Chapter 1

criticism he argues for inserting the words “and Cassiopeia.” The probability is that if Warburton had not condemned the proposal it would have appeared in Theobald’s edition. “With a just deference to your most convincing reasons,” says Theobald, “I shall with great cheerfulness banish it as a bad and unsupported conjecture” (_id._ ii., p. 477); and this remark is typical of the whole correspondence. A considerable share of the merit of Theobald’s edition—though the share is mostly negative—belongs to Warburton, for Theobald had not taste enough to keep him right when he stepped beyond collation of the older editions or explanation by parallel passages. Indeed, the letters to Warburton, besides helping to explain his reputation in the eighteenth century, would in themselves be sufficient to justify his place in the _Dunciad_.

Warburton had undoubtedly given Theobald ungrudging assistance and was plainly interested in the success of the edition. But as he had gauged Theobald’s ability, he had some fears for the Preface. So at least we gather from a letter which Theobald wrote to him on 18th November, 1731:

“I am extremely obliged for the tender concern you have for my reputation in what I am _to prefix to my Edition_: and this part, as it will come last in play, I shall certainly be so kind to myself to communicate in due time to your perusal. The whole affair of _Prolegomena_ I have determined to soften into _Preface_. I am so very cool as to my sentiments of my Adversary’s usage, that I think the publick should not be too largely troubled with them. _Blockheadry_ is the chief hinge of his satire upon me; and if my Edition do not wipe out that, I ought to be content to let the charge be fixed; if it do, the reputation gained will be a greater triumph than resentment. But, dear Sir, will you, at your leisure hours, think over for me upon the contents, topics, orders, etc., of this branch of my labour? You have a comprehensive memory, and a happiness of digesting the matter joined to it, which my head is often too much embarrassed to perform; let that be the excuse for my inability. But how unreasonable is it to expect this labour, when it is the only part in which I shall not be able to be just to my friends: for, to confess assistance in a _Preface_ will, I am afraid, make me appear too naked. Rymer’s extravagant rancour against our Author, under the umbrage of criticism, may, I presume, find a place here” (_id._ ii., pp. 621, 622).

This confession of weakness is valuable in the light of Warburton’s Preface to his own edition of 1747. His statement of the assistance he rendered Theobald is rude and cruel, but it is easier to impugn his taste than his truthfulness. Theobald did not merely ask for assistance in the Preface; he received it too. Warburton expressed himself on this matter, with his customary force and with a pleasing attention to detail, in a letter to the Rev. Thomas Birch on 24th November, 1737. “You will see in Theobald’s heap of disjointed stuff,” he says, “which he calls a Preface to Shakespeare, an observation upon those poems [_i.e._ _L’Allegro_ and _Il Penseroso_] which I made to him, and which he did not understand, and so has made it a good deal obscure by contracting my note; for you must understand that almost all that Preface (except what relates to Shakespeare’s Life, and the foolish Greek conjectures at the end) was made up of notes I sent him on particular passages, and which he has there stitched together without head or tail” (Nichols, ii., p. 81). The Preface is indeed a poor piece of patch-work. Examination of the footnotes throughout the edition corroborates Warburton’s concluding statement. Some of the annotations which have his name attached to them are repeated almost verbatim (_e.g._ the note in _Love’s Labour’s Lost_ on the use of music), while the comparison of Addison and Shakespeare is taken from a letter written by Warburton to Concanen in 1726-7 (_id._ ii., pp. 195, etc.). The inequality of the essay—the fitful succession of limp and acute observations—can be explained only by ill-matched collaboration.

Warburton has himself indicated the extent of Theobald’s debt to him. In his own copy of Theobald’s Shakespeare he marked the passages which he had contributed to the Preface, as well as the notes “which Theobald deprived him of and made his own,” and the volume is now in the Capell collection in Trinity College, Cambridge. Mr. Churton Collins, in his attempt to prove Theobald the greatest of Shakespearean editors, has said that “if in this copy, which we have not had the opportunity of inspecting, Warburton has laid claim to more than Theobald has assigned to him, we believe him to be guilty of dishonesty even more detestable than that of which the proofs are, as we have shown, indisputable.”(33) An inspection of the Cambridge volume is not necessary to show that a passage in the Preface has been conveyed from one of Warburton’s letters published by Nichols and by Malone. Any defence of Theobald by an absolute refusal to believe Warburton’s word can be of no value unless some proof be adduced that Warburton was here untruthful, and it is peculiarly inept when Theobald’s own page proclaims the theft. We know that Theobald asked Warburton for assistance in the Preface, and gave warning that such assistance would not be acknowledged. Warburton could have had no evil motive in marking those passages in his _private_ copy; and there is surely a strong presumption in favour of a man who deliberately goes over seven volumes, carefully indicating the material which he considered his own. It happens that one of the passages contains an unfriendly allusion to Pope. If Warburton meant to be “dishonest”—and there could be no purpose in being dishonest before he was Theobald’s enemy—why did he not disclaim this allusion some years later? The simple explanation is that he marked the passages for his own amusement while he was still on friendly terms with Theobald. They are thirteen in number, and they vary in length from a few lines to two pages. Four of them are undoubtedly his, and there is nothing to disprove that the other nine are his also.(34)

Theobald quotes also from his own correspondence. On 17th March, 1729-30, he had written to Warburton a long letter dealing with Shakespeare’s knowledge of languages and including a specimen of his proposed pamphlet against Pope. “Your most necessary caution against inconsistency, with regard to my opinion of Shakespeare’s knowledge in languages,” he there says characteristically, “shall not fail to have all its weight with me. And therefore the passages that I occasionally quote from the Classics shall not be brought as proofs that he imitated those originals, but to shew how happily he has expressed themselves upon the same topics” (Nichols, ii., pp. 564, etc.). This part of the letter is included verbatim three years afterwards in the Preface. So also is the other passage in the same letter replying to Pope on the subject of Shakespeare’s anachronisms. Theobald borrows even from his own published writings. Certain passages are reproduced from the Introduction to _Shakespeare Restored_.

If Theobald could hardly acknowledge, as he said, the assistance he received in writing the Preface, he at least admitted his editorial debt to Warburton and others punctiliously and handsomely. After referring to Dr. Thirlby of Jesus College, Cambridge, and Hawley Bishop, he thus writes of his chief helper:

“To these, I must add the indefatigable Zeal and Industry of my most ingenious and ever-respected Friend, the Reverend Mr. _William Warburton_ of _Newark_ upon _Trent_. This Gentleman, from the Motives of his frank and communicative Disposition, voluntarily took a considerable Part of my Trouble off my Hands; not only read over the whole Author for me, with the exactest Care; but enter’d into a long and laborious Epistolary Correspondence; to which I owe no small Part of my best Criticisms upon my Author.

“The Number of Passages amended, and admirably Explained, which I have taken care to distinguish with his Name, will shew a Fineness of Spirit and Extent of Reading, beyond all the Commendations I can give them: Nor, indeed, would I any farther be thought to commend a Friend, than, in so doing, to give a Testimony of my own Gratitude.”

So the preface read in 1733. But by the end of 1734 Warburton had quarrelled with Theobald, and by 1740, after a passing friendship with Sir Thomas Hanmer, had become definitely attached to the party of Pope. This is probably the reason why, in the Preface to the second edition, Theobald does not repeat the detailed statement of the assistance he had received. He wisely omits also the long and irrelevant passage of Greek conjectures, given with no other apparent reason than to parade his learning. And several passages either claimed by Warburton (_e.g._ that referring to Milton’s poems) or known to be his (_e.g._ the comparison of Addison and Shakespeare) are also cancelled.

The merits of the text of Theobald’s edition are undeniable; but the text is not to be taken as the sole measure of his ability. By his diligence in collation he restored many of the original readings. His knowledge of Elizabethan literature was turned to good account in the explanation and illustration of the text. He claims to have read above eight hundred old English plays “to ascertain the obsolete and uncommon phrases.” But when we have spoken of his diligence, we have spoken of all for which, as an editor, he was remarkable. Pope had good reason to say of him, though he gave the criticism a wider application, that

Pains, reading, study are their just pretence, And all they want is spirit, taste, and sense.

