OBSERVATIONS ON _JULIUS CÆSAR_; ON _ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA_;
ON _CORIOLANUS_; ON _THE WINTER'S TALE_; ON _THE TEMPEST_;
DISSERTATION ON THE _GENERAL BELIEF_ OF THE TIMES IN THE
_ART OF MAGIC_, AND ON SHAKSPEARE's MANAGEMENT OF THIS
SUPERSTITION, AS EXHIBITED IN _THE TEMPEST_—OBSERVATIONS ON
_OTHELLO_; ON _TWELFTH NIGHT_, AND ON THE _PLAYS ASCRIBED_ TO
SHAKSPEARE—_SUMMARY OF SHAKSPEARE'S DRAMATIC CHARACTER_.
The Roman tragedy of Shakspeare, including the three pieces of _Julius
Cæsar_, _Antony and Cleopatra_, and _Coriolanus_, exhibit the poet
under a new aspect. We have seen him dramatise the annals of his own
country with matchless skill and effect; we have beheld him touching
with a discriminative pencil the heroes of ancient Greece, and he now
brings before us, clothed in the majesty of republican greatness,
or surrounded with the splendour of illimitable power, the most
illustrious patriots and warriors of the Roman world.
The task of combining a faithful adhesion to the records of history
with that grandeur and freedom of conception which characterise the
unfettered poet, could alone have been achieved by the genius of
Shakspeare. He has, accordingly, not only fixed his scene at Rome,
during the days of Coriolanus or of Cæsar, but he has resuscitated the
manners and the modes of thinking of their respective ages. We enter
with enthusiasm into the characters and fortunes of these masters of
the civilised globe, and the patriotism and martial glory, the very
feelings and public life of the eternal city again start into existence.
The chronology of these three plays having been ascertained with as
much probability, as the subject will admit, it is only necessary to
observe, as a preliminary remark, that the dates of the first and
second are adopted from Mr. Malone, and that of the third from Mr.
Chalmers; and to these critics the reader is referred for facts and
inferences which, not being susceptible as we conceive of further
extension or improvement, it would be useless here to repeat.
29. JULIUS CÆSAR: 1607. Of this tragedy Brutus is the principal and
most interesting character, and to the developement of his motives,
and to the result of his actions, is the greater part of the play
appropriated; for it is not the fall of Cæsar, but that of Brutus,
which constitutes the catastrophe. Cæsar is introduced indeed
expressing that characteristic confidence in himself, which has been
ascribed to him by history; and his influence over those who surround
him, the effect of high mental powers and unrivalled military success,
is represented as very great; but he takes little part in the business
of the scene, and his assassination occurs at the commencement of the
third act.
While the conqueror of the world is thus in some degree thrown into
the shade, Brutus, the favourite of the poet, is brought forward, not
only adorned with all the virtues attributed to him by Plutarch, but,
in order to excite a deeper interest in his favour, and to prove, that
not jealousy, ambition, or revenge, but unalloyed patriotism was the
sole director of his conduct, our author has drawn him as possessing
the utmost sweetness and gentleness of disposition, sympathising with
all that suffer, and unwilling to inflict pain but from motives of
the strongest moral necessity. He has most feelingly and beautifully
painted him in the relations of a master, a friend, and a husband; his
kindness to his domestics, his attachment to his friends, and his love
for Portia, to whom he declares, that she is
"As dear to him, as are the ruddy drops
That visit his sad heart,"
demonstrating, that nothing but a high sense of public duty could have
induced him to lift his hand against the life of Cæsar.
It is this struggle between the humanity of his temper and his ardent
and hereditary love of liberty, now threatened with extinction by the
despotism of Cæsar, that gives to Brutus that grandeur of character
and that predominancy over his associates in purity of intention,
which secured to him the admiration of his contemporaries, and to which
posterity has done ample justice through the medium of Shakspeare, who
has placed the virtues of Brutus, and the contest in his bosom between
private regard and patriotic duty, in the noblest light; wringing even
from the lips of his bitterest enemy, the fullest eulogium on the
rectitude of his principles, and the goodness of his heart:—
"_Ant._ This was the noblest Roman of them all.
All the conspirators, save only he,
Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar;
He, only, in a general honest thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up,
And say to all the world, _This was a man!_"[492:A]
In the conduct and action of this drama, though closely pursuing the
occurrences and characters as detailed by Plutarch in his life of
Brutus, there is a great display of ingenuity, and much mechanism in
the concentration of the events, producing that integrity and unity,
which, without any modification of the truth of history, moulds a
small portion of an immense chain of incidents into a perfect and
satisfactory whole. The formation of the conspiracy, the death of the
dictator, the harangue of Antony and its effects, the flight of Brutus
and Cassius, their quarrel and reconcilement, and finally their noble
stand for liberty against the sanguinary and atrocious triumvirate, are
concatenated with the most happy art; and though, after the fall of
Cæsar, nothing but the patriotic heroism of Brutus and Cassius is left
to occupy the stage, the apprehensions and the interest which have been
awakened for their fate, are sustained, and even augmented to the last
scene of the tragedy.
30. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA: 1608. Shakspeare has here spread a wider
canvas; he has admitted a vast variety of groups, some of which are
crowded, and some too isolated, whilst in the back ground are dimly
seen personages and events that, for the sake of perspicuity, ought to
have been brought forward with some share of boldness and relief. The
subject, in fact, is too complex and extended, to admit of a due degree
of simplicity and wholeness, and the mind is consequently hurried by a
multiplicity of incidents, for whose introduction and succession we are
not sufficiently prepared.
Yet, notwithstanding these defects, this is a piece which gratifies us
by its copiousness and animation; such, indeed, is the variety of its
transactions, and the rapidity of its transitions, that the attention
is never suffered, even for a moment, to grow languid; and, though
occasionally surprised by abruptness, or want of connection, pursues
the footsteps of the poet with eager and unabated delight.
Neither is the merit of this play exclusively founded on the vivacity
and entertainment of its fable; it presents us with three characters
which start from their respective groups with a prominency, with a
depth of light and shade, that gives the freshness of existing energy
to the records of far distant ages.
The martial but voluptuous Antony, whose bosom is the seat of great
qualities and great vices; now magnanimous, enterprising, and heroic;
now weak, irresolute, and slothful; alternately the slave of ambition
and of effeminacy, yet generous, open-hearted, and unsuspicious, is
strikingly opposed to the cold-blooded and selfish Octavius. The
keeping of these characters is sustained to the last, whilst Cleopatra,
the mistress of every seductive and meretricious art, a compound of
vanity, sensuality, and pride, adored by the former, and despised by
the latter, an instrument of ruin to the one, and of greatness to the
other, is decorated, as to personal charms and exterior splendour, with
all that the most lavish imagination can bestow.
31. CORIOLANUS: 1609. This play, which refers us to the third century
of the Republic, is of a very peculiar character, involving in its
course a large intermixture of humorous and political matter. It
affords us a picture of what may be termed a Roman electioneering
mob; and the insolence of newly-acquired authority on the part of
the tribunes, and the ungovernable licence and malignant ribaldry of
the plebeians, are forcibly, but naturally expressed. The popular
anarchy, indeed, is rendered highly diverting through the intervention
of Menenius Agrippa, whose sarcastic wit, and shrewd good sense,
have lent to these turbulent proceedings a very extraordinary degree
of interest and effect. His "pretty tale," as he calls it, of _the
belly and the members_, which he recites to the people, during their
mutiny occasioned by the dearth of corn, is a delightful and improved
expansion of the old apologue, originally attributed to Menenius by
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, but taken immediately by Shakspeare from
Plutarch's Life of Coriolanus, and from Camden's Remains.
