So much has been said, and said so well, respecting the writings of
Shakspeare and the peculiar character of his genius, that it would be a
hopeless as well as a presumptuous task to attempt adding anything to
public information on that head. But I know not that any one has
ventured to point out a few of those instances in which our great
dramatist has stooped to plagiarize. That he must have done so, at least
occasionally, is a matter of course, as no voluminous writings were ever
given to the world that were not the result of study as well as original
thought, for genius must ever be corrected by judgment, and what is
judgment but the child of experience and study? Observation alone can
tell us, that man is an imitative animal, and philosophy teaches us that
his ideas are not innate; he must borrow them at first in a simple form
from those around him, and though by the association of these ideas, and
the gradual extension and improvement of them, he may eventually
generate new ones, yet some traces cannot but remain of what was
originally lodged in the mind, and will come into play as occasion may
call them forth. Shakspeare was a perfect master of human nature, but he
was a master of our language as well; he was indeed one of those who
have improved it, but he could never have himself arrived at the degree
of perfection in which he found it, had he not derived assistance from
others, and made himself intimately acquainted with our purest national
works of talent. Thus, he could never have been so ignorant as he is
said to have been of English literature.
Little is known of Shakspeare's earlier years, except that he was sent
to the free school at Stratford, where he acquired the rudiments of the
learned languages; that he was never a distinguished classic is certain,
but it is equally certain that he must have been acquainted with the
Greek dramatists by the use of translations, though he may not have had
scholarship enough to study them in the original. So many parallel
passages might be drawn from this source, that the task would be an
endless one; besides the fact is so well known and admitted, that it
would be unnecessary. "We find him," says Mr. Pope, "very knowing in all
the customs of antiquity." In _Julius Caesar, Coriolanus_, and other
plays where the scene is laid at Rome, not only the spirit but the
manners of the ancient Romans is exactly shown, and his reading in the
ancient historians is no less conspicuous. It is well known at the
universities of this country, that on any public examination, be the
play either tragic or comic, the students are frequently required to
produce parallel passages from the writings of Shakspeare: now it might
indeed with some reason be supposed that occasionally the same ideas
would present themselves to different minds, and where two writers are
equally well acquainted with the nature of man, and equally skilled in
analyzing his passions, it might well, I say, be supposed, that such
true and acute observation would suggest similar ideas, and perhaps even
the same method of defining them. Yet when this similarity is frequent
instead of occasional, when the unusual peculiarity of the sentiment
renders it startling and suspicious, then the above supposition becomes
too extensive even for prejudice to admit. Such however is the case
here, and so the matter stands between Shakspeare and the ancient
dramatists. Even some of the machinery he has made use of is not his
own. Thus, the seemingly ingenious introduction of "The Play" into
_Hamlet_, is borrowed from an old Greek drama, where Alexander, the
tyrant of Pharos, is struck with remorse for his crimes upon viewing
similar cruelties to his own, practised upon the stage.
At that earlier period of literature when Shakspeare flourished, books
were few in number, and consequently scarce; yet there can be no doubt
that our author seized every opportunity of improving and strengthening
his mind: whether he had any acquaintance with the modern languages is
unknown, but he has certainly introduced many French scenes in his
works, and he has taken several of his plots, such as that of _Romeo and
Juliet_, from the Italians. As to his own language, he is said to have
made the poems of Chaucer principally his study, so that it would not be
quite fair to produce any plagiarisms from that writer; but I give the
reader a few specimens of English literature taken from other quarters,
which seem to have afforded Shakspeare ideas, or else matter, to work
upon. The following passage is from one of our oldest dramas, and it
will readily call to the recollection of the reader, the celebrated
speech of Claudio in _Measure for Measure_:
"To die is sure to go we know not whither,
We lie in silent darkness, and we rot.
Perhaps the spirit, which is future life,
Dwells, salamander-like, unharm'd in fire,
Or else with wand'ring winds is blown about
The world; but if condemned like those
Whom our uncertain thought imagines howling,
Then the most loath'd and the most weary life,
Which age, ache, penury or imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a Paradise.
To what we fear of death."
The sentences that follow are from a small historical work I have fallen
in with, written in old English, but without its date; about a fourth
part of the matter contained in this little book is to be found woven
into the different historical plays of Shakspeare, but the underwritten
extracts are very nearly in his own words, allowing, of course, for the
more poetical expression.
