Lewis Theobald - Preface to the Works of Shakespeare (1734)
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Lewis Theobald >> Preface to the Works of Shakespeare (1734)
Tho' I should be very unwilling to allow _Shakespeare_ so poor a
Scholar, as Many have labour'd to represent him, yet I shall be
very cautious of declaring too positively on the other side of the
Question: that is, with regard to my Opinion of his Knowledge in the
dead Languages. And therefore the Passages, that I occasionally
quote from the _Classics_, shall not be urged as Proofs that he
knowingly imitated those Originals; but brought to shew how happily
he has express'd himself upon the same Topicks. A very learned
Critick of our own Nation has declar'd, that a Sameness of Thought
and Sameness of Expression too, in Two Writers of a different Age,
can hardly happen, without a violent Suspicion of the Latter copying
from his Predecessor. I shall not therefore run any great Risque
of a Censure, tho' I should venture to hint, that the Resemblance,
in Thought and Expression, of our Author and an Ancient (which
we should allow to be Imitation in One, whose Learning was not
question'd) may sometimes take its Rise from Strength of Memory, and
those Impressions which he ow'd to the School. And if we may allow a
Possibility of This, considering that, when he quitted the School,
he gave into his Father's Profession and way of Living, and had,
'tis likely, but a slender Library of Classical Learning; and
considering what a Number of Translations, Romances, and Legends,
started about his Time, and a little before; (most of which,'tis
very evident, he read;) I think, it may easily be reconcil'd, why he
rather schemed his _Plots_ and _Charaters_ from these more latter
Informations, than went back to those Fountains, for which he might
entertain a sincere Veneration, but to which he could not have so
ready a Recourse.
In touching on another Part of his Learning, as it related to the
Knowledge of _History_ and _Books_, I shall advance something, that,
at first sight, will very much wear the Appearance of a Paradox.
For I shall find it no hard Matter to prove, that from the grossest
Blunders in History, we are not to infer his real Ignorance of it:
Nor from a greater Use of _Latin_ Words, than ever any other
_English_ Author used, must we infer his Knowledge of that Language.
A Reader of Taste may easily observe, that tho' _Shakespeare_,
almost in every Scene of his historical Plays, commits the grossest
Offences against Chronology, History, and Antient Politicks; yet
This was not thro' Ignorance, as is generally supposed, but thro'
the too powerful Blaze of his Imagination; which, when once raised,
made all acquired Knowledge vanish and disappear before it. For
Instance, in his _Timon_, he turns _Athens_, which was a perfect
Democracy, into an Aristocracy; while he ridiculously gives a
Senator the Power of banishing _Alcibiades_. On the contrary, in
_Coriolanus_, he makes _Rome_, which at that time was a perfect
Aristocracy, a Democracy full as ridiculously, by making the People
choose _Coriolanus_ Consul: Whereas, in Fact, it was not till the
Time of _Manlius_ _Torquatus_, that the People had a Right of
choosing one Consul. But this Licence in him, as I have said, must
not be imputed to Ignorance: since as often we may find him, when
Occasion serves, reasoning up to the Truth of History; and throwing
out Sentiments as justly adapted to the Circumstances of his
Subject, as to the Dignity of his Characters, or Dictates of Nature
in general.
Then, to come to his Knowledge of the _Latin_ Tongue, 'tis certain,
there is a surprising Effusion of _Latin_ Words made _English_, far
more than in any one _English_ Author I have seen; but we must be
cautious to imagine, this was of his own doing. For the _English_
Tongue, in his Age, began extremely to suffer by an Inundation of
_Latin_; and to be overlaid, as it were, by its Nurse, when it had
just began to speak by her before-prudent Care and Assistance. And
this, to be sure, was occasion'd by the Pedantry of those two
Monarchs, _Elizabeth_ and _James_, Both great _Latinists_. For it
is not to be wonder'd at, if both the Court and Schools, equal
Flatterers of Power, should adapt themselves to the Royal Taste.
