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LEWIS THEOBALD
_Preface to The Works of Shakespeare_
(1734)
With an Introduction by
Hugh G. Dick
Publication Number 20
(Extra Series, No. 2)
Los Angeles
William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
University of California
1949
* * * * *
_GENERAL EDITORS_
H. RICHARD ARCHER, _Clark Memorial Library_
RICHARD C. BOYS, _University of Michigan_
EDWARD NILES HOOKER, _University of California, Los Angeles_
H.T. SWEDENBERG, JR., _University of California, Los Angeles_
_ASSISTANT EDITORS_
W. EARL BRITTON, _University of Michigan_
JOHN LOFTIS, _University of California, Los Angeles_
_ADVISORY EDITORS_
EMMETT L. AVERY, _State College of Washington_
BENJAMIN BOYCE, _University of Nebraska_
LOUIS I. BREDVOLD, _University of Michigan_
CLEANTH BROOKS, _Yale University_
JAMES L. CLIFFORD, _Columbia University_
ARTHUR FRIEDMAN, _University of Chicago_
SAMUEL H. MONK, _University of Minnesota_
ERNEST MOSSNER, _University of Texas_
JAMES SUTHERLAND, _Queen Mary College, London_
* * * * *
INTRODUCTION
Lewis Theobald's edition of Shakespeare (1734) is one cornerstone
of modern Shakespearian scholarship and hence of English literary
scholarship in general. It is the first edition of an English writer in
which a man with a professional breadth and concentration of reading in
the writer's period tried to bring all relevant, ascertainable fact to
bear on the establishment of the author's text and the explication of
his obscurities. For Theobald was the first editor of Shakespeare who
displayed a well grounded knowledge of Shakespeare's language and
metrical practice and that of his contemporaries, the sources and
chronology of his plays, and the broad range of Elizabethan-Jacobean
drama as a means of illuminating the work of the master writer. Thus
both in the edition itself and in his Preface, which stands as the first
significant statement of a scholar's editorial duties and methods in
handling an English classic, Theobald takes his place as an important
progenitor of modern English studies.
It is regrettable, though it was perhaps historically inevitable, that
this pioneer of English literary scholarship should have been tagged
"piddling Theobald" by Pope and crowned the first king of _The Dunciad_.
Pope's edition of Shakespeare was completed by 1725, and in the
following year Theobald made the poet his implacable enemy when he
issued his _Shakespeare Restored_, which demolished Pope's pretensions
as an editor by offering some two hundred corrections. But the conflict
was not merely strife between two writers: it was a clash between two
kinds of criticism in which the weight of tradition and polite taste
were all on the side of Pope. What Theobald had done, in modern
terms, was to open the rift between criticism and scholarship or, in
eighteenth-century terms, to proclaim himself a "literal critic" and to
insist upon the need for "literal criticism" in the understanding and
just appreciation of an older writer. The new concept, which Theobald
owed largely to Richard Bentley as primate of the classical scholars,
was of course the narrower one--implicit in it was the idea of
specialization--and Theobald's opponents among the literati were
quick to assail him as a mere "Word-catcher" (cf. R.F. Jones, _Lewis
Theobald_, 1919, p. 114).
His own edition of Shakespeare, therefore, was the work of a man and a
method on trial. At first Theobald had proposed simply to write further
commentary on Shakespeare's plays, but by 1729 he determined to issue a
new edition and in October of that year signed a contract with Tonson.
From the first Theobald found warm support for his project among
booksellers, incipient patrons, and men of learning. His work went
forward steadily; subscribers, including members of the Royal Family,
were readily forthcoming; and by late 1731 Theobald felt that his labors
were virtually complete. But vexing delays occurred in the printing so
that the edition, though dated 1733, did not appear until early in 1734,
New Style. When it did appear, it was plain to all that Theobald's
vindication of himself and his method was complete. Judicious critics
like the anonymous author of _Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet_
(1736) were quick to applaud Theobald's achievement, and even Pope
himself was silenced.
Ultimately of course Theobald came under severe attack by succeeding
editors of Shakespeare, notably Warburton and Johnson, yet both men were
guilty of unwarranted abuse of their predecessor, whose edition was nine
times issued in the course of the century and was still in current use
by the time of Coleridge (cf. Wm. Jaggard, _Shakespeare Bibliography_,
1911, pp. 499-504). Warburton and Johnson's abuse, coupled with that of
Pope, obscured Theobald's real achievements for more than a century
until J.C. Collins did much to rehabilitate his reputation by an essay
celebrating him as "The Porson of Shakespearian Criticism" (_Essays and
Studies_, 1895, pp. 263-315). Collins's emotional defense was largely
substantiated by T.R. Lounsbury's meticulous _The Text of Shakespeare_
(1906), R.F. Jones's _Lewis Theobald_ (1919), which brought much new
material to light, and most recently by R.B. McKerrow's dispassionate
appraisal, "The Treatment of Shakespeare's Text by his Earlier Editors,
1709-1768" (_Proceedings of the British Academy_, XIX, 1933, 23-27). As
a result, so complete has been Theobald's vindication that even in a
student's handbook he is hailed as "the great pioneer of serious
Shakespeare scholarship" and as "the first giant" in the field
(_A Companion to Shakespeare Studies_, 1934, ed. H. Granville Barker
and G.B. Harrison, pp. 306-07).
Theobald's Preface occupied his attention for over a year and gave him
much trouble in the writing. Its originality was, and still is, a matter
of sharp dispute. The first we hear of it is in a letter of 12 November
1731 from Theobald to his coadjutor Warburton, who had expressed some
concern about what Theobald planned to prefix to his edition. Theobald
announced a major change in plan when he replied that "The affair of the
_Prolegomena_ I have determined to soften into a _Preface_." He then
proceeded to make a strange request:
But, dear Sir, will you, at your leisure hours, think over for me
upon the contents, topics, orders, &c. of this branch of my labour?
