Lewis Theobald - Preface to the Works of Shakespeare (1734)
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Lewis Theobald >> Preface to the Works of Shakespeare (1734)
Nor, indeed, could the Number of the Dramatic Pieces, he produced,
admit of his retiring near so early as that Period. So that what
_Spenser_ there says, if it relate at all to _Shakespeare_, must
hint at some occasional Recess he made for a time upon a Disgust
taken: or the _Willy_, there mention'd, must relate to some other
favourite Poet. I believe, we may safely determine that he had not
quitted in the Year 1610. For in his _Tempest_, our Author makes
mention of the _Bermuda_ Islands, which were unknown to the
_English_, till, in 1609, Sir _John Summers_ made a Voyage to
_North-America_, and discover'd them: and afterwards invited some
of his Countrymen to settle a Plantation there. That he became the
private Gentleman at least three Years before his Decease, is pretty
obvious from another Circumstance: I mean, from that remarkable and
well-known Story, which Mr. _Rowe_ has given us of our Author's
Intimacy with Mr. _John Combe_, an old Gentleman noted thereabouts
for his Wealth and Usury: and upon whom _Shakespeare_ made the
following facetious Epitaph.
Ten in the hundred lies here in-grav'd,
'Tis a hundred to ten his Soul is not sav'd;
If any Man ask who lies in this Tomb,
Oh! oh! quoth the Devil, 'tis my _John-a-Combe_.
This sarcastical Piece of Wit was, at the Gentleman's own Request,
thrown out extemporally in his Company. And this Mr. _John Combe_
I take to be the same, who, by _Dugdale_ in his Antiquities of
_Warwickshire_, is said to have dy'd in the Year 1614, and for whom
at the upper End of the Quire, of the Guild of the Holy Cross at
_Stratford_, a fair Monument is erected, having a Statue thereon cut
in Alabaster, and in a Gown with this Epitaph. "Here lyeth enterr'd
the Body of _John Combe_ Esq; who dy'd the 10th of _July_, 1614, who
bequeathed several Annual Charities to the Parish of _Stratford_,
and 100_l._ to be lent to fifteen poor Tradesmen from three years to
three years, changing the Parties every third Year, at the Rate of
fifty Shillings _per Annum_, the Increase to be distributed to the
Almes-poor there."--The Donation has all the Air of a rich and
sagacious Usurer.
_Shakespeare_ himself did not survive Mr. _Combe_ long, for he dy'd
in the Year 1616, the 53d of his Age. He lies buried on the North
Side of the Chancel in the great Church at _Stratford_; where a
Monument, decent enough for the Time, is erected to him, and plac'd
against the Wall. He is represented under an Arch in a sitting
Posture, a Cushion spread before him, with a Pen in his Right Hand,
and his Left rested on a Scrowl of Paper. The _Latin_ Distich, which
is placed under the Cushion, has been given us by Mr. _Pope_, or his
Graver, in this Manner.
INGENIO _Pylium_, Genio _Socratem_, Arte _Maronem_,
Terra tegit, Populus maeret, Olympus habet.
I confess, I don't conceive the Difference betwixt _Ingenio_ and
_Genio_ in the first Verse. They seem to me intirely synonomous
Terms; nor was the _Pylian_ Sage _Nestor_ celebrated for his
Ingenuity, but for an Experience and Judgment owing to his long Age.
_Dugdale_, in his Antiquities of _Warwickshire_, has copied this
Distich with a Distinction which Mr. _Rowe_ has follow'd, and which
certainly restores us the true meaning of the Epitaph.
_JUDICIO Pylium_, Genio _Socratem_, &c.
