that even those +characters which appear to be the most exaggerated, are said to +have had their respective archetypes in nature and life.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +This degrades Jonson into a libeller, instead of +justifying him as a dramatic poet. <hi rend='italic'>Non quod +verum est, sed quod verisimile</hi>, is the dramatist's +rule. At all events, the poet who chooses transitory +manners, ought to content himself with transitory +praise. If his object be reputation, he ought +not to expect fame. The utmost he can look forwards +to, is to be quoted by, and to enliven the +<pb n='264'/><anchor id='Pg264'/> +writings of, an antiquarian. Pistol, Nym, and <hi rend='italic'>id +genus omne</hi>, do not please us as characters, but are +endured as fantastic creations, foils to the native +wit of Falstaff.—I say wit emphatically; for this +character so often extolled as the masterpiece of +humour, neither contains, nor was meant to contain, +any humour at all. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Whalley's <q>Life Of Jonson.</q></q></head> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>It is to the honour of Jonson's judgment, that <emph>the greatest poet of +our nation</emph> had the same opinion of Donne's genius and wit; and +hath preserved part of him from perishing, by putting his thoughts +and satire into modern verse.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Videlicet</hi> Pope!— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>He said further to Drummond, Shakespeare wanted art, and +sometimes sense; for in one of his plays he brought in a number +of men, saying they had suffered shipwreck in Bohemia, where is +no sea near by a hundred miles.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +I have often thought Shakespeare justified in +this seeming anachronism. In Pagan times +a single name of a German kingdom might well +be supposed to comprise a hundred miles more +than at present. The truth is, these notes of +Drummond's are more disgraceful to himself than +to Jonson. It would be easy to conjecture how +grossly Jonson must have been misunderstood, +and what he had said in jest, as of Hippocrates, +interpreted in earnest. But this is characteristic +of a Scotchman; he has no notion of a jest, unless +you tell him—<q>This is a joke!</q>—and still less of +that finer shade of feeling, the half-and-half, in +which Englishmen naturally delight. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='265'/><anchor id='Pg265'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Every Man Out Of His Humour.</q></head> + +<p> +Epilogue.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">The throat of war be stopt within her land,</q></l> +<l>And <emph>turtle-footed</emph> peace dance fairie rings</l> +<l><q rend="post">About her court.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<q>Turtle-footed</q> is a pretty word, a very +pretty word: pray, what does it mean? +Doves, I presume, are not dancers; and the other +sort of turtle, land or sea, green-fat or hawksbill, +would, I should suppose, succeed better in slow +minuets than in the brisk rondillo. In one sense, +to be sure, pigeons and ring-doves could not dance +but with <hi rend='italic'>éclat</hi>—<hi rend='italic'>a claw</hi>! +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='266'/><anchor id='Pg266'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Poetaster.</q></head> + +<p> +Introduction.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Light! I salute thee, but with wounded nerves,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Wishing thy golden splendour pitchy darkness.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +There is no reason to suppose Satan's address +to the sun in the <hi rend='italic'>Paradise Lost</hi>, more than a +mere coincidence with these lines; but were it +otherwise, it would be a fine instance what +usurious interest a great genius pays in borrowing. +It would not be difficult to give a detailed +psychological proof from these constant outbursts +of anxious self-assertion, that Jonson was not a +genius, a creative power. Subtract that one +thing, and you may safely accumulate on his +name all other excellences of a capacious, vigorous, +agile, and richly-stored intellect. +</p> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Ovid.</hi> While slaves be false, fathers hard, +and bawds be</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">whorish.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The roughness noticed by Theobald and Whalley, +may be cured by a simple transposition:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>While fathers hard, slaves false, and bawds be whorish.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Act. iv. sc. 3— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Crisp.</hi> +O—oblatrant—furibund—fatuate—strenuous.</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">O—conscious.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +It would form an interesting essay, or rather +series of essays, in a periodical work, were all the +attempts to ridicule new phrases brought together, +the proportion observed of words ridiculed which +have been adopted, and are now common, such as +<pb n='267'/><anchor id='Pg267'/> +<emph>strenuous</emph>, <emph>conscious</emph>, &c., and a trial made how far +any grounds can be detected, so that one might +determine beforehand whether a word was invented +under the conditions of assimilability to +our language or not. Thus much is certain, that +the ridiculers were as often wrong as right; and +Shakespeare himself could not prevent the naturalisation +of <emph>accommodation</emph>, <emph>remuneration</emph>, &c.; or +Swift the gross abuse even of the word <emph>idea</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='268'/><anchor id='Pg268'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Fall Of Sejanus.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Arruntius.</hi> The name Tiberius,</q></l> +<l>I hope, will keep, howe'er he hath foregone</l> +<l>The dignity and power.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Silius.</hi> Sure, while he lives.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Arr.</hi> And dead, it comes to Drusus. Should he fail,</l> +<l>To the brave issue of Germanicus;</l> +<l>And they are three: too many (ha?) for him</l> +<l>To have a plot upon?</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Sil.</hi> I do not know</l> +<l>The heart of his designs; but, sure, their face</l> +<l>Looks farther than the present.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Arr.</hi> By the gods,</l> +<l>If I could guess he had but such a thought,</l> +<l><q rend="post">My sword should cleave him down,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +The anachronic mixture in this Arruntius of +the Roman republican, to whom Tiberius +must have appeared as much a tyrant as Sejanus, +with his James-and-Charles-the-First zeal for +legitimacy of descent in this passage, is amusing. +Of our great names Milton was, I think, the first +who could properly be called a republican. My +recollections of Buchanan's works are too faint to +enable me to judge whether the historian is not a +fair exception. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. Speech of Sejanus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Adultery! it is the lightest ill</q></l> +<l>I will commit. A race of wicked acts</l> +<l>Shall flow out of my anger, and o'erspread</l> +<l>The world's wide face, which no posterity</l> +<l><q rend="post">Shall e'er approve, nor yet keep silent,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +The more we reflect and examine, examine and +reflect, the more astonished shall we be at the +immense superiority of Shakespeare over his contemporaries;—and +<pb n='269'/><anchor id='Pg269'/> +yet what contemporaries!—giant +minds indeed! Think of Jonson's erudition, +and the force of learned authority in that age; +and yet, in no genuine part of Shakespeare's works +is there to be found such an absurd rant and +ventriloquism as this, and too, too many other +passages ferruminated by Jonson from Seneca's +tragedies, and the writings of the later Romans. +I call it ventriloquism, because Sejanus is a +puppet, out of which the poet makes his own +voice appear to come. +</p> + +<p> +Act v. Scene of the sacrifice to Fortune. +</p> + +<p> +This scene is unspeakably irrational. To believe, +and yet to scoff at, a present miracle is +little less than impossible. Sejanus should have +been made to suspect priestcraft and a secret +conspiracy against him. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='270'/><anchor id='Pg270'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Volpone.</q></head> + +<p> +This admirable, indeed, but yet more wonderful +than admirable, play is, from the fertility and +vigour of invention, character, language, and +sentiment, the strongest proof how impossible it is +to keep up any pleasurable interest in a tale, in +which there is no goodness of heart in any of the +prominent characters. After the third act, this +play becomes not a dead, but a painful, weight on +the feelings. <hi rend='italic'>Zeluco</hi> is an instance of the same +truth. Bonario and Celia should have been made +in some way or other principals in the plot; which +they might have been, and the objects of interest, +without having been made characters. In novels, +the person in whose fate you are most interested, +is often the least marked character of the whole. +If it were possible to lessen the paramountcy of +Volpone himself, a most delightful comedy might +be produced, by making Celia the ward or niece +of Corvino, instead of his wife, and Bonario her +lover. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='271'/><anchor id='Pg271'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Apicæne.</q></head> + +<p> +This is to my feelings the most entertaining of +old Ben's comedies, and, more than any +other, would admit of being brought out anew, if +under the management of a judicious and stage-understanding +playwright; and an actor, who +had studied Morose, might make his fortune. +</p> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1. Clerimont's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">He would have hang'd a pewterer's 'prentice once upon a Shrove</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Tuesday's riot, for being of that trade, when the rest were +<emph>quiet</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>The old copies read <emph>quit</emph>,—<hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi>, +discharged from working, and +gone to divert themselves.