This, then, was the Condition of the _English_ Tongue when
_Shakespeare_ took it up: like a Beggar in a rich Wardrobe. He found
the pure native _English_ too cold and poor to second the Heat and
Abundance of his Imagination: and therefore was forc'd to dress it
up in the Robes, he saw provided for it: rich in themselves, but
ill-shaped; cut out to an air of Magnificence, but disproportion'd
and cumbersome. To the Costliness of Ornament, he added all the
Graces and Decorum of it. It may be said, this did not require, or
discover a Knowledge of the _Latin_. To the first, I think, it did
not; to the second, it is so far from discovering it, that, I think,
it discovers the contrary. To make This more obvious by a modern
Instance: The great MILTON likewise labour'd under the like
Inconvenience; when he first set upon adorning his own Tongue, he
likewise animated and enrich'd it with the _Latin_, but from his own
Stock: and so, rather by bringing in the Phrases, than the Words:
And This was natural; and will, I believe, always be the Case in the
same Circumstances. His Language, especially his Prose, is full of
_Latin_ Words indeed, but much fuller of _Latin_ Phrases: and his
Mastery in the Tongue made this unavoidable. On the contrary,
_Shakespeare_, who, perhaps, was not so intimately vers'd in the
_Language_, abounds in the Words of it, but has few or none of its
Phrases: Nor, indeed, if what I affirm be true, could He. This I
take to be the truest _Criterion_ to determine this long agitated
Question.
It may be mention'd, tho' no certain Conclusion can be drawn from
it, as a probable Argument of his having read the Antients; that He
perpetually expresses the Genius of _Homer_, and other great Poets
of the Old World, in animating all the Parts of his Descriptions;
and, by bold and breathing Metaphors and Images, giving the
Properties of Life and Action to inanimate Things. He is a Copy
too of those _Greek_ Masters in the infinite use of _compound_ and
_de-compound Epithets_. I will not, indeed, aver, but that One with
_Shakespeare_'s exquisite Genius and Observation might have traced
these glaring Characteristics of Antiquity by reading _Homer_ in
_Chapman_'s Version.
[Sidenote: _B. Jonson_ and _Shakespeare_ compar'd.]
An additional Word or two naturally falls in here upon the Genius of
our Author, as compared with that of _Jonson_ his Contemporary. They
are confessedly the greatest Writers our Nation could ever boast
of in the _Drama_. The first, we say, owed all to his prodigious
natural Genius; and the other a great deal to his Art and Learning.
This, if attended to, will explain a very remarkable Appearance in
their Writings. Besides those wonderful Masterpieces of Art and
Genius, which each has given Us; They are the Authors of other Works
very unworthy of them: But with this Difference; that in _Jonson_'s
bad Pieces we don't discover one single Trace of the Author of
the _Fox_ and _Alchemist_: but in the wild extravagant Notes
of _Shakespeare_, you every now and then encounter Strains that
recognize the divine Composer. This Difference may be thus accounted
for. _Jonson_, as we said before, owing all his Excellence to his
Art, by which he sometimes strain'd himself to an uncommon Pitch,
when at other times he unbent and play'd with his Subject, having
nothing then to support him, it is no wonder he wrote so far beneath
himself. But _Sbakespeare_, indebted more largely to Nature, than
the Other to acquired Talents, in his most negligent Hours could
never so totally divest himself of his Genius, but that it would
frequently break out with astonishing Force and Splendor.
[Sidenote: His Reputation under Disadvantages.]
As I have never propos'd to dilate farther on the Character of my
Author, than was necessary to explain the Nature and Use of this
Edition, I shall proceed to consider him as a Genius in Possession
of an Everlasting Name. And how great that Merit must be, which
could gain it against all the Disadvantages of the horrid Condition
in which he has hitherto appear'd! Had _Homer_, or any other admir'd
Author, first started into Publick so, maim'd and deform'd, we
cannot determine whether they had not sunk for ever under the
Ignominy of such an ill Appearance. The mangled Condition of
_Shakespeare_ has been acknowledg'd by Mr. _Rowe_, who publish'd him
indeed, but neither corrected his Text, nor collated the old Copies.