(_Fall of Wolsey._) "Being near his end, he called Sir William Kingston
to him, and said, 'Pray, present my duty to his majesty, who is a noble
and gallant prince, and of a resolved mind, for he will venture the loss
of his kingdom, rather than be contradicted in his desires. And now, Mr.
Kingston, had I but served my God as diligently as I have served the
king, he never would have forsaken me in my grey hairs!'" (Compare this
with Cardinal Wolsey's speech to Cromwell, _Henry VIII._, Act iii.)
Amongst other particulars in this book, concerning _Richard III._ we
have the following: "The Protector coming in council, seemed more than
ordinarily merry, and after some other discourses, 'My lord (says he to
the Bishop of Ely) you have very good strawberries in your garden in
Holborn, pray let us have a dish of them.' 'With all my heart,' replied
the bishop, and sent for some. Afterwards, the Protector knit his brows
and his lips, and rising up in great wrath, he exclaimed, 'My lords, I
have to tell you, that that old sorceress, my brother Edward's widow,
and her partner, that common prostitute, Jane Shore, have by witchcraft
and enchantment been contriving to take away my life, and though by
God's mercy they have not been able to finish this villany, yet see the
mischief they have done me; (and then he showed his left arm,) how they
have caused this dear limb of mine to wither and grow useless.'" (Vide
_Richard III._ Act iii. Scene 2.)
Shakspeare was contemporary with Bacon, and he no doubt valued and
studied with attention, the writings of that great man. The working up
of the splendid dialogue between Iago and Othello, may not impossibly
have been suggested by this sentence of Lord Bacon: "Breaking off in the
midst of what one was about to say, (as if he took himself up) breeds a
greater appetite in him with whom you confer, to know more." (Vide
_Essays_.)
But let us drop the tone of attempted criticism, which ill becomes an
embryo writer at any time, and still less so when Shakspeare is the
theme. Having mentioned Bacon, perhaps the following authenticated
dialogue may not be uninteresting to the reader, especially as it is
only to be met with in one or two scarce books:
(_Shakspeare._) "I have heard, my lord, that a certain arch in Trinity
College, Cambridge, would stand until a greater man than your lordship
should pass through it."
(_Bacon._) "Did you ever pass through it, Mr. Shakspeare?"
(_Shakspeare._) "No, my lord, I never was at Cambridge."
(_Bacon._) "Then we cannot decide which of us two is the greater man. I
am told that most of the professors there pass under the arch without
tear; which indeed shows a wise contempt of the superstition."
(_Shakspeare._) "I rejoice to think that the world is yet to have a
greater man than your lordship, since the arch must fall at last."
Several of Shakspeare's least amusing plays are supposed to be not of
his composition, such as _Henry VI._, and _Troilus and Cressida_, with
the exception of the master-touches and some of the finer speeches,
which probably were introduced by him. This, however, is a trick of
trade in every department of science; and when we see, for instance, the
collected works of some great artist, it would be ridiculous to suppose
that his whole lifetime could have sufficed for so much handicraft, and
perhaps in reality, only the faces and more delicate parts were the work
of his pencil.
To return to Shakspeare. The objections to his style, which are many,
especially to a more modern reader, are excusable from several causes.
The writers of the Elizabethan age and previously, were all of them very
coarse in their mode of expression, and the dramatists not very delicate
in their plots, though in doing so they did but obey the dictates of
fashion and the bad taste of the times. Even prolixity and
circumlocution were countenanced, and the insufferable conceits we meet
with in the poems of Donne, Cowley, and others, were highly relished in
those days. Euphaeism (mentioned so often by Sir W. Scott in _The
Abbot_,) was also then in vogue, and all these various peculiarities of
style, language, &c. were indispensable in all that was offered to the
public. Shakspeare's fondness and propensity for punning may claim the
same excuse, viz. "the hoary head and furrowed face of custom;" yet
there are some of these puns interspersed through his works, which are
sad blots indeed to our modern fastidious eyes, and that we could well
wish to see expunged; such a one now is this:
"Say, '_pardon_,' king, let pity teach thee now."
"Speak it in French, king, say, '_pardonnez moi_.'"