The inner history of his Preface would prove of itself that Theobald well deserved the notoriety which he enjoyed in the eighteenth century.

Sir Thomas Hanmer.

Sir Thomas Hanmer’s edition of Shakespeare, in six handsome quarto volumes, was printed at the Clarendon Press in 1743-44. As it appeared anonymously it was commonly called the “Oxford edition.” It was well known, however, that Hanmer was the editor. Vols. ii., iii., and iv. bear the date 1743; the others, 1744.

Hanmer had been Speaker of the House of Commons from 1713 to 1715, and had played an important part in securing the Protestant succession on the death of Queen Anne. He retired from public life on the accession of George II., and thereafter lived in “lettered ease” at his seat of Mildenhall near Newmarket till his death in 1746. It is not known when he undertook his edition of Shakespeare, but the idea of it was probably suggested to him by the publication of Theobald’s edition in 1733. His relative and biographer, Sir Henry Bunbury, writing in 1838, refers to a copy of this edition with corrections and notes on the text of every play in Hanmer’s handwriting. There can be no doubt, however, of the accuracy of Warburton’s statement that his edition was printed from Pope’s, though the hastiest examination will prove the falsity of Warburton’s other remark that Hanmer neglected to compare Pope’s edition with Theobald’s. He relied on Pope’s judgment as to the authenticity of passages and on Theobald’s accuracy in collation. Thus while he omits lines which Pope had omitted, or degrades them to the foot of the page, he often adopts Theobald’s reading of a word or phrase.

He had certainly made considerable progress with the edition by May, 1738, when he was visited by Warburton (see Nichols, _Illustrations_, ii. 44, 69). It was still incomplete in March, 1742, but it was sent to the printer at the end of that year, as we learn from a letter of 30th December to Zachary Grey, the editor of _Hudibras_: “I must now acquaint you that the books are gone out of my hands, and lodged with the University of Oxford, which hath been willing to accept of them as a present from me. They intend to print them forthwith, in a fair impression adorned with sculptures; but it will be so ordered that it will be the cheapest book that ever was exposed to sale.... None are to go into the hands of booksellers” (Nichols, _Literary Anecdotes_, v., p. 589). Earlier in the year, in the important letter concerning his quarrel with Warburton, which will be referred to later, he had spoken of his edition in the following terms: “As to my own particular, I have no aim to pursue in this affair; I propose neither honour, reward, or thanks, and should be very well pleased to have the books continue upon their shelf, in my own private closet. If it is thought they may be of use or pleasure to the publick, I am willing to part with them out of my hands, and to add, for the honour of Shakespear, some decorations and embellishments at my own expense” (_id._ v., p. 589). The printing of the edition was not supervised by Hanmer himself, but by Joseph Smith, Provost of Queen’s College, and Robert Shippen, Principal of Brasenose. We find them receiving instructions that there must be care in the correction of the press, that the type must be as large as in Pope’s edition, but that the paper must be better.

These facts are of interest in connection with Hanmer’s inclusion in the fourth book of the _Dunciad_. In a note by Pope and Warburton he is referred to as “an eminent person, who was about to publish a very pompous edition of a great author, _at his own expense_”; and in the poem the satire is maladroitly aimed at the handsomeness of the volumes. Warburton afterwards implied that he was responsible for the inclusion of this passage (_id._, p. 590), and though the claim is disputed by Hanmer’s biographer, the ineffectiveness of the attack would prove that it was not spontaneous. Pope, however, would yield to Warburton’s desire the more readily if, as Sir Henry Bunbury had reason to believe, the anonymous _Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet_, published in 1736, was the work of Hanmer,(35) for there Pope’s edition was compared unfavourably, though courteously, with that of Theobald. (See the _Correspondence of Sir Thomas Hanmer_, 1838, pp. 80, etc.)

William Warburton.

“The Works of Shakespear in Eight Volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the _Blunders_ of the first Editors, and the _Interpolations_ of the two Last; with a Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton. 1747.”

So runs the title of what is generally known as Warburton’s edition. It is professedly a revised issue of Pope’s. In point of fact it is founded, not on Pope’s text, but on the text of Theobald. Warburton does not follow even Pope’s arrangement of the plays. With one insignificant transposition, he gives them in the identical order in which they appear in Theobald’s edition. And though he has his gibe at Hanmer in the title page, he incorporates Hanmer’s glossary word for word, and almost letter for letter. But his animosity betrays him in his Preface. He complains of the trouble which he has been put to by the last two editors, for he has had “not only their interpolations to throw out, but the genuine text to replace and establish in its stead.” He would not have had this trouble had he used Pope’s edition. He may have believed that what he took from Hanmer and Theobald was very much less than what they had received from him. According to his own statements he supplied each with a large number of important emendations which had been used without acknowledgment. Yet this does not excuse the suggestion that his edition was founded on Pope’s.

The explanation is Warburton’s just pride in Pope’s friendship,—a pride which he took every opportunity of gratifying and parading. But in his earlier days he had been, all unknown to Pope, an enemy. He escaped the _Dunciad_ by reason of his obscurity. He was the friend of Concanen and Theobald, and in a letter to the former, containing his earliest extant attempt at Shakespearian criticism, he observes that “Dryden borrows for want of leisure, and Pope for want of genius.” The letter is dated 2nd January, 1726-27, but luckily for Warburton it was not publicly known till, in 1766, Akenside used it as a means of paying off old scores (see Nichols, _Illustrations_, ii., pp. 195-198, and Malone’s Shakespeare, 1821, vol. xii., pp. 157, etc.). It is of interest also from the fact that Theobald transcribed from it almost verbatim the comparison of Shakespeare and Addison in the Preface of 1733.

Theobald’s deference and even humility must have confirmed Warburton’s confidence in his own critical powers, but it was not till Theobald’s Shakespeare was published that Warburton first hinted at an edition by himself. From 1729 to 1733 he had given Theobald loyally of his best. On the appearance of the edition he betrayed some annoyance that all his suggestions had not been accepted. “I have transcribed about fifty emendations and remarks,” he writes on 17th May, 1734, “which I have at several times sent you, omitted in the Edition of Shakespeare, which, I am sure, are better than any of mine published there. These I shall convey to you soon, and desire you to publish them (as omitted by being mislaid) in your Edition of the ‘Poems,’ which I hope you will soon make ready for the press” (Nichols, _Illustrations_, ii., p. 634). These he duly forwarded, along with a flattering criticism of the edition. He gives no hint that he may himself turn them to account, till the October of the same year, when he writes, “I have a great number of notes, etc., on Shakespeare, _for some future Edition_” (_id._, p. 654). Here the correspondence ceases. Up to this time Warburton had aided Theobald’s schemes of retaliating on Pope. We have his own authority for attributing to him the remark in Theobald’s Preface that “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.” It is probable even that he had a hand in Theobald’s and Concanen’s _Art of a Poet’s sinking in Reputation, or a Supplement to the Art of sinking in Poetry_.

Warburton then gave his services to Sir Thomas Hanmer. They had become acquainted by 1736, and they corresponded frequently till Warburton’s visit to Mildenhall in May, 1737. It is needless to enter into their quarrel, for the interest of it is purely personal. Hanmer told his version of it to Joseph Smith, the Provost of Queen’s College, Oxford, in his letter of 28th October, 1742, and Warburton gave his very different account nineteen years later, on 29th January, 1761, when he discovered that Hanmer’s letter was about to be published in the _Biographia Britannica_. In the absence of further evidence it is impossible to decide with whom the truth rests. The dignity of Hanmer’s letter wins favour by contrast with the violence of Warburton’s. Yet there must be some truth in Warburton’s circumstantial details, though his feelings may have prevented his seeing them in proper perspective. He says that Hanmer used his notes without his knowledge. The statement is probably accurate. But when Hanmer says that Warburton’s notes were “sometimes just but mostly wild and out of the way,” we are satisfied, from what we know of Warburton’s other work, that the criticism was merited. Hanmer apparently found that Warburton did not give him much help, and Warburton may have been annoyed at failing to find Hanmer as docile as Theobald. They had quarrelled by September, 1739, when Warburton records that he has got all his letters and papers out of Sir Thomas Hanmer’s hands (Nichols, _Illustrations_, ii. 110. See also Nichols, _Literary Anecdotes_, v. 588-590; _Biographia Britannica_, vol vi. (1763), pp. 3743-4, and appendix, p. 223; Philip Nichols, _The Castrated Letter of Sir Thomas Hanmer_, 1763; and Bunbury, _Correspondence of Hanmer_, pp. 85-90).