This Gentleman had Abilities, and a sufficient Knowledge of his
Author, had but his Industry been equal to his Talents. The same
mangled Condition has been acknowledg'd too by Mr. _Pope_, who
publish'd him likewise, pretended to have collated the old Copies,
and yet seldom has corrected the Text but to its Injury. I
congratulate with the _Manes_ of our Poet, that this Gentleman has
been sparing in _indulging his private Sense_; for He, who tampers
with an Author whom he does not understand, must do it at the
Expence of his Subject. I have made it evident throughout my
Remarks, that he has frequently inflicted a Wound where he intended
a Cure. He has acted with regard to our Author, as an Editor, whom
LIPSIUS mentions, did with regard to MARTIAL; _Inventus est nescio
quis _Popa_, qui non _vitia_ ejus, sed _ipsum_, excidit._ He has
attack'd him like an unhandy _Slaughterman_; and not lopp'd off the
_Errors_, but the _Poet_.
[Sidenote: Praise sometimes an Injury.]
When this is found to be the Fact, how absurd must appear the
Praises of such an Editor? It seems a moot Point, whether Mr. _Pope_
has done most Injury to _Shakespeare_ as his Editor and Encomiast;
or Mr. _Rymer_ done him Service as his Rival and Censurer. Were it
every where the true Text, which That Editor in his late pompous
Edition gave us, the Poet deserv'd not the large Encomiums bestow'd
by him: nor, in that Case, is _Rymer_'s Censure of the Barbarity of
his Thoughts, and the Impropriety of his Expressions, groundless.
They have Both shewn themselves in an equal _Impuissance_ of
suspecting or amending the corrupted Passages: and tho' it be
neither Prudence to censure, or commend, what one does not
understand; yet if a Man must do one when he plays the Critick,
the latter is the more ridiculous Office. And by That _Shakespeare_
suffers most. For the natural Veneration, which we have for him,
makes us apt to swallow whatever is given us as _his_, and let off
with Encomiums; and hence we quit all Suspicions of Depravity: On
the contrary, the Censure of so divine an Author sets us upon his
Defence; and this produces an exact Scrutiny and Examination, which
ends in finding out and discriminating the true from the spurious.
It is not with any secret Pleasure, that I so frequently animadvert
on Mr. _Pope_ as a Critick; but there are Provocations, which a Man
can never quite forget. His Libels have been thrown out with so much
Inveteracy, that, not to dispute whether they _should_ come from a
_Christian_, they leave it a Question whether they _could_ come from
a _Man_. I should be loth to doubt, as _Quintus Serenus_ did in a
like Case,
Sive homo, seu similis turpissima bestia nobis,
Vulnera dente dedit.
The Indignation, perhaps, for being represented a _Blockhead_, may
be as strong in Us as it is in the Ladies for a Reflexion on their
_Beauties_. It is certain, I am indebted to Him for some _flagrant
Civilities_; and I shall willingly devote a part of my Life to the
honest Endeavour of quitting Scores: with this Exception however,
that I will not return those Civilities in his _peculiar_ Strain,
but confine myself, at lead, to the Limits of _common Decency_.
I shall ever think it better to want _Wit_, than to want _Humanity_:
and impartial Posterity may, perhaps, be of my Opinion.
[Sidenote: The old Editions faulty, whence.]