"A quibble (says Dr. Johnson,) gave him such delight that he was content
to purchase it by the sacrifice of reason, of propriety, and even of
truth; a quibble was to him the fatal Cleopatra for which he lost the
world, and was content to lose it!"
Schiller, who is styled "the Shakspeare of Germany," and who is so
ardently admired at the present day, has indeed taken our author for his
model; he has in many respects been too servile a student, for his
plagiarisms are both close and numerous. Thus, any one acquainted with
his celebrated play of _The Robbers_, will readily recollect that the
whole story is built upon the secondary plot in _King Lear_, between the
Duke of Gloucester and his two sons; one of these who is a natural
child, and a villain withal, contrives to poison the mind of the father,
and to eject the legitimate son from his favour; it will be found
exactly thus in Schiller's famous story of "The Robbers." It must be
acknowledged, however, that foreigners in general have never idolized
Shakspeare, or paid him that devoted adoration, which his countrymen
both pay and think him entitled to. Hear Voltaire's overdrawn and even
paltry criticism of _Hamlet_. "The tragedy of _Hamlet_ is a gross and
barbarous composition, which would not be supported by the lowest
populace in France and Italy. Hamlet goes mad in the second act, Ophelia
in the third; he takes the father of his mistress for a rat, and runs
him through the body. In despair, the heroine drowns herself. Her grave
is dug on the stage, while the grave-diggers enter into a conversation
_suitable_ (!) to such low wretches, and play, as it were, with dead
men's bones! Hamlet answers their abominable stuff, with follies equally
disgusting. Hamlet, with his father and mother-in-law, drink together
upon the stage; they sing at table, afterwards they quarrel, and battle
and death ensue. In short, one might take this performance for the
fruits of the imagination of _a drunken savage_." (_Letters on the
English Nation._)
In another place, this writer says, "Shakspeare had not a single spark
of good taste, or knew one rule of the drama. In one of his _monstrous
farces_, to which he has given the name of Tragedies, we find the jokes
of the Roman shoemakers and cobblers introduced in the same scene with
the orations of Brutus and Antony." (See Voltaire's _Essays on Tragedy
and Comedy_.) Here this rival dramatist again objects to any
introduction of the lower orders on the stage, and seems averse to
whatever is natural, and to depicting life as it is; but if any excuse
is necessary for Shakspeare on this head, we must remember that the
stage was in his time, and indeed is now perhaps, more particularly
levelled to please the populace, and its success more immediately
depends on the common suffrage; accordingly the scenes of our English
drama, and Shakspeare's scenes particularly, are very often laid among
tradesmen and mechanics, and though it may be contrary to all good
taste, the author is compelled to indulge in bombast expressions,
pompous and thundering rhymes, and sometimes even ribaldry and mean,
unmannerly buffoonery.
During his lifetime, Shakspeare acquired reputation principally through
his poems, which from some unaccountable cause, are now comparatively
neglected, and we may add unfortunately so for the enjoyment of the
public. These poems were more admired than his plays, and what speaks
higher in their favour, they are more expressively alluded to by
contemporary writers. The "Venus and Adonis" is a splendid piece of
composition, and very touching in its sentiment; even its illustrious
author was proud to call it "the first heir of his invention." We have
from it one of our most popular songs, which constitutes one of its
stanzas:
"Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear,
Or like a fairy, trip upon the green,
Or like a nymph with long dishevell'd hair
Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen."
His ready talent for composition was singular, and perhaps unparalleled;
his mind and hand ever went together, and it is reported he was never
known to blot a line. He was an actor occasionally in his own plays, but
it does not indeed appear that he excelled in this art.
Shakspeare never considered his works worthy of posterity, and was
little careful of popularity while he lived; having acquired a
competency by his labours, he retired to Stratford, and spent the
remainder of his life in ease and retirement, like a private gentleman.
His income was estimated at £200. The epitaph--not that on his monument,
but on the rude stone actually covering his remains is to the following
effect, and thus curiously written:
"Good friend, for Jesus SAKE forbeare
To digg T--E dust EncloAsed HERE
T
Blese be T--E man spares TEs stones
T y
And curst be hey moves my bones."
I conclude this rather desultory article with Lord Lyttleton's splendid
eulogy on him, which in a few words expresses more than the finest
Philippic to his memory--"If all human things were to perish except the
works of Shakspeare, it might still be known from them what sort of a
creature Man was!"