In 1614, the greater part of the Town of _Stratford_ was consumed by
Fire; but our _Shakespeare_'s House, among some others, escap'd the
Flames. This House was first built by Sir _Hugh Clopton_, a younger
Brother of an ancient Family in that Neighbourhood, who took their
Name from the Manor of _Clopton_. Sir _Hugh_ was Sheriff of _London_
in the Reign of _Richard_ III, and Lord Mayor in the Reign of King
_Henry_ VII. To this Gentleman the Town of _Stratford_ is indebted
for the fine Stone-bridge, consisting of fourteen Arches, which at
an extraordinary Expence he built over the _Avon_, together with a
Cause-way running at the West-end thereof; as also for rebuilding
the Chapel adjoining to his House, and the Cross-Isle in the Church
there. It is remarkable of him, that, tho' he liv'd and dy'd a
Batchelor, among the other extensive Charities which he left both
to the City of _London_ and Town of _Stratford_, he bequeath'd
considerable Legacies for the Marriage of poor Maidens of good Name
and Fame both in _London_ and at _Stratford_. Notwithstanding which
large Donations in his Life, and Bequests at his Death, as he had
purchased the Manor of _Clopton_, and all the Estate of the Family,
so he left the same again to his Elder Brother's Son with a very
great Addition: (a Proof, how well Beneficence and Oeconomy may walk
hand in hand in wise Families:) Good part of which Estate is yet in
the Possession of _Edward Clopton_, Esq; and Sir _Hugh Clopton_,
Knt. lineally descended from the Elder Brother of the first Sir
_Hugh_: Who particularly bequeathed to his Nephew, by his Will, his
House, by the Name of his _Great-house_ in _Stratford_.
The Estate had now been sold out of the _Clopton_ Family for above a
Century, at the Time when _Shakespeare_ became the Purchaser: who,
having repair'd and modell'd it to his own Mind, chang'd the Name to
_New-place_; which the Mansion-house, since erected upon the same
Spot, at this day retains. The House and Lands, which attended it,
continued in _Shakespeare_'s Descendants to the Time of the
_Restoration_: when they were repurchased by the _Clopton_ Family,
and the Mansion now belongs to Sir _Hugh Clopton_, Knt. To the
Favour of this worthy Gentleman I owe the Knowledge of one
Particular, in Honour of our Poet's once Dwelling-house, of which,
I presume, Mr. ROWE never was appriz'd. When the Civil War raged in
_England_, and K. _Charles_ the _First's_ Queen was driven by the
Necessity of Affairs to make a Recess in _Warwickshire_, She kept
her Court for three Weeks in _New-place_. We may reasonably suppose
it then the best private House in the Town; and her Majesty
preferr'd it to the _College_, which was in the Possession of
the _Combe_-Family, who did not so strongly favour the King's Party.
How much our Author employ'd himself in Poetry, after his Retirement
from the Stage, does not so evidently appear: Very few posthumous
Sketches of his Pen have been recover'd to ascertain that Point. We
have been told, indeed, in Print, but not till very lately, That two
large Chests full of this Great Man's loose Papers and Manuscripts,
in the Hands of an ignorant Baker of _Warwick_, (who married one of
the Descendants from our _Shakespeare_) were carelesly scatter'd
and thrown about, as Garret-Lumber, and Litter, to the particular
Knowledge of the late Sir _William Bishop_, till they were all
consumed in the general Fire and Destruction, of that Town. I cannot
help being a little apt to distrust the Authority of this Tradition;
because as his Wife surviv'd him seven Years, and as his Favourite
Daughter _Susanna_ surviv'd her twenty six Years, 'tis very
improbable, they should suffer such a Treasure to be remov'd, and
translated into a remoter Branch of the Family, without a Scrutiny
first made into the Value of it. This, I say, inclines me to
distrust the Authority of the Relation: but, notwithstanding such
an apparent Improbability, if we really lost such a Treasure, by
whatever Fatality or Caprice of Fortune they came into such ignorant
and neglectful Hands, I agree with the _Relater_, the Misfortune is
wholly irreparable.
[Sidenote*: His Character as a _Writer_.]
To these Particulars, which regard his Person and private Life, some
few more are to be glean'd from Mr. ROWE's Account of his _Life_
and _Writings_: *Let us now take a short View of him in his publick
Capacity, as a _Writer_: and, from thence, the Transition will be
easy to the _State_ in which his _Writings_ have been handed down
to us.