</q>—Whalley's note. +</quote> + +<p> +It should be <q>quit</q> no doubt, but not meaning +<q>discharged from working,</q> &c.—but quit, that +is, acquitted. The pewterer was at his holiday +diversion as well as the other apprentices, and +they as forward in the riot as he. But he alone +was punished under pretext of the riot, but in fact +for his trade. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q><hi rend='italic'>Morose.</hi> Cannot I, yet, find out a more compendious method +than by this <emph>trunk</emph>, to save my servants the labour of speech, and +mine ears the discord of sounds?</q> +</quote> + +<p> +What does <q>trunk</q> mean here, and in the first +scene of the first act? Is it a large ear-trumpet?—or +rather a tube, such as passes from parlour to +kitchen, instead of a bell? +</p> + +<pb n='272'/><anchor id='Pg272'/> + +<p> +Whalley's note at the end:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>Some critics of the last age imagined the character of Morose +to be wholly out of nature. But to vindicate our poet, Mr. Dryden +tells us from tradition, and we may venture to take his word, that +Jonson was really acquainted with a person of this whimsical turn +of mind: and as humour is a personal quality, the poet is acquitted +from the charge of exhibiting a monster, or an extravagant unnatural +<hi rend='italic'>caricatura</hi>.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +If Dryden had not made all additional proof +superfluous by his own plays, this very vindication +would evince that he had formed a false and +vulgar conception of the nature and conditions of +drama and dramatic personation. Ben Jonson +would himself have rejected such a plea:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">For he knew, poet never credit gain'd</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">By writing <emph>truths</emph>, but things, like truths, +well feign'd.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +By <q>truths</q> he means <q>facts.</q> Caricatures are +not less so because they are found existing in real +life. Comedy demands characters, and leaves +caricatures to farce. The safest and the truest +defence of old Ben would be to call the <hi rend='italic'>Epicœne</hi> +the best of farces. The defect in Morose, as in +other of Jonson's <hi rend='italic'>dramatis personæ</hi>, lies in this;—that +the accident is not a prominence growing out +of, and nourished by, the character which still +circulates in it; but that the character, such as it +is, rises out of, or, rather, consists in, the accident. +Shakespeare's comic personages have exquisitely +characteristic features; however awry, disproportionate, +and laughable they may be, still, like +Bardolph's nose, they are features. But Jonson's +are either a man with a huge wen, having a circulation +of its own, and which we might conceive +amputated, and the patient thereby losing all his +character; or they are mere wens themselves +<pb n='273'/><anchor id='Pg273'/> +instead of men,—wens personified, or with eyes, +nose, and mouth cut out, mandrake-fashion. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Nota bene.</hi>—All the above, and much more, +will have justly been said, if, and whenever, the +drama of Jonson is brought into comparisons of +rivalry with the Shakespearian. But this should +not be. Let its inferiority to the Shakespearian +be at once fairly owned,—but at the same time as +the inferiority of an altogether different <hi rend='italic'>genius</hi> of +the drama. On this ground, old Ben would still +maintain his proud height. He, no less than +Shakespeare stands on the summit of his hill, and +looks round him like a master,—though his be +Lattrig and Shakespeare's Skiddaw. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='274'/><anchor id='Pg274'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Alchemist.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 2. Face's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Will take his oath o' the Greek <hi rend='italic'>Xenophon</hi>,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">If need be, in his pocket.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Another reading is <q>Testament.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Probably, the meaning is—that intending +to give false evidence, he carried a Greek <hi rend='italic'>Xenophon</hi> +to pass it off for a Greek Testament, and so +avoid perjury—as the Irish do, by contriving to +kiss their thumb-nails instead of the book. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 2. Mammon's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">I will have all my beds blown up; not stuft:</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Down is too hard.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Thus the air-cushions, though perhaps only +lately brought into use, were invented in idea in +the seventeenth century! +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='275'/><anchor id='Pg275'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Catiline's Conspiracy.</q></head> + +<p> +A fondness for judging one work by comparison +with others, perhaps altogether of a +different class, argues a vulgar taste. Yet it is +chiefly on this principle that the <hi rend='italic'>Catiline</hi> has been +rated so low. Take it and <hi rend='italic'>Sejanus</hi>, as compositions +of a particular kind, namely, as a mode of relating +great historical events in the liveliest and most +interesting manner, and I cannot help wishing +that we had whole volumes of such plays. We +might as rationally expect the excitement of the +<hi rend='italic'>Vicar of Wakefield</hi> from Goldsmith's <hi rend='italic'>History of +England</hi>, as that of <hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Othello</hi>, +&c., from the +<hi rend='italic'>Sejanus</hi> or <hi rend='italic'>Catiline</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 4.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Cat.</hi> Sirrah, what ail you?</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">(<hi rend='italic'>He spies one of his boys not +answer.</hi>)</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Pag.</hi> Nothing.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Best.</hi> Somewhat modest.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Cat.</hi> Slave, I will strike your soul +out with my foot,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This is either an unintelligible, or, in every +sense, a most unnatural, passage,—improbable, if +not impossible, at the moment of signing and +swearing such a conspiracy, to the most libidinous +satyr. The very presence of the boys is an outrage +to probability. I suspect that these lines down to +the words <q>throat opens,</q> should be removed back +so as to follow the words <q>on this part of the +house,</q> in the speech of Catiline soon after the +<pb n='276'/><anchor id='Pg276'/> +entry of the conspirators. A total erasure, however, +would be the best, or, rather, the only +possible, amendment. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 2. Sempronia's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">...<q rend="pre">He is but a new fellow,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">An <emph>inmate</emph> here in Rome, as Catiline calls him.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +A <q>lodger</q> would have been a happier imitation +of the <hi rend='italic'>inquilinus</hi> of Sallust. +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 6. Speech of Cethegus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Can these or such be any aids to us,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +What a strange notion Ben must have formed +of a determined, remorseless, all-daring, foolhardiness, +to have represented it in such a +mouthing Tamburlane, and bombastic tonguebully +as this Cethegus of his! +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='277'/><anchor id='Pg277'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Bartholomew Fair.</q></head> + +<p> +Induction. Scrivener's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">If there be never a <emph>servant-monster</emph> in the Fair, +who can help it</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">he says, nor a nest of antiques?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The best excuse that can be made for Jonson, +and in a somewhat less degree for Beaumont +and Fletcher, in respect of these base and silly +sneers at Shakespeare is, that his plays were +present to men's minds chiefly as acted. They +had not a neat edition of them, as we have, so as, +by comparing the one with the other, to form a +just notion of the mighty mind that produced the +whole. At all events, and in every point of view, +Jonson stands far higher in a moral light than +Beaumont and Fletcher. He was a fair contemporary, +and in his way, and as far as Shakespeare +is concerned, an original. But Beaumont and +Fletcher were always imitators of, and often +borrowers from him, and yet sneer at him with a +spite far more malignant than Jonson, who, +besides, has made noble compensation by his +praises. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 3.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Just.</hi> I mean a child of the horn-thumb, +a babe <emph>of booty</emph>, boy, a</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">cut purse.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Does not this confirm, what the passage itself +cannot but suggest, the propriety of substituting +<q>booty</q> for <q>beauty</q> in Falstaff's speech, <hi rend='italic'>Henry +IV.</hi> part i. act i. sc. 2. <q>Let not us, &c.?</q> +</p> + +<pb n='278'/><anchor id='Pg278'/> + +<p> +It is not often that old Ben condescends to +imitate a modern author; but Master Dan. Knockhum +Jordan, and his vapours are manifest reflexes +of Nym and Pistol. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 5.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Quarl.</hi> She'll make excellent geer for +the coachmakers here in</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Smithfield, to anoint wheels and axletrees with.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Good! but yet it falls short of the speech of a +Mr. Johnes, M.P., in the Common Council, on +the invasion intended by Buonaparte:—<q>Houses +plundered—then burnt;—sons conscribed—wives +and daughters ravished,</q> &c., &c.—<q>But as for +you, you luxurious Aldermen! with your fat will +he grease the wheels of his triumphant chariot!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 6.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>Cok.