During his friendship with Hanmer, Warburton had not lost sight of his own edition. The quarrel was precipitated by Hanmer’s discovery of Warburton’s intention; but there is no evidence that Warburton had tried to conceal it. Everything goes to show that each editor was so immersed in his own scheme that he regarded the other as his collaborator. Hanmer did not know at first that Warburton was planning an edition as a means of making some money; and Warburton had not suspected that Hanmer would publish an edition at all. This is the only reasonable inference to be drawn from a letter written by him to the Rev. Thomas Birch in October, 1737. “You are pleased to enquire about Shakespeare,” he writes. “I believe (to tell it as a secret) I shall, after I have got the whole of this work out of my hands which I am now engaged in, give an Edition of it to the world. Sir Thomas Hanmer has a true critical genius, and has done great things in this Author; so you may expect to see a very extraordinary edition of its kind. I intend to draw up and prefix to it a just and complete critique on Shakespeare and his Works.” This letter reads curiously in the light of after events; but it proves, if it proves anything, that Warburton did not suspect Hanmer’s scheme, and believed that Hanmer was helping him in his edition. It is equally plain that Hanmer believed he was being helped by Warburton.

Announcements of Warburton’s forthcoming edition were made in Birch’s article on Shakespeare in the _General Dictionary, Historical and Critical_, vol. ix., January, 1739-40, and in the _History of the Works of the Learned_ for 1740 (Nichols, _Illustrations_, ii., pp. 72-4, and _Lit. Anecdotes_, v., p. 559). But there were no signs of its appearance, and Hanmer had good reason to say in October, 1742, in his letter to Joseph Smith, “I am satisfied there is no edition coming or likely to come from Warburton; but it is a report raised to support some little purpose or other, of which I see there are many on foot.” Up to this time Warburton had merely suggested emendations and puzzled out explanations: he had not set to work seriously on the complete text. Since 1740, when he published the _Vindication of the Essay on Man_, his critical and polemical talents had been devoted to the service of Pope. To judge from what he says in his Preface, his project of an edition of Shakespeare might have been abandoned had not Pope persuaded him to proceed with it by the offer of making it appear their joint work. Pope had nothing to do with it, for it was not begun till after his death. But it was a cruel fate that what professed to be a new edition of his “Shakespeare” should really be founded on Theobald’s. The knowledge of Theobald’s use of the Quartos and Folios led Warburton to commit a detestable quibble on his title-page. There is said to be no evidence that Warburton himself had consulted them. Yet the statement that his text is “collated with all the former editions” is not absolutely without the bounds of truth: Theobald had consulted them, and Warburton does not say that he had consulted them himself. What Warburton did was to give full play to his talent for emendation, and to indulge what Johnson called his rage for saying something when there is nothing to be said. Yet we are too prone to depreciate Warburton. He has prejudiced his reputation by his arrogance and his contemptuous malignity; but we do him an injustice if we endeavour to gauge his merit only by comparing his edition with those of his immediate predecessors. No early editor of Shakespeare has gained more than Theobald and suffered more than Warburton by the custom of attributing the whole merit of an edition to him whose name is on the title page. When we read their correspondence and see their editions in the making, it is not difficult to realise what Johnson meant when he said that Warburton as a critic would make “two and fifty Theobalds, cut into slices.”

Samuel Johnson.

Johnson’s Preface is here reprinted from the edition of 1777, the last to appear in his lifetime. The more important of the few alterations made on the original Preface of 1765 are pointed out in the notes.

In 1745 Johnson had published his _Miscellaneous Observations on the Tragedy of Macbeth: with Remarks on Sir Thomas Hanmer’s Edition of Shakespeare. To which is affixed Proposals for a new Edition of Shakespeare, with a Specimen._ As Warburton’s edition was expected, this anonymous scheme met with no encouragement, and Johnson laid it aside till 1756, when he issued new Proposals. In the interval he had written of Shakespeare in the admirable Prologue which inaugurated Garrick’s rule at Drury Lane, and had shadowed in the _Rambler_ and in the Dedication to Mrs. Lennox’s _Shakespear Illustrated_ (1753) much of what was to appear in perfect form in the Preface of 1765. It was one of the conditions in the Proposals that the edition was to be published on or before Christmas, 1757. As in the case of the _Dictionary_ Johnson underestimated the labour which such a work involved. In December, 1757, we find him saying that he will publish about March, and in March he says it will be published before summer. He must have made considerable progress at this time, as, according to his own statement, “many of the plays” were then printed. But its preparation was interrupted by the _Idler_ (April, 1758, to April, 1760). Thereafter Johnson would appear to have done little to it till he was awakened to activity by the attack on him in Churchill’s _Ghost_ (1763). The edition at length appeared in October, 1765. “In 1764 and 1765,” says Boswell, “it should seem that Dr. Johnson was so busily employed with his edition of _Shakespeare_ as to have had little leisure for any other literary exertion, or indeed even for private correspondence.” The Preface was also published by itself in 1765 with the title—_Mr. Johnson’s Preface to his Edition of Shakespear’s Plays_.

The work immediately attracted great attention. Kenrick lost no time in issuing _A Review of Doctor Johnson’s New Edition of Shakespeare: in which the Ignorance or Inattention of that Editor is exposed, and the Poet defended from the Persecution of his Commentators_, 1765. Johnson was “above answering for himself,” but James Barclay, an Oxford student, replied for him, to his annoyance, in _An Examination of Mr. Kenrick’s Review_, 1766, and Kenrick himself rejoined in _A Defence of Mr. Kenrick’s Review ... By a Friend_, 1766. The most important criticism of the edition was Tyrwhitt’s _Observations and Conjectures upon some Passages of Shakespeare_, issued anonymously by the Clarendon Press in 1766. Though we read that “the author has not entered into the merits of Mr. Johnson’s performance, but has set down some observations and conjectures,” the book is in effect an examination of Johnson’s edition. Notices appeared also in the _Monthly_ and _Critical Reviews_, the _London Magazine_, the _Gentleman’s Magazine_, and the _Annual Register_. The _Monthly Review_ devotes its two articles (October and November, 1765) chiefly to the Preface. It examines at considerable length Johnson’s arguments against the “unities,” and concludes that “there is hardly one of them which does not seem false or foreign to the subject.” The _Critical Review_, on the other hand, pronounces them “worthy of Mr. Johnson’s pen”; and the _London Magazine_ admits their force, though it wishes that Johnson had “rather retained the character of a reasoner than assumed that of a pleader.”

Richard Farmer.

Farmer’s _Essay on the Learning of Shakespeare_ was published at Cambridge early in January, 1767. In the Preface to the second and enlarged edition, which appeared in the same year, Farmer says that “the few who have been pleased to controvert any part of his doctrine have favoured him with better manners than arguments.” This remark, like most of the Preface, appears to be directed chiefly at the prejudiced notice which appeared in the _Critical Review_ for January, 1767. The writer of it was well versed in the controversy, for he had expressed his opinion unhesitatingly in an earlier number, and he lost no time in advancing new evidence in opposition to Farmer’s doctrine; but he only provided Farmer with new proofs, which were at once incorporated in the text of the Essay. The third edition, which was called for in 1789, differs from the second only by the inclusion of a short “advertisement” and a final note explaining that Farmer had abandoned his intention of publishing the _Antiquities of Leicester_. In the “Advertisement” he admits that “a few corrections might probably be made, and many additional proofs of the argument have necessarily occurred in more than twenty years”; but he did not think it necessary to make any changes. He was content to leave the book in the hands of the printers, and accordingly he is still described on the title-page as “Fellow of Emmanuel College, Cambridge,” though he had succeeded to the mastership of his college in 1775.