The serious and elevated persons of the drama are delineated in colours
of equal, if not superior strength. The unrivalled military prowess of
Coriolanus, in whose nervous arm, "Death, that dark spirit," dwelt; the
severe sublimity of his character, his stern and unbending hauteur,
and his undisguised contempt of all that is vulgar, pusillanimous, and
base, are brought before us with a raciness and power of impression,
and, notwithstanding a very liberal use both of the sentiments and
language of his Plutarch, with a freedom of outline which, even in
Shakspeare, may be allowed to excite our astonishment.[494:A]
Among the female characters, a very important part is necessarily
attached to the person of Volumnia; the fate of Rome itself depending
upon her parental influence and authority. The poet has accordingly
done full justice to the great qualities which the Cheronean sage has
ascribed to this energetic woman; the daring loftiness of her spirit,
her bold and masculine eloquence, and, above all, her patriotic
devotion, being marked by the most spirited and vigorous touches of
his pencil.
The numerous vicissitudes in the story; its rapidity of action; its
contrast of character; the splendid vigour of its serious, and the
satirical sharpness and relish of its more familiar scenes, together
with the animation which prevails throughout all its parts, have
conferred on this play, both in the closet, and on the stage, a
remarkable degree of attraction.
32. THE WINTER'S TALE: 1610. That this play was written after the
accession of King James, appears probable from the following lines:—
——— "If I could find example
Of thousands, that had struck anointed kings
And _flourished after_, I'd not do't; but since
Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one,
Let villany itself forswear it."[495:A]
"If, as Mr. Blackstone supposes," observes Mr. Douce, "this be an
allusion to the death of the Queen of Scots, it exhibits Shakspeare
in the character of a cringing flatterer, accommodating himself to
existing circumstances, and is moreover an extremely severe one. But
the perpetrator of that atrocious murder _did flourish_ many years
afterwards. May it not rather be designed as a compliment to King
James, on his escape from the Gowrie conspiracy, an event often brought
to the people's recollection during his reign, from the day on which it
happened being made a day of thanksgiving?"[495:B]
Thus Osborne tells us, that "amongst a number of other Novelties,
he (King James) brought a _new Holyday_ into the Church of England,
_wherein God had publick thanks given him for his Majesties deliverance
out of the hands of E. Goury_. And this fell out upon Aug. 5[495:C];"
and from Wilson we learn, the title which this day bore in the
almanacks of the time:—"The fifth of August this year (1603) had a
new title given to it. _The Kings Deliveries in the North_ must resound
here."[496:A]
From an allusion to this play and to _The Tempest_, in Ben Jonson's
Induction to _Bartholomew Fair_, 1614, there is some reason to
conclude, that these dramas were written within a short period of each
other, and that _The Winter's Tale_ was the elder of the two. "He is
loth," he says, "to make nature afraid in his plays, like those that
beget _Tales_, _Tempests_, and such like drolleries."[496:B] Now, it
will be found in the next article, that we have no trifling _data_
for attributing the composition of _The Tempest_ to the year 1611;
and, could it be rendered highly probable, that the production of _The
Winter's Tale_ did not occur _before_ 1610, an almost incontrovertible
support would be given to our chronology of both plays. It happens,
therefore, very fortunately, that in a note by Mr. Malone, annexed
to his chronological notice of _The Winter's Tale_, in the edition
of our author's plays of 1803, a piece of information occurs, that
seems absolutely to prove the very fact of which we are in search. It
appears, says this Critic, from the entry which has been quoted in a
preceding page, that _The Winter's Tale_ "had been originally licensed
by Sir George Buck;" and he concludes by remarking, that "though Sir
George Buck obtained a reversionary grant of the office of Master of
the Revels, in 1603, which title Camden has given him in the edition
of his Britannia printed in 1607, it appears from various documents in
the Pells-office, that he did not get complete possession of his place
till August, 1610."[496:C] In fact, Edmond Tilney, the predecessor of
Sir George Buck, died at the very commencement of October, 1610, and
was buried at Leatherhead, in Surrey, on the sixth of the same month;
and it is very likely that, during his illness, probably commencing in
August, Sir George, as his destined successor, might officiate for him.
We learn from Mr. Vertue's manuscripts, that _The Winter's Tale_ was
acted at court in 1613, a circumstance which, though it may lead us to
infer that its popularity on the public stage had been considerable,
by no means necessarily warrants the supposition which Mr. Malone
is inclined to make, that it had passed through all its stages of
composition, public performance, and court exhibition, during the same
year.
Instead, therefore, of conjecturing with Mr. Malone that this play
was written in 1594, or 1602, or 1604, or 1613, for such has been the
vacillation of this gentleman in his chronology of the piece, or,
with Mr. Chalmers, in 1601, we believe it to have been _written_, for
the reasons which we have already assigned, and which will receive
additional corroboration from the arguments to be adduced under the
next head, towards the close of 1610, and to have been _licensed_ and
_performed_ during the succeeding year.[497:A]
"The observation by Dr. Warburton," remarks Mr. Douce, "that _The
Winter's Tale_, with all its absurdities, is very entertaining, though
stated by Dr. Johnson to be just, must be allowed at the same time to
be extremely frigid." Certainly had Warburton said this, or nothing
but this, he had merited the epithet; but Mr. Douce has been misled by
Dr. Johnson, for most assuredly Warburton has not said this, but, on
the contrary, has spoken of the play not only with taste and feeling,
but in a tone of enthusiasm. "This play, _throughout_," says he, "is
written _in the very spirit of its author_. And in telling this homely
and simple, though agreeable country-tale,
"Our sweetest Shakspeare, fancy's child,
Warbles his native wood-notes wild."
"This was necessary to observe in mere justice to the play: as the
meanness of the fable, and the extravagant conduct of it, had misled
some of great name into a wrong judgment of its merit; which, _as far
as it regards sentiment and character, is scarce inferior to any in
the whole collection_."[498:A] This, indeed, is all that Warburton
has said on the general character of _The Winter's Tale_, but it is
high praise, and coincides in almost every respect with what Mr.
Douce has himself very justly declared on the same subject, when, in
the passage immediately following that which we have already quoted
from his Illustrations, he adds,—"In point of fine writing it may
be ranked among Shakspeare's best efforts. The absurdities pointed
at by Warburton, together with the whimsical anachronisms of Whitson
pastorals, Christian burial, an emperor of Russia, and an Italian
painter of the fifteenth century, are no real drawbacks on the
superlative merits of this charming drama. The character of Perdita
will remain for ages unrivalled; for where shall such language be found
as she is made to utter?"[498:B]
As Shakspeare was indebted for the story of _The Winter's Tale_ to
the _Dorastus and Fawnia_ of Robert Greene, which was published in
1588, so it is probable that he was under a similar obligation for
its name to "A booke entitled _A Wynter Nyght's Pastime_," which was
entered at Stationers' Hall on May the 22d, 1594. It is, also, not
unlikely that the adoption of the title might influence the nature
of the composition; for, as Schlegel has remarked, "_The Winter's
Tale_ is as appropriately named as _The Midsummer-Night's Dream_. It
is one of those tales which are peculiarly calculated to beguile the
dreary leisure of a long winter evening, which are even attractive and
intelligible to childhood, and which, animated by fervent truth in the
delineation of character and passion, invested with the decoration of a
poetry lowering itself, as it were, to the simplicity of the subject,
transport even manhood back to the golden age of imagination."[498:C]
Such indeed is the character of the latter and more interesting part
of this drama, which, separated by a chasm of sixteen years from the
business of the three preceding acts, may be said, in some measure, to
constitute a distinct play. The fourth act, especially, is a pastoral
of the most fascinating description, in which Perdita, pure as
——————————— "the fann'd snow
That's bolted by the northern blasts twice o'er,"[499:A]
ignorant of her splendid origin, yet, under the appearance of a
shepherd's daughter, acting with such an intuitive nobleness of mind,
that—
——————— "nothing she does, or seems,
But smacks of something greater than herself,"[499:B]
exhibits a portrait fresh from nature's loveliest pencil, where
simplicity, artless affection, and the most generous resignation are
sweetly blended with a fortitude at once spirited and tender. Thus,
when Polixenes, discovering himself at the sheep-shearing, interdicts
the contract between Perdita and his son, and threatens the former with
a cruel death, if she persist in encouraging the attachment, the reply
which she gives is a most beautiful developement of the qualities of
mind and heart which we have just enumerated:—
"_Per._ Even here undone?