</hi> Avoid in your satin doublet, Numps.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +This reminds me of Shakespeare's <q>Aroint thee, +witch!</q> I find in several books of that age the +words <hi rend='italic'>aloigne</hi> and <hi rend='italic'>eloigne</hi>—that +is,—<q>keep your +distance!</q> or <q>off with you!</q> Perhaps <q>aroint</q> +was a corruption of <q>aloigne</q> by the vulgar. +The common etymology from <hi rend='italic'>ronger</hi> to gnaw +seems unsatisfactory. +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 4.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Quarl.</hi> How now, Numps! almost +tired in your protectorship?</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">overparted, overparted?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +An odd sort of propheticality in this Numps and +old Noll! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 6. Knockhum's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>He eats with his eyes, as well as his teeth.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +A good motto for the Parson in Hogarth's <hi rend='italic'>Election +Dinner</hi>,—who shows how easily he might be +reconciled to the Church of Rome, for he worships +what he eats. +</p> + +<pb n='279'/><anchor id='Pg279'/> + +<p> +Act v. sc. 5.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Pup.</hi> <hi rend='italic'>Di.</hi> It is not +profane.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Lan.</hi> It is not profane, he says.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Boy.</hi> It is profane.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Pup.</hi> It is not profane.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Boy.</hi> It is profane.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Pup.</hi> It is not profane.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Lan.</hi> Well said, confute him with Not, +still.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +An imitation of the quarrel between Bacchus +and the Frogs in Aristophanes:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Χορός.</q></l> +<l>ἀλλὰ μὴν κεκραξόμεσθά γ',</l> +<l>ὁπόσον ἡ φάρυνξ ἂν ἡμῶν</l> +<l>χανδάνη δι' ἡμέρας,</l> +<l>βρεκεκεκὲξ, κοὰξ, κοὰξ.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>Διόνυσος.</l> +<l>τούτω γὰρ οὐ νικήσετε.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>Χορός.</l> +<l>οὐδὲ μὴν ἡμᾶς σὺ τάντως.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>Διόνυσος.</l> +<l><q rend="post">οὐδὲ μὴν ὑμεῖς γε δή μ' οὐδέποτε.</q></l> +</lg> + +</div> + +<pb n='280'/><anchor id='Pg280'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Devil Is An Ass.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Pug.</hi> Why any: Fraud,</q></l> +<l>Or Covetousness, or lady Vanity,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Or old Iniquity, <emph>I'll call him hither</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>The words in italics should probably be given to the master-devil, +Satan.</q>—Whalley's note. +</quote> + +<p> +That is, against all probability, and with a (for +Jonson) impossible violation of character. +The words plainly belong to Pug, and mark at +once his simpleness and his impatience. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 4. Fitz-dottrel's soliloquy. +</p> + +<p> +Compare this exquisite piece of sense, satire, and +sound philosophy in 1616 with Sir M. Hale's +speech from the bench in a trial of a witch many +years afterwards. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1. Meercraft's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Sir, money's a whore, a bawd, a drudge.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I doubt not that <q>money</q> was the first word of +the line, and has dropped out:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Money! Sir, money's a,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +</div> + +<pb n='281'/><anchor id='Pg281'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Staple Of News.</q></head> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 3. Pecunia's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">No, he would ha' done,</q></l> +<l>That lay not in his power: he had the use</l> +<l><q rend="post">Of your bodies, Band and Wax, and sometimes Statute's.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Read (1815)— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 9">... <q rend="pre">he had the use of</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Your bodies,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Now, however, I doubt the legitimacy of my +transposition of the <q>of</q> from the beginning +of this latter line to the end of the one preceding;—for +though it facilitates the metre and reading +of the latter line, and is frequent in Massinger, +this disjunction of the preposition from its case +seems to have been disallowed by Jonson. Perhaps +the better reading is— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>O' your bodies,</q> &c.—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +the two syllables being slurred into one, or rather +snatched, or sucked, up into the emphasised +<q>your.</q> In all points of view, therefore, Ben's +judgment is just; for in this way, the line cannot +be read, as metre, without that strong and quick +emphasis on <q>your</q> which the sense requires;—and +had not the sense required an emphasis on +<q>your,</q> the <hi rend='italic'>tmesis</hi> of the sign of its cases <q>of,</q> +<q>to,</q> &c., would destroy almost all boundary +between the dramatic verse and prose in comedy:—a +lesson not to be rash in conjectural amendments.—1818. +</p> + +<pb n='282'/><anchor id='Pg282'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 4.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>P. jun.</hi> I love all men of virtue, <emph>frommy</emph> +Princess.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<q>Frommy,</q> <hi rend='italic'>fromme</hi>—pious, dutiful, &c. +</p> + +<p> +Act v. sc. 4. Penny-boy, sen., and Porter. +</p> + +<p> +I dare not, will not, think that honest Ben had +<hi rend='italic'>Lear</hi> in his mind in this mock mad scene. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='283'/><anchor id='Pg283'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The New Inn.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1. Host's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>A heavy purse, and then two turtles, <emph>makes</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<q>Makes,</q> frequent in old books, and even now +used in some counties for mates, or pairs. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. Host's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">...<q rend="pre">And for a leap</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Of the vaulting horse, to <emph>play</emph> the vaulting +<emph>house</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Instead of reading with Whalley <q>ply</q> for +<q>play,</q> I would suggest <q>horse</q> for <q>house.</q> +The meaning would then be obvious and pertinent. +The punlet, or pun-maggot, or pun intentional, +<q>horse and house,</q> is below Jonson. The <hi rend='italic'>jeu-de-mots</hi> +just below— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">...<q rend="pre">Read a lecture</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Upon <hi rend='italic'>Aquinas</hi> at St. Thomas à <hi rend='italic'>Water</hi>ings</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +had a learned smack in it to season its insipidity. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 6. Lovel's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Then shower'd his bounties on me, like the Hours,</q></l> +<l>That open-handed sit upon the clouds,</l> +<l>And press the liberality of heaven</l> +<l><q rend="post">Down to the laps of thankful men!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Like many other similar passages in Jonson, +this is εῖδος χαλεπὸν ἰδεῖν—a sight which it is difficult +to make one's self see,—a picture my fancy +cannot copy detached from the words. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 5. Though it was hard upon old Ben, +yet Felton, it must be confessed, was in the right +in considering the Fly, Tipto, Bat Burst, &c., of +<pb n='284'/><anchor id='Pg284'/> +this play mere dotages. Such a scene as this was +enough to damn a new play; and Nick Stuff is +worse still,—most abominable stuff indeed! +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 2. Lovel's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">So knowledge first begets benevolence,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Benevolence breeds friendship, friendship love.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Jonson has elsewhere proceeded thus far; but +the part most difficult and delicate, yet, perhaps, +not the least capable of being both morally and +poetically treated, is the union itself, and what, +even in this life, it can be. +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<pb n='285'/><anchor id='Pg285'/> + +<div rend="page-break-before: right"> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Notes On Beaumont And Fletcher.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Seward's</hi> Preface. 1750.— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>The <hi rend='italic'>King and No King</hi>, too, is extremely spirited in all its +characters; Arbaces holds up a mirror to all men of virtuous +principles but violent passions. Hence he is, as it were, at once +magnanimity and pride, patience and fury, gentleness and rigour, +chastity and incest, and is one of the finest mixtures of virtues and +vices that any poet has drawn,</q> &c. +</quote> + +<p> +These are among the endless instances of the +abject state to which psychology had sunk +from the reign of Charles I. to the middle of the +present reign of George III.; and even now it is +but just awaking. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Seward's comparison of Julia's speech in +the <hi rend='italic'>Two Gentlemen of Verona</hi>, act iv. last scene— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Madam, 'twas Ariadne passioning,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +with Aspatia's speech in the <hi rend='italic'>Maid's Tragedy</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>I stand upon the sea-beach now,</q> &c.—Act ii.—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +and preference of the latter. +</p> + +<p> +It is strange to take an incidental passage of one +writer, intended only for a subordinate part, and +compare it with the same thought in another +writer, who had chosen it for a prominent and +principal figure. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Seward's preference of Alphonso's poisoning +<pb n='286'/><anchor id='Pg286'/> +in <hi rend='italic'>A Wife for a Month</hi>, act i. sc. 1, to the passage +in <hi rend='italic'>King John</hi>, act v. sc. 7:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Poison'd, ill fare! dead, forsook, cast off!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Mr. Seward! Mr. Seward! you may be, and I +trust you are, an angel; but you were an ass. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>Every reader of <emph>taste</emph> will see how superior this is to the +quotation from Shakespeare.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +Of what taste? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Seward's classification of the plays. +</p> + +<p> +Surely <hi rend='italic'>Monsieur Thomas</hi>, the +<hi rend='italic'>Chances</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Beggar's +Bush</hi>, and the <hi rend='italic'>Pilgrim</hi>, should have been placed in +the very first class! But the whole attempt ends +in a woful failure. +</p> + +<pb n='287'/><anchor id='Pg287'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Harris's Commendatory Poem On Fletcher.</head> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">I'd have a state of wit convok'd, which hath</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">A <emph>power</emph> to take up on common faith:</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This is an instance of that modifying of +quantity by emphasis, without which our +elder poets cannot be scanned. <q>Power,</q> here, +instead of being one long syllable—pow'r—must +be sounded, not indeed as a spondee, nor yet as a +trochee; but as - u u;—the first syllable is 1-1/4. +</p> + +<p> +We can, indeed, never expect an authentic +edition of our elder dramatic poets (for in those +times a drama was a poem), until some man undertakes +the work, who has studied the philosophy of +metre. This has been found the main torch of +sound restoration in the Greek dramatists by +Bentley, Porson, and their followers;—how much +more, then, in writers in our own language! It +is true that quantity, an almost iron law with the +Greek, is in English rather a subject for a peculiarly +fine ear, than any law or even rule; but, +then, instead of it, we have, first, accent; secondly, +emphasis; and lastly, retardation, and acceleration +of the times of syllables according to the meaning +of the words, the passion that accompanies them, +and even the character of the person that uses +them. With due attention to these,—above all, +to that, which requires the most attention and the +finest taste, the character, Massinger, for example, +might be reduced to a rich and yet regular metre. +<pb n='288'/><anchor id='Pg288'/> +But then the <hi rend='italic'>regulæ</hi> must be first known; though +I will venture to say, that he who does not find a +line (not corrupted) of Massinger's flow to the time +total of a trimeter catalectic iambic verse, has not +read it aright. But by virtue of the last principle—the +retardation of acceleration of time—we +have the proceleusmatic foot u u u u, and the <hi rend='italic'>dispondæus</hi> +- - - -, not to mention the <hi rend='italic'>choriambus</hi>, the +ionics, pæons, and epitrites. Since Dryden, the +metre of our poets leads to the sense; in our elder +and more genuine bards, the sense, including the +passion, leads to the metre. Read even Donne's +satires as he meant them to be read, and as the +sense and passion demand, and you will find in the +lines a manly harmony. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head>Life Of Fletcher In Stockdale's Edition, 1811.</head> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>In general their plots are more regular than Shakespeare's.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +This is true, if true at all, only before a court +of criticism, which judges one scheme by the +laws of another and a diverse one. Shakespeare's +plots have their own laws of <hi rend='italic'>regulæ</hi>, and according +to these they are regular. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='289'/><anchor id='Pg289'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Maid's Tragedy.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. The metrical arrangement is most +slovenly throughout. +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q><hi rend='italic'>Strat.</hi> As well as masque can be,</q> &c.—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +and all that follows to <q>who is return'd</q>—is +plainly blank verse, and falls easily into it. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Speech of Melantius:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">These soft and silken wars are not for me:</q></l> +<l>The music must be shrill, and all confus'd,</l> +<l><q rend="post">That stirs my blood; and then I dance with arms.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +What strange self-trumpeters and tongue-bullies +all the brave soldiers of Beaumont and Fletcher +are! Yet I am inclined to think it was the fashion +of the age from the Soldier's speech in the Counter +Scuffle; and deeper than the fashion B. and F. did +not fashion. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Speech of Lysippus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Yes, but this lady</q></l> +<l>Walks discontented, with her wat'ry eyes</l> +<l><q rend="post">Bent on the earth,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Opulent as Shakespeare was, and of his opulence +prodigal, he yet would not have put this exquisite +piece of poetry in the mouth of a no-character, or +as addressed to a Melantius. I wish that B. and +F. had written poems instead of tragedies. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Mel.</hi> I might run fiercely, not more +hastily,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Upon my foe.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Read +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>I mĭght rūn <emph>mŏre</emph> fiērcelȳ, not more hastily.</q></l> +</lg> + +<pb n='290'/><anchor id='Pg290'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Speech of Calianax:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>Office! I would I could put it off! I am sure I sweat quite +through my office!</q> +</quote> + +<p> +The syllable <hi rend='italic'>off</hi> reminds the testy statesman of +his robe, and he carries on the image. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Speech of Melantius:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Would that blood,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">That sea of blood, that I have lost in fight,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +All B. and F.'s generals are pugilists or cudgel-fighters, +that boast of their bottom and of the <hi rend='italic'>claret</hi> +they have shed. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> The Masque;—Cinthia's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">But I will give a greater state and glory,</q></l> +<l>And raise to time a <emph>noble</emph> memory</l> +<l><q rend="post">Of what these lovers are.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I suspect that <q>nobler,</q> pronounced as <q>nobiler</q> +- u -, was the poet's word, and that the accent is +to be placed on the penultimate of <q>memory.</q> As +to the passage— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Yet, while our reign lasts, let us stretch our power,</q> &c.—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +removed from the text of Cinthia's speech, by these +foolish editors as unworthy of B. and F.—the first +eight lines are not worse, and the last couplet +incomparably better, than the stanza retained. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. Amintor's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Oh, thou hast nam'd a word, that wipes away</q></l> +<l>All thoughts revengeful! In that sacred name,</l> +<l><q rend="post"><q>The king,</q> there lies a terror.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +It is worth noticing that of the three greatest +tragedians, Massinger was a democrat, Beaumont +and Fletcher the most servile <hi rend='italic'>jure divino</hi> royalists, +and Shakespeare a philosopher;—if aught personal, +an aristocrat. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='291'/><anchor id='Pg291'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>A King And No King.</q></head> + +<p> +Act iv. Speech of Tigranes:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">She, that forgat the greatness of her grief</q></l> +<l>And miseries, that must follow such mad passions,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Endless and wild as women!</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Seward's note and suggestion of <q>in.</q> +</p> + +<p> +It would be amusing to learn from some +existing friend of Mr. Seward what he meant, or +rather dreamed, in this note. It is certainly a +difficult passage, of which there are two solutions;—one, +that the writer was somewhat more injudicious +than usual;—the other, that he was very, +very much more profound and Shakespearian than +usual. Seward's emendation, at all events, is right +and obvious. Were it a passage of Shakespeare, I +should not hesitate to interpret it as characteristic +of Tigranes' state of mind, disliking the very +virtues, and therefore half-consciously representing +them as mere products of the violence of the sex +in general in all their whims, and yet forced to +admire, and to feel and to express gratitude for, +the exertion in his own instance. The inconsistency +of the passage would be the consistency of the +author. But this is above Beaumont and Fletcher. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='292'/><anchor id='Pg292'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Scornful Lady.</q></head> + +<p> +Act ii. Sir Roger's speech:— +</p> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>Did I for this consume my <emph>quarters</emph> in meditations, vows, and +woo'd her in heroical epistles? Did I expound the <hi rend='italic'>Owl</hi>, +and undertake, +with labour and expense, the recollection of those thousand +pieces, consum'd in cellars and tobacco-shops, of that our honour'd +Englishman, Nic. Broughton?</q> &c. +</quote> + +<p> +Strange, that neither Mr. Theobald nor Mr. +Seward should have seen that this mock +heroic speech is in full-mouthed blank verse! +Had they seen this, they would have seen that +<q>quarters</q> is a substitution of the players for +<q>quires</q> or <q>squares,</q> (that is) of paper:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Consume my quires in meditations, vows,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">And woo'd her in heroical epistles.