It is observed by Mr. Pope, that 'If ever any author deserved the
name of an ORIGINAL, it was Shakespeare. Homer himself drew not his
art so immediately from the fountains of nature; it proceeded
through AEgyptian strainers and channels, and came to him not
without some tincture of the learning, or some cast of the models,
of those before him. The poetry of Shakespeare was inspiration:
indeed, he is not so much an imitator, as an instrument of nature;
and it is not so just to say that he speaks from her, as that she
speaks through him.
His CHARACTERS are so much nature herself, that it is a sort of
injury to call them by so distant a name as copies of her. Those of
other poets have a constant resemblance, which shows that they
received them from one another, and were but multipliers of the same
image: each picture, like a mock-rainbow, is but the reflection of a
reflection. But every single character in Shakespeare, is as much an
individual, as those in life itself; it is as impossible to find any
two alike; and such, as from their relation or affinity in any
respect appear most to be twins, will, upon comparison, be found
remarkably distinct. To this life and variety of character, we must
add the wonderful preservation of it; which is such throughout his
plays, that had all the speeches been printed without the very names
of the persons, I believe one might have applied them with certainty
to every speaker.'
The object of the volume here offered to the public, is to
illustrate these remarks in a more particular manner by a reference
to each play. A gentleman of the name of Mason, [Footnote: Hazlitt
is here mistaken. The work to which he alludes, 'Remarks on some of
the Characters of Shakespeare, by the Author of Observations on
Modern Gardening', was by Thomas Whately, Under-Secretary of State
under Lord North. Whately died in 1772, and the Essay was published
posthumously in 1785 [2nd edition, 1808; 3rd edition, with a preface
by Archbishop Whately, the author's nephew, 1839]. Hazlitt confused
T. Whately's Observations on Modern Gardening with George Mason's
Essay on Design in Gardening, and the one error led to the other.]
the author of a Treatise on Ornamental Gardening (not Mason the
poet), began a work of a similar kind about forty years ago, but he
only lived to finish a parallel between the characters of Macbeth
and Richard III which is an exceedingly ingenious piece of
analytical criticism. Richardson's Essays include but a few of
Shakespeare's principal characters. The only work which seemed to
supersede the necessity of an attempt like the present was
Schlegel's very admirable Lectures on the Drama, which give by far
the best account of the plays of Shakespeare that has hitherto
appeared. The only circumstances in which it was thought not
impossible to improve on the manner in which the German critic has
executed this part of his design, were in avoiding an appearance of
mysticism in his style, not very attractive to the English reader,
and in bringing illustrations from particular passages of the plays
themselves, of which Schlegel's work, from the extensiveness of his
plan, did not admit. We will at the same time confess, that some
little jealousy of the character of the national understanding was
not without its share in producing the following undertaking, for
'we were piqued' that it should be reserved for a foreign critic to
give 'reasons for the faith which we English have in Shakespeare'.
Certainly, no writer among ourselves has shown either the same
enthusiastic admiration of his genius, or the same philosophical
acuteness in pointing out his characteristic excellences. As we have
pretty well exhausted all we had to say upon this subject in the
body of the work, we shall here transcribe Schlegel's general
account of Shakespeare, which is in the following words:
'Never, perhaps, was there so comprehensive a talent for the
delineation of character as Shakespeare's. It not only grasps the
diversities of rank, sex, and age, down to the dawnings of infancy;
not only do the king and the beggar, the hero and the pickpocket,
the sage and the idiot, speak and act with equal truth; not only
does he transport himself to distant ages and foreign nations, and
pourtray in the most accurate manner, with only a few apparent
violations of costume, the spirit of the ancient Romans, of the
French in their wars with the English, of the English themselves
during a great part of their history, of the Southern Europeans (in
the serious part of many comedies) the cultivated society of that
time, and the former rude and barbarous state of the North; his
human characters have not only such depth and precision that they
cannot be arranged under classes, and are inexhaustible, even in
conception:--no--this Prometheus not merely forms men, he opens the
gates of the magical world of spirits; calls up the midnight ghost;
exhibits before us his witches amidst their unhallowed mysteries;
peoples the air with sportive fairies and sylphs:--and these beings,
existing only in imagination, possess such truth and consistency,
that even when deformed monsters like Caliban, he extorts the
conviction, that if there should be such beings, they would so
conduct themselves. In a word, as he carries with him the most
fruitful and daring fancy into the kingdom of nature,--on the other
hand, he carries nature into the regions of fancy, lying beyond the
confines of reality. We are lost in astonishment at seeing the
extraordinary, the wonderful, and the unheard of, in such intimate
nearness.
