\. atornell Hniocraitg Slibrarg FROM THE BENNO LOEWY LIBRARY COLLECTED BY BENNO LOEWY 1854.1919 BEQUEATHED TO CORNELL UNIVERSITY Cornell University Library PR 3007.N33 Time and truth reconciling the moral and 924 013 162 593 Cornell University Library The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013162593 TIME AND TRUTH RECONCILING The Moral and Religious "World SHAKESPEARE. Bones for Shakespeare's Depreclaters to Pick. The name of Shakespeare is the greatest in our literature — it is the greatest in a2/ literature — not Homer's self such matchless lam^els won! Sweetest Shakespeare is the Poet of the World ; the mighty master of the Soul ! • His anatomy of the human heart is delineated from, ?iatwre — not from, Meta- physics, if human nature were quite destroyed, and no monument left of it except his Works, other Beings might learn what Man was, from those writings. Our inimitable Shakespearet the Genias of our Isle, the man whom Nature self had made, to moch herself was not of an Age, but, for all Time ; the chief of Poets hitherto: what draughts of nature I what a variety of originals ! every- thing in him is in unmeasured abundance and unequaled perfection — fresh to all ages ! the consummate union of the beautiful and the good — the photo- graphic transmission of the created world, hoth animate and inanimate. Pride of his own, and wonder of this Age, Shakespeare unlocked man's heart; dis- dained to sacrifice justice and the truth of nature, to any time-serving expe- diency ; the teacher of all good: there never was a Poet who had such sublime beauties, so great a variety of beauties, or so great a number of beauties, as Shakespeare J reade hixn^ therefore, and againe andagainej and if then you doe not like him, surely you are in some mani- fest danger not to vnderstand him. His Dramas are not only moral, but religious, in the highest meaning of that word; affording evidence of his mind having been deeply imbued with the pure morality of the Gospel: he never renders that amiable which religion and reason teach us to detest, or clothes impurity in the garb of virtue; the man who has not read Shakespeare, ought to have public- prayers put np for him! In respect of Shakespeare's great sense, Aristophanes' s best wit, is but buffoonery ; and, in comparison of Aris- tophanes' s freedoms, Shahespeare writes with the pv/rity of a vestal. Shake- speare prized sincerity in religion, and respected it as a thing too sacred to be touched by the shafts of ridicule ; never threw down the boundaries between vice and virtue: Shakespeare but wrote the play the Almighty made; the tendency of his works is universally qf the highest moral character, and they abound with the higJiest possible wisdom, namely. Christian philosophy — for, the Poetry of Shakespeare was inspiration indeed! Master of the human heart, Shakespeare wants no light but his own ; he needed not the ^ectacles of books to read Nature; he looked inwards an^ found her there ; he had none to imi- tate and was himself inimitable, always varied neoer mannered — a.n Exception to all rules. It is to Shakespeare that Woman owes the popular eleoation of the Feminine character, by the most matchless delineation qfits purity, its faith, its disinterestedness, its tenderness, its heroism, its union of intellect and sensi- bility. The mind of Shakespeare was a magic mirror, in which all human- nature's possible forms and combinations were present, intuitively and inherently — not conceived, but, as connatural portions of his own humanity— Ac was, certainly, one of the greatest Moral-philosophers that ever lived ! There was a time when the art of Jonson was set above the divinest raptures of Shake- speare ; the present age is well-convinced of the mistake : and now, the genius of Shakespeare i» idolized in its turn ; happily, for the public taste, it can scarcely be too much so. The stream of time, which is continually washing the dis- soluble fabrics of other Poets, passes without injury by the adamant of Shakespeare. Iiist of the preceding cloud of Witnesses. 1 Hallam IC Shaw (Professor 31 Young (Rev. Dr. 2 Seward 17 Clarke (Cowden 32 Rankin 3 Milton 18 Mallet 33 Pope 4 Campbell fTho. y^Q Miller (Rare Tom 34 Symmona (Rev. Dr. 5 Mitford (Miss '"'^ 20 Jameson (Mrs. 35 Gifford 6 Griffirh