I was not much afeard: for once, or twice,
I was about to speak; and tell him plainly,
The selfsame sun, that shines upon his court,
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but
Looks on alike.—Will't please you, sir, be gone?
(_to Florizel._
I told you, what would come of this: 'Beseech you,
Of your own state take care: this dream of mine,—
Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch further,
But milk my ewes, and weep."[500:A]
The comic characters of this play, which are nearly confined to the
last two acts, form a striking contrast and relief to the native
delicacy and elegance of manners which distinguish every sentiment and
action of the modest and unaffected Perdita; her reputed father and
brother and the witty rogue Autolycus being drawn with those strong but
natural strokes of broad humour which Shakspeare delighted to display
in his characterisation of the lower orders of society. That "snapper
up of unconsidered trifles," his frolic pedlar, is one of the most
entertaining specimens of wicked ingenuity that want and opportunity
ever generated.
33. THE TEMPEST: 1611. The dates assigned by the two chronologers, for
the composition of this drama, seem to be inferred from premises highly
inconclusive and improbable. Mr. Malone conceives it to have been
written in 1612, because its title appears to him to have been derived
from the circumstance of a dreadful tempest occurring in the October,
November, and December of the year 1612; and Mr. Chalmers has exchanged
this epoch for 1613, because there happened "a great tempest of thunder
and lightning, on Christmas day, 1612."[500:B] "This intimation," he
subjoins, "necessarily carries the writing of _The Tempest_ into the
subsequent year, since there is little probability, that our poet
would write this enchanting drama, in the midst of the tempest, which
overthrew so many mansions, and wrecked so many ships."[500:C]
It is very extraordinary that, when all the circumstances which could
lead to the suggestion of the title of _The Tempest_, are to be found
in books, to which, from his allusions, we know our author must have
had recourse, and in events which took place, during the two years
immediately preceding the period that we have fixed upon, and at the
very spot referred to in the play, these critics should have imagined
that a series of stormy weather occurring at home, or a single storm
on Christmas day, could have operated with the poet in his choice of a
name.
It is scarcely possible to avoid smiling at the objection which Mr.
Chalmers so seriously brings forward against the conjecture of his
predecessor, founded on the improbability of the poet's writing his
_Tempest_ in the midst of a tempest; a mode of refutation which could
only have been adopted one would think under the supposition, that
Shakspeare, during these three stormy months, had wanted the protection
of a roof. The inference, however, which he draws from his own storm,
on Christmas day, namely, that _The Tempest_ must necessarily have
been written in 1613, is still less tenable than the position of Mr.
Malone; for we are told, on the authority of Mr. Vertue's Manuscripts,
"that the Tempest was acted by John Heminge and the rest of the King's
company, before Prince Charles, the Lady Elizabeth, and the Prince
Palatine elector, in _the beginning_ of the year 1613."[501:A] Now we
learn from Wilson the historian, that the Prince Palatine was married
to the Lady Elizabeth _in February_, 1613, her brother Prince Charles
leading her to church; and on this occasion, no doubt, it was, that
_The Tempest_, having been received the preceding season with great
favour and popularity, was re-performed; for Wilson tells us, that
in consequence of these nuptials, "the _feastings_, _maskings_, and
other _Royall formalities_, were as troublesome ('tis presum'd) to the
_Lovers_, as the relation of them here may be to the reader;" and
he adds, in the next page, that they were "tired with _feasting_ and
_jollity_."[502:A]
But how can this relation be reconciled with the chronology of Mr.
Chalmers? for, if _The Tempest_, as he supposes, was written in 1613,
it must have been commenced and finished in the course of one month! a
rapidity of composition which, considering the unrivalled excellence
of this drama, is scarcely within the bounds of probability. Beside,
were _The Tempest_ the production of January, 1613, it must have been
written on the spur of the occasion, and for the nuptials in question;
and is it to be supposed that no reference to such an event would
be found throughout a play composed expressly to adorn, if not to
compliment, the ceremony?
If we can, therefore, ascertain, that all the circumstances necessary
for the suggestion, not only of the title of _The Tempest_, but of a
considerable part of its fable, may have occurred to Shakspeare's mind
anterior to the close of 1611, and would particularly press upon it,
during the two years preceding this date, it may, without vanity, be
expected, that the epoch which we have chosen, will be preferred to
those which we have just had reason to pronounce either trivial or
improbable.
So far back as to 1577, have Mr. Steevens and Dr. Farmer referred for
some particulars to which Shakspeare was indebted for his conception
of the "foul witch Sycorax," and her god Setebos[502:B]; but the
circumstances which led to the name of the play, to the storm with
which it opens, and to some of the wondrous incidents on the enchanted
island, commence with the publication of Raleigh's "Discoverie of the
Large, Rich, and Beautiful Empire of Guiana," a book that was printed
at London in 1596, and in which this great man, after mentioning the
Channel of Bahama, adds,—"The rest of the Indies for calms, and
diseases, are very troublesome; and the _Bermudas_, a hellish sea, for
_thunder_, _lightning_, and _storms_."[503:A]
From this publication, therefore, our author acquired his first
intimation of the "_still vexed Bermoothes_," which was repeated
by the appearance of Hackluyt's Voyages, in 1600, in which, as Dr.
Farmer observes, "he might have seen a description of Bermuda, by
Henry May, who was _shipwrecked_ there in 1593."[503:B] But the event
which immediately gave rise to the composition of _The Tempest_, was
the _Voyage of Sir George Sommers_, who was _shipwrecked_ on Bermudas
in 1609, and whose adventures were given to the public by Silvester
Jourdan, one of his crew, with the following title:—_A Discovery
of the Bermudas, otherwise called the ISLE OF DIVELS: By
Sir Thomas Gates, Sir Geo. Sommers, and Captayne Newport, and divers
others_. In this publication, Jourdan informs us, that "the Islands of
the Bermudas, as every man knoweth, that hath heard, or read of them,
were never inhabited by any Christian, or heathen, people, but ever
esteemed, and reputed, a most _prodigious_, and _inchanted_, _place_,
affording nothing but _gusts_, _stormes_ and _foul weather_; which made
every navigator and mariner to avoid them, as Scylla and Charybdis, or
as they would shun the Devil himselfe."