'If Shakespeare deserves our admiration for his characters, he is
equally deserving of it for his exhibition of passion, taking this word
in its widest signification, as including every mental condition, every
tone from indifference or familiar mirth to the wildest rage and
despair. He gives us the history of minds; he lays open to us, in a
single word, a whole series of preceding conditions. His passions do not
at first stand displayed to us in all their height, as is the case with
so many tragic poets, who, in the language of Lessing, are thorough
masters of the legal style of love. He paints, in a most inimitable
manner, the gradual progress from the first origin. "He gives", as
Lessing says, "a living picture of all the most minute and secret
artifices by which a feeling steals into our souls; of all the
imperceptible advantages which it there gains; of all the stratagems by
which every other passion is made subservient to it, till it becomes the
sole tyrant of our desires and our aversions." Of all poets, perhaps, he
alone has pourtrayed the mental diseases,--melancholy, delirium,
lunacy,--with such inexpressible, and, in every respect, definite truth,
that the physician may enrich his observations from them in the same
manner as from real cases.
'And yet Johnson has objected to Shakespeare, that his pathos is not
always natural and free from affectation. There are, it is true,
passages, though, comparatively speaking, very few, where his poetry
exceeds the bounds of true dialogue, where a too soaring
imagination, a too luxuriant wit, rendered the complete dramatic
forgetfulness of himself impossible. With this exception, the
censure originates only in a fanciless way of thinking, to which
everything appears unnatural that does not suit its own tame
insipidity. Hence, an idea has been formed of simple and natural
pathos, which consists in exclamations destitute of imagery, and
nowise elevated above every-day life. But energetical passions
electrify the whole of the mental powers, and will, consequently, in
highly favoured natures, express themselves in an ingenious and
figurative manner. It has been often remarked, that indignation
gives wit; and, as despair occasionally breaks out into laughter, it
may sometimes also give vent to itself in antithetical comparisons.
'Besides, the rights of the poetical form have not been duly
weighed. Shakespeare, who was always sure of his object, to move in
a sufficiently powerful manner when he wished to do so, has
occasionally, by indulging in a freer play, purposely moderated the
impressions when too painful, and immediately introduced a musical
alleviation of our sympathy. He had not those rude ideas of his art
which many moderns seem to have, as if the poet, like the clown in
the proverb, must strike twice on the same place. An ancient
rhetorician delivered a caution against dwelling too long on the
excitation of pity; for nothing, he said, dries so soon as tears;
and Shakespeare acted conformably to this ingenious maxim, without
knowing it.
'The objection, that Shakespeare wounds our feelings by the open display
of the most disgusting moral odiousness, harrows up the mind
unmercifully, and tortures even our senses by the exhibition of the most
insupportable and hateful spectacles, is one of much greater importance.
He has never, in fact, varnished over wild and blood-thirsty passions
with a pleasing exterior,--never clothed crime and want of principle
with a false show of greatness of soul; and in that respect he is every
way deserving of praise. Twice he has pourtrayed downright villains; and
the masterly way in which he has contrived to elude impressions of too
painful a nature, may be seen in Iago and Richard the Third. The
constant reference to a petty and puny race must cripple the boldness of
the poet. Fortunately for his art, Shakespeare lived in an age extremely
susceptible of noble and tender impressions, but which had still enough
of the firmness inherited from a vigorous olden time not to shrink back
with dismay from every strong and violent picture. We have lived to see
tragedies of which the catastrophe consists in the swoon of an enamoured
princess. If Shakespeare falls occasionally into the opposite extreme,
it is a noble error, originating in the fulness of a gigantic strength:
and yet this tragical Titan, who storms the heavens, and threatens to
tear the world from off its hinges; who, more terrible than AEschylus,
makes our hair stand on end, and congeals our blood with horror,
possessed, at the same time, the insinuating loveliness of the sweetest
poetry. He plays with love like a child; and his songs are breathed out
like melting sighs. He unites in his genius the utmost elevation and the
utmost depth; and the most foreign, and even apparently irreconcilable
properties subsist in him peaceably together. The world of spirits and
nature have laid all their treasures at his feet. In strength a
demi-god, in profundity of view a prophet, in all-seeing wisdom a
protecting spirit of a higher order, he lowers himself to mortals, as if
unconscious of his superiority: and is as open and unassuming as a
child.