But, to return to my Subject; which now calls upon me to inquire
into those Causes, to which the Depravations of my Author originally
may be assign'd. We are to consider him as a Writer, of whom no
authentic Manuscript was extant; as a Writer, whose Pieces were
dispersedly perform'd on the several _Stages_ then in Being. And it
was the Custom of those Days for the Poets to take a Price of the
_Players_ for the Pieces They from time to time furnish'd; and
thereupon it was suppos'd, they had no farther Right to print them
without the Consent of the _Players_. As it was the Interest of the
_Companies_ to keep their Plays unpublish'd, when any one succeeded,
there was a Contest betwixt the Curiosity of the Town, who demanded
to see it in Print, and the Policy of the _Stagers_, who wish'd
to secrete it within their own Walls. Hence, many Pieces were
taken down in Short-hand, and imperfectly copied by Ear, from
a _Representation_: Others were printed from piece-meal Parts,
surreptitiously obtain'd from the Theatres, uncorrect, and without
the Poet's Knowledge. To some of these Causes we owe the train of
Blemishes, that deform those Pieces which stole singly into the
World in our Author's Life-time.
There are still other Reasons, which may be suppos'd to have
affected the whole Set. When the _Players_ took upon them to publish
his Works intire, every Theatre was ransack'd to supply the Copy;
and _Parts_ collected which had gone thro' as many Changes as
Performers, either from Mutilations or Additions made to them. Hence
we derive many Chasms and Incoherences in the Sense and Matter.
Scenes were frequently transposed, and shuffled out of their true
Place, to humour the Caprice or suppos'd Convenience of some
particular Actor. Hence much Confusion and Impropriety has attended,
and embarras'd, the Business and Fable. For there ever have been,
and ever will be in Playhouses, a Set of assuming Directors, who
know better than the Poet himself the Connexion and Dependance of
his Scenes; where Matter is defective, or Superfluities to be
retrench'd; Persons, that have the Fountain of _Inspiration_ as
peremptorily in them, as Kings have That of _Honour_. To these
obvious Causes of Corruption it must be added, that our Author has
lain under the Disadvantage of having his Errors propagated and
multiplied by Time: because, for near a Century; his Works were
republish'd from the faulty Copies without the assistance of any
intelligent Editor: which has been the Case likewise of many a
_Classic_ Writer.
[Sidenote: The Editor's Drift and Method.]
[Sidenote*: Difference betwixt this Edition and Dr. _Bentley_'s
_Milton_.]
The Nature of any Distemper once found has generally been the
immediate Step to a Cure. _Shakespeare_'s Case has in a great
Measure resembled That of a corrupt _Classic_; and, consequently,
the Method of Cure was likewise to bear a Resemblance. By what
Means, and with what Success, this Cure has been effected on ancient
Writers, is too well known, and needs no formal Illustration. The
Reputation consequent on Tasks of that Nature invited me to attempt
the Method here; with this View, the Hopes of restoring to the
Publick their greatest Poet in his Original Purity: after having so
long lain in a Condition that was a Disgrace to common Sense. To
this End I have ventur'd on a Labour, that is the first Assay of
the kind on any modern Author whatsoever. For the late Edition of
_Milton_ by the Learned *Dr. _Bentley_ is, in the main, a Performance
of another Species. It is plain, it was the Intention of that
Great Man rather to Correct and pare off the Excrescencies of
the _Paradise Lost_, in the manner that _Tucca_ and _Varius_ were
employ'd to criticize the _AEneis_ of _Virgil_, than to restore
corrupted Passages. Hence, therefore, may be seen either the
Iniquity or Ignorance of his Censurers, who, from some Expressions,
would make us believe, the _Doctor_ every where gives us his
Corrections as the Original Text of the Author; whereas the chief
Turn of his Criticism is plainly to shew the World, that if _Milton_
did not write as He would have him, he ought to have wrote so.
I thought proper to premise this Observation to the Readers, as it
will shew that the Critic on _Shakespeare_ is of a quite different
Kind. His genuine Text is religiously adher'd to, and the numerous
Faults and Blemishes, purely his own, are left as they were found.
Nothing is alter'd, but what by the clearest Reasoning can be
proved a Corruption of the true Text; and the Alteration, a real
Restoration of the genuine Reading. Nay, so strictly have I strove
to give the true Reading, tho' sometimes not to the Advantage of my
Author, that I have been ridiculously ridicul'd for it by Those, who
either were iniquitously for turning every thing to my Disadvantage;
or else were totally ignorant of the true Duty of an Editor.