Now these particulars in Jourdan's book, taken in conjunction with
preceding intimations, appear to us to have been fully adequate to the
purpose of suggesting to the creative mind of Shakspeare, without
any reference to succeeding pamphlets on the subject, or to storms at
home, the name, the opening incidents, and the magical portion of his
drama; for, when Mr. Chalmers refers us to _A Plaine Description of the
Bermudas now called Sommer islands_, it should be recollected, that,
even on his own chronology, this work, which was printed in 1613, must,
unless it had appeared on the first days of the new year, have come too
late to have furnished the poet with any additional information.[504:A]
That _The Tempest_ had been produced anterior to the stormy autumn
of 1612 seems to have been the opinion of Mr. Douce; for, alluding
to the use which the commentators have made of the mere date of
Sommers's voyage, he adds,—"but the important particulars of his
_shipwreck_, from which it is exceedingly probable that the outline of
a considerable part of this play was borrowed, has been unaccountably
overlooked;" and then, after quoting the title, and noticing some of
the particulars of Jourdan's book, and introducing a passage from
Stowe's Annals descriptive of Sommers's shipwreck on the "dreadful
coast of the Bermodes, which island were of all nations said and
supposed to bee _inchanted and inhabited with witches and devills_," he
proceeds thus:—"Now if some of these circumstances in the shipwreck of
Sir George Sommers be considered, it may possibly turn out that _they_
are 'the particular and recent event which determined Shakspeare to
call his play _The Tempest_,' instead of 'the great tempest of 1612,'
which has already been supposed to have suggested its name, _and which
might have happened after its composition_."[504:B]
From these circumstances, and this chain of reasoning, we are induced
to conclude, that _The Tempest_ was _written towards the close of
1611_, and that it was brought on the stage early in the succeeding
year.
_The Tempest_ is, next to _Macbeth_, the noblest product of our
author's genius. Never were the wild and the wonderful, the pathetic
and the sublime, more artfully and gracefully combined with the
sportive sallies of a playful imagination, than in this enchantingly
attractive drama. Nor is it less remarkable, that all these
excellencies of the highest order are connected with a plot which, in
its mechanism, and in the preservation of the unities, is perfectly
classical and correct.
The _action_, which turns upon the restoration of Prospero to his
former dignities, involving in its successful issue, the union of
Ferdinand and Miranda, the temporary punishment of the guilty, and the
reconciliation of all parties, is simple, integral, and complete. The
_place_ is confined to a small island, and, for the most part, to the
cave of Prospero, or its immediate vicinity, and the poet has taken
care to inform us twice in the last act, that the _time_ occupied in
the representation, has not exceeded three hours.[505:A]
Yet within this short space are brought together, and without
any violation of dramatic probability or consistency, the most
extraordinary incidents and the most singular assemblage of characters,
that fancy, in her wildest mood, has ever generated. A magician
possessed of the most awful and stupendous powers; a spirit of the air
beautiful and benign; a goblin hideous and malignant, a compound of the
savage, the demon, and the brute; and a young and lovely female who
has never seen a human being, save her father, are the inhabitants of
an island, no otherwise frequented than by the fantastic creations of
Prospero's necromantic art.
A solemn and mysterious grandeur envelopes the character of Prospero,
from his first entrance to his final exit, the vulgar magic of
the day being in him blended with such a portion of moral dignity
and philosophic wisdom, as to receive thence an elevation, and an
impression of sublimity, of which it could not previously have been
thought susceptible.
The exquisite simplicity, ingenuous affection, and unsuspicious
confidence of Miranda, united as they are with the utmost sweetness and
tenderness of disposition, render the scenes which pass between her and
Ferdinand beyond measure delightful and refreshing; they are, indeed,
as far as relates to her share of the dialogue, perfectly paradisaical.
Nor is the conception of this singularly situated character less
striking, than the consistency with which, to the very last, it is
supported, throughout all its parts.
On the wildly-graceful picture of Ariel, that "delicate spirit," whose
occupation it was,
——— —— —— "To tread the ooze
Of the salt deep;
To run upon the sharp wind of the north:
To do business in the veins o' the earth,
When it is bak'd with frost;
—— to dive into the fire; to ride
On the curl'd clouds;
———————— to fetch dew
From the still vex'd Bermoothes;"
what language can express an adequate encomium! All his thoughts and
actions, his pastimes and employments, are such as could only belong to
a being of a higher sphere, of a more sublimated and ætherial existence
than the race of man. Even the very words which he chants, seem to
refer to "no mortal business," and to form "no sound that the earth
owes."
Of a nature directly opposed to this elegant and sylph-like essence, is
the hag-born monster Caliban, one of the most astonishing productions
of a mind exhaustless in the creation of all that is novel, original,
and great. Generated by a devil and a witch, deformed, prodigious, and
obscene, and breathing nothing but malice, sensuality, and revenge,
this fearful compound is yet, from the poetical vigour of his language
and ideas, highly interesting to the imagination. Imagery, derived from
whatever is darkly horrible and mysteriously repulsive, clothe the
expression of his passions or the denunciation of his curses; whilst,
even in his moments of hilarity, the barbarous, the grotesque, and the
romantic, alternately, or conjointly, sustain, with admirable harmony,
the keeping of his character.
That the system of _Magic_ or _Enchantment_, which has given so much
attraction to this play, was at the period of its production an
article in the popular creed of general estimation, and, even among
the learned, received with but little hesitation, may be clearly
ascertained from the writers of Shakspeare's times. Thus, _Howard_,
Earl of Northampton, in his "Defensative against the poyson of supposed
Prophecies," 1583; _Scot_, in his "Discoverie of Witchcraft" and
"Discours of Divels and Spirits," 1584; _James_, in his "Demonologie,"
1603; _Mason_, in his "Anatomie of Sorceerie," 1612; and finally,
_Burton_, in his "Anatomie of Melancholy," 1617, all bear witness,
in such a manner to the fact, as proves, that, of the existence of
_The Art of Sorcery_, however unlawful it might be deemed by many,
few presumed to doubt. The very title of Howard's book informs us,
that "invocations of damned spirits" and "judicials of astrology"
were "causes of great disorder in the commonwealth;" and in the
work, speaking of the same arts, he adds,—"We need not rifle in the
monuments of former times, so long as the present age wherein we live
may furnish us with store of most strange examples." Scot declares,
in his "Epistle to the Reader," that "conjurors and enchanters make
us fooles still, to the shame of us all;" and in the 42d chapter of
his 15th book, he has inserted a copy of a letter written to him by a
professor of the necromantic art, who had been condemned to die for his
supposed diabolical practices, but who, through his own repentance, and
the mediation of Lord Leicester with the Queen, had been reprieved.
An extract or two from this curious epistle, will place in a striking
light the great prevalence of the credulity on which we are commenting.
"Maister R. Scot, according to your request, I have drawne out certaine
abuses worth the noting, touching the worke you have in hand; things
which I my selfe have seene within these xxvi yeares, among those
which were counted famous and skilfull in those sciences. And bicause
the whole discourse cannot be set downe, without nominating certaine
persons, _of whom some are dead, and some living, whose freends remaine
yet of great credit_: in respect thereof, I knowing that mine enimies
doo alreadie in number exceed my freends; I have considered with my
selfe, that it is better for me to staie my hand, than to commit that
to the world, which may increase my miserie more than releeve the same.
Notwithstanding, bicause I am noted above a _great many others_ to
have had some dealings in those vaine arts and wicked practises; I am
therefore to signifie unto you, and I speake it in the presence of God,
that _among all those famous and noted practisers, that I have been
conversant with all these_ xxvi _years_, I could never see anie matter
of truth, &c." He then, after exposing the futility of these studies,
and lamenting his addiction to them, adds,—"For mine owne part, I have
repented me five yeares past: at which time I sawe a booke, written in
the old Saxon toong, by one Sir John Malborne, a divine of Oxenford,
three hundred yeares past; wherein he openeth all the illusions and
inventions of those arts and sciences: a thing most worthie the noting.
I left the booke with the parson of Slangham, in Sussex, where if you
send for it in my name, you may have it."
At the conclusion of this letter, which is dated the 8th of March,
1582, Scot says, as a further proof of the folly of the times,—"I sent
for this booke of purpose, to the parson of Slangham, and procured his
best friends, men of great worship and credit, to deale with him, that
I might borrowe it for a time. But such is his follie and superstition,
that although he confessed he had it; yet he would not lend it; albeit
a friend of mine, being knight of the shire, would have given his word
for the restitution of the same safe and sound."[509:A]
The reception of James's work on Demonology, which is as copious on
the arts of enchantment as on those of witchcraft, is itself a most
striking instance of the gross credulity of his subjects; for, while
the learned, the sensible, and humane treatise of Scot, was either
reprobated or neglected, the labours of this monarch in behalf of
superstition, were received with applause, and referred to with a
deference which admitted not of question.