'Shakespeare's comic talent is equally wonderful with that which he
has shown in the pathetic and tragic: it stands on an equal
elevation, and possesses equal extent and profundity. All that I
before wished was, not to admit that the former preponderated. He is
highly inventive in comic situations and motives. It will be hardly
possible to show whence he has taken any of them; whereas, in the
serious part of his drama, he has generally laid hold of something
already known. His comic characters are equally true, various, and
profound, with his serious. So little is he disposed to caricature,
that we may rather say many of his traits are almost too nice and
delicate for the stage, that they can only be properly seized by a
great actor, and fully understood by a very acute audience. Not only
has he delineated many kinds of folly; he has also contrived to
exhibit mere stupidity in a most diverting and entertaining manner.'
Vol. ii, p. 145.
We have the rather availed ourselves of this testimony of a foreign
critic in behalf of Shakespeare, because our own countryman, Dr.
Johnson, has not been so favourable to him. It may be said of
Shakespeare, that 'those who are not for him are against him': for
indifference is here the height of injustice. We may sometimes, in order
'to do a great right, do a little wrong'. An over-strained enthusiasm is
more pardonable with respect to Shakespeare than the want of it; for our
admiration cannot easily surpass his genius. We have a high respect for
Dr. Johnson's character and understanding, mixed with something like
personal attachment: but he was neither a poet nor a judge of poetry. He
might in one sense be a judge of poetry as it falls within the limits
and rules of prose, but not as it is poetry. Least of all was he
qualified to be a judge of Shakespeare, who 'alone is high fantastical'.
Let those who have a prejudice against Johnson read Boswell's Life of
him: as those whom he has prejudiced against Shakespeare should read his
Irene. We do not say that a man to be a critic must necessarily be a
poet: but to be a good critic, he ought not to be a bad poet. Such
poetry as a man deliberately writes, such, and such only will he like.
Dr. Johnson's Preface to his edition of Shakespeare looks like a
laborious attempt to bury the characteristic merits of his author under
a load of cumbrous phraseology, and to weigh his excellences and defects
in equal scales, stuffed full of 'swelling figures and sonorous
epithets'. Nor could it well be otherwise; Dr. Johnson's general powers
of reasoning overlaid his critical susceptibility. All his ideas were
cast in a given mould, in a set form: they were made out by rule and
system, by climax, inference, and antithesis:--Shakespeare's were the
reverse. Johnson's understanding dealt only in round numbers: the
fractions were lost upon him. He reduced everything to the common
standard of conventional propriety; and the most exquisite refinement or
sublimity produced an effect on his mind, only as they could be
translated into the language of measured prose. To him an excess of
beauty was a fault; for it appeared to him like an excrescence; and his
imagination was dazzled by the blaze of light. His writings neither
shone with the beams of native genius, nor reflected them. The shifting
shapes of fancy, the rainbow hues of things, made no impression on him:
he seized only on the permanent and tangible. He had no idea of natural
objects but 'such as he could measure with a two-fool rule, or tell upon
ten fingers': he judged of human nature in the same way, by mood and
figure: he saw only the definite, the positive, and the practical, the
average forms of things, not their striking differences--their classes,
not their degrees. He was a man of strong common sense and practical
wisdom, rather than of genius or feeling. He retained the regular,
habitual impressions of actual objects, but he could not follow the
rapid flights of fancy, or the strong movements of passion. That is, he
was to the poet what the painter of still life is to the painter of
history. Common sense sympathizes with the impressions of things on
ordinary minds in ordinary circumstances: genius catches the glancing
combinations presented to the eye of fancy, under the influence of
passion. It is the province of the didactic reasoner to take cognizance
of those results of human nature which are constantly repeated and
always the same, which follow one another in regular succession, which
are acted upon by large classes of men, and embodied in received
customs, laws, language, and institutions; and it was in arranging,
comparing, and arguing on these kind of general results, that Johnson's
excellence lay. But he could not quit his hold of the commonplace and
mechanical, and apply the general rule to the particular exception, or
show how the nature of man was modified by the workings of passion, or
the infinite fluctuations of thought and accident. Hence he could judge
neither of the heights nor depths of poetry. Nor is this all; for being
conscious of great powers in himself, and those powers of an adverse
tendency to those of his author, he would be for setting up a foreign
jurisdiction over poetry, and making criticism a kind of Procrustes' bed
of genius, where he might cut down imagination to matter-of-fact,
regulate the passions according to reason, and translate the whole into
logical diagrams and rhetorical declamation. Thus he says of
Shakespeare's characters, in contradiction to what Pope had observed,
and to what every one else feels, that each character is a species,