You have a comprehensive memory, and a happiness of digesting the
matter joined to it, which my head is often too much embarrassed to
perform.... But how unreasonable is it to expect this labour, when
it is the only part in which I shall not be able to be just to my
friends: for, to confess assistance in a _Preface_ will, I am
afraid, make me appear too naked (John Nichols, _Illustrations
of the Literary History of the Eighteenth Century_, 1817, II,
621-22).
His next letter, which contains the list of acknowledgements
substantially as printed, thanks Warburton for consenting to give the
requested help, announces that he is himself busy about "the Contents...
wch. I am Endeavouring to modell in my Head, in Order to communicate
them to you, for your Directions & refinement," indicates that he has
"already rough-hewn the Exordium & Conclusion," and asserts that "What I
shall send you from Time to Time, I look upon only as Materials: wch I
hope may grow into a fine Building, under your judicious Management"
(Jones, _op. cit._, pp. 283-84).
Warburton apparently misunderstood or overlooked Theobald's remarks
about materials, for in his next letter Theobald was obliged to return,
somewhat ambiguously, to the same point:
I make no Question of my being wrong in the disjointed Parts
of my Preface, but my Intention was, (after I had given you the
Conclusion, & the Manner in wch. I meant to start) to give you a
List of all the other general Heads design'd to be handled, then to
transmit to you, at proper Leisure, my rough Working off of each
respective Head, that you might have the Trouble only of refining &
embellishing wth: additional Inrichments: of the general Arrangement,
wch. you should think best for the whole; & of making the proper
Transitions from Subject to Subject, wch. I account no inconsiderable
Beauty (_Ibid._, pp. 289-90).
Finally on January 10, 1733, Theobald wrote Warburton: "I promise myself
now shortly to sit down upon ye fine Synopsis, wch. you so modestly call
the Skeleton of Preface" (_Ibid._, p. 310).
It is clear from the foregoing that Theobald wrote most of the Preface
topic by topic, and probably followed the plan for the general structure
as submitted by Warburton. Yet it is equally clear that certain parts of
the Preface, such as the contrast between _Julius Caesar_ and Addison's
_Cato_, which Warburton later claimed as his and which Theobald omitted
from his second edition, were furnished Theobald as "additional
Inrichments" (D.N. Smith, _Eighteenth Century Essays on Shakespeare_,
1903, pp. xlviii-ix). When later a break did occur between the two men,
neither was free from blame. Theobald had asked and got so much help
with the Preface that he should have acknowledged the debt, no matter
how naked it might have made him seem. Warburton, on the other hand, had
had honest warning that acknowledgement would not be made for this part
of his help; and if his synopsis were followed, as seems likely, his
condemnation of the Preface as "Theobald's heap of disjointed stuff" was
disingenuous, to say the least. Far less defensible was his assertion in
the same letter to Thomas Birch that, apart from the section on Greek
texts, virtually the entire Preface was stitched together from notes
which he had supplied (Nichols, _Illustrations_, II, 81).
Three further points concerning the Preface demand mention. First, the
section on Shakespeare's life is often dismissed as a simple recension
of Rowe's Life (1709). Actually, however, the expansion itself is a
characteristic example of Theobald's habit of exploring original
sources. To take only a single instance, Rowe says that Shakespeare's
"Family, as appears by the Register and Publick Writings relating to
that Town, were of good Figure and Fashion there, and are mention'd as
Gentlemen" (ed. S.H. Monk, Augustan Society Reprints, 1949, p. ii).
To this statement Theobald adds plentiful detail drawn from the same
Stratford records, from tombs in the Stratford Church, and from
documents in the Heralds' Office connected with the coat of arms
obtained for the playwright's father. Such typical expansions were
the result of conscientious research.
Second, all critics have agreed to condemn the digression in which
Theobald advertised his ability to emend Greek texts. Theobald himself
was hesitant about including it lest he be indicted for pedantry, but
was encouraged to do so by Warburton, who later scoffed at what he had
originally admired. This much may be said in Theobald's behalf. Such a
digression would not have seemed irrelevant in an age which took its
classical scholarship seriously; and such digressions, arising naturally
out of context and strategically placed before the conclusion, were not
only allowed but actually encouraged by classical rhetoricians like
Cicero and Quintilian, whose teachings were still standard in the
English schools.
Finally, the Preface exists in two forms. The later and shorter form
was that designed for Theobald's second edition (1740), which omits all
passages presumably contributed by Warburton and more besides, the
section on Greek texts, and the list of acknowledgements to contemporary
Shakespearian enthusiasts. This abridged form has been frequently
reprinted. From a copy in the University of Michigan Library the
original Preface is here reproduced for the first time.
Hugh G. Dick
University of California,
Los Angeles
* * * * *
* * * *
* * * * *
[Transcriber's Note:
Most Sidenotes appear at the beginning of a paragraph. Where they
originally appeared at mid-paragraph, their approximate position is
shown with an asterisk*.]
The
WORKS
of
_SHAKESPEARE:_
in
Seven Volumes.
Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected;
With NOTES, Explanatory, and Critical:
By Mr. _THEOBALD_.
_I, Decus, i, nostrum: melioribus utere Fatis._
Virg.
_LONDON:_
Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch,
J. Tonson, F. Clay, W. Feales,
and R. Wellington.
MDCCXXXIII.
* * * * *
THE
PREFACE.