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +They ought, likewise, to have seen that the +abbreviated <q>Ni. Br.</q> of the text was properly +<q>Mi. Dr.</q>—and that Michael Drayton, not +Nicholas Broughton, is here ridiculed for his +poem <hi rend='italic'>The Owl</hi> and his <hi rend='italic'>Heroical Epistles</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Speech of Younger Loveless:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Fill him some wine. Thou dost not see me mov'd,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +These Editors ought to have learnt, that scarce +an instance occurs in B. and F. of a long speech +not in metre. This is plain staring blank verse. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='293'/><anchor id='Pg293'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Custom Of The Country.</q></head> + +<p> +I cannot but think that in a country conquered +by a nobler race than the natives, and +in which the latter became villeins and bondsmen, +this custom, <hi rend='italic'>lex merchetæ</hi>, may have been introduced +for wise purposes,—as of improving the +breed, lessening the antipathy of different races, +and producing a new bond of relationship between +the lord and the tenant, who, as the eldest born, +would at least have a chance of being, and a probability +of being thought, the lord's child. In +the West Indies it cannot have these effects, +because the mulatto is marked by nature different +from the father, and because there is no bond, no +law, no custom, but of mere debauchery.—1815. +</p> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1. Rutilio's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Yet if you play not fair play,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Evidently to be transposed, and read thus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Yet if you play not fair, above-board too,</q></l> +<l>I'll tell you what—</l> +<l>I've a foolish engine here:—I say no more—</l> +<l><q rend="post">But if your Honour's guts are not enchanted.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Licentious as the comic metre of B. and F. is,—a +far more lawless, and yet far less happy, imitation +of the rhythm of animated talk in real life than +Massinger's—still it is made worse than it really +is by ignorance of the halves, thirds, and two-thirds +of a line which B. and F. adopted from the +<pb n='294'/><anchor id='Pg294'/> +Italian and Spanish dramatists. Thus, in Rutilio's +speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Though I confess</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Any man would desire to have her, and by any means,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Correct the whole passage,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Though I confess</q></l> +<l>Any man would</l> +<l>Desire to have her, and by any means,</l> +<l>At any rate too, yet this common hangman</l> +<l>That hath whipt off a thousănd măids heads already—</l> +<l><q rend="post">That he should glean the harvest, sticks in my stomach!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +In all comic metres the gulping of short syllables, +and the abbreviation of syllables ordinarily long +by the rapid pronunciation of eagerness and vehemence, +are not so much a license as a law,—a +faithful copy of nature, and let them be read +characteristically, the times will be found nearly +equal. Thus, the three words marked above make +a <hi rend='italic'>choriambus</hi> -- u u, +or perhaps a <hi rend='italic'>pæon primus</hi> - u u u; +a dactyl, by virtue of comic rapidity, +being only equal to an iambus when distinctly +pronounced. I have no doubt that all B. and F.'s +works might be safely corrected by attention to +this rule, and that the editor is entitled to transpositions +of all kinds, and to not a few omissions. +For the rule of the metre once lost—what was to +restrain the actors from interpolation? +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='295'/><anchor id='Pg295'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Elder Brother.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 2. Charles's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">For what concerns tillage,</q></l> +<l>Who better can deliver it than Virgil</l> +<l>In his Georgicks? and to cure your herds,</l> +<l><q rend="post">His Bucolicks is a master-piece.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Fletcher was too good a scholar to fall into +so gross a blunder, as Messrs. Sympson and +Colman suppose. I read the passage thus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">For what concerns tillage,</q></l> +<l>Who better can deliver it than Virgil,</l> +<l>In his Georgicks, <emph>or</emph> to cure your herds</l> +<l><q rend="post">(His Bucolicks are a master-piece); but when,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Jealous of Virgil's honour, he is afraid lest, by +referring to the <hi rend='italic'>Georgics</hi> alone, he might be understood +as undervaluing the preceding work. <q>Not +that I do not admire the <hi rend='italic'>Bucolics</hi> too, in their +way.—But when,</q> &c. +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 3. Charles's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 8">... <q rend="pre">She has a face looks like a +<emph>story</emph>;</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">The <emph>story</emph> of the heavens looks very like her.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Seward reads <q>glory;</q> and Theobald quotes from +Philaster:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>That reads the story of a woman's face.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +I can make sense of this passage as little as Mr. +Seward;—the passage from Philaster is nothing +to the purpose. Instead of <q>a story,</q> I have +sometimes thought of proposing <q>Astræa.</q> +</p> + +<pb n='296'/><anchor id='Pg296'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Angellina's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">You're old and dim, Sir,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">And the shadow of the earth eclips'd your judgment.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Inappropriate to Angellina, but one of the finest +lines in our language. +</p> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 3. Charles's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">And lets the serious part of life run by</q></l> +<l>As thin neglected sand, whiteness of name.</l> +<l><q rend="post">You must be mine,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Seward's note, and reading:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 5">... <q rend="pre">Whiteness of name,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">You must be mine!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Nonsense! <q>Whiteness of name</q> is in apposition +to <q>the serious part of life,</q> and means a +deservedly pure reputation. The following line—<q>You +<emph>must</emph> be mine!</q> means—<q>Though I do not +enjoy you to-day, I shall hereafter, and without +reproach.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Spanish Curate.</q></head> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 7. Amaranta's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>And still I push'd him on, as he had been <emph>coming</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Perhaps the true word is <q>conning,</q>—that +is, learning, or reading, and therefore +inattentive. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='297'/><anchor id='Pg297'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Wit Without Money.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. Valentine's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>One without substance,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +The present text, and that proposed by Seward, +are equally vile. I have endeavoured to +make the lines sense, though the whole is, I +suspect, incurable except by bold conjectural reformation. +I would read thus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">One without substance of herself, that's woman;</q></l> +<l>Without the pleasure of her life, that's wanton;</l> +<l>Tho' she be young, forgetting it; tho' fair,</l> +<l>Making her glass the eyes of honest men,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Not her own admiration.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<q>That's wanton,</q> or, <q>that is to say, wantonness.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. Valentine's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Of half-a crown a week for pins and puppets.</q></l> +</lg> + +<quote rend="display"> +<q>As there is a syllable wanting in the measure here.</q>—Seward. +</quote> + +<p> +A syllable wanting! Had this Seward neither +ears nor fingers? The line is a more than usually +regular iambic hendecasyllable. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">With one man satisfied, with one rein guided;</q></l> +<l>With one faith, one content, one bed;</l> +<l><emph>Aged</emph>, she makes the wife, preserves the fame and issue;</l> +<l><q rend="post">A widow is,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Is <q>apaid</q>—contented—too obsolete for B. and +F.? If not, we might read it thus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Content with one faith, with one bed apaid,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">She makes the wife, preserves the fame and issue;</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<pb n='298'/><anchor id='Pg298'/> + +<p> +Or, it may be,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l>... <q>with one breed apaid</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +that is, satisfied with one set of children, in +opposition to,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>A widow is a Christmas-box,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Colman's note on Seward's attempt to put this +play into metre. +</p> + +<p> +The editors, and their contemporaries in general, +were ignorant of any but the regular iambic verse. +A study of the Aristophanic and Plautine metres +would have enabled them to reduce B. and F. +throughout into metre, except where prose is +really intended. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='299'/><anchor id='Pg299'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Humorous Lieutenant.