Farmer had, however, already supplemented his Essay by a letter to Steevens, who printed it as an appendix to his edition of Johnson’s Shakespeare in 1773. “The track of reading,” says Farmer, “which I sometime ago endeavoured to prove more immediately necessary to a commentator on Shakespeare, you have very successfully followed, and have consequently superseded some remarks which I might otherwise have troubled you with. Those I now send you are such as I marked on the margin of the copy you were so kind to communicate to me, and bear a very small proportion to the miscellaneous collections of this sort which I may probably put together some time or other.” Farmer did not carry out this intention, and the _Essay on the Learning of Shakespeare_ remains his only independent publication.

Maurice Morgann.

Morgann has himself told us in his Preface all that we know about the composition of his _Essay on the Dramatic Character of Sir John Falstaff_. The result of a challenge arising out of a friendly conversation, it was written “in a very short time” in 1774, and then laid aside and almost forgotten. But for the advice of friends it would probably have remained in manuscript, and been destroyed, like his other critical works, at his death. On their suggestion he revised and enlarged it, as hastily as he had written it; and it appeared anonymously in the spring of 1777. The original purpose of the Essay is indicated by the motto on the title-page: “I am not John of Gaunt your grandfather, but yet no Coward, Hal”; but as Morgann wrote he passed from Falstaff to the greater theme of Falstaff’s creator. He was persuaded to publish his Essay because, though it dealt nominally with one character, its main subject was the art of Shakespeare. For the same reason it finds a place in this volume.

In 1744 Corbyn Morris had briefly analysed the character of Falstaff in his _Essay towards fixing the true standards of Wit, Humour, Raillery, Satire, and Ridicule_; Mrs. Montagu had expressed the common opinion of his cowardice in her _Essay on the Writings and Genius of Shakespeare_; the _Biographia Britannica_ had declared him to be Shakespeare’s masterpiece; while his popularity had led Kenrick to produce in 1766 _Falstaff’s Wedding_ as a sequel to the second part of _Henry IV._; but Morgann’s Essay is the first detailed examination of his character. He was afterwards the subject of papers by Cumberland in the _Observer_ (1785, No. 73), and by Henry Mackenzie in the _Lounger_ (1786, Nos. 68, 69), and in 1789 he was described by Richardson in an essay which reproduced Morgann’s title. None of these later works have the interest attaching to James White’s _Falstaff’s Letters_ (1796).

The _Essay on Falstaff_ was republished, with a short biographical preface, in 1820, and a third and last edition came out in 1825. What is apparently the first detailed criticism of it occurs in the _London Review_ for February, 1820.

NICHOLAS ROWE: SOME ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE &C. OF MR. WILLIAM SHAKESPEAR. 1709.

It seems to be a kind of respect due to the memory of excellent men, especially of those whom their wit and learning have made famous, to deliver some account of themselves, as well as their works, to Posterity. For this reason, how fond do we see some people of discovering any little personal story of the great men of Antiquity, their families, the common accidents of their lives, and even their shape, make, and features have been the subject of critical enquiries. How trifling soever this Curiosity may seem to be, it is certainly very natural; and we are hardly satisfy’d with an account of any remarkable person, ’till we have heard him describ’d even to the very cloaths he wears. As for what relates to men of letters, the knowledge of an Author may sometimes conduce to the better understanding his book: And tho’ the Works of Mr. _Shakespear_ may seem to many not to want a comment, yet I fancy some little account of the man himself may not be thought improper to go along with them.

He was the son of Mr. _John Shakespear_, and was born at _Stratford_ upon _Avon_, in _Warwickshire_, in _April_ 1564. His family, as appears by the Register and publick Writings relating to that Town, were of good figure and fashion there, and are mention’d as gentlemen. His father, who was a considerable dealer in wool, had so large a family, ten children in all, that tho’ he was his eldest son, he could give him no better education than his own employment. He had bred him, ’tis true, for some time at a Free-school, where ’tis probable he acquir’d that little _Latin_ he was master of: But the narrowness of his circumstances, and the want of his assistance at home, forc’d his father to withdraw him from thence, and unhappily prevented his further proficiency in that language. It is without controversie, that he had no knowledge of the writings of the antient poets, not only from this reason, but from his works themselves, where we find no traces of any thing that looks like an imitation of ’em; the delicacy of his taste, 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 ’em 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 ’em. Whether his ignorance of the Antients were a disadvantage to him or no, may admit of a dispute: For tho’ the knowledge of ’em might have made him more correct, yet it is not improbable but that the regularity and deference for them, which would have attended that correctness, might have restrain’d some of that fire, impetuosity, and even beautiful extravagance which we admire in _Shakespear_: And I believe we are better pleas’d with those thoughts, altogether new and uncommon, which his own imagination supply’d him so abundantly with, than if he had given us the most beautiful passages out of the _Greek_ and _Latin_ poets, and that in the most agreeable manner that it was possible for a master of the _English_ language to deliver ’em. Some _Latin_ without question he did know, and one may see up and down in his Plays how far his reading that way went: In _Love’s Labour lost_, the Pedant comes out with a verse of _Mantuan_; and in _Titus Andronicus_, one of the _Gothick_ princes, upon reading

Integer vitæ scelerisque purus Non eget Mauri jaculis nec arcu—

says, “_Tis a verse in_ Horace, _but he remembers it out of his_ Grammar”: which, I suppose, was the Author’s case. Whatever _Latin_ he had, ’tis certain he understood _French_, as may be observ’d from many words and sentences scatter’d up and down his Plays in that language; and especially from one scene in _Henry_ the Fifth written wholly in it. Upon his leaving school, he seems to have given intirely into that way of living which his father propos’d to him; and in order to settle in the world after a family manner, he thought fit to marry while he was yet very young. His wife was the daughter of one _Hathaway_, said to have been a substantial yeoman in the neighbourhood of _Stratford_. In this kind of settlement he continu’d for some time, ’till an extravagance that he was guilty of forc’d him both out of his country and that way of living which he had taken up; and tho’ it seem’d at first to be a blemish upon his good manners, and a misfortune to him, yet it afterwards happily prov’d the occasion of exerting one of the greatest _Genius_’s that ever was known in dramatick Poetry. He had, by a misfortune common enough to young fellows, fallen into ill company; and amongst them, some that made a frequent practice of Deer-stealing, engag’d him with them more than once in robbing a Park that belong’d to Sir _Thomas Lucy_ of _Cherlecot_ near _Stratford_. For this he was prosecuted by that gentleman, as he thought, somewhat too severely; and in order to revenge that ill usage, he made a ballad upon him. And tho’ this, probably the first essay of his Poetry, be lost, yet it is said to have been so very bitter, that it redoubled the prosecution against him to that degree, that he was oblig’d to leave his business and family in _Warwickshire_, for some time, and shelter himself in _London_.

It is at this time, and upon this accident, that he is said to have made his first acquaintance in the Play-house. He was receiv’d into the Company then in being, at first in a very mean rank; but his admirable wit, and the natural turn of it to the stage, soon distinguish’d him, if not as an extraordinary Actor, yet as an excellent Writer. His name is printed, as the custom was in those times, amongst those of the other Players, before some old Plays, but without any particular account of what sort of parts he us’d to play; and tho’ I have inquir’d, I could never meet with any further account of him this way, than that the top of his Performance was the Ghost in his own _Hamlet_. I should have been much more pleas’d to have learn’d from some certain authority, which was the first Play he wrote; it would be without doubt a pleasure to any man, curious in things of this kind, to see and know what was the first essay of a fancy like _Shakespear_’s. Perhaps we are not to look for his beginnings, like those of other authors, among their least perfect writings; art had so little, and nature so large a share in what he did, that, for ought I know, the performances of his youth, as they were the most vigorous, and had the most fire and strength of imagination in ’em, were the best. I would not be thought by this to mean, that his fancy was so loose and extravagant, as to be independent on the rule and government of judgment; but that what he thought, was commonly so great, so justly and rightly conceiv’d in it self, that it wanted little or no correction, and was immediately approv’d by an impartial judgment at the first sight. Mr. _Dryden_ seems to think that _Pericles_ is one of his first Plays; but there is no judgment to be form’d on that, since there is good reason to believe that the greatest part of that Play was not written by him; tho’ it is own’d, some part of it certainly was, particularly the last Act. But tho’ the order of time in which the several pieces were written be generally uncertain, yet there are passages in some few of them which seem to fix their dates. So the _Chorus_ in the beginning of the fifth Act of _Henry_ V. by a compliment very handsomly turn’d to the Earl of _Essex_, shews the Play to have been written when that Lord was General for the Queen in _Ireland_: And his Elogy upon Q. _Elizabeth_, and her successor K. _James_, in the latter end of his _Henry_ VIII. is a proof of that Play’s being written after the accession of the latter of those two Princes to the crown of _England_. Whatever the particular times of his writing were, the people of his age, who began to grow wonderfully fond of diversions of this kind, could not but be highly pleas’d to see a _Genius_ arise amongst ’em of so pleasurable, so rich a vein, and so plentifully capable of furnishing their favourite entertainments. Besides the advantages of his wit, he was in himself a good-natur’d man, of great sweetness in his manners, and a most agreeable companion; so that it is no wonder if with so many good qualities he made himself acquainted with the best conversations of those times. Queen _Elizabeth_ had several of his Plays acted before her, and without doubt gave him many gracious marks of her favour: It is that maiden Princess plainly, whom he intends by