The Attempt to write upon SHAKESPEARE is like going into a large, a
spacious, and a splendid Dome thro’ the Conveyance of a narrow and
obscure Entry. A Glare of Light suddenly breaks upon you, beyond
what the Avenue at first promis’d: and a thousand Beauties of Genius
and Character, like so many gaudy Apartments pouring at once upon
the Eye, diffuse and throw themselves out to the Mind. The Prospect
is too wide to come within the Compass of a single View: ’tis a gay
Confusion of pleasing Objects, too various to be enjoyed but in a
general Admiration; and they must be separated, and ey’d distinctly,
in order to give the proper Entertainment.
[Sidenote*: A sketch of _Shakespeare’s_ general Character.]
And as in great Piles of Building, some Parts are often finish’d up
to hit the Taste of the _Connoisseur_; others more negligently put
together, to strike the Fancy of a common and unlearned Beholder:
Some Parts are made stupendiously magnificent and grand, to surprize
with the vast Design and Execution of the Architect; others are
contracted, to amuse you with his Neatness and Elegance in little.
*So, in _Shakespeare_, we may find _Traíts_ that will stand the Test
of the severest Judgment; and Strokes as carelessly hit off, to the
Level of the more ordinary Capacities: Some Descriptions rais’d to
that Pitch of Grandeur, as to astonish you with the Compass and
Elevation of his Thought: and others copying Nature within so
narrow, so confined a Circle, as if the Author’s Talent lay only
at drawing in Miniature.
In how many Points of Light must we be oblig’d to gaze at this great
Poet! In how many Branches of Excellence to consider, and admire
him! Whether we view him on the Side of Art or Nature, he ought
equally to engage our Attention: Whether we respect the Force and
Greatness of his Genius, the Extent of his Knowledge and Reading,
the Power and Address with which he throws out and applies either
Nature, or Learning, there is ample Scope both for our Wonder and
Pleasure. If his Diction, and the cloathing of his Thoughts attract
us, how much more must we be charm’d with the Richness, and Variety,
of his Images and Ideas! If his Images and Ideas steal into our
Souls, and strike upon our Fancy, how much are they improv’d in
Price, when we come to reflect with what Propriety and Justness they
are apply’d to Character! If we look into his Characters, and how
they are furnish’d and proportion’d to the Employment he cuts out
for them, how are we taken up with the Mastery of his Portraits!
What Draughts of Nature! What Variety of Originals, and how
differing each from the other! How are they dress’d from the Stores
of his own luxurious Imagination; without being the Apes of Mode, or
borrowing from any foreign Wardrobe! Each of Them are the Standards
of Fashion for themselves: like Gentlemen that are above the
Direction of their Tailors, and can adorn themselves without the Aid
of Imitation. If other Poets draw more than one Fool or Coxcomb,
there is the same Resemblance in them, as in that Painter’s
Draughts, who was happy only at forming a Rose: you find them all
younger Brothers of the same Family, and all of them have a Pretence
to give the same Crest: But _Shakespeare_’s Clowns and Fops come all
of a different House: they are no farther allied to one another than
as Man to Man, Members of the same Species: but as different in
Features and Lineaments of Character, as we are from one another in
Face, or Complexion. But I am unawares launching into his Character
as a Writer, before I have said what I intended of him as a private
Member of the Republick.
[Sidenote: Some Particulars of his private Life.]
Mr. _Rowe_ has very justly observ’d, that People are fond of
discovering any little personal Story of the Great Men of Antiquity:
and that the common Accidents of their Lives naturally become the
Subject of our critical Enquiries: That however trifling such a
Curiosity at the first View may appear, yet, as for what relates to
Men of Letters, the Knowledge of an Author may, perhaps, sometimes
conduce to the better understanding his Works: And, indeed, this
Author’s Works, from the bad Treatment he has met with from his
Editors, have so long wanted a Comment, that one would zealously
embrace every Method of Information, that could contribute to
recover them from the Injuries with which they have so long lain
o’erwhelm’d.
’Tis certain, that if we have first admir’d the Man in his Writings,
his Case is so circumstanc’d, that we must naturally admire the
Writings in the Man: That if we go back to take a View of his
Education, and the Employment in Life which Fortune had cut out
for him, we shall retain the stronger Ideas of his extensive
Genius.
His Father, we are told, was a considerable Dealer in Wool; but
having no fewer than ten Children, of whom our _Shakespeare_ was the
eldest, the best Education he could afford him was no better than to
qualify him for his own Business and Employment. I cannot affirm
with any Certainty how long his Father liv’d; but I take him to be
the same Mr. _John Shakespeare_ who was living in the Year 1599,
and who then, in Honour of his Son, took out an Extract of his
Family-Arms from the Herald’s Office; by which it appears, that he
had been Officer and Bailiff of _Stratford_, and that he enjoy’d
some hereditary Lands and Tenements, the Reward of his Great
Grandfather’s faithful and approved Service to King _Henry_
VII.
Be this as it will, our _Shakespeare_, it seems, was bred for some
Time at a Free-School; the very Free-School, I presume, founded at
_Stratford_: where, we are told, he acquired what _Latin_ he was
Master of: but, that his Father being oblig’d, thro’ Narrowness
of Circumstance, to withdraw him too soon from thence, he was
so unhappily prevented from making any Proficiency in the Dead
Languages: A Point, that will deserve some little Discussion in
the Sequel of this Dissertation.
How long he continued in his Father’s Way of Business, either as an
Assistant to him, or on his own proper Account, no Notices are left
to inform us: nor have I been able to learn precisely at what
Period of Life he quitted his native _Stratford_, and began his
Acquaintance with _London_, and the _Stage_.
In order to settle in the World after a Family-manner, he thought
fit, Mr. _Rowe_ acquaints us, to marry while he was yet very young.