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1. Second Ambassador's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l>... <q rend="pre">When your angers,</q></l> +<l><emph>Like</emph> so many brother billows, rose together,</l> +<l><q rend="post">And, curling up <emph>your</emph> foaming crests, +defied,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This worse than superfluous <q>like</q> is very +like an interpolation of some matter of fact +critic—all <hi rend='italic'>pus, prose atque venenum</hi>. The <q>your</q> +in the next line, instead of <q>their,</q> is likewise +yours, Mr. Critic! +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1. Timon's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Another of a new <emph>way</emph> will be look'd at.</q></l> +</lg> + +<quote rend="display"> +<p> +<q rend="pre">We must suspect the poets wrote, <q>of a new <emph>day</emph>.</q> +So immediately after,</q> +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... Time may</l> +<l><q rend="post">For all his wisdom, yet give us a day.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Seward's Note. +</p> +</quote> + +<p> +For this very reason I more than suspect the +contrary. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> sc. 3. Speech of Leucippe:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>I'll put her into action for a <emph>wastcoat</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +What we call a riding-habit,—some mannish +dress. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='300'/><anchor id='Pg300'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Mad Lover.</q></head> + +<p> +Act iv. Masque of beasts:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">This goodly tree,</q></l> +<l>An usher that still grew before his lady,</l> +<l>Wither'd at root: this, for he could not woo,</l> +<l><q rend="post">A grumbling lawyer:</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Here must have been omitted a line rhyming +to <q>tree;</q> and the words of the next line +have been transposed:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">This goodly tree,</q></l> +<l><emph>Which leafless, and obscur'd with moss you see</emph>,</l> +<l>An usher this, that 'fore his lady grew,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Wither'd at root: this, for he could not woo,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +</div> + +<pb n='301'/><anchor id='Pg301'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Loyal Subject.</q></head> + +<p> +It is well worthy of notice, and yet has not been, +I believe, noticed hitherto, what a marked +difference there exists in the dramatic writers of +the Elizabetho-Jacobæan age—(Mercy on me! +what a phrase for <q>the writers during the reigns +of Elizabeth and James I.!</q>)—in respect of their +political opinions. Shakespeare, in this, as in all +other things, himself and alone, gives the permanent +politics of human nature, and the only +predilection which appears, shows itself in his +contempt of mobs and the populacy. Massinger +is a decided Whig;—Beaumont and Fletcher high-flying, +passive-obedience, Tories. The Spanish +dramatists furnished them with this, as with +many other ingredients. By the by, an accurate +and familiar acquaintance with all the productions +of the Spanish stage previously to 1620, is an +indispensable qualification for an editor of B. and +F.;—and with this qualification a most interesting +and instructive edition might be given. This +edition of Colman's (Stockdale, 1811) is below +criticism. +</p> + +<p> +In metre, B. and F. are inferior to Shakespeare, +on the one hand, as expressing the poetic part of +the drama, and to Massinger, on the other, in the +art of reconciling metre with the natural rhythm +of conversation,—in which, indeed, Massinger is +<pb n='302'/><anchor id='Pg302'/> +unrivalled. Read him aright, and measure by +time, not syllables, and no lines can be more legitimate,—none +in which the substitution of equipollent +feet, and the modifications by emphasis, +are managed with such exquisite judgment. B. +and F. are fond of the twelve syllable (not +Alexandrine) line, as:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Too many fears 'tis thought too: and to nourish those.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +This has often a good effect, and is one of the +varieties most common in Shakespeare. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='303'/><anchor id='Pg303'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Rule A Wife And Have A Wife.</q></head> + +<p> +Act iii. Old Woman's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">I fear he will knock my</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Brains out for lying.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Mr. Seward discards the words <q>for lying,</q> +because <q>most of the things spoke of Estifania +are true, with only a little exaggeration, +and because they destroy all appearance of measure.</q>—Colman's +note. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Seward had his brains out. The humour +lies in Estifania's having ordered the Old Woman +to tell these tales of her; for though an intriguer, +she is not represented as other than chaste; and +as to the metre, it is perfectly correct. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Marg.</hi> As you love me, give way.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Leon.</hi> It shall be better, I +will give none, madam,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +The meaning is:—<q>It shall be a better way, +first;—as it is, I will not give it, or any that you +in your present mood would wish.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='304'/><anchor id='Pg304'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Laws Of Candy.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. Speech of Melitus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Whose insolence and never yet match'd pride</q></l> +<l>Can by no character be well express'd,</l> +<l><q rend="post">But in her only name, the proud Erota.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Colman's note. +</p> + +<p> +The poet intended no allusion to the word +<q>Erota</q> itself; but says that her very name, +<q>the proud Erota,</q> became a character and adage;—as +we say, a Quixote or a Brutus: so to say an +<q>Erota,</q> expressed female pride and insolence of +beauty. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Speech of Antinous:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Of my peculiar honours, not deriv'd</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">From <emph>successary</emph>, but purchas'd with my blood.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The poet doubtless wrote <q>successry,</q> which, +though not adopted in our language, would be, on +many occasions, as here, a much more significant +phrase than ancestry. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='305'/><anchor id='Pg305'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Little French Lawyer.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1. Dinant's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Are you become a patron too? 'Tis a new one,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">No more on't,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Seward reads:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Are you become a patron too? <emph>How long</emph></q></l> +<l><q rend="post"><emph>Have you been conning this speech?</emph> 'Tis a new one,</q> +&c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +If conjectural emendation like this be allowed, +we might venture to read:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Are you become a patron <emph>to a new tune</emph>?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +or,— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Are you become a patron? 'Tis a new <emph>tune</emph>.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Din.</hi> Thou wouldst not willingly</q></l> +<l>Live a protested coward, or be call'd one?</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='italic'>Cler.</hi> Words are but words.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post"><hi rend='italic'>Din.</hi> Nor wouldst thou take a blow?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Seward's note. +</p> + +<p> +O miserable! Dinant sees through Cleremont's +gravity, and the actor is to explain it. <q>Words +are but words,</q> is the last struggle of affected +morality. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='306'/><anchor id='Pg306'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Valentinian.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 3.— +</p> + +<p> +It is a real trial of charity to read this scene +with tolerable temper towards Fletcher. So +very slavish—so reptile—are the feelings and +sentiments represented as duties. And yet, remember, +he was a bishop's son, and the duty to +God was the supposed basis. +</p> + +<p> +Personals, including body, house, home, and +religion;—property, subordination, and inter-community;—these +are the fundamentals of +society. I mean here, religion negatively taken,—so +that the person be not compelled to do or +utter, in relation of the soul to God, what would +be, in that person, a lie;—such as to force a man +to go to church, or to swear that he believes what +he does not believe. Religion, positively taken, +may be a great and useful privilege, but cannot +be a right,—were it for this only, that it cannot +be pre-defined. The ground of this distinction +between negative and positive religion, as a social +right, is plain. No one of my fellow-citizens is +encroached on by my not declaring to him what I +believe respecting the super-sensual; but should +every man be entitled to preach against the +preacher, who could hear any preacher? Now, +it is different in respect of loyalty. There we +have positive rights, but not negative rights;—for +every pretended negative would be in effect a +positive;—as if a soldier had a right to keep to +<pb n='307'/><anchor id='Pg307'/> +himself whether he would, or would not, fight. +Now, no one of these fundamentals can be rightfully +attacked, except when the guardian of it has +abused it to subvert one or more of the rest. The +reason is, that the guardian, as a fluent, is less +than the permanent which he is to guard. He is +the temporary and mutable mean, and derives his +whole value from the end. In short, as robbery +is not high treason, so neither is every unjust act +of a king the converse. All must be attacked and +endangered. Why? Because the king, as <hi rend='italic'>a</hi> to A, +is a mean to A, or subordination, in a far higher +sense than a proprietor, as <hi rend='italic'>b</hi> to A, is a mean to B, +or property. +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 2. Claudia's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Chimney-pieces!