Mason followed the footsteps of Scot, though not with equal ability,
when in 1612 he endeavoured to throw ridicule upon "Inchanters and
Charmers—they, which by using of certaine conceited words, characters,
circles, amulets, and such like vaine and wicked trumpery (by God's
permission) doe work great marvailes: as namely in causing of
sicknesse, as also in curing diseases in men's bodies. And likewise
binding some, that they cannot use their naturall powers and faculties;
as we see in Night-spells. Insomuch as some of them doe take in hand to
bind the Divell himselfe by their inchantments."
Five years afterwards, Burton, who seems to have been a believer on
the influence which the Devil was supposed to exert in cherishing the
growth of Sorcery, records that Magic is "practised by some still,
maintained and excused;" and he adds, that "_Nero_ and _Heliogabalus_,
_Maxentius_, and _Julianus Apostata_, were never so much addicted to
Magick of old, as some of our modern Princes and Popes themselves are
_now adayes_."[509:B]
The Art of Magic had, during the reign of Elizabeth, assumed a more
scientific appearance, from its union with the mystic reveries of the
_Cabalists_ and _Rosicrusians_, and, under this modification, has it
been adopted by Shakspeare for the purposes of dramatic impression.
_Astrology_, _Alchemistry_, and what was termed _Theurgy_, or an
intercourse with Divine Spirits, were combined with the more peculiar
doctrines of _Necromancy_ or the _Black Art_, and, under this form,
was a system of mere delusions frequently mistaken for a branch of
Natural Philosophy. Thus Fuller, speaking of _Dr. John Dee_, the Prince
of Magicians in Shakspeare's days, says,—"He was a most excellent
_Mathematician_ and _Astrologer_, well skilled in _Magick_, as the
_Antients_ did, the Lord _Bacon_ doth, and all may accept the sence
thereof, viz., in the lawfull knowledg of Naturall Philosophie.
"This exposed him, anno 1583, amongst his Ignorant Neighbours, where
he then liv'd, at _Mortclack_ in _Surrey_, to the suspicion of a
_Conjurer_: the cause I conceive, that his Library was then seized
on, wherein were _four thousand Books_, and _seven hundred_ of them
_Manuscripts_."[510:A]
This singular character, who was born in 1527, and did not die
until after the accession of James, was certainly possessed of much
mathematical knowledge, having delivered lectures at Paris on the
Elements of Euclid, with unprecedented applause; but he was at the
same time grossly superstitious and enthusiastic, not only dealing
in nativities, talismans, and charms, but pretending to a familiar
intercourse with the world of spirits, of which Dr. Meric Casaubon
has published a most extraordinary account, in a large folio volume,
entitled, "_A true and faithful relation of what passed for many years
between Dr. John Dee and some spirits_," 1659: and what is still more
extraordinary, this learned editor tells us in his preface, that he
"never gave more credit to any humane history of former times."
Dee, who had been educated at Cambridge, and was an excellent classical
scholar, had, as might be supposed, in an age of almost boundless
credulity, many patrons, and among these were the Lords Pembroke and
Leicester, and even the Queen herself; but, notwithstanding this
splendid encouragement, and much private munificence, particularly
from the female world, our astrologer, like most of his tribe,
died miserably poor. His love of books has given him a niche in
Mr. Dibdin's Bibliographical Romance, where, under the title of
the _renowned_ Dr. John Dee, he is introduced in the following
animated manner:—"Let us fancy we see him in his conjuring cap and
robes—surrounded with astrological, mathematical, and geographical
instruments—with a profusion of Chaldee characters inscribed upon
vellum rolls—and with his celebrated _Glass_ suspended by magical
wires.—Let us then follow him into his study at midnight, and view him
rummaging his books; contemplating the heavens; making calculations;
holding converse with invisible spirits; writing down their responses:
anon, looking into his correspondence with _Count a Lasco_, and the
emperors Adolphus and Maximilian; and pronouncing himself, with the
most heart-felt complacency, the greatest genius of his age! In the
midst of these self-complacent reveries, let us imagine we see his
wife and little ones intruding: beseeching him to burn his books and
instruments; and reminding him that there was neither a silver spoon,
nor a loaf of bread in the cupboard. Alas, poor Dee!"[511:A]
We have some reason to conclude, from the history of his life, of which
Hearne has given us a very copious account[512:A], that Dee was more
of an enthusiast than a knave; but this cannot be predicated of his
associate _Kelly_, who was assuredly a most impudent impostor. "He
was born," says Fuller, whose account of him is singularly curious,
"at _Worcester_, (as I have it from the _Scheame_ of his Nativity,
graved from the original calculation of Doctor Dee), _Anno Domini_
1555, August the first, at four o clock in the afternoon, the Pole
being there elevated, qr. 52 10—He was well studied in the mysteries
of nature, being intimate with Doctor _Dee_, who was beneath him in
Chemistry, but above him in Mathematicks. These two are said to have
found a very large quantity of _Elixer_ in the ruins of _Glassenbury
Abby_.
"Afterwards (being here in some trouble) he (Kelly) went over beyond
the seas, with _Albertus Alasco_, a Polonian Baron, who——it seems,
sought to repair his fortunes by associating himself with these _two_
Arch-chemists of _England_.
"How long they continued together, is to me unknown. _Sir Edward_
(though I know not how he came by his knight-hood) with the Doctor,
fixed at _Trebona_ in _Bohemia_, where he is said to have transmuted a
brass[513:A] warming-pan, (without touching or melting, onely warming
it by the fire, and putting the _Elixir_ thereon) into pure silver, a
piece whereof was sent to Queen Elizabeth.—
"They kept constant intelligence with a Messenger or Spirit, giving
them advice how to proceed in their mysticall discoveries, and
injoining them, that, by way of preparatory qualification for the same,
they should enjoy their wives in common.—
"This probably might be the cause, why Doctor _Dee_ left _Kelley_, and
return'd into _England_. _Kelley_ continuing still in _Germany_, ranted
it in his expences (say the Brethren of his own art) above the sobriety
befitting so mysterious a Philosopher. He gave away in gold-wyer rings,
at the marriage of one of his Maid-servants, to the value of _four
thousand_ pounds.—
"Come we now to his sad catastrophe. Indeed, the curious had observed,
that in the Scheme of his Nativity, not onely the _Dragons-tail_ was
ready to promote abusive aspersions against him (to which living and
dead he hath been subject) but also something malignant appears posited
in _Aquarius_, which hath influence on the leggs, which accordingly
came to pass. For being _twice_ imprisoned (for what misdemeanor I know
not) by _Radulphus_ the Emperor, he endeavoured to escape out of an
high window, and tying his sheets together to let him down fell (being
a weighty man) and brake his legg, whereof he died, 1595."[513:B]
It appears, however, from other sources, that the trouble to which
Kelly was put, consisted in losing his ears on the pillory in
Lancashire; that the credulity of the age had allotted him the post of
descryer, or seer of visions to Dee, whom he accompanied to Germany,
and that one of his offices, under this appointment, was to watch and
report the gesticulations of the spirits whom his superior had fixed
and compelled to appear in a talisman or stone, which very stone, we
are informed, is now in the Strawberry-hill collection, and is nothing
more than a finely polished mass of canal coal! His knighthood was
the reward of a promise to assist the Emperor Rodolphus the Second,
in his search after the philosopher's stone; and the discovery of
his deceptive practices led him to a prison, from which it is said
Elizabeth, to whom a piece of the transmuted warming-pan had been
sent, had tempted him to make that escape which terminated in his
death.[514:A]
Such were the leaders of the cabalistic and alchemical Magi in the days
of our Virgin Queen; men, in the estimation of the great bulk of the
people, possessed of super-human power, and who, notwithstanding their
ignorance and presumption, and the exposure of their art by some choice
spirits of their own, and the immediately subsequent period, among whom
_Ben Jonson_, as the author of the _Alchemist_, stands pre-eminent,
continued for near a century to excite the curiosity, and delude the
expectations of the public.[514:B]
The delineation of _Prospero_, the noblest conception of the _Magic_
character which ever entered the mind of a poet, is founded upon a
distinction which was supposed to exist between the several professors
of this mysterious science. They were separated, in fact, into two
great orders; into those who _commanded_ the service of superior
intelligences, and into those who, by voluntary compact, entered into
a _league with_, or submitted to be the _instruments_ of these powers.