It is certain, he did so: for by the Monument, in _Stratford_
Church, erected to the Memory of his Daughter _Susanna_, the Wife of
_John Hall_, Gentleman, it appears, that she died on the 2d Day of
_July_ in the Year 1649, aged 66. So that She was born in 1583, when
her Father could not be full 19 Years old; who was himself born in
the Year 1564. Nor was She his eldest Child, for he had another
Daughter, _Judith_, who was born before her, and who was married to
one Mr. _Thomas Quiney_. So that _Shakespeare_ must have entred into
Wedlock, by that Time he was turn’d of seventeen Years.
Whether the Force of Inclination merely, or some concurring
Circumstances of Convenience in the Match, prompted him to marry
so early, is not easy to be determin’d at this Distance: but ’tis
probable, a View of Interest might partly sway his Conduct in this
Point: for he married the Daughter of one _Hathaway_, a substantial
Yeoman in his Neighbourhood, and She had the Start of him in Age no
less than 8 Years. She surviv’d him, notwithstanding, seven Seasons,
and dy’d that very Year in which the _Players_ publish’d the first
Edition of his Works in _Folio_, Anno Dom. 1623, at the Age of 67
Years, as we likewise learn from her Monument in _Stratford_-Church.
How long he continued in this kind of Settlement, upon his own
Native Spot, is not more easily to be determin’d. But if the
Tradition be true, of that Extravagance which forc’d him both to
quit his Country and way of Living; to wit, his being engag’d, with
a Knot of young Deer-stealers, to rob the Park of Sir _Thomas Lucy_
of _Cherlecot_ near _Stratford_: the Enterprize favours so much of
Youth and Levity, we may reasonably suppose it was before he could
write full Many. Besides, considering he has left us six and thirty
Plays, which are avow’d to be genuine; (to throw out of the Question
those Seven, in which his Title is disputed: tho’ I can, beyond all
Controversy, prove some Touches in every one of them to come from
his Pen:) and considering too, that he had retir’d from the Stage,
to spend the latter Part of his Days at his own Native _Stratford_;
the Interval of Time, necessarily required for the finishing so many
Dramatic Pieces, obliges us to suppose he threw himself very early
upon the Play-house. And as he could, probably, contract no
Acquaintance with the Drama, while he was driving on the Affair of
Wool at home; some Time must be lost, even after he had commenc’d
Player, before he could attain Knowledge enough in the Science to
qualify himself for turning Author.
It has been observ’d by Mr. _Rowe_, that, amongst other Extravagancies
which our Author has given to his Sir _John Falstaffe_, in the
_Merry Wives_ of _Windsor_, he has made him a Deer-stealer; and that
he might at the same time remember his _Warwickshire_ Prosecutor,
under the Name of Justice _Shallow_, he has given him very near the
same Coat of Arms, which _Dugdale_, in his Antiquities of that
County, describes for a Family there. There are two Coats, I
observe, in _Dugdale_, where three Silver Fishes are borne in the
Name of _Lucy_; and another Coat, to the Monument of _Thomas Lucy_,
Son of Sir _William Lucy_, in which are quarter’d in four several
Divisions, twelve little Fishes, three in each Division, probably
_Luces_. This very Coat, indeed, seems alluded to in _Shallow_’s
giving the _dozen_ White _Luces_, and in _Slender_ saying, _he may
quarter_. When I consider the exceeding Candour and Good-nature of
our Author, (which inclin’d all the gentler Part of the World to
love him; as the Power of his Wit obliged the Men of the most
delicate Knowledge and polite Learning to admire him;) and that he
should throw this humorous Piece of Satire at his Prosecutor, at
least twenty Years after the Provocation given; I am confidently
persuaded it must be owing to an unforgiving Rancour on the
Prosecutor’s Side: and if This was the Case, it were Pity but the
Disgrace of such an Inveteracy should remain as a lasting Reproach,
and _Shallow_ stand as a Mark of Ridicule to stigmatize his
Malice.
It is said, our Author spent some Years before his Death, in Ease,
Retirement, and the Conversation of his Friends, at his Native
_Stratford_. I could never pick up any certain Intelligence, when He
relinquish’d the Stage. I know, it has been mistakenly thought by
some, that _Spenser_’s _Thalia_, in his _Tears of his Muses_, where
she laments the Loss of her _Willy_ in the Comic Scene, has been
apply’d to our Author’s quitting the Stage. But _Spenser_ himself,
’tis well known, quitted the Stage of Life in the Year 1598; and,
five Years after this, we find _Shakespeare_’s Name among the Actors
in _Ben Jonson_’s _Sejanus_, which first made its Appearance in the
Year 1603. Nor, surely, could he then have any Thoughts of retiring,
since, that very Year, a Licence under the Privy-Seal was granted
by K. _James_ I. to him and _Fletcher_, _Burbage_, _Phillippes_,
_Hemmings_, _Condel_, &c. authorizing them to exercise the Art of
playing Comedies, Tragedies, &c. as well at their usual House call’d
the _Globe_ on the other Side of the Water, as in any other Parts of
the Kingdom, during his Majesty’s Pleasure: (A Copy of which Licence
is preserv’d in _Rymer_’s _Foedera_.) Again, ’tis certain, that
_Shakespeare_ did not exhibit his _Macbeth_, till after the _Union_
was brought about, and till after K. _James_ I. had begun to touch
for the _Evil_: for ’tis plain, he has inserted Compliments, on both
those Accounts, upon his Royal Master in that Tragedy.
