P. S.--It is rather singular that A. E. B., who, as I have already shown,
has so completely _shelved_ me in his remarks upon "Aristotle's checks,"
should now complain of the very same thing himself, and say that his
"humble auxilia have been coolly appropriated, without the slightest
acknowledgment." However, as our opinions coincide upon the passage in
question, I am not disposed to pick a quarrel with him. I cannot, however,
at all concur in his alteration of the passage in _King Lear_: "Our means
secure us," to "Our means _recuse_ us." I will certainly leave him "in the
quiet possession of whatever merit is due to this _restoration_," or rather
this invention! Can A. E. B. show any other instance in which Shakspeare
has used the verb _recuse_; or will he point out any other author who has
adopted it in the sense referred to? Johnson calls it a "juridical word:"
and I certainly have no recollection of having met with it, except in
judicial proceedings.
I can neither subscribe to the emendation of A. E. B., nor to that of the
old commentator, but infinitely prefer the original words, which appear to
me perfectly intelligible. The sense, as it strikes me, is, that however we
may desire things which we have not, the _means_ we already possess are
sufficient for our security; and even our _defects_ prove serviceable.
Blindness, for instance, will make a man more careful of himself; and then
the other faculties he enjoys will secure him from harm.
_"King Lear," Act IV. Sc. 1._--
"Our means secure us, and our mere defects
Prove our commodities."
I should not object to your correspondent A. E. B.'s conjectural
emendation, "recuse" for "secure," but that, unless my memory and Ayscough
are both deceptive, the word "recuse" is nowhere to be found in Shakspeare;
nor, as far as I know, in any dramatist of the age. If it be used by any of
the latter, it is probably only in the strict legal meaning, which is quite
different from that which A. E. B. would attach to it. This is conclusive
with me; for I hold that there is no sounder canon in Shakspearian
criticism than never to introduce by conjecture a word of which the poet
does not himself elsewhere make use, or which is not at least strongly
sanctioned by contemporary employment.
I therefore, as the passage is flat nonsense, return to the well-abused
"corrector's" much modester emendation, "wants" for "means."
And now permit one word in defence of this deceased and untoward personage.
I think much of the unpopularity into which he has fallen with a certain
class of critics, is owing to their not allowing him fair play.
Suppose a MS. placed in our hands, containing, beyond all doubt, what MR.
COLLIER'S corrected second folio is alleged to contain, authoritative
emendations of the text: what should we, _a priori_, expect to find in it?
That text is abominably corrupt beyond a doubt; it contains many impossible
readings, which must be misprints or otherwise erroneous; it contains also
many improbable readings, harsh, strained, mean, inadequate, and the like.
Now it is excessively unlikely that a truly corrected copy, could we find
one, would remove all the impossible readings, and leave all the improbable
ones.
It is still more unlikely that, in correcting the improbable passages, it
would leave those to which Mr. A., or Mr. B., or Mr. C., ay, or all of us
together, have formed an attachment from habit, predilection, or prejudice
of some kind. Such phrases as "the blanket of the dark," "a man that hath
had losses," "unthread the rude eye of rebellion," and many more, have
become consecrated in our eyes by habit; they have assumed, as it were, the
character of additions to our ordinary vocabulary; and yet I think sound
reason itself, and that kind of secondary reason or instinct which long
familiarity with critical pursuits gives us, combine to suggest that,
_occurring in a corrupt text_, they are probably corruptions; and
corruptions in lieu of some very common and even prosaic phrases, such as
the corrector substitutes for them, and such as no conjectural critic would
venture on.
In short, the kind of disappointment which many of these corrections
unavoidably give to the reader, is with me an argument in favour of their
genuineness, not against it.
And, lastly, in so very corrupt a text, it is _a priori_ probable that many
phrases which appear to need no correction at all, are misprints or {98}
mistakes nevertheless. It is probably that the true text of the poet
contained many variations utterly unimportant, as well as others of
importance, from the printed one. Now here it is precisely, that we find in
the corrector what we should anticipate, and what it is difficult to
account for on any theory disparaging his authority. What could have
induced him to make such substitutions as _swift_ for "sweet," _then_ for
"there," _all arose_ for "are arose," _solemn_ for "sorry," _fortune_ for
"nature," to quote from a single play, the _Comedy of Errors_, which
happens to lie before me,--none of them necessary emendations, most of them
trivial, unless he had under his eye some original containing those
variations, to which he wished his own copy to conform? It is surely wild
guessing to attribute corrections like these to a mere wanton itch for
altering the text; and yet no other alternative is suggested by the
corrector's enemies.
I am myself as yet a sceptic in the matter, being very little disposed to
hasty credulity on such occasions, especially where there is a possibility
of deceit. But I must say that the doctrine of probabilities seems to me to
furnish strong arguments in the corrector's favour; and that the attacks of
professed Shakspearian critics on him, both in and out of "N. & Q.," have
hitherto rather tended to raise him in my estimation.