Under the first were ranked _Magicians_, who were again classed into
higher or inferior, according to the extent of the control which they
exerted over the invisible world; the former possessing an authority
over _celestial_, as well as _infernal_ spirits. Under the second
were included _Necromancers_ and _Wizards_, who, for the enjoyment
of temporary power, subjected themselves, like the Witch, to final
perdition.
Of the highest class of the first order was _Prospero_, one of those
Magicians or Conjurors who, as Reginald Scot observes, "professed an
art which some fond divines affirme to be more honest and lawfull
than _necromancie_, which is called _Theurgie_; wherein they worke
by good angels."[515:A] Accordingly, we find Prospero operating upon
inferior agents, upon elves, demons, and goblins, through the medium of
Ariel, a spirit too delicate and good to "act abhorr'd commands," but
who "answered his best pleasure," and was subservient to his "strong
bidding."
Shakspeare has very properly given to the exterior of Prospero, several
of the adjuncts and costume of the popular magician. Much virtue
was inherent in his very garments; and Scot has, in many instances,
particularised their fashion. A pyramidal cap, a robe furred with
fox-skins, a girdle three inches in breadth, and inscribed with
cabalistic characters, shoes of russet leather, and unscabbarded
swords, formed the usual dress; but, on peculiar occasions, certain
deviations were necessary; thus, in one instance, we are told the
Magician must be habited in "clean white cloathes;" that his girdle
must be made of "a drie thong of a lion's or of a hart's skin;" that
he must have a "brest-plate of virgine parchment, sowed upon a piece
of new linnen," and inscribed with certain figures; and likewise, "a
bright knife that was never occupied," covered with characters on both
sides, and with which he is to "make the circle, called Salomon's
circle."[516:A]
Our poet has, therefore, laid much stress on these seeming minutiæ,
and we find him, in the second scene of _The Tempest_, absolutely
asserting, that the essence of the art existed in the _robe_ of
Prospero, who, addressing his daughter, says,—
———————— "Lend thy hand,
And pluck my _magick garment_ from me.—So;
(_Lays dawn his mantle._
LIE THERE MY ART."
A similar importance is assigned to his staff or wand; for he tells
Ferdinand,—
—— "I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop:"[516:B]
and, when he abjures the practice of magic, one of the requisites is,
to "break his staff," and to
"Bury it certain fathoms in the earth."[516:C]
But the more immediate instruments of power were _Books_, through whose
assistance _spells_ and _adjurations_ were usually performed. Reginald
Scot, speaking of the traffickers in Magic of his time, says,—"These
conjurors carrie about _at this daie_, books intituled under the names
of _Adam_, _Abel_, _Tobie_, and _Enoch_; which _Enoch_ they repute the
most divine fellow in such matters. They have also among them bookes
that they saie _Abraham_, _Aaron_, and _Salomon_ made. They have bookes
of _Zacharie_, _Paule_, _Honorius_, _Cyprian_, _Jerome_, _Jeremie_,
_Albert_, and _Thomas_: also of the angels, _Riziel_, _Razael_, and
_Raphael_."[517:A]
Books are, consequently, represented as one of the chief sources of
Prospero's influence over the spiritual world. He himself declares,—
———————— "I'll to my _book_;
For yet, ere supper time, must I perform
Much business appertaining;"[517:B]
and, on relinquishing his art, he says, that
—— "deeper than did ever plummet sound,
I'll drown my _book_;"[517:C]
whilst Caliban, conspiring against the life of his benefactor, tells
Stephano, that, before he attempts to destroy him, he must
—————————————— "Remember,
First to possess his _books_; for without them
He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command."[517:D]
Though we perceive the effect of Prospero's spells, the mode by which
they are wrought does not appear; we are only told that silence is
necessary to their success:—
——————————— "Hush, and be mute,
Or else our spell is marr'd."[517:E]
He afterwards assures us, that his "charms crack not," and that his
"spirits obey;" and, in one instance, he commissions Ariel to "untie
the spell" in which he had bound Caliban and his companions.[518:A]
It is probable that any attempt to represent the forms of adjuration
and enchantment would have been either too ludicrous or too profane for
the purposes of the poet. In the one instance, the mysterious solemnity
of the scene would have been destroyed; and in the other, the serious
feelings of the spectator might have been shocked; at least, such
are the results on the mind of the reader, in perusing the numerous
specimens of adjuration in the fifteenth book of Scot's _Discoverie
of Witchcraft_. One of these, as including an example of the then
fashionable mode of conjuration, that of fixing the spirit in a beryl,
glass, or stone, according to the practice of _Dee_ and _Kelly_, shall
be given; omitting, however, all those invocations and addresses which,
by a frequent use of names and phrases the most hallowed and sacred,
must, on such occasions, prove alike indecorous and disgusting. The
adjuration in question is termed by Scot, "an experiment of the dead,"
or, "conjuring for a dead spirit:" it commences in the following
manner, and terminates in obtaining the services of a good and
beautiful spirit of the fairy tribe; and such we may suppose to have
been the process through which Prospero procured the obedience and
ministration of Ariel, for we are expressly told, that "graves" at his
"command"
"Have waked their sleepers; oped and let them forth."
"First fast and praie three daies, and absteine thee from all
filthinesse; go to one that is new buried, such a one as killed
himselfe, or destroied himself wilfullie: or else get thee promise of
one that shal be hanged, and let him sweare an oth to thee, after his
bodie is dead, that his spirit shall come to thee, and doe thee true
service, at thy commandements, in all daies, houres, and minutes.
And let no persons see thy doings, but thy fellow. And about eleven o
clocke in the night, go to the place where he was buried, and saie with
a bold faith and hartie desire, to have the spirit come that thou dost
call for, thy fellow having a candle in his left hand, and in his right
hand _a christall stone_, and saie these words following, the maister
having _a hazell wand_ in his right hand, and these names—written
thereupon, _Tetragrammaton_ + _Adonay_ + _Craton_. Then strike three
strokes on the ground, and saie, Arise, Arise, Arise!—
"The maister standing at the head of the grave, his fellow having in
his hands the candle and the stone, must begin the conjuration as
followeth, and the spirit will appeare to you in the christall stone,
in a faire forme of a child of twelve yeares of age. And when he is in,
feele the stone, and it will be hot; and feare nothing, for he or shee
will shew manie delusions, to drive you from your worke. Feare God, but
feare him not."
Then follows a long conjuration to constrain the appearance of the
spirit, which being effected, another is pronounced to compell him to
fetch the "fairie Sibylia."