No Age, perhaps, can produce an Author more various from himself,
than _Shakespeare_ has been universally acknowledg'd to be. The
Diversity in Stile, and other Parts of Composition, so obvious in
him, is as variously to be accounted for. His Education, we find,
was at best but begun: and he started early into a Science from the
Force of Genius, unequally assisted by acquir'd Improvements. His
Fire, Spirit, and Exuberance of Imagination gave an Impetuosity
to his Pen: His Ideas flow'd from him in a Stream rapid, but not
turbulent; copious, but not ever overbearing its Shores. The Ease
and Sweetness of his Temper might not a little contribute to his
Facility in Writing; as his Employment, as a _Player_, gave him an
Advantage and Habit of fancying himself the very Character he meant
to delineate. He used the Helps of his Function in forming himself
to create and express that _Sublime_, which other Actors can only
copy, and throw out, in Action and graceful Attitude. But _Nullum
fine Venia placuit Ingenium_, says _Seneca_. The Genius, that
gives us the greatest Pleasure, sometimes stands in Need of our
Indulgence. Whenever this happens with regard to _Shakespeare_,
I would willingly impute it to a Vice of _his Times_. We see
Complaisance enough, in our own Days, paid to a _bad Taste_. His
_Clinches_, _false Wit_, and descending beneath himself, seem to
be a Deference paid to _reigning Barbarism_. He was a _Sampson_ in
Strength, but he suffer'd some such _Dalilah_ to give him up to the
_Philistines_.
As I have mention'd the Sweetness of his Disposition, I am tempted
to make a Reflexion or two on a Sentiment of his, which, I am
persuaded, came from the Heart.
The Man, that hath no Musick in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with Concord of sweet Sounds,
Is fit for Treasons, Stratagems, and Spoils:
The Motions of his Spirit are dull as Night,
And his Affections dark as _Erebus_:
Let no such Man be trusted.----
[Sidenote: A Lover of _Musick_.]
_Shakespeare_ was all Openness, Candour, and Complacence; and had
such a Share of Harmony in his Frame and Temperature, that we have
no Reason to doubt, from a Number of fine Passages, Allusions,
Similies, &_c._ fetch'd from _Musick_, but that He was a passionate
Lover of it. And to this, perhaps, we may owe that great Number of
_Sonnets_, which are sprinkled thro' his _Plays_. I have found,
that the Stanza's sung by the Gravedigger in _Hamlet_, are not of
_Shakespeare_'s own Composition, but owe their Original to the old
Earl of _Surrey_'s Poems. Many other of his Occasional little Songs,
I doubt not, but he purposely copied from his Contemporary Writers;
sometimes, out of Banter; sometimes, to do them Honour. The Manner
of their Introduction, and the Uses to which he has assigned them,
will easily determine for which of the Reasons they are respectively
employ'd. In _As you like it_, there are several little Copies of
Verses on _Rosalind_, which are said to be the right _Butter-woman's
Rank to Market_, and the very _false Gallop of Verses_. Dr. _Thomas
Lodge_, a Physician who flourish'd early in Queen _Elizabeth_'s
Reign, and was a great Writer of the Pastoral Songs and Madrigals,
which were so much the Strain of those Times, composed a whole
Volume of Poems in Praise of his Mistress, whom he calls
_Rosalinde_. I never yet could meet with this Collection; but
whenever I do, I am persuaded, I shall find many of our Author's
Canzonets on this Subject to be Scraps of the Doctor's amorous Muse:
as, perhaps, those by _Biron_ too, and the other Lovers in _Love's
Labour's lost_, may prove to be.
It has been remark'd in the Course of my Notes, that Musick in our
Author's time had a very different Use from what it has now. At this
Time, it is only employ'd to raise and inflame the Passions; it,
then, was apply'd to calm and allay all kinds of Perturbations. And,
agreeable to this Observation, throughout all _Shakespeare_'s Plays,
where Musick is either actually used, or its Powers describ'd, it is
chiefly said to be for these Ends. His _Twelfth-Night_, particularly,
begins with a fine Reflexion that admirably marks its soothing
Properties.
That Strain again;--It had a dying Fall.
Oh, it came o'er my Ear like the sweet South,
That breathes upon a Bank of Violets,
Stealing and giving Odour!
[Sidenote*: _Milton_ an Imitator of him.]