——A fair Vestal, Throned by the West. _Midsummer Night’s Dream._

And that whole passage is a compliment very properly brought in, and very handsomely apply’d to her. She was so well pleas’d with that admirable character of _Falstaff_, in the two parts of _Henry_ the Fourth, that she commanded him to continue it for one Play more, and to shew him in love. This is said to be the occasion of his writing _The Merry Wives of_ Windsor. How well she was obey’d, the play it self is an admirable proof. Upon this occasion it may not be improper to observe, that this part of _Falstaff_ is said to have been written originally under the name of _Oldcastle_; some of that family being then remaining, the Queen was pleas’d to command him to alter it; upon which he made use of _Falstaff_. The present offence was indeed avoided; but I don’t know whether the Author may not have been somewhat to blame in his second choice, since it is certain that Sir _John Falstaff_, who was a Knight of the Garter, and a Lieutenant-general, was a name of distinguish’d merit in the wars in _France_ in _Henry_ the Fifth’s and _Henry_ the Sixth’s times. What grace soever the Queen conferr’d upon him, it was not to her only he ow’d the fortune which the reputation of his wit made. He had the honour to meet with many great and uncommon marks of favour and friendship from the Earl of _Southampton_, famous in the histories of that time for his friendship to the unfortunate Earl of _Essex_. It was to that noble Lord that he dedicated his Poem of _Venus_ and _Adonis_, the only piece of his Poetry which he ever publish’d himself, tho’ many of his Plays were surrepticiously and lamely printed in his life-time. There is one instance so singular in the magnificence of this Patron of _Shakespear_’s, that if I had not been assur’d that the story was handed down by Sir _William D’Avenant_, who was probably very well acquainted with his affairs, I should not have ventur’d to have inserted, that my Lord _Southampton_ at one time gave him a thousand pounds, to enable him to go through with a purchase which he heard he had a mind to: A bounty very great, and very rare at any time, and almost equal to that profuse generosity the present age has shewn to _French_ Dancers and _Italian_ Eunuchs.

What particular habitude or friendships he contracted with private men, I have not been able to learn, more than that every one who had a true taste of merit, and could distinguish men, had generally a just value and esteem for him. His exceeding candor and good nature must certainly have inclin’d all the gentler part of the world to love him, as the power of his wit oblig’d the men of the most delicate knowledge and polite learning to admire him. Amongst these was the incomparable Mr. _Edmond Spencer_, who speaks of him in his _Tears of the Muses_, not only with the praises due to a good Poet, but even lamenting his absence with the tenderness of a friend. The passage is in _Thalia’s_ Complaint for the Decay of Dramatick Poetry, and the Contempt the Stage then lay under, amongst his Miscellaneous Works, _p._ 147.

And he the Man whom Nature’s self had made To mock her self, and Truth to imitate With friendly Counter under mimick Shade, Our pleasant _Willy_, ah! is dead of late: With whom all Joy and jolly Merriment Is also deaded, and in Dolour drent.

Instead thereof, scoffing Scurrility And scorning Folly with Contempt is crept, Rolling in Rhimes of shameless Ribaudry, Without Regard or due _Decorum_ kept; Each idle Wit at will presumes to make, And doth the Learned’s Task upon him take.

But that same gentle Spirit, from whose Pen Large Streams of Honey and sweet _Nectar_ flow, Scorning the Boldness of such base-born Men, Which dare their Follies forth so rashly throw; Doth rather choose to sit in idle Cell, Than so himself to Mockery to sell.

I know some people have been of opinion, that _Shakespear_ is not meant by _Willy_ in the first _stanza_ of these verses, because _Spencer_’s death happen’d twenty years before _Shakespear_’s. But, besides that the character is not applicable to any man of that time but himself, it is plain by the last _stanza_ that Mr. _Spencer_ does not mean that he was then really dead, but only that he had withdrawn himself from the publick, or at least with-held his hand from writing, out of a disgust he had taken at the then ill taste of the Town, and the mean condition of the Stage. Mr. _Dryden_ was always of opinion these verses were meant of _Shakespear_; and ’tis highly probable they were so, since he was three and thirty years old at _Spencer_’s death; and his reputation in Poetry must have been great enough before that time to have deserv’d what is here said of him. His acquaintance with _Ben Johnson_ began with a remarkable piece of humanity and good nature; Mr. _Johnson_, who was at that time altogether unknown to the world, had offer’d one of his Plays to the Players, in order to have it acted; and the persons into whose hands it was put, after having turn’d it carelessly and superciliously over, were just upon returning it to him with an ill-natur’d answer, that it would be of no service to their Company, when _Shakespear_ luckily cast his eye upon it, and found something so well in it as to engage him first to read it through, and afterwards to recommend Mr. _Johnson_ and his writings to the publick. After this they were profess’d friends; tho’ I don’t know whether the other ever made him an equal return of gentleness and sincerity. _Ben_ was naturally proud and insolent, and in the days of his reputation did so far take upon him the supremacy in wit, that he could not but look with an evil eye upon any one that seem’d to stand in competition with him. And if at times he has affected to commend him, it has always been with some reserve, insinuating his uncorrectness, a careless manner of writing, and want of judgment; the praise of seldom altering or blotting out what he writ, which was given him by the Players who were the first Publishers of his Works after his death, was what _Johnson_ could not bear; he thought it impossible, perhaps, for another man to strike out the greatest thoughts in the finest expression, and to reach those excellencies of Poetry with the ease of a first imagination, which himself with infinite labour and study could but hardly attain to. _Johnson_ was certainly a very good scholar, and in that had the advantage of _Shakespear_; tho’ at the same time I believe it must be allow’d, that what Nature gave the latter, was more than a ballance for what Books had given the former; and the judgment of a great man upon this occasion was, I think, very just and proper. In a conversation between Sir _John Suckling_, Sir _William D’Avenant_, _Endymion Porter_, Mr. _Hales_ of _Eaton_, and _Ben Johnson_; Sir _John Suckling_, who was a profess’d admirer of _Shakespear_, had undertaken his defence against _Ben Johnson_ with some warmth; Mr. _Hales_, who had sat still for some time, hearing _Ben_ frequently reproaching him with the want of learning, and ignorance of the Antients, told him at last, _That if Mr._ Shakespear _had not read the Antients, he had likewise not stollen any thing from ’em_ (a fault the other made no conscience of); _and that if he would produce any one Topick finely treated by any one of them, he would undertake to shew something upon the same subject at least as well written by_ Shakespear. _Johnson_ did indeed take a large liberty, even to the transcribing and translating of whole scenes together; and sometimes, with all deference to so great a name as his, not altogether for the advantage of the authors of whom he borrow’d. And if _Augustus_ and _Virgil_ were really what he has made ’em in a scene of his _Poetaster_, they are as odd an Emperor and a Poet as ever met. _Shakespear_, on the other hand, was beholding to no body farther than the foundation of the tale, the incidents were often his own, and the writing intirely so. There is one Play of his, indeed, _The Comedy of Errors_, in a great measure taken from the _Menæchmi_ of _Plautus_. How that happen’d, I cannot easily divine, since, as I hinted before, I do not take him to have been master of _Latin_ enough to read it in the original, and I know of no translation of _Plautus_ so old as his time.