"This done, go to a place fast by, and in a faire parlor or chamber,
make a circle with chalke:—and make another circle for the fairie
_Sibylia_ to appeare in, foure foote from the circle thou art in, and
make no names therein, nor cast anie holie thing therein, but make a
circle round with chalke; and let the maister and his fellowe sit downe
in the first circle, the maister having the _booke_ in his hand, his
fellow having the _christall stone_ in his right hand, looking in the
stone when the _fairie_ dooth appeare."
The fairie _Sibylia_ is then seventimes cited to appear:—"I conjure
thee _Sibylia_, O gentle virgine of fairies, by all the angels of
[Symbol: Jupiter] and their characters and vertues, and by all the
spirits of [Symbol: Jupiter] and [Symbol: Venus] and their characters
and vertues, and by all the characters that be in the firmament, and
by the king and queene of fairies, and their vertues, and by the faith
and obedience which thou bearest unto them,—I conjure thee O blessed
and beautifull virgine, by all the riall words aforesaid; I conjure
thee _Sibylia_ by all their vertues to appeare in that circle before
me visible, in the forme and shape of a beautifull woman in a bright
and white vesture, adorned and garnished most faire, and to appeare to
me quicklie without deceipt or tarrieng, and that thou faile not to
fulfill my will and desire effectuallie."
The spirit in the christall stone having produced Sibylia within
the circle, she is bound to appear "at all times visiblie, as the
conjuration of words leadeth, written in the _booke_," and the ceremony
is wound up in the subsequent terms:—"I conjure thee _Sibylia_, O
blessed virgine of fairies, by the king and queene of fairies, and by
their vertues,—to give me good counsell at all times, and to come by
treasures hidden in the earth, and all other things that is to doo me
pleasure, and to fulfill my will, without any deceipt or tarrieng; nor
yet that thou shalt have anie power of my bodie or soule, earthlie or
ghostlie, nor yet to perish so much of my bodie as one haire of my
head. I conjure thee _Sibylia_ by all the riall words aforesaid, and by
their vertues and powers, I charge and bind thee by the vertue thereof,
to be obedient unto me, and to all the words aforesaid, and this bond
to stand betweene thee and me, upon paine of everlasting condemnation,
_Fiat, fiat, fiat_. Amen."[520:A]
The _Sibylia_ of this incantation was, therefore, in origin, form,
manners, and potency, very much assimilated to the _Ariel_ of our
author's _Tempest_, being gentle, beautiful, yet possessing great
influence, and exerting high authority over numerous inferior essences
and powers. Thus the spirits employed by Prospero were subservient
to Ariel, and under his immediate direction, partly by his own rank
in the hierarchy of elemental existences, and partly by the aid of
Prospero.[520:B]
The orders of spirits constituting the miraculous machinery of _The
Tempest_ are in _Hamlet_ ranged under four heads,
—— "In sea or fire, in earth or air,"—
a distribution which, though seeming naturally to spring from the usual
nomenclature of the elements, was not the division generally adopted;
for Scot, detailing the opinion of _Psellus_ "De Operatione Demonum,"
classes the elementary spirits under six heads, by the addition of
_subterranean spirits_, and _spirits of darkness_, "_subterranei_
et _lucifugi_;" and the _Talmudists_ and _Platonists_ add to these,
_solar_, _lunar_, and _stellar_ spirits; but our poet was probably
influenced in his enumeration, by the perusal of _Batman uppon
Bartholome_, who tells us, in a manner calculated to make an impression
on the mind, that "spirites are divided one from another, that some are
called _firie_, some _earthly_, some _airie_, some _watrie_. Heereupon
those foure rivers in Hell, are sayd to be of divers natures, to
wit, PHLEGETHON _firie_, COCYTUS _airie_, STYX _watrye_, ACHERON
_earthly_."[521:A] We are the more inclined to believe this to
have been the case, notwithstanding the obvious facility of such a
classification, because it appears to us, that in a prior part of this
book, the germ of _Caliban's_ generation may be detected. "_Incubus_,"
observes this commentator on Bartholome, "doth infest and trouble
women, and _Succubus_ doth infest men, by the which wordes (taken from
Augustine "De Civitate Dei") it is manifest, that the godly, chast, and
honest minded, are not free from this gross subjection, although more
commonly the _dishonest_ are molested therewith. Some hold opinion,
that _Marline_ in the time of _Vortiger_ king of great _Britaine_ 470
yeres before Christ, was borne after this manner. _Hieronimus Cardanus_
in his tretise _De rebus contra naturam_, seemes to be of opinion that
spirits or divells may beget and conceive but not after y{e} common
manner, yet he reciteth a storie of a young damoisell of _Scotland_
which was got with child of an inchaunted divell, thinking that he had
bene a fayre young man which had layen with hir, whereupon _she brought
foorth so deformed a monster, that he feared the beholders_." He then
proceeds to observe, that the spirits thus procreating are not of a
"subtill Materia," "but a more grose and earthie cause, as _Nymphæ_,
_Dryades_, _Hobgoblins_, and _Fairies_," adding, that two instances
of such connection, "it is no straunge secret to disclose," had taken
place "in fewe yeares heere in _Englande_."[522:A]
We find Prospero, in fact, employing these four classes of spirits in
succession, but in every instance, through the immediate or remote
agency of _Ariel_. Those of _fire_ are thus described:—
——————— "Now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flam'd amazement: Sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the top-mast,
The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the precursors
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-out-running were not:—
—————————— "All, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair,)
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, _Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here_."[522:B]
The spirits of the _water_ are divided into _sea-nymphs_, or _elves
of brooks_ and _standing lakes_. Under the first of these characters
they are most exquisitely introduced as solacing Ferdinand, after the
terrors of his shipwreck:—
"Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands
Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,
(The wild waves whist,)
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear."
Nothing, indeed, can be more appropriately wild than the imagery of the
ensuing song, which arrests the ear of Ferdinand whilst he is uttering
his astonishment at the previous melody:—
"Where should this musick be? i' the air, or the earth?
It sounds no more:——Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the king my father's wreck,
This musick crept by me upon the waters;
Allaying both their fury, and my passion,
With it's sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,
Or it hath drawn me rather:—But 'tis gone.
No, it begins again."
"Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
_Sea-nymphs_ hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them,—ding—dong, bell."[523:A]
Well may Ferdinand exclaim, "This is no mortal business!"
The spirits of _earth_, or _goblins_, were usually employed by
Prospero as instruments of punishment. Thus Caliban, apprehensive of
chastisement for bringing in his wood too slowly, gives us a fearful
detail of their inflictions:—
——————————— "His spirits hear me—
For every trifle are they set upon me:
Sometime like apes, that moe and chatter at me,
And after bite me; then like hedg-hogs, which
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I
All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues,
Do hiss me into madness."[524:A]
They are afterwards commissioned, in the shape of hounds, to hunt this
hag-born monster, and his friends Trinculo and Stephano, Prospero
telling Ariel,—
"Go, charge _my goblins_ that they grind their joints
With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews
With aged cramps; and more pinch-spotted make them,
Than pard, or cat o'mountain."[524:B]
Lastly, the spirits of _air_, as beings of a more delicate and refined
nature, are appointed by our magician to personate, under the direction
of Ariel, a "most majestic vision;" "spirits," says their great
task-master,
———————————— "which by mine art
I have from their confines call'd to enact
My present fancies;"[524:C]
and which, on the fading of this "insubstantial pageant," melt "into
air, into thin air."
It appears, also, that these etherial forms were occupied night and
day in chanting the most delicious melodies, or in suggesting the most
delightful dreams. The isle, says Caliban,
————————————— "is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,
That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds, methought, would open, and shew riches
Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked,
I cry'd to dream again."[524:D]
But of the filmy texture, the tiny dimensions, and fairy recreations
of these elegant beings, we have the most exquisite description in the
song which the poet puts into the mouth of Ariel on the prospect of his
approaching freedom:—
"Where the bee sucks, there suck I;
In a cowslip's bell I lie:
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly,
After summer merrily:
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough."[525:A]
That all these elementary spirits were agents only on compulsion, and
their obedience the result solely of magic power, is evident from the
conduct of Ariel, and the language of Caliban; the former repeatedly
asking for liberty, and the latter declaring, that "they all do hate
him, as rootedly as I."