Nor, indeed, could the Number of the Dramatic Pieces, he produced,
admit of his retiring near so early as that Period. So that what
_Spenser_ there says, if it relate at all to _Shakespeare_, must
hint at some occasional Recess he made for a time upon a Disgust
taken: or the _Willy_, there mention’d, must relate to some other
favourite Poet. I believe, we may safely determine that he had not
quitted in the Year 1610. For in his _Tempest_, our Author makes
mention of the _Bermuda_ Islands, which were unknown to the
_English_, till, in 1609, Sir _John Summers_ made a Voyage to
_North-America_, and discover’d them: and afterwards invited some
of his Countrymen to settle a Plantation there. That he became the
private Gentleman at least three Years before his Decease, is pretty
obvious from another Circumstance: I mean, from that remarkable and
well-known Story, which Mr. _Rowe_ has given us of our Author’s
Intimacy with Mr. _John Combe_, an old Gentleman noted thereabouts
for his Wealth and Usury: and upon whom _Shakespeare_ made the
following facetious Epitaph.
Ten in the hundred lies here in-grav’d,
’Tis a hundred to ten his Soul is not sav’d;
If any Man ask who lies in this Tomb,
Oh! oh! quoth the Devil, ’tis my _John-a-Combe_.
This sarcastical Piece of Wit was, at the Gentleman’s own Request,
thrown out extemporally in his Company. And this Mr. _John Combe_
I take to be the same, who, by _Dugdale_ in his Antiquities of
_Warwickshire_, is said to have dy’d in the Year 1614, and for whom
at the upper End of the Quire, of the Guild of the Holy Cross at
_Stratford_, a fair Monument is erected, having a Statue thereon cut
in Alabaster, and in a Gown with this Epitaph. “Here lyeth enterr’d
the Body of _John Combe_ Esq; who dy’d the 10th of _July_, 1614, who
bequeathed several Annual Charities to the Parish of _Stratford_,
and 100_l._ to be lent to fifteen poor Tradesmen from three years to
three years, changing the Parties every third Year, at the Rate of
fifty Shillings _per Annum_, the Increase to be distributed to the
Almes-poor there.”--The Donation has all the Air of a rich and
sagacious Usurer.
_Shakespeare_ himself did not survive Mr. _Combe_ long, for he dy’d
in the Year 1616, the 53d of his Age. He lies buried on the North
Side of the Chancel in the great Church at _Stratford_; where a
Monument, decent enough for the Time, is erected to him, and plac’d
against the Wall. He is represented under an Arch in a sitting
Posture, a Cushion spread before him, with a Pen in his Right Hand,
and his Left rested on a Scrowl of Paper. The _Latin_ Distich, which
is placed under the Cushion, has been given us by Mr. _Pope_, or his
Graver, in this Manner.
INGENIO _Pylium_, Genio _Socratem_, Arte _Maronem_,
Terra tegit, Populus mæret, Olympus habet.
I confess, I don’t conceive the Difference betwixt _Ingeniô_ and
_Geniô_ in the first Verse. They seem to me intirely synonomous
Terms; nor was the _Pylian_ Sage _Nestor_ celebrated for his
Ingenuity, but for an Experience and Judgment owing to his long Age.
_Dugdale_, in his Antiquities of _Warwickshire_, has copied this
Distich with a Distinction which Mr. _Rowe_ has follow’d, and which
certainly restores us the true meaning of the Epitaph.
_JUDICIO Pylium_, Genio _Socratem_, &c.
In 1614, the greater part of the Town of _Stratford_ was consumed by
Fire; but our _Shakespeare_’s House, among some others, escap’d the
Flames. This House was first built by Sir _Hugh Clopton_, a younger
Brother of an ancient Family in that Neighbourhood, who took their
Name from the Manor of _Clopton_. Sir _Hugh_ was Sheriff of _London_
in the Reign of _Richard_ III, and Lord Mayor in the Reign of King
_Henry_ VII. To this Gentleman the Town of _Stratford_ is indebted
for the fine Stone-bridge, consisting of fourteen Arches, which at
an extraordinary Expence he built over the _Avon_, together with a
Cause-way running at the West-end thereof; as also for rebuilding
the Chapel adjoining to his House, and the Cross-Isle in the Church
there. It is remarkable of him, that, tho’ he liv’d and dy’d a
Batchelor, among the other extensive Charities which he left both
to the City of _London_ and Town of _Stratford_, he bequeath’d
considerable Legacies for the Marriage of poor Maidens of good Name
and Fame both in _London_ and at _Stratford_. Notwithstanding which
large Donations in his Life, and Bequests at his Death, as he had
purchased the Manor of _Clopton_, and all the Estate of the Family,
so he left the same again to his Elder Brother’s Son with a very
great Addition: (a Proof, how well Beneficence and Oeconomy may walk
hand in hand in wise Families:) Good part of which Estate is yet in
the Possession of _Edward Clopton_, Esq; and Sir _Hugh Clopton_,
Knt. lineally descended from the Elder Brother of the first Sir
_Hugh_: Who particularly bequeathed to his Nephew, by his Will, his
House, by the Name of his _Great-house_ in _Stratford_.
The Estate had now been sold out of the _Clopton_ Family for above a
Century, at the Time when _Shakespeare_ became the Purchaser: who,
having repair’d and modell’d it to his own Mind, chang’d the Name to
_New-place_; which the Mansion-house, since erected upon the same
Spot, at this day retains. The House and Lands, which attended it,
continued in _Shakespeare_’s Descendants to the Time of the
_Restoration_: when they were repurchased by the _Clopton_ Family,
and the Mansion now belongs to Sir _Hugh Clopton_, Knt. To the
Favour of this worthy Gentleman I owe the Knowledge of one
Particular, in Honour of our Poet’s once Dwelling-house, of which,
I presume, Mr. ROWE never was appriz’d. When the Civil War raged in
_England_, and K. _Charles_ the _First’s_ Queen was driven by the
Necessity of Affairs to make a Recess in _Warwickshire_, She kept
her Court for three Weeks in _New-place_. We may reasonably suppose
it then the best private House in the Town; and her Majesty
preferr’d it to the _College_, which was in the Possession of
the _Combe_-Family, who did not so strongly favour the King’s Party.