As I have not propos’d to my self to enter into a large and compleat criticism upon _Shakespear_’s Works, so I suppose it will neither be expected that I should take notice of the severe remarks that have been formerly made upon him by Mr. _Rhymer_. I must confess, I can’t very well see what could be the reason of his animadverting with so much sharpness, upon the faults of a man excellent on most occasions, and whom all the world ever was and will be inclin’d to have an esteem and veneration for. If it was to shew his own knowledge in the Art of Poetry, besides that there is a vanity in making that only his design, I question if there be not many imperfections as well in those schemes and precepts he has given for the direction of others, as well as in that sample of Tragedy which he has written to shew the excellency of his own _Genius_. If he had a pique against the man, and wrote on purpose to ruin a reputation so well establish’d, he has had the mortification to fail altogether in his attempt, and to see the world at least as fond of _Shakespear_ as of his Critique. But I won’t believe a gentleman, and a good-natur’d man, capable of the last intention. Whatever may have been his meaning, finding fault is certainly the easiest task of knowledge, and commonly those men of good judgment, who are likewise of good and gentle dispositions, abandon this ungrateful province to the tyranny of pedants. If one would enter into the beauties of _Shakespear_, there is a much larger, as well as a more delightful field; but as I won’t prescribe to the tastes of other people, so I will only take the liberty, with all due submission to the judgments of others, to observe some of those things I have been pleas’d with in looking him over.

His Plays are properly to be distinguish’d only into Comedies and Tragedies. Those which are called Histories, and even some of his Comedies, are really Tragedies, with a run or mixture of Comedy amongst ’em. That way of Trage-comedy was the common mistake of that age, and is indeed become so agreeable to the _English_ taste, that tho’ the severer Critiques among us cannot bear it, yet the generality of our audiences seem to be better pleas’d with it than with an exact Tragedy. _The Merry Wives of_ Windsor, _The Comedy of Errors_, and _The Taming of the Shrew_, are all pure Comedy; the rest, however they are call’d, have something of both kinds. ’Tis not very easy to determine which way of writing he was most excellent in. There is certainly a great deal of entertainment in his comical humours; and tho’ they did not then strike at all ranks of people, as the Satyr of the present age has taken the liberty to do, yet there is a pleasing and a well-distinguish’d variety in those characters which he thought fit to meddle with. _Falstaff_ is allow’d by every body to be a master-piece; the Character is always well-sustain’d, tho’ drawn out into the length of three Plays; and even the account of his death, given by his old landlady Mrs. _Quickly_, in the first act of _Henry_ V., tho’ it be extremely natural, is yet as diverting as any part of his life. If there be any fault in the draught he has made of this lewd old fellow, it is, that tho’ he has made him a thief, lying, cowardly, vain-glorious, and in short every way vicious, yet he has given him so much wit as to make him almost too agreeable; and I don’t know whether some people have not, in remembrance of the diversion he had formerly afforded ’em, been sorry to see his friend _Hal_ use him so scurvily, when he comes to the crown in the end of the second part of _Henry_ the Fourth. Amongst other extravagances, in _The Merry Wives of_ Windsor, he has made him a Deer-stealer, that he might at the same time remember his _Warwickshire_ prosecutor, under the name of Justice _Shallow_; he has given him very near the same coat of arms which _Dugdale_, in his Antiquities of that county, describes for a family there, and makes the _Welsh_ parson descant very pleasantly upon ’em. That whole play is admirable; the humours are various and well oppos’d; the main design, which is to cure _Ford_ of his unreasonable jealousie, is extremely well conducted. _Falstaff’s Billet-Doux_, and Master _Slender_’s

Ah! Sweet _Ann Page_!

are very good expressions of love in their way. In _Twelfth-Night_ there is something singularly ridiculous and pleasant in the fantastical steward _Malvolio_. The parasite and the vain-glorious in _Parolles_, in _All’s Well that ends Well_, is as good as any thing of that kind in _Plautus_ or _Terence_. _Petruchio_, in _The Taming of the Shrew_, is an uncommon piece of humour. The conversation of _Benedick_ and _Beatrice_, in _Much Ado about Nothing_, and of _Rosalind_ in _As you like it_, have much wit and sprightliness all along. His clowns, without which character there was hardly any play writ in that time, are all very entertaining: And, I believe, _Thersites_ in _Troilus_ and _Cressida_, and _Apemantus_ in _Timon_, will be allow’d to be master-pieces of ill nature and satyrical snarling. To these I might add that incomparable character of _Shylock_ the _Jew_ in _The Merchant of_ Venice; but tho’ we have seen that play receiv’d and acted as a Comedy, and the part of the _Jew_ perform’d by an excellent Comedian, yet I cannot but think it was design’d tragically by the Author. There appears in it such a deadly spirit of revenge, such a savage fierceness and fellness, and such a bloody designation of cruelty and mischief, as cannot agree either with the stile or characters of Comedy. The Play it self, take it all together, seems to me to be one of the most finish’d of any of _Shakespear_’s. The tale indeed, in that part relating to the caskets, and the extravagant and unusual kind of bond given by _Antonio_, is a little too much remov’d from the rules of probability: But taking the fact for granted, we must allow it to be very beautifully written. There is something in the friendship of _Antonio_ to _Bassanio_ very great, generous, and tender. The whole fourth act, supposing, as I said, the fact to be probable, is extremely fine. But there are two passages that deserve a particular notice. The first is, what _Portia_ says in praise of mercy, and the other on the power of musick. The melancholy of _Jaques_, in _As you like it_, is as singular and odd as it is diverting. And if what _Horace_ says,

Difficile est proprie communia dicere,

’twill be a hard task for any one to go beyond him in the description of the several degrees and ages of man’s life, tho’ the thought be old, and common enough.

——All the World’s a Stage, And all the men and women meerly Players; They have their Exits and their Entrances, And one man in his time plays many Parts, His Acts being seven Ages. At first the Infant Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms: And then, the whining School-boy with his satchel, And shining morning-face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the Lover Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad Made to his Mistress’ eye-brow. Then a Soldier Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the Pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble Reputation Ev’n in the cannon’s mouth. And then the Justice In fair round belly, with good capon lin’d, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth Age shifts Into the lean and slipper’d Pantaloon, With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice Turning again tow’rd childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound: Last Scene of all, That ends this strange eventful History, Is second childishness and meer oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans ev’ry thing.

His Images are indeed ev’ry where so lively, that the thing he would represent stands full before you, and you possess ev’ry part of it. I will venture to point out one more, which is, I think, as strong and as uncommon as any thing I ever saw; ’tis an image of Patience. Speaking of a maid in love, he says,

——She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i’th’ bud, Feed on her damask cheek: She pin’d in thought, And sate like _Patience_ on a monument, Smiling at _Grief_.

What an Image is here given! and what a task would it have been for the greatest masters of _Greece_ and _Rome_ to have express’d the passions design’d by this sketch of Statuary! The stile of his Comedy is, in general, natural to the characters, and easie in it self; and the wit most commonly sprightly and pleasing, except in those places where he runs into dogrel rhymes, as in _The Comedy of Errors_, and a passage or two in some other plays. As for his jingling sometimes, and playing upon words, it was the common vice of the age he liv’d in: And if we find it in the Pulpit, made use of as an ornament to the Sermons of some of the gravest Divines of those times; perhaps it may not be thought too light for the Stage.