This _Similitude_ is remarkable not only for the Beauty of the
Image that it presents, but likewise for the Exactness to the Thing
compared. This is a way of Teaching peculiar to the Poets; that,
when they would describe the Nature of any thing, they do it not by
a direct Enumeration of its Attributes or Qualities, but by bringing
something into Comparison, and describing those Qualities of it that
are of the Kind with those in the Thing compared. So, here for
instance, the Poet willing to instruct in the Properties of Musick,
in which the same Strains have a Power to excite Pleasure, or Pain,
according to that State of Mind the Hearer is then in, does it
by presenting the Image of a sweet South Wind blowing o'er a
Violet-bank; which wafts away the Odour of the Violets, and at the
same time communicates to it its own Sweetness: by This insinuating,
that affecting Musick, tho' it takes away the natural sweet
Tranquillity of the Mind, yet, at the same time, communicates a
Pleasure the Mind felt not before. This Knowledge, of the same
Objects being capable of raising two contrary Affections, is a Proof
of no ordinary Progress in the Study of human Nature. *The general
Beauties of those two Poems of MILTON, intitled, _L'Allegro_ and
_Il Pensoroso_, are obvious to all Readers, because the Descriptions
are the most poetical in the World; yet there is a peculiar Beauty
in those two excellent Pieces, that will much enhance the Value of
them to the more capable Readers; which has never, I think, been
observ'd. The Images, in each Poem, which he raises to excite Mirth
and Melancholy, are exactly the same, only shewn in different
Attitudes. Had a Writer, less acquainted with Nature, given us two
Poems on these Subjects, he would have been sure to have sought out
the most contrary Images to raise these contrary Passions. And,
particularly, as _Shakespeare_, in the Passage I am now commenting,
speaks of these different Effects in Musick; so _Milton_ has brought
it into each Poem as the Exciter of each Affection: and lest we
should mistake him, as meaning that different Airs had this
different Power, (which every Fidler is proud to have you
understand,) He gives the Image of those self-same Strains that
_Orpheus_ used to regain _Eurydice_, as proper both to excite Mirth
and Melancholy. But _Milton_ most industriously copied the Conduct
of our _Shakespeare_, in Passages that shew'd an intimate
Acquaintance with Nature and Science.
[Sidenote: Shakespeare's _Knowledge of Nature_.]
I have not thought it out of my Province, whenever Occasion offer'd,
to take notice of some of our Poet's grand Touches of Nature: Some,
that do not appear superficially such; but in which he seems the
most deeply instructed; and to which, no doubt, he has so much ow'd
that happy Preservation of his _Characters_, for which he is justly
celebrated. If he was not acquainted with the Rule as deliver'd by
_Horace_, his own admirable Genius pierc'd into the Necessity of
such a Rule.
----Servetur ad imum
Qualis ab incoepto processerit, & sibi constet.
For what can be more ridiculous, than, in our modern Writers, to
make a debauch'd young Man, immers'd in all the Vices of his Age and
Time, in a few hours take up, confine himself in the way of Honour
to one Woman, and moralize in good earnest on the Follies of his
past Behaviour? Nor can, that great Examplar of _Comic_ Writing,
_Terence_ be altogether excused in this Regard; who, in his
_Adelphi_, has left _Demea_ in the last Scenes so unlike himself:
whom, as _Shakespeare_ expresses it, _he has turn'd with the seamy
Side of his Wit outward_. This Conduct, as Errors are more readily
imitated than Perfections, _Beaumont_ and _Fletcher_ seem to
have follow'd in a Character in their _Scornful Lady_. It may be
objected, perhaps, by some who do not go to the Bottom of our Poet's
Conduct, that he has likewise transgress'd against the Rule himself,
by making Prince _Harry_ at once, upon coming to the Crown, throw
off his former Dissoluteness, and take up the Practice of a sober
Morality and all the kingly Virtues. But this would be a mistaken
Objection. The Prince's Reformation is not so sudden, as not to be
prepar'd and expected by the Audience. He gives, indeed, a Loose to
Vanity, and a light unweigh'd Behaviour, when he is trifling among
his dissolute Companions; but the Sparks of innate Honour and true
Nobleness break from him upon every proper Occasion, where we would
hope to see him awake to Sentiments suiting his Birth and Dignity.