How much our Author employ’d himself in Poetry, after his Retirement
from the Stage, does not so evidently appear: Very few posthumous
Sketches of his Pen have been recover’d to ascertain that Point. We
have been told, indeed, in Print, but not till very lately, That two
large Chests full of this Great Man’s loose Papers and Manuscripts,
in the Hands of an ignorant Baker of _Warwick_, (who married one of
the Descendants from our _Shakespeare_) were carelesly scatter’d
and thrown about, as Garret-Lumber, and Litter, to the particular
Knowledge of the late Sir _William Bishop_, till they were all
consumed in the general Fire and Destruction, of that Town. I cannot
help being a little apt to distrust the Authority of this Tradition;
because as his Wife surviv’d him seven Years, and as his Favourite
Daughter _Susanna_ surviv’d her twenty six Years, ’tis very
improbable, they should suffer such a Treasure to be remov’d, and
translated into a remoter Branch of the Family, without a Scrutiny
first made into the Value of it. This, I say, inclines me to
distrust the Authority of the Relation: but, notwithstanding such
an apparent Improbability, if we really lost such a Treasure, by
whatever Fatality or Caprice of Fortune they came into such ignorant
and neglectful Hands, I agree with the _Relater_, the Misfortune is
wholly irreparable.
[Sidenote*: His Character as a _Writer_.]
To these Particulars, which regard his Person and private Life, some
few more are to be glean’d from Mr. ROWE’s Account of his _Life_
and _Writings_: *Let us now take a short View of him in his publick
Capacity, as a _Writer_: and, from thence, the Transition will be
easy to the _State_ in which his _Writings_ have been handed down
to us.
No Age, perhaps, can produce an Author more various from himself,
than _Shakespeare_ has been universally acknowledg’d to be. The
Diversity in Stile, and other Parts of Composition, so obvious in
him, is as variously to be accounted for. His Education, we find,
was at best but begun: and he started early into a Science from the
Force of Genius, unequally assisted by acquir’d Improvements. His
Fire, Spirit, and Exuberance of Imagination gave an Impetuosity
to his Pen: His Ideas flow’d from him in a Stream rapid, but not
turbulent; copious, but not ever overbearing its Shores. The Ease
and Sweetness of his Temper might not a little contribute to his
Facility in Writing; as his Employment, as a _Player_, gave him an
Advantage and Habit of fancying himself the very Character he meant
to delineate. He used the Helps of his Function in forming himself
to create and express that _Sublime_, which other Actors can only
copy, and throw out, in Action and graceful Attitude. But _Nullum
fine Veniâ placuit Ingenium_, says _Seneca_. The Genius, that
gives us the greatest Pleasure, sometimes stands in Need of our
Indulgence. Whenever this happens with regard to _Shakespeare_,
I would willingly impute it to a Vice of _his Times_. We see
Complaisance enough, in our own Days, paid to a _bad Taste_. His
_Clinches_, _false Wit_, and descending beneath himself, seem to
be a Deference paid to _reigning Barbarism_. He was a _Sampson_ in
Strength, but he suffer’d some such _Dalilah_ to give him up to the
_Philistines_.
As I have mention’d the Sweetness of his Disposition, I am tempted
to make a Reflexion or two on a Sentiment of his, which, I am
persuaded, came from the Heart.
The Man, that hath no Musick in himself,
Nor is not mov’d with Concord of sweet Sounds,
Is fit for Treasons, Stratagems, and Spoils:
The Motions of his Spirit are dull as Night,
And his Affections dark as _Erebus_:
Let no such Man be trusted.----
[Sidenote: A Lover of _Musick_.]
_Shakespeare_ was all Openness, Candour, and Complacence; and had
such a Share of Harmony in his Frame and Temperature, that we have
no Reason to doubt, from a Number of fine Passages, Allusions,
Similies, &_c._ fetch’d from _Musick_, but that He was a passionate
Lover of it. And to this, perhaps, we may owe that great Number of
_Sonnets_, which are sprinkled thro’ his _Plays_. I have found,
that the Stanza’s sung by the Gravedigger in _Hamlet_, are not of
_Shakespeare_’s own Composition, but owe their Original to the old
Earl of _Surrey_’s Poems. Many other of his Occasional little Songs,
I doubt not, but he purposely copied from his Contemporary Writers;
sometimes, out of Banter; sometimes, to do them Honour. The Manner
of their Introduction, and the Uses to which he has assigned them,
will easily determine for which of the Reasons they are respectively
employ’d. In _As you like it_, there are several little Copies of
Verses on _Rosalind_, which are said to be the right _Butter-woman’s
Rank to Market_, and the very _false Gallop of Verses_. Dr. _Thomas
Lodge_, a Physician who flourish’d early in Queen _Elizabeth_’s
Reign, and was a great Writer of the Pastoral Songs and Madrigals,
which were so much the Strain of those Times, composed a whole
Volume of Poems in Praise of his Mistress, whom he calls
_Rosalinde_. I never yet could meet with this Collection; but
whenever I do, I am persuaded, I shall find many of our Author’s
Canzonets on this Subject to be Scraps of the Doctor’s amorous Muse:
as, perhaps, those by _Biron_ too, and the other Lovers in _Love’s
Labour’s lost_, may prove to be.
It has been remark’d in the Course of my Notes, that Musick in our
Author’s time had a very different Use from what it has now. At this
Time, it is only employ’d to raise and inflame the Passions; it,
then, was apply’d to calm and allay all kinds of Perturbations. And,
agreeable to this Observation, throughout all _Shakespeare_’s Plays,
where Musick is either actually used, or its Powers describ’d, it is
chiefly said to be for these Ends. His _Twelfth-Night_, particularly,
begins with a fine Reflexion that admirably marks its soothing
Properties.