instead of being an individual. He in fact found the general species or
DIDACTIC form in Shakespeare's characters, which was all he sought or
cared for; he did not find the individual traits, or the DRAMATIC
distinctions which Shakespeare has engrafted on this general nature,
because he felt no interest in them. Shakespeare's bold and happy
flights of imagination were equally thrown away upon our author. He was
not only without any particular fineness of organic sensibility, alive
to all the 'mighty world of ear and eye', which is necessary to the
painter or musician, but without that intenseness of passion, which,
seeking to exaggerate whatever excites the feelings of pleasure or power
in the mind, and moulding the impressions of natural objects according
to the impulses of imagination, produces a genius and a taste for
poetry. According to Dr. Johnson, a mountain is sublime, or a rose is
beautiful; for that their name and definition imply. But he would no
more be able to give the description of Dover cliff in Lear, or the
description of flowers in The Winter's Tale, than to describe the
objects of a sixth sense; nor do we think he would have any very
profound feeling of the beauty of the passages here referred to. A
stately common-place, such as Congreve's description of a ruin in The
Mourning Bride, would have answered Johnson's purpose just as well, or
better than the first; and an indiscriminate profusion of scents and
hues would have interfered less with the ordinary routine of his
imagination than Perdita's lines, which seem enamoured of their own
sweetness--
Daffodils
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath.--
No one who does not feel the passion which these objects inspire can
go along with the imagination which seeks to express that passion
and the uneasy sense of delight accompanying it by something still
more beautiful, and no one can feel this passionate love of nature
without quick natural sensibility. To a mere literal and formal
apprehension, the inimitably characteristic epithet, 'violets DIM',
must seem to imply a defect, rather than a beauty; and to any one,
not feeling the full force of that epithet, which suggests an image
like 'the sleepy eye of love', the allusion to 'the lids of Juno's
eyes' must appear extravagant and unmeaning. Shakespeare's fancy
lent words and images to the most refined sensibility to nature,
struggling for expression: his descriptions are identical with the
things themselves, seen through the fine medium of passion: strip
them of that connexion, and try them by ordinary conceptions and
ordinary rules, and they are as grotesque and barbarous as you
please!--By thus lowering Shakespeare's genius to the standard of
common-place invention, it was easy to show that his faults were as
great as his beauties; for the excellence, which consists merely in
a conformity to rules, is counterbalanced by the technical violation
of them. Another circumstance which led to Dr. Johnson's
indiscriminate praise or censure of Shakespeare, is the very
structure of his style. Johnson wrote a kind of rhyming prose, in
which he was as much compelled to finish the different clauses of
his sentences, and to balance one period against another, as the
writer of heroic verse is to keep to lines of ten syllables with
similar terminations. He no sooner acknowledges the merits of his
author in one line than the periodical revolution in his style
carries the weight of his opinion completely over to the side of
objection, thus keeping up a perpetual alternation of perfections
and absurdities.
We do not otherwise know how to account for such assertions as the
following: 'In his tragic scenes, there is always something wanting,
but his comedy often surpasses expectation or desire. His comedy
pleases by the thoughts and the language, and his tragedy, for the
greater part, by incident and action. His tragedy seems to be skill,
his comedy to be instinct.' Yet after saying that 'his tragedy was
skill', he affirms in the next page, 'His declamations or set
speeches are commonly cold and weak, for his power was the power of
nature: when he endeavoured, like other tragic writers, to catch
opportunities of amplification, and instead of inquiring what the
occasion demanded, to show how much his stores of knowledge could
supply, he seldom escapes without the pity or resentment of his
reader.' Poor Shakespeare! Between the charges here brought against
him, of want of nature in the first instance, and of want of skill
in the second, he could hardly escape being condemned. And again,
'But the admirers of this great poet have most reason to complain
when he approaches nearest to his highest excellence, and seems
fully resolved to sink them in dejection, or mollify them with
tender emotions by the fall of greatness, the danger of innocence,
or the crosses of love. What he does best, he soon ceases to do. He
no sooner begins to move than he counteracts himself; and terror and
pity, as they are rising in the mind, are checked and blasted by
sudden frigidity.' In all this, our critic seems more bent on
maintaining the equilibrium of his style than the consistency or
truth of his opinions.--If Dr. Johnson's opinion was right, the
following observations on Shakespeare's plays must be greatly
exaggerated, if not ridiculous. If he was wrong, what has been said
may perhaps account for his being so, without detracting from his
ability and judgement in other things.
It is proper to add, that the account of the MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM
has appeared in another work.