It is equally clear, from various parts of this play, that each class
had a period prescribed for its operations: thus Prospero threatens
Caliban, that
———————————————— "urchins
Shall for that _vast of night that may work_,
All exercise on thee;"[525:B]
and, in invoking the various elves, he speaks of those
"that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew;"[525:C]
a doctrine which is still more minutely expressed in other dramas of
our poet. In _Hamlet_, for instance, we are told that, at "the _crowing
of the cock_,"
"The extravagant and erring spirit hies
To his confine;"[525:D]
and in _King Lear_, that the foul "fiend Flibbertigibbet _begins at
curfew, and walks till the first cock_."[526:A]
One principal reason for the reluctancy expressed by Ariel and his
associates was, that they were driven, by the irresistible control
of the magician, to perform deeds often alien to their dispositions,
and to which, if left to themselves, they were either partially or
totally inadequate, and, indeed, for the most part utterly averse.
We accordingly find Prospero, in his celebrated invocation to these
various ministers of his art, addressing them in a tone of high
authority; "by 'your' aid," he exclaims,
"(Weak masters though ye be) I have be-dimm'd
The noon-tide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault
Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak
With his own bolt: the strong bas'd promontory
Have I made shake; and by the spurs pluck'd up
The pine and cedar: graves, at my command,
Have wak'd their sleepers; oped, and let them forth
By my so potent art."[526:B]
This is a passage, in which, with its immediately preceding context,
Shakspeare has been indebted, as Dr. Farmer observes, to Gelding's
translation of the Medea of Ovid; having evidently, in many parts,
adopted the very language of that version. But it is also strictly
conformable to the powers with which the magicians of his own day were
invested. "These," says Scot, "deale with no inferiour causes: these
fetch divels out of hell, and angels out of heaven; these raise up
what bodies they list, though they were dead, buried, and rotten long
before; and fetch soules out of heaven or hell.—These, I saie, take
upon them also the raising of tempests, and earthquakes, and to doo as
much as God himselfe can doo. These are no small fooles, they go not to
worke with a baggage tode, or a cat, as witches doo; but with a _kind
of majestie_, and with _authoritie_ they call up by name, and have at
their commandement—divells, who have under them, as their ministers, a
great multitude of legions of petty divels."[527:A]
We may finally remark, that over the popular creed relative to the Art
of Magic, and which, as detailed in the common books and traditions
on the subject, presents us with little but what is either ridiculous
or revolting, Shakspeare has exerted a species of enchantment which
infinitely surpasses that of the most profound _Magi_ of classic or
of Gothic lore; eliciting from materials equally crude, gigantic, and
extravagant, the elements of beauty, sublimity, and awful wonder; and
unfolding such a picture of what _may be conceived_ within the reach
of human skill and science, and so much of the philosophy of poetry in
his glimpses of the spiritual world, that while we are spell-struck by
the creations of a fancy beyond all others glowing and romantic, we yet
feel ourselves in the presence, and bow before the throne, of Nature.
34. OTHELLO: 1612. Mr. Malone has assigned the composition of this play
to the year 1611, though, as he confesses, with little satisfaction
to himself, in consequence of Dr. Warburton having considered the
following passage, in the third act of this play, as an allusion to the
institution of the order of Baronets, created by James the First, in
1611:—
—————— "the hearts of old gave hands,
But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts."[527:B]
The baronets, remarks Warburton, "had an addition to their paternal
arms, of an hand _gules_ in an escutcheon argent. And we are not
to doubt but that this was _the new heraldry_ alluded to by our
author."[527:C]
That the text contains a sly allusion to the _new heraldry of hands_
in the baronet's arms, there cannot, as Mr. Douce has justly observed,
be a doubt[528:A]; but, unfortunately for Mr. Malone's chronology, Dr.
Warburton was mistaken as to the _period_ of the grant of arms, Mr.
Chalmers having clearly proved, that "the additional armorial bearing,
of the bloody hand, was not given by the patent of creation.—But the
King, wishing to _ampliate_ his favour towards the baronets, granted
them, by a _second_ patent, dated the _28th of May 1612_, among other
preheminences, 'the arms of Ulster, that is, in a field argent, a hand
_geules_, or a _bloudie hand_.'"[528:B]
Now, as we have it recorded, on the authority of Mr. Vertue's MS., that
_Othello_ was acted at court _EARLY in the year 1613_[528:C],
it might have been imagined that Mr. Chalmers's discovery would
have led him to the adoption of the epoch which we have chosen.
But, strange as it may appear, this is not the case; for, finding
Iago, in the subsequent act, remarking to Othello, in reference to
Desdemona, "If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her _patent_
to [528:D]offend," he immediately disputes the testimony of Vertue,
which had been allowed in every other instance, and because a clamour
had occurred in the House of Commons against patents of monopoly, in
May, 1614, places _Othello_ in this very year[528:E], when, but three
pages before, he had spoken of "the _audience_" knowing, "from their
feelings, how much vexation had arisen from the _patents of monopoly_,
which _Queen Elizabeth_, and King James, had so frequently granted;"
and referring, in a note, to a declaration of Sir Francis Bacon to the
House of Commons, in which he tells them, "if you make a penal statute,
the _Queen_ will dispense with it, and grant a _patent_ with a _non
obstante_."[528:F]
Convinced that an allusion so indeterminate, and which might have been
as much relished by an audience before, as after, the year 1614, ought
not to weigh against a positive and respectable testimony, we feel
no hesitation in expressing our belief that _Othello_ was written in
the interval elapsing between the 28th of May, 1612, and the 1st of
January, 1613.
The tragedy of _Othello_, certainly _one_ of the first-rate productions
of its author, is yet, in our opinion, inferior, in point of
originality and poetic wealth, to _Macbeth_, to _Lear_, to _Hamlet_,
and _The Tempest_, though superior, perhaps, to every other play. It
is, without doubt, an unrivalled representation of the passion of
jealousy, in all its stages and effects; but the incidents, if we
except the catastrophe, are pretty closely copied from the novel of
_Giraldi Cinthio_, who, as Mr. Steevens has observed, "supplied our
author with a regular and circumstantial outline." It has also been
remarked by Mr. Dunlop, and with some truth, that "the characters of
Iago, Desdemona, and Cassio, are taken from Cinthio with scarcely
a shade of difference[529:A];" a declaration, however, which, with
respect to Desdemona, cannot be admitted without great qualification;
for with what beauty, with what pathetic impressiveness, is her part
filled up, when compared with the sketch of the Italian novellist! We
must also recollect, that although the incidents in which Othello is
concerned be nearly the same in both productions, the _character_ of
the Moor has no prototype in Cinthio, but is exclusively the property
of Shakspeare.
But the most extraordinary criticism which was probably ever passed on
the general cast and execution of _Othello_, has fallen from the pen
of Mr. Steevens. "Should readers," says this gentleman, "who are alike
conversant with the appropriate excellences of poetry and painting,
pronounce on the reciprocal merits of these great productions,
(_Othello_ and _Macbeth_,) I must suppose they would describe them as
of different pedigrees. They would add, that one was of the school of
Raphael, the other from that of Michael Angelo; and that if the steady
Sophocles and Virgil should have decided in favour of _Othello_, the
remonstrances of the daring Æschylus and Homer would have claimed the
laurel for _Macbeth_."[530:A]