That Strain again;--It had a dying Fall.
Oh, it came o’er my Ear like the sweet South,
That breathes upon a Bank of Violets,
Stealing and giving Odour!
[Sidenote*: _Milton_ an Imitator of him.]
This _Similitude_ is remarkable not only for the Beauty of the
Image that it presents, but likewise for the Exactness to the Thing
compared. This is a way of Teaching peculiar to the Poets; that,
when they would describe the Nature of any thing, they do it not by
a direct Enumeration of its Attributes or Qualities, but by bringing
something into Comparison, and describing those Qualities of it that
are of the Kind with those in the Thing compared. So, here for
instance, the Poet willing to instruct in the Properties of Musick,
in which the same Strains have a Power to excite Pleasure, or Pain,
according to that State of Mind the Hearer is then in, does it
by presenting the Image of a sweet South Wind blowing o’er a
Violet-bank; which wafts away the Odour of the Violets, and at the
same time communicates to it its own Sweetness: by This insinuating,
that affecting Musick, tho’ it takes away the natural sweet
Tranquillity of the Mind, yet, at the same time, communicates a
Pleasure the Mind felt not before. This Knowledge, of the same
Objects being capable of raising two contrary Affections, is a Proof
of no ordinary Progress in the Study of human Nature. *The general
Beauties of those two Poems of _MILTON_, intitled, _L’Allegro_ and
_Il Pensoroso_, are obvious to all Readers, because the Descriptions
are the most poetical in the World; yet there is a peculiar Beauty
in those two excellent Pieces, that will much enhance the Value of
them to the more capable Readers; which has never, I think, been
observ’d. The Images, in each Poem, which he raises to excite Mirth
and Melancholy, are exactly the same, only shewn in different
Attitudes. Had a Writer, less acquainted with Nature, given us two
Poems on these Subjects, he would have been sure to have sought out
the most contrary Images to raise these contrary Passions. And,
particularly, as _Shakespeare_, in the Passage I am now commenting,
speaks of these different Effects in Musick; so _Milton_ has brought
it into each Poem as the Exciter of each Affection: and lest we
should mistake him, as meaning that different Airs had this
different Power, (which every Fidler is proud to have you
understand,) He gives the Image of those self-same Strains that
_Orpheus_ used to regain _Eurydice_, as proper both to excite Mirth
and Melancholy. But _Milton_ most industriously copied the Conduct
of our _Shakespeare_, in Passages that shew’d an intimate
Acquaintance with Nature and Science.
[Sidenote: Shakespeare’s _Knowledge of Nature_.]
I have not thought it out of my Province, whenever Occasion offer’d,
to take notice of some of our Poet’s grand Touches of Nature: Some,
that do not appear superficially such; but in which he seems the
most deeply instructed; and to which, no doubt, he has so much ow’d
that happy Preservation of his _Characters_, for which he is justly
celebrated. If he was not acquainted with the Rule as deliver’d by
_Horace_, his own admirable Genius pierc’d into the Necessity of
such a Rule.
----Servetur ad imum
Qualis ab incœpto processerit, & sibi constet.
For what can be more ridiculous, than, in our modern Writers, to
make a debauch’d young Man, immers’d in all the Vices of his Age and
Time, in a few hours take up, confine himself in the way of Honour
to one Woman, and moralize in good earnest on the Follies of his
past Behaviour? Nor can, that great Examplar of _Comic_ Writing,
_Terence_ be altogether excused in this Regard; who, in his
_Adelphi_, has left _Demea_ in the last Scenes so unlike himself:
whom, as _Shakespeare_ expresses it, _he has turn’d with the seamy
Side of his Wit outward_. This Conduct, as Errors are more readily
imitated than Perfections, _Beaumont_ and _Fletcher_ seem to
have follow’d in a Character in their _Scornful Lady_. It may be
objected, perhaps, by some who do not go to the Bottom of our Poet’s
Conduct, that he has likewise transgress’d against the Rule himself,
by making Prince _Harry_ at once, upon coming to the Crown, throw
off his former Dissoluteness, and take up the Practice of a sober
Morality and all the kingly Virtues. But this would be a mistaken
Objection. The Prince’s Reformation is not so sudden, as not to be
prepar’d and expected by the Audience. He gives, indeed, a Loose to
Vanity, and a light unweigh’d Behaviour, when he is trifling among
his dissolute Companions; but the Sparks of innate Honour and true
Nobleness break from him upon every proper Occasion, where we would
hope to see him awake to Sentiments suiting his Birth and Dignity.
And our Poet has so well, and artfully, guarded his Character from
the Suspicions of habitual and unreformable Profligateness; that
even from the first shewing him upon the Stage, in the first Part of
_Henry_ IV, when he made him consent to join with _Falstaffe_ in a
Robbery on the Highway, he has taken care not to carry him off the
Scene, without an Intimation that he knows them all, and their
unyok’d Humour; and that, like the Sun, he will permit them only for
a while to obscure and cloud his Brightness; then break thro’ the
Mist, when he pleases to be himself again; that his Lustre, when
wanted, may be the more wonder’d at.
Another of _Shakespeare_’s grand Touches of Nature, and which lies
still deeper from the Ken of common Observation, has been taken
notice of in a Note upon _The Tempest_; where _Prospero_ at once
interrupts the Masque of _Spirits_, and starts into a sudden Passion
and Disorder of Mind. As the latent Cause of his Emotion is there
fully inquir’d into, I shall no farther dwell upon it here.