</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +The whole of this speech seems corrupt; and if +accurately printed,—that is, if the same in all the +prior editions,—irremediable but by bold conjecture. +<q><emph>Till</emph> my tackle,</q> should be, I think, +<q><emph>While</emph>,</q> &c. +</p> + +<p> +Act iii. sc. 1. B. and F. always write as if +virtue or goodness were a sort of talisman, or +strange something, that might be lost without the +least fault on the part of the owner. In short, +their chaste ladies value their chastity as a material +thing,—not as an act or state of being; and +this mere thing being imaginary, no wonder that +all their women are represented with the minds of +strumpets, except a few irrational humourists, far +less capable of exciting our sympathy than a +Hindoo who has had a basin of cow-broth thrown +over him;—for this, though a debasing superstition, +is still real, and we might pity the poor +<pb n='308'/><anchor id='Pg308'/> +wretch, though we cannot help despising him. +But B. and F.'s Lucinas are clumsy fictions. It +is too plain that the authors had no one idea of +chastity as a virtue, but only such a conception as +a blind man might have of the power of seeing by +handling an ox's eye. In <hi rend='italic'>The Queen of Corinth</hi>, +indeed, they talk differently; but it is all talk, +and nothing is real in it but the dread of losing a +reputation. Hence the frightful contrast between +their women (even those who are meant for virtuous) +and Shakespeare's. So, for instance, <hi rend='italic'>The +Maid in the Mill</hi>:—a woman must not merely have +grown old in brothels, but have chuckled over +every abomination committed in them with a +rampant sympathy of imagination, to have had +her fancy so drunk with the <hi rend='italic'>minutiæ</hi> of lechery as +this icy chaste virgin evinces hers to have been. +</p> + +<p> +It would be worth while to note how many of +these plays are founded on rapes,—how many on +incestuous passions, and how many on mere lunacies. +Then their virtuous women are either crazy +superstitions of a mere bodily negation of having +been acted on, or strumpets in their imaginations +and wishes, or, as in this <hi rend='italic'>Maid in the Mill</hi>, both at +the same time. In the men, the love is merely +lust in one direction,—exclusive preference of one +object. The tyrant's speeches are mostly taken +from the mouths of indignant denouncers of the +tyrant's character, with the substitution of <q>I</q> +for <q>he,</q>" and the omission of the prefatory <q>he +acts as if he thought</q> so and so. The only feelings +they can possibly excite are disgust at the +Æciuses, if regarded as sane loyalists, or compassion +if considered as Bedlamites. So much for +their tragedies. But even their comedies are, +<pb n='309'/><anchor id='Pg309'/> +most of them, disturbed by the fantasticalness, or +gross caricature, of the persons or incidents. There +are few characters that you can really like (even +though you should have erased from your mind +all the filth which bespatters the most likeable of +them, as Piniero in <hi rend='italic'>The Island Princess</hi> +for instance),—scarcely +one whom you can love. How +different this from Shakespeare, who makes one +have a sort of sneaking affection even for his +Barnardines;—whose very Iagos and Richards +are awful, and, by the counteracting power of +profound intellects, rendered fearful rather than +hateful;—and even the exceptions, as Goneril and +Regan, are proofs of superlative judgment and the +finest moral tact, in being left utter monsters, +<hi rend='italic'>nulla virtute redemptæ</hi>, and in being kept out of +sight as much as possible,—they being, indeed, +only means for the excitement and deepening of +noblest emotions towards the Lear, Cordelia, &c. +and employed with the severest economy! But +even Shakespeare's grossness—that which is really +so, independently of the increase in modern times +of vicious associations with things indifferent (for +there is a state of manners conceivable so pure, +that the language of Hamlet at Ophelia's feet +might be a harmless rallying, or playful teazing, +of a shame that would exist in Paradise)—at the +worst, how diverse in kind is it from Beaumont +and Fletcher's! In Shakespeare it is the mere +generalities of sex, mere words for the most +part, seldom or never distinct images, all head-work, +and fancy drolleries; there is no sensation +supposed in the speaker. I need not proceed to +contrast this with B. and F. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='310'/><anchor id='Pg310'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Rollo.</q></head> + +<p> +This, perhaps, the most energetic of Fletcher's +tragedies. He evidently aimed at a new +Richard III. in Rollo;—but, as in all his other +imitations of Shakespeare, he was not philosopher +enough to bottom his original. Thus, in Rollo, he +has produced a mere personification of outrageous +wickedness, with no fundamental characteristic +impulses to make either the tyrant's words or +actions philosophically intelligible. Hence the +most pathetic situations border on the horrible, +and what he meant for the terrible, is either +hateful, τὸ μισητὸν, or ludicrous. The scene of +Baldwin's sentence in the third act is probably +the grandest working of passion in all B. and F.'s +dramas;—but the very magnificence of filial affection +given to Edith, in this noble scene, renders +the after scene (in imitation of one of the least +Shakespearian of all Shakespeare's works, if it be +his, the scene between Richard and Lady Anne) +in which Edith is yielding to a few words and +tears, not only unnatural, but disgusting. In +Shakespeare, Lady Anne is described as a weak, +vain, very woman throughout. +</p> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Gis.</hi> He is indeed the perfect character</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Of a good man, and so his actions speak him.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +This character of Aubrey, and the whole spirit +of this and several other plays of the same authors, +<pb n='311'/><anchor id='Pg311'/> +are interesting as traits of the morals which it was +fashionable to teach in the reigns of James I. and +his successor, who died a martyr to them. Stage, +pulpit, law, fashion,—all conspired to enslave the +realm. Massinger's plays breathe the opposite +spirit; Shakespeare's the spirit of wisdom which is +for all ages. By the by, the Spanish dramatists—Calderon, +in particular,—had some influence in +this respect, of romantic loyalty to the greatest +monsters, as well as in the busy intrigues of B. +and F.'s plays. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Wildgoose Chase.</q></head> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1. Belleur's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l>... <q rend="pre">That wench, methinks,</q></l> +<l>If I were but well set on, for she is a <emph>fable</emph>,</l> +<l><q rend="post">If I were but hounded right, and one to teach me.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Sympson reads <q>affable,</q> which Colman rejects, +and says, <q>the next line seems to +enforce</q> the reading in the text. +</p> + +<p> +Pity, that the editor did not explain wherein +the sense, <q>seemingly enforced by the next line,</q> +consists. May the true word be <q>a sable</q>—that +is, a black fox, hunted for its precious fur? +Or <q>at-able,</q>—as we now say,—<q>she is come-at-able?</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='312'/><anchor id='Pg312'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>A Wife For A Month.</q></head> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 1. Alphonso's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Betwixt the cold bear and the raging lion</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Lies my safe way.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Seward's note and alteration to— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>'Twixt the cold bears, far from the raging lion</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +This Mr. Seward is a blockhead of the provoking +species. In his itch for correction, he +forgot the words—<q>lies my safe way!</q> The bear +is the extreme pole, and thither he would travel +over the space contained between it and <q>the +raging lion.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Pilgrim.</q></head> + +<p> +Act iv. sc. 2.— +</p> + +<p> +Alinda's interview with her father is lively, +and happily hit off; but this scene with +Roderigo is truly excellent. Altogether, indeed, +this play holds the first place in B. and F.'s +romantic entertainments, <hi rend='italic'>Lustspiele</hi>, which collectively +are their happiest performances, and are +only inferior to the romance of Shakespeare in the +<hi rend='italic'>As You Like It</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Twelfth Night</hi>, &c. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi>— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre"><hi rend='italic'>Alin.</hi> To-day you shall wed Sorrow,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">And Repentance will come to-morrow.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Read <q>Penitence,</q> or else— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Repentance, she will come to-morrow.</q></l> +</lg> + +</div> + +<pb n='313'/><anchor id='Pg313'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Queen Of Corinth.</q></head> + +<p> +Act ii. sc. 1.— +</p> + +<p> +Merione's speech. Had the scene of this +tragi-comedy been laid in Hindostan instead +of Corinth, and the gods here addressed been the +Vishnu and Co. of the Indian Pantheon, this rant +would not have been much amiss. +</p> + +<p> +In respect of style and versification, this play and +the following of <hi rend='italic'>Bonduca</hi> may be taken as the best, +and yet as characteristic, specimens of Beaumont +and Fletcher's dramas. I particularly instance +the first scene of the <hi rend='italic'>Bonduca</hi>. Take Shakespeare's +<hi rend='italic'>Richard II.