And our Poet has so well, and artfully, guarded his Character from
the Suspicions of habitual and unreformable Profligateness; that
even from the first shewing him upon the Stage, in the first Part of
_Henry_ IV, when he made him consent to join with _Falstaffe_ in a
Robbery on the Highway, he has taken care not to carry him off the
Scene, without an Intimation that he knows them all, and their
unyok'd Humour; and that, like the Sun, he will permit them only for
a while to obscure and cloud his Brightness; then break thro' the
Mist, when he pleases to be himself again; that his Lustre, when
wanted, may be the more wonder'd at.
Another of _Shakespeare_'s grand Touches of Nature, and which lies
still deeper from the Ken of common Observation, has been taken
notice of in a Note upon _The Tempest_; where _Prospero_ at once
interrupts the Masque of _Spirits_, and starts into a sudden Passion
and Disorder of Mind. As the latent Cause of his Emotion is there
fully inquir'd into, I shall no farther dwell upon it here.
Such a Conduct in a Poet (as _Shakespeare_ has manifested on many
like Occasions;) where the Turn of _Action_ arises from Reflexions
of his _Characters_, where the Reason of it is not express'd in
Words, but drawn from the inmost Resources of Nature, shews him
truly capable of that Art, which is more in Rule than Practice:
_Ars est celare Artem_. 'Tis the Foible of your worser Poets to make
a Parade and Ostentation of that little Science they have; and to
throw it out in the most ambitious Colours. And whenever a Writer of
this Class shall attempt to copy these artful Concealments of our
Author, and shall either think them easy, or practised by a Writer
for his Ease, he will soon be convinced of his Mistake by the
Difficulty of reaching the Imitation of them.
Speret idem, sudet multum, frustraq; laboret,
Ausus idem:----
Another grand Touch of Nature in our Author, (not less difficult to
imitate, tho' more obvious to the Remark of a common Reader) is,
when he brings down at once any _Character_ from the Ferment
and Height of Passion, makes him correct himself for the unruly
Disposition, and fall into Reflexions of a sober and moral Tenour.
An exquisite fine Instance of this Kind occurs in _Lear_, where that
old King, hasty and intemperate in his Passions, coming to his Son
and Daughter _Cornwall_, is told by the Earl of _Gloucester_ that
they are not to be spoken with: and thereupon throws himself into a
Rage, supposing the Excuse of Sickness and Weariness in them to be a
purpos'd Contempt: _Gloucester_ begs him to think of the fiery and
unremoveable Quality of the Duke: and This, which was design'd to
qualify his Passion, serves to exaggerate the Transports of it.
As the Conduct of Prince _Henry_ in the first Instance, the secret
and mental Reflexions in the Case of _Prospero_, and the instant
Detour of _Lear_ from the Violence of Rage to a Temper of Reasoning,
do so much Honour to that surprizing Knowledge of human Nature,
which is certainly our Author's Masterpiece, I thought, they could
not be set in too good a Light. Indeed, to point out, and exclaim
upon, all the Beauties of _Shakespeare_, as they come singly in
Review, would be as insipid, as endless; as tedious, as unnecessary:
But the Explanation of those Beauties, that are less obvious to
common Readers, and whose Illustration depends on the Rules of just
Criticism, and an exact Knowledge of human Life, should deservedly
have a Share in a general Critic upon the Author.
[Sidenote*: Mr. _Addison_ and _He_ compared, on a similar Topick.]
I shall dismiss the Examination into these his latent Beauties, when
I have made a short Comment upon a remarkable Passage from _Julius
Caesar_, which is inexpressibly fine in its self, *and greatly
discovers our Author's Knowledge and Researches into Nature.
Between the acting of a dreadful Thing,
And the first Motion, all the _Interim_ is
Like a Phantasma, or a hideous Dream:
The Genius, and the mortal Instruments
Are then in Council; and the State of Man,
Like to a little Kingdom, suffers then
The Nature of an Insurrection.