Such a Conduct in a Poet (as _Shakespeare_ has manifested on many
like Occasions;) where the Turn of _Action_ arises from Reflexions
of his _Characters_, where the Reason of it is not express’d in
Words, but drawn from the inmost Resources of Nature, shews him
truly capable of that Art, which is more in Rule than Practice:
_Ars est celare Artem_. ’Tis the Foible of your worser Poets to make
a Parade and Ostentation of that little Science they have; and to
throw it out in the most ambitious Colours. And whenever a Writer of
this Class shall attempt to copy these artful Concealments of our
Author, and shall either think them easy, or practised by a Writer
for his Ease, he will soon be convinced of his Mistake by the
Difficulty of reaching the Imitation of them.
Speret idem, sudet multùm, frustráq; laboret,
Ausus idem:----
Another grand Touch of Nature in our Author, (not less difficult to
imitate, tho’ more obvious to the Remark of a common Reader) is,
when he brings down at once any _Character_ from the Ferment
and Height of Passion, makes him correct himself for the unruly
Disposition, and fall into Reflexions of a sober and moral Tenour.
An exquisite fine Instance of this Kind occurs in _Lear_, where that
old King, hasty and intemperate in his Passions, coming to his Son
and Daughter _Cornwall_, is told by the Earl of _Gloucester_ that
they are not to be spoken with: and thereupon throws himself into a
Rage, supposing the Excuse of Sickness and Weariness in them to be a
purpos’d Contempt: _Gloucester_ begs him to think of the fiery and
unremoveable Quality of the Duke: and This, which was design’d to
qualify his Passion, serves to exaggerate the Transports of it.
As the Conduct of Prince _Henry_ in the first Instance, the secret
and mental Reflexions in the Case of _Prospero_, and the instant
Detour of _Lear_ from the Violence of Rage to a Temper of Reasoning,
do so much Honour to that surprizing Knowledge of human Nature,
which is certainly our Author’s Masterpiece, I thought, they could
not be set in too good a Light. Indeed, to point out, and exclaim
upon, all the Beauties of _Shakespeare_, as they come singly in
Review, would be as insipid, as endless; as tedious, as unnecessary:
But the Explanation of those Beauties, that are less obvious to
common Readers, and whose Illustration depends on the Rules of just
Criticism, and an exact Knowledge of human Life, should deservedly
have a Share in a general Critic upon the Author.
[Sidenote*: Mr. _Addison_ and _He_ compared, on a similar Topick.]
I shall dismiss the Examination into these his latent Beauties, when
I have made a short Comment upon a remarkable Passage from _Julius
Cæsar_, which is inexpressibly fine in its self, *and greatly
discovers our Author’s Knowledge and Researches into Nature.
Between the acting of a dreadful Thing,
And the first Motion, all the _Interim_ is
Like a Phantasma, or a hideous Dream:
The Genius, and the mortal Instruments
Are then in Council; and the State of Man,
Like to a little Kingdom, suffers then
The Nature of an Insurrection.
That nice Critick _Dionysius_ of _Halicarnassus_ confesses, that he
could not find those great Strokes, which he calls the _terrible
Graces_, in any of the Historians, which he frequently met with in
_Homer_. I believe, the Success would be the same likewise, if we
sought for them in any other of _our_ Authors besides our _British_
HOMER, _Shakespeare_. This Description of the Condition of
Conspirators has a Pomp and Terror in it, that perfectly astonishes.
Our excellent Mr. _Addison_, whose Modesty made him sometimes
diffident in his own Genius, but whose exquisite Judgment always led
him to the safest Guides, as we may see by those many fine Strokes
in his _Cato_ borrow’d from the _Philippics_ of _Cicero_, has
paraphrased this fine Description; but we are no longer to expect
those _terrible Graces_, which he could not hinder from evaporating
in the Transfusion.
O think, what anxious Moments pass between
The Birth of Plots, and their last fatal Periods.
Oh, ’tis a dreadful Interval of Time,
Fill’d up with Horror all, and big with Death.
I shall observe two Things on this fine Imitation: first, that the
Subjects of these two Conspiracies being so very different, (the
Fortunes of _Cæsar_ and the _Roman_ Empire being concern’d in the
First; and That of only a few Auxiliary Troops, in the other;)
Mr. _Addison_ could not with Propriety bring in that magnificent
Circumstance, which gives the terrible Grace to _Shakespeare_’s
Description.
The Genius and the mortal Instruments
Are then in Council.----
For Kingdoms, in the poetical Theology, besides their good, have
their evil _Genius_’s likewise: represented here with the most
daring Stretch of Fancy, as fitting in Council with the Conspirators,
whom he calls the _mortal Instruments_. But this Would have been
too great an Apparatus to the Rape, and Desertion, of _Syphax_, and
_Sempronius_. Secondly, The other Thing very observable is, that Mr.
_Addison_ was so warm’d and affected with the Fire of _Shakespeare_’s
Description; that, instead of copying his Author’s Sentiments, he
has, before he was aware, given us only the Image of his own
Impressions on the reading his great Original. For,
Oh, ’tis a dreadful Interval of Time,
Fill’d up with Horror all, and big with Death;
are but the Affections raised by such forcible Images as these;
----All the _Int’rim_ is
Like a Phantasma, or a hideous Dream.
----the State of Man,
Like to a little Kingdom, suffers then
The Nature of an Insurrection.
Comparing the Mind of a Conspirator to an Anarchy, is just and
beautiful; but the _Interim_ to a _hideous Dream_ has something in
it so wonderfully natural, and lays the human Soul so open, that one
cannot but be surpriz’d, that any Poet, who had not himself been,
some time or other, engaged in a Conspiracy, could ever have given
such Force of Colouring to Truth and Nature.
[Sidenote: The Question on _Shakespeare_’s Learning handled.]