The Science of Criticism, as far as it affects an Editor, seems
to be reduced to these three Classes; the Emendation of corrupt
Passages; the Explanation of obscure and difficult ones; and an
Inquiry into the Beauties and Defects of Composition. This Work is
principally confin'd to the two former Parts: tho' there are some
Specimens interspers'd of the latter Kind, as several of the
Emendations were best supported, and several of the Difficulties
best explain'd, by taking notice of the Beauties and Defects of
the Composition peculiar to this Immortal Poet. But This was but
occasional, and for the sake only of perfecting the two other Parts,
which were the proper Objects of the Editor's Labour. The third lies
open for every willing Undertaker: and I shall be pleas'd to see it
the Employment of a masterly Pen.
It must necessarily happen, as I have formerly observ'd, that where
the Assistance of Manuscripts is wanting to set an Author's Meaning
right, and rescue him from those Errors which have been transmitted
down thro' a Series of incorrect Editions, and a long Intervention
of Time, many Passages must be desperate, and past a Cure; and
their true Sense irretrievable either to Care or the Sagacity of
Conjecture. But is there any Reason therefore to say, That because
All cannot be retriev'd, All ought to be left desperate? We should
shew very little Honesty, or Wisdom, to play the Tyrants with an
Author's Text; to raze, alter, innovate, and overturn, at all
Adventures, and to the utter Detriment of his Sense and Meaning:
But to be so very reserved and cautious, as to interpose no Relief
or Conjecture, where it manifestly labours and cries out for
Assistance, seems, on the other hand, an indolent Absurdity.
But because the Art of Criticism, both by Those who cannot form a
true Judgment of its Effects, nor can penetrate into its Causes,
(which takes in a great Number besides the Ladies;) is esteem'd only
an arbitrary capricious Tyranny exercis'd on Books; I think
proper to subjoin a Word or two about those Rules on which I have
proceeded, and by which I have regulated myself in this Edition. By
This, I flatter myself, it will appear, my Emendations are so far
from being arbitrary or capricious, that They are establish'd with
a very high Degree of moral Certainty.
As there are very few Pages in _Shakespeare_, upon which some
Suspicions of Depravity do not reasonably arise; I have thought it
my Duty, in the first place, by a diligent and laborious Collation
to take in the Assistances of all the older Copies.
In his _Historical Plays_, whenever our _English_ Chronicles, and in
his Tragedies when _Greek_ or _Roman_ Story, could give any Light;
no Pains have been omitted to set Passages right by comparing my
Author with his Originals: for, as I have frequently observed, he
was a close and accurate Copier where-ever his _Fable_ was founded
on _History_.
Where-ever the Author's Sense is clear and discoverable, (tho',
perchance, low and trivial;) I have not by any Innovation tamper'd
with his Text; out of an Ostentation of endeavouring to make him
speak better than the Old Copies have done.
Where, thro' all the former Editions, a Passage has labour'd under
flat Nonsense and invincible Darkness, if, by the Addition or
Alteration of a Letter or two, I have restored to Him both Sense
and Sentiment, such Corrections, I am persuaded, will need no
Indulgence.
And whenever I have taken a greater Latitude and Liberty in
amending, I have constantly endeavoured to support my Corrections
and Conjectures by parallel Passages and Authorities from himself,
the surest Means of expounding any Author whatsoever. _Cette voie
d'interpreter un Autheur par lui-meme est plus sure que tous les
Commentaires_, says a very learned _French_ Critick.