</hi>, and having selected some one scene of +about the same number of lines, and consisting +mostly of long speeches, compare it with the first +scene in <hi rend='italic'>Bonduca</hi>,—not for the idle purpose of +finding out which is the better, but in order to see +and understand the difference. The latter, that of +B. and F., you will find a well-arranged bed of +flowers, each having its separate root, and its +position determined aforehand by the will of the +gardener,—each fresh plant a fresh volition. In +the former you see an Indian fig-tree, as described +by Milton;—all is growth, evolution;—each +line, each word almost, begets the following, +and the will of the writer is an interfusion, a +continuous agency, and not a series of separate +acts. Shakespeare is the height, breadth, and +depth of Genius: Beaumont and Fletcher the +excellent mechanism, in juxta-position and succession, +of talent. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='314'/><anchor id='Pg314'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Noble Gentleman.</q></head> + +<p> +Why have the dramatists of the times of +Elizabeth, James I., and the first Charles +become almost obsolete, with the exception of +Shakespeare? Why do they no longer belong to +the English, being once so popular? And why is +Shakespeare an exception?—One thing, among +fifty, necessary to the full solution is, that they all +employed poetry and poetic diction on unpoetic +subjects, both characters and situations, especially +in their comedy. Now Shakespeare is all, all ideal,—of +no time, and therefore for all times. Read, +for instance, Marine's panegyric in the first scene +of this play:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Know</q></l> +<l>The eminent court, to them that can be wise,</l> +<l><q rend="post">And fasten on her blessings, is a sun,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +What can be more unnatural and inappropriate +(not only is, but must be felt as such) than such +poetry in the mouth of a silly dupe? In short, +the scenes are mock dialogues, in which the poet +<hi rend='italic'>solus</hi> plays the ventriloquist, but cannot keep down +his own way of expressing himself. Heavy complaints +have been made respecting the transposing +of the old plays by Cibber; but it never occurred +to these critics to ask, how it came that no one +ever attempted to transpose a comedy of Shakespeare's. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='315'/><anchor id='Pg315'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Coronation.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. Speech of Seleucus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Altho' he be my enemy, should any</q></l> +<l>Of the gay flies that buz about the court,</l> +<l><emph>Sit</emph> to catch trouts i' the summer, tell me so,</l> +<l><q rend="post">I durst,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Colman's note. +</p> + +<p> +Pshaw! <q>Sit</q> is either a misprint for <q>set,</q> +or the old and still provincial word for <q>set,</q> +as the participle passive of <q>seat</q> or <q>set.</q> I +have heard an old Somersetshire gardener say:—<q>Look, +Sir! I set these plants here; those yonder +I <emph>sit</emph> yesterday.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Act ii. Speech of Arcadius:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Nay, some will swear they love their mistress,</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">Would hazard lives and fortunes,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +Read thus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Nay, some will swear they love their mistress so,</q></l> +<l>They would hazard lives and fortunes to preserve</l> +<l>One of her hairs brighter than Berenice's,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Or young Apollo's; and yet, after this,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +<q>Thĕy woŭld hāzard</q>—furnishes an anapæst for +an <hi rend='italic'>iambus</hi>. <q>And yet,</q> which must be read, +<hi rend='italic'>anyĕt</hi>, is an instance of the enclitic force in an +accented monosyllable. <q>And yēt,</q> is a complete +<hi rend='italic'>iambus</hi>; but <hi rend='italic'>anyet</hi> is, +like <hi rend='italic'>spirit</hi>, a dibrach u u, +trocheized, however, by the <hi rend='italic'>arsis</hi> or first accent +damping, though not extinguishing, the second. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='316'/><anchor id='Pg316'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>Wit At Several Weapons.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. Oldcraft's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>I'm arm'd at all points,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +It would be very easy to restore all this passage +to metre, by supplying a sentence of four +syllables, which the reasoning almost demands, +and by correcting the grammar. Read thus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="pre">Arm'd at all points 'gainst treachery, I hold</q></l> +<l>My humour firm. If, living, I can see thee</l> +<l>Thrive by thy wits, I shall have the more courage,</l> +<l>Dying, to trust thee with my lands. If not,</l> +<l>The best wit, I can hear of, carries them.</l> +<l>For since so many in my time and knowledge,</l> +<l>Rich children of the city, have concluded</l> +<l><emph>For lack of wit</emph> in beggary, I'd rather</l> +<l>Make a wise stranger my executor,</l> +<l>Than a fool son my heir, and have my lands call'd</l> +<l><q rend="post">After my wit than name: and that's my nature!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Oldcraft's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>To prevent which I have sought out a match for her.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Read— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>Which to prevent I've sought a match out for her.</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Ib.</hi> Sir Gregory's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre"><emph>Do you think</emph></q></l> +<l><q rend="post">I'll have any of the wits hang upon me after I am married once?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +Read it thus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Do you think</q></l> +<l>That I'll have any of the wits to hang</l> +<l><q rend="post">Upon me after I am married once?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +and afterwards— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 9">... <q rend="pre">Is it a fashion in London</q></l> +<l><q rend="post">To marry a woman, and to never see her?</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +The superfluous <q>to</q> gives it the Sir Andrew +Ague-cheek character. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='317'/><anchor id='Pg317'/> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Fair Maid Of The Inn.</q></head> + +<p> +Act ii. Speech of Albertus:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">But, Sir,</q></l> +<l>By my life, I vow to take assurance from you,</l> +<l>That right hand never more shall strike my son,</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend="post">Chop his hand off!</q></l> +</lg> + +<p> +In this (as, indeed, in all other respects, but +most in this) it is that Shakespeare is so incomparably +superior to Fletcher and his friend,—in +judgment! What can be conceived more unnatural +and motiveless than this brutal resolve? +How is it possible to feel the least interest in +Albertus afterwards? or in Cesario after his +conduct? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Two Noble Kinsmen.</q></head> + +<p> +On comparing the prison scene of <hi rend='italic'>Palamon and +Arcite</hi>, act ii. sc. 2, with the dialogue between +the same speakers, act i. sc. 2, I can +scarcely retain a doubt as to the first act's having +been written by Shakespeare. Assuredly it was +not written by B. and F. I hold Jonson more +probable than either of these two. +</p> + +<p> +The main presumption, however, for Shakespeare's +share in this play rests on a point, to +which the sturdy critics of this edition (and indeed +all before them) were blind,—that is, the construction +of the blank verse, which proves beyond all +doubt an intentional imitation, if not the proper +hand, of Shakespeare. Now, whatever improbability +<pb n='318'/><anchor id='Pg318'/> +there is in the former (which supposes +Fletcher conscious of the inferiority, the too +poematic <hi rend='italic'>minus</hi>-dramatic nature of his versification, +and of which, there is neither proof nor likelihood) +adds so much to the probability of the +latter. On the other hand, the harshness of +many of these very passages, a harshness unrelieved +by any lyrical inter-breathings, and still +more the want of profundity in the thoughts, keep +me from an absolute decision. +</p> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 3. Emilia's speech:— +</p> + +<lg> +<l rend="margin-left: 10">... <q rend="pre">Since his depart, his +<emph>sports</emph></q>,</l> +<l><q rend="post">Tho' craving seriousness and skill,</q> &c.</l> +</lg> + +<p> +I conjecture <q>imports,</q>—that is, duties or offices +of importance. The flow of the versification in +this speech seems to demand the trochaic ending - u; +while the text blends jingle and <emph>hisses</emph> to +the annoyance of less sensitive ears than Fletcher's—not +to say, Shakespeare's. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index="toc"/> +<index index="pdf"/> +<head><q>The Woman Hater.</q></head> + +<p> +Act i. sc. 2.— +</p> + +<p> +This scene from the beginning is prose printed +as blank verse, down to the line— +</p> + +<lg> +<l><q>E'en all the valiant stomachs in the court</q>—</l> +</lg> + +<p> +where the verse recommences. This transition +from the prose to the verse enhances, and indeed +forms the comic effect. Lazarillo concludes his +soliloquy with a hymn to the goddess of plenty. +</p> + +<p> +THE END. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='319'/><anchor id='Pg319'/> + +<div> +<head>Advertisement.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>NEW EDITION, REVISED.</hi> +</p> + +<p> +AIDS TO REFLECTION +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In the Formation of a Manly Character, on the several +grounds of Prudence, Morality, and Religion.</hi> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>By</hi> S. T. COLERIDGE. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>With a copious Index to the Work, and Translations of +the Greek and Latin Quotations.</hi> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>By</hi> THOMAS FENBY. +</p> + +<p> +400 pp. <hi rend='italic'>Fscp. 8vo, cloth extra</hi>, 3/6. +</p> + +<p> +EDWARD HOWELL, PUBLISHER, LIVERPOOL +</p> + +<p> +MDCCCLXXIV. +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +</body> +<back rend="page-break-before: right"> + <div rend="page-break-before: right"> + <divGen type="pgfooter" /> + </div> +</back> +</text> +</TEI.2> |