That nice Critick _Dionysius_ of _Halicarnassus_ confesses, that he
could not find those great Strokes, which he calls the _terrible
Graces_, in any of the Historians, which he frequently met with in
_Homer_. I believe, the Success would be the same likewise, if we
sought for them in any other of _our_ Authors besides our _British_
HOMER, _Shakespeare_. This Description of the Condition of
Conspirators has a Pomp and Terror in it, that perfectly astonishes.
Our excellent Mr. _Addison_, whose Modesty made him sometimes
diffident in his own Genius, but whose exquisite Judgment always led
him to the safest Guides, as we may see by those many fine Strokes
in his _Cato_ borrow'd from the _Philippics_ of _Cicero_, has
paraphrased this fine Description; but we are no longer to expect
those _terrible Graces_, which he could not hinder from evaporating
in the Transfusion.
O think, what anxious Moments pass between
The Birth of Plots, and their last fatal Periods.
Oh, 'tis a dreadful Interval of Time,
Fill'd up with Horror all, and big with Death.
I shall observe two Things on this fine Imitation: first, that the
Subjects of these two Conspiracies being so very different, (the
Fortunes of _Caesar_ and the _Roman_ Empire being concern'd in the
First; and That of only a few Auxiliary Troops, in the other;)
Mr. _Addison_ could not with Propriety bring in that magnificent
Circumstance, which gives the terrible Grace to _Shakespeare_'s
Description.
The Genius and the mortal Instruments
Are then in Council.----
For Kingdoms, in the poetical Theology, besides their good, have
their evil _Genius_'s likewise: represented here with the most
daring Stretch of Fancy, as fitting in Council with the Conspirators,
whom he calls the _mortal Instruments_. But this Would have been
too great an Apparatus to the Rape, and Desertion, of _Syphax_, and
_Sempronius_. Secondly, The other Thing very observable is, that Mr.
_Addison_ was so warm'd and affected with the Fire of _Shakespeare_'s
Description; that, instead of copying his Author's Sentiments, he
has, before he was aware, given us only the Image of his own
Impressions on the reading his great Original. For,
Oh, 'tis a dreadful Interval of Time,
Fill'd up with Horror all, and big with Death;
are but the Affections raised by such forcible Images as these;
----All the _Int'rim_ is
Like a Phantasma, or a hideous Dream.
----the State of Man,
Like to a little Kingdom, suffers then
The Nature of an Insurrection.
Comparing the Mind of a Conspirator to an Anarchy, is just and
beautiful; but the _Interim_ to a _hideous Dream_ has something in
it so wonderfully natural, and lays the human Soul so open, that one
cannot but be surpriz'd, that any Poet, who had not himself been,
some time or other, engaged in a Conspiracy, could ever have given
such Force of Colouring to Truth and Nature.
[Sidenote: The Question on _Shakespeare_'s Learning handled.]
It has been allow'd on all hands, far our Author was indebted to
_Nature_; it is not so well agreed, how much he ow'd to _Languages_
and acquir'd _Learning_. The Decisions on this Subject were
certainly set on Foot by the Hint from _Ben Jonson_, that he had
small _Latin_ and less _Greek_: And from this Tradition, as it were,
Mr. _Rowe_ has thought fit peremptorily to declare, that, "It is
without Controversy, he had no Knowledge of the Writings of the
ancient Poets, for that in his Works we find no Traces of any thing
which looks like an Imitation of the Ancients. For the Delicacy of
his Taste (_continues He_,) and the natural Bent of his own great
Genius (equal, if not superior, to some of the Best of theirs;)
would certainly have led him to read and study them with so much
Pleasure, that some of their fine Images would naturally have
insinuated themselves into, and been mix'd with, his own Writings:
so that his not copying, at least, something from them, may be an
Argument of his never having read them." I shall leave it to the
Determination of my Learned Readers, from the numerous Passages,
which I have occasionally quoted in my Notes, in which our Poet
seems closely to have imitated the Classics, whether Mr. _Rowe_'s
Assertion be so absolutely to be depended on. The Result of the
Controversy must certainly, either way, terminate to our Author's
Honour: how happily he could imitate them, if that Point be allow'd;
or how gloriously he could think like them, without owing any thing
to Imitation.