As to my _Notes_, (from which the common and learned Readers of our
Author, I hope, will derive some Pleasure;) I have endeavour'd to
give them a Variety in some Proportion to their Number. Where-ever
I have ventur'd at an Emendation, a _Note_ is constantly subjoin'd
to justify and assert the Reason of it. Where I only offer a
Conjecture, and do not disturb the Text, I fairly set forth my
Grounds for such Conjecture, and submit it to Judgment. Some Remarks
are spent in explaining Passages, Where the Wit or Satire depends
on an obscure Point of History: Others, where Allusions are to
Divinity, Philosophy, or other Branches of Science. Some are added
to shew, where there is a Suspicion of our Author having borrowed
from the Antients: Others, to shew where he is rallying his
Contemporaries; or where He himself is rallied by them. And some are
necessarily thrown in, to explain an obscure and obsolete _Term_,
_Phrase_, or _Idea_. I once intended to have added a complete and
copious _Glossary_; but as I have been importun'd, and am prepar'd,
to give a correct Edition of our Author's POEMS, (in which many
Terms occur that are not to be met with in his _Plays_,) I thought a
_Glossary_ to all _Shakespeare_'s Works more proper to attend that
Volume.
In reforming an infinite Number of Passages in the _Pointing_, where
the Sense was before quite lost, I have frequently subjoin'd Notes
to shew the _deprav'd_, and to prove the _reform'd_, Pointing: a
Part of Labour in this Work which I could very willingly have spared
myself. May it not be objected, why then have you burthen'd us with
these Notes? The Answer is obvious, and, if I mistake not, very
material. Without such Notes, these Passages in subsequent Editions
would be liable, thro' the Ignorance of Printers and Correctors, to
fall into the old Confusion: Whereas, a Note on every one hinders
all possible Return to Depravity; and for ever secures them in a
State of Purity and Integrity not to be lost or forfeited.
[Sidenote*: Causes of Obscurities in _Shakespeare_.]
Again, as some Notes have been necessary to point out the Detection
of the corrupted Text, and establish the Reiteration of the genuine
Readings; some others have been as necessary for the Explanation of
Passages obscure and difficult. *To understand the Necessity and Use
of this Part of my Task, some Particulars of my Author's Character
are previously to be explain'd. There are _Obscurities_ in him,
which are common to him with all Poets of the same Species; there
are Others, the Issue of the Times he liv'd in; and there are
Others, again, peculiar to himself. The Nature of Comic Poetry
being entirely satyrical, it busies itself more in exposing what
we call Caprice and Humour, than Vices cognizable to the Laws. The
_English_, from the Happiness of a free Constitution, and a Turn of
Mind peculiarly speculative and inquisitive, are observ'd to produce
more _Humourists_ and a greater Variety of Original _Characters_,
than any other People whatsoever: And These owing their immediate
Birth to the peculiar Genius of each Age, an infinite Number of
Things alluded to, glanced at, and expos'd, must needs become
obscure, as the _Characters_ themselves are antiquated, and disused.
An Editor therefore should be well vers'd in the History and Manners
of his Author's Age, if he aims at doing him a Service in this Respect.
Besides, _Wit_ lying mostly in the Assemblage of _Ideas_, and in the
putting Those together with Quickness and Variety, wherein can be
found any Resemblance, or Congruity, to make up pleasant Pictures,
and agreeable Visions in the Fancy; the Writer, who aims at Wit,
must of course range far and wide for Materials. Now, the Age, in
which _Shakespeare_ liv'd, having, above all others, a wonderful
Affection to appear Learned, They declined vulgar Images, such as
are immediately fetch'd from Nature, and rang'd thro' the Circle
of the Sciences to fetch their Ideas from thence. But as the
Resemblances of such Ideas to the Subject must necessarily lie very
much out of the common Way, and every piece of Wit appear a Riddle
to the Vulgar; This, that should have taught them the forced,
quaint, unnatural Tract they were in, (and induce them to follow a
more natural One,) was the very Thing that kept them attach'd to it.
The ostentatious Affectation of abstruse Learning, peculiar to that
Time, the Love that Men naturally have to every Thing that looks
like Mystery, fixed them down to this Habit of Obscurity. Thus
became the Poetry of DONNE (tho' the wittiest Man of that Age,)
nothing but a continued Heap of Riddles. And our _Shakespeare_, with
all his easy Nature about him, for want of the Knowledge of the true
Rules of Art, falls frequently into this vicious Manner.