But certainly the greatness of this Author’s genius do’s no where so much appear, as where he gives his imagination an entire loose, and raises his fancy to a flight above mankind and the limits of the visible world. Such are his attempts in _The Tempest_, _Midsummer Nights Dream_, _Macbeth_, and _Hamlet_. Of these, _The Tempest_, however it comes to be plac’d the first by the former publishers of his works, can never have been the first written by him: It seems to me as perfect in its kind, as almost any thing we have of his. One may observe, that the Unities are kept here, with an exactness uncommon to the liberties of his writing; tho’ that was what, I suppose, he valu’d himself least upon, since his excellencies were all of another kind. I am very sensible that he do’s, in this play, depart too much from that likeness to truth which ought to be observ’d in these sort of writings; yet he do’s it so very finely, that one is easily drawn in to have more faith for his sake, than reason does well allow of. His Magick has something in it very solemn and very poetical: And that extravagant character of _Caliban_ is mighty well sustain’d, shews a wonderful invention in the Author, who could strike out such a particular wild image, and is certainly one of the finest and most uncommon Grotesques that was ever seen. The observation, which I have been inform’d(36) three very great men concurr’d in making upon this part, was extremely just: _That_ Shakespear _had not only found out a new Character in his_ Caliban, _but had also devis’d and adapted a new manner of Language for that Character_. Among the particular beauties of this piece, I think one may be allow’d to point out the tale of _Prospero_ in the first Act; his speech to _Ferdinand_ in the fourth, upon the breaking up the masque of _Juno_ and _Ceres_; and that in the fifth, when he dissolves his charms, and resolves to break his magick rod. This Play has been alter’d by Sir _William D’Avenant_ and Mr. _Dryden_; and tho’ I won’t arraign the judgment of those two great men, yet I think I may be allow’d to say, that there are some things left out by them, that might, and even ought to have been kept in. Mr. _Dryden_ was an admirer of our Author, and, indeed, he owed him a great deal, as those who have read them both may very easily observe. And, I think, in justice to ’em both, I should not on this occasion omit what Mr. _Dryden_ has said of him.

_Shakespear_, who, taught by none, did first impart To _Fletcher_ Wit, to lab’ring _Johnson_ Art: He, monarch-like, gave those his subjects Law, And is that Nature which they paint and draw. _Fletcher_ reach’d that which on his heights did grow, Whilst _Johnson_ crept and gather’d all below: This did his Love, and this his Mirth digest, One imitates him most, the other best. If they have since out-writ all other men, ’Tis with the drops which fell from _Shakespear_’s pen. The(37) Storm which vanish’d on the neighb’ring shoar, Was taught by _Shakespear_’s Tempest first to roar. That innocence and beauty which did smile In _Fletcher_, grew on this _Enchanted Isle_. But _Shakespear_’s Magick could not copied be, Within that Circle none durst walk but he. I must confess ’twas bold, nor would you now That liberty to vulgar Wits allow, Which works by Magick supernatural things: But _Shakespear_’s Pow’r is Sacred as a King’s.

Prologue to _The Tempest_, as it is alter’d by Mr. _Dryden_.

It is the same magick that raises the Fairies in _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, the Witches in _Macbeth_, and the Ghost in _Hamlet_, with thoughts and language so proper to the parts they sustain, and so peculiar to the talent of this Writer. But of the two last of these Plays I shall have occasion to take notice, among the Tragedies of Mr. _Shakespear_. If one undertook to examine the greatest part of these by those rules which are establish’d by _Aristotle_, and taken from the model of the _Grecian_ stage, it would be no very hard task to find a great many faults: But as _Shakespear_ liv’d under a kind of mere light of nature, and had never been made acquainted with the regularity of those written precepts, so it would be hard to judge him by a law he knew nothing of. We are to consider him as a man that liv’d in a state of almost universal licence and ignorance: There was no establish’d judge, but every one took the liberty to write according to the dictates of his own fancy. When one considers that there is not one play before him of a reputation good enough to entitle it to an appearance on the present Stage, it cannot but be a matter of great wonder that he should advance dramatick Poetry so far as he did. The Fable is what is generally plac’d the first, among those that are reckon’d the constituent parts of a Tragick or Heroick Poem; not, perhaps, as it is the most difficult or beautiful, but as it is the first properly to be thought of in the contrivance and course of the whole; and with the Fable ought to be consider’d the fit Disposition, Order, and Conduct of its several parts. As it is not in this province of the _Drama_ that the strength and mastery of _Shakespear_ lay, so I shall not undertake the tedious and ill-natur’d trouble to point out the several faults he was guilty of in it. His Tales were seldom invented, but rather taken either from true History, or Novels and Romances: And he commonly made use of ’em in that order, with those incidents, and that extent of time in which he found ’em in the Authors from whence he borrow’d them. So _The Winter’s Tale_, which is taken from an old book, call’d _The Delectable History of_ Dorastus _and_ Faunia, contains the space of sixteen or seventeen years, and the Scene is sometimes laid in _Bohemia_, and sometimes in _Sicily_, according to the original order of the Story. Almost all his historical Plays comprehend a great length of time, and very different and distinct places: And in his _Antony_ and _Cleopatra_, the Scene travels over the greatest part of the _Roman_ empire. But in recompence for his carelessness in this point, when he comes to another part of the _Drama, The Manners of his Characters, in acting or speaking what is proper for them, and fit to be shown by the Poet_, he may be generally justify’d, and in very many places greatly commended. For those Plays which he has taken from the _English_ or _Roman_ history, let any man compare ’em, and he will find the character as exact in the Poet as the Historian. He seems indeed so far from proposing to himself any one action for a Subject, that the Title very often tells you, ’tis _The Life of King_ John, _King_ Richard, _&c._ What can be more agreeable to the idea our historians give of _Henry_ the Sixth, than the picture _Shakespear_ has drawn of him! His Manners are every where exactly the same with the story; one finds him still describ’d with simplicity, passive sanctity, want of courage, weakness of mind, and easie submission to the governance of an imperious Wife, or prevailing Faction: Tho’ at the same time the Poet do’s justice to his good qualities, and moves the pity of his audience for him, by showing him pious, disinterested, a contemner of the things of this world, and wholly resign’d to the severest dispensations of God’s providence. There is a short Scene in the second part of _Henry_ VI., which I cannot but think admirable in its kind. Cardinal _Beaufort_, who had murder’d the Duke of _Gloucester_, is shewn in the last agonies on his death-bed, with the good King praying over him. There is so much terror in one, so much tenderness and moving piety in the other, as must touch any one who is capable either of fear or pity. In his _Henry_ VIII. that Prince is drawn with that greatness of mind, and all those good qualities which are attributed to him in any account of his reign. If his faults are not shewn in an equal degree, and the shades in this picture do not bear a just proportion to the lights, it is not that the Artist wanted either colours or skill in the disposition of ’em; but the truth, I believe, might be, that he forbore doing it out of regard to Queen _Elizabeth_, since it could have been no very great respect to the memory of his Mistress, to have expos’d some certain parts of her father’s life upon the stage. He has dealt much more freely with the Minister of that great King, and certainly nothing was ever more justly written, than the character of Cardinal _Wolsey_. He has shewn him tyrannical, cruel, and insolent in his prosperity; and yet, by a wonderful address, he makes his fall and ruin the subject of general compassion. The whole man, with his vices and virtues, is finely and exactly describ’d in the second Scene of the fourth Act. The distresses likewise of Queen _Katherine_, in this Play, are very movingly touch’d; and tho’ the art of the Poet has skreen’d King _Henry_ from any gross imputation of injustice, yet one is inclin’d to wish, the Queen had met with a fortune more worthy of her birth and virtue. Nor are the Manners, proper to the persons represented, less justly observ’d in those characters taken from the _Roman_ History; and of this, the fierceness and impatience of _Coriolanus_, his courage and disdain of the common people, the virtue and philosophical temper of _Brutus_, and the irregular greatness of mind in _M. Antony_, are beautiful proofs. For the two last especially, you find ’em exactly as they are describ’d by _Plutarch_, from whom certainly _Shakespear_ copy’d ’em. He has indeed follow’d his original pretty close, and taken in several little incidents that might have been spar’d in a Play. But, as I hinted before, his design seems most commonly rather to describe those great men in the several fortunes and accidents of their lives, than to take any single great action, and form his work simply upon that. However, there are some of his pieces, where the Fable is founded upon one action only. Such are more especially, _Romeo_ and _Juliet_, _Hamlet_, and _Othello_. The design in _Romeo_ and _Juliet_ is plainly the punishment of their two families, for the unreasonable feuds and animosities that had been so long kept up between ’em, and occasion’d the effusion of so much blood. In the management of this story, he has shewn something wonderfully tender and passionate in the love-part, and very pitiful in the distress. _Hamlet_ is founded on much the same Tale with the _Electra_ of _Sophocles_. In each of ’em a young Prince is engag’d to revenge the death of his father, their mothers are equally guilty, are both concern’d in the murder of their husbands, and are afterwards married to the murderers. There is in the first part of the _Greek_ Tragedy, something very moving in the grief of _Electra_; but as Mr. _D’Acier_ has observ’d, there is something very unnatural and shocking in the Manners he has given that Princess and _Orestes_ in the latter part. _Orestes_ embrues his hands in the blood of his own mother; and that barbarous action is perform’d, tho’ not immediately upon the stage, yet so near, that the audience hear _Clytemnestra_ crying out to _Ægysthus_ for help, and to her son for mercy: While _Electra_, her daughter, and a Princess, both of them characters that ought to have appear’d with more decency, stands upon the stage and encourages her brother in the parricide. What horror does this not raise! _Clytemnestra_ was a wicked woman, and had deserv’d to die; nay, in the truth of the story, she was kill’d by her own son; but to represent an action of this kind on the stage, is certainly an offence against those rules of manners proper to the persons, that ought to be observ’d there. On the contrary, let us only look a little on the conduct of _Shakespear_. _Hamlet_ is represented with the same piety towards his father, and resolution to revenge his death, as _Orestes_; he has the same abhorrence for his mother’s guilt, which, to provoke him the more, is heighten’d by incest: But ’tis with wonderful art and justness of judgment, that the Poet restrains him from doing violence to his mother. To prevent any thing of that kind, he makes his father’s Ghost forbid that part of his vengeance.

But howsoever thou pursu’st this Act, Taint not thy mind; nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother ought; leave her to Heav’n, And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, To prick and sting her.

This is to distinguish rightly between _Horror_ and _Terror_. The latter is a proper passion of Tragedy, but the former ought always to be carefully avoided. And certainly no dramatick Writer ever succeeded better in raising _Terror_ in the minds of an audience than _Shakespear_ has done. The whole Tragedy of _Macbeth_, but more especially the scene where the King is murder’d, in the second Act, as well as this Play, is a noble proof of that manly spirit with which he writ; and both shew how powerful he was, in giving the strongest motions to our souls that they are capable of. I cannot leave _Hamlet_ without taking notice of the advantage with which we have seen this Master-piece of _Shakespear_ distinguish it self upon the stage, by Mr. _Betterton_’s fine performance of that part: A man who, tho’ he had no other good qualities, as he has a great many, must have made his way into the esteem of all men of letters, by this only excellency. No man is better acquainted with _Shakespear_’s manner of expression, and indeed he has study’d him so well, and is so much a master of him, that whatever part of his he performs, he does it as if it had been written on purpose for him, and that the Author had exactly conceiv’d it as he plays it. I must own a particular obligation to him, for the most considerable part of the passages relating to this life, which I have here transmitted to the publick; his veneration for the memory of _Shakespear_ having engaged him to make a journey into _Warwickshire_, on purpose to gather up what remains he could of a name for which he had so great a value. Since I had at first resolv’d not to enter into any critical controversie, I won’t pretend to enquire into the justness of Mr. _Rhymer_’s Remarks on _Othello_; he has certainly pointed out some faults very judiciously; and indeed they are such as most people will agree, with him, to be faults: But I wish he would likewise have observ’d some of the beauties too; as I think it became an exact and equal Critique to do. It seems strange that he should allow nothing good in the whole: If the Fable and Incidents are not to his taste, yet the Thoughts are almost every where very noble, and the Diction manly and proper. These last, indeed, are parts of _Shakespear_’s praise, which it would be very hard to dispute with him. His Sentiments and Images of things are great and natural; and his Expression (tho’ perhaps in some instances a little irregular) just, and rais’d in proportion to his subject and occasion. It would be even endless to mention the particular instances that might be given of this kind: But his Book is in the possession of the publick, and ’twill be hard to dip into any part of it, without finding what I have said of him made good.

The latter part of his life was spent, as all men of good sense will wish theirs may be, in ease, retirement, and the conversation of his friends. He had the good fortune to gather an estate equal to his occasion, and, in that, to his wish; and is said to have spent some years before his death at his native _Stratford_. His pleasurable wit, and good nature, engag’d him in the acquaintance, and entitled him to the friendship of the gentlemen of the neighbourhood. Amongst them, it is a story almost still remember’d in that country, that he had a particular intimacy with Mr. _Combe_, an old gentleman noted thereabouts for his wealth and usury: It happen’d, that in a pleasant conversation amongst their common friends, Mr. _Combe_ told _Shakespear_ in a laughing manner, that he fancy’d he intended to write his Epitaph, if he happen’d to out-live him; and since he could not know what might be said of him when he was dead, he desir’d it might be done immediately: Upon which _Shakespear_ gave him these four verses.

Ten in the hundred lies here ingrav’d, ’Tis a hundred to ten his soul is not sav’d: If any man ask, Who lies in this tomb? Oh! ho! quoth the devil, ’tis my _John-a-Combe_.

But the sharpness of the Satyr is said to have stung the man so severely, that he never forgave it.

He dy’d in the 53d year of his age, and was bury’d on the north side of the chancel, in the great church at _Stratford_, where a monument, as engrav’d in the plate, is plac’d in the wall. On his Grave-stone underneath is,

Good friend, for Jesus sake, forbear To dig the dust inclosed here. Blest be the man that spares these stones, And curst be he that moves my bones.

He had three daughters, of which two liv’d to be marry’d; _Judith_, the elder, to one Mr. _Thomas Quiney_, by whom she had three Sons, who all dy’d without children; and _Susannah_, who was his favourite, to Dr. _John Hall_, a physician of good reputation in that country. She left one child only, a daughter, who was marry’d first to _Thomas Nash_, Esq; and afterwards to Sir _John Bernard_ of _Abington_, but dy’d likewise without issue.

This is what I could learn of any note, either relating to himself or family: The character of the man is best seen in his writings. But since _Ben Johnson_ has made a sort of an essay towards it in his _Discoveries_, tho’, as I have before hinted, he was not very cordial in his friendship, I will venture to give it in his words.

“I remember the Players have often mention’d it as an honour to _Shakespear_, that in writing (whatsoever he penn’d) he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, _Would he had blotted a thousand_, which they thought a malevolent speech. I had not told posterity this, but for their ignorance, who chose that circumstance to commend their friend by, wherein he most faulted: And to justifie mine own candor (for I lov’d the man, and do honour his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any). He was, indeed, honest, and of an open and free nature, had an excellent fancy, brave notions, and gentle expressions; wherein he flow’d with that facility, that sometimes it was necessary he should be stopp’d: _Sufflaminandus erat_, as _Augustus_ said of _Haterius_. His wit was in his own power, would the rule of it had been so too. Many times he fell into those things could not escape laughter; as when he said in the person of _Cæsar_, one speaking to him,

_Cæsar_ thou dost me wrong.

He reply’d:

_Cæsar_ did never wrong, but with just cause.

and such like, which were ridiculous. But he redeem’d his vices with his virtues: There was ever more in him to be prais’d than to be pardon’d.”

As for the passage which he mentions out of _Shakespear_, there is somewhat like it in _Julius Cæsar_, but without the absurdity; nor did I ever meet with it in any edition that I have seen, as quoted by Mr. _Johnson_. Besides his plays in this edition, there are two or three ascrib’d to him by Mr. _Langbain_, which I have never seen, and know nothing of. He writ likewise, _Venus_ and _Adonis_, and _Tarquin_ and _Lucrece_, in stanza’s, which have been printed in a late collection of Poems. As to the character given of him by _Ben Johnson_, there is a good deal true in it: But I believe it may be as well express’d by what _Horace_ says of the first _Romans_, who wrote Tragedy upon the _Greek_ models (or indeed translated ’em), in his epistle to _Augustus_.

—— Natura sublimis & Acer, Nam spirat Tragicum satis & feliciter Audet, Sed turpem putat in Chartis metuitque Lituram.

There is a Book of Poems, publish’d in 1640, under the name of Mr. _William Shakespear_, but as I have but very lately seen it, without an opportunity of making any judgment upon it, I won’t pretend to determine, whether it be his or no.

JOHN DENNIS: ON THE GENIUS AND WRITINGS OF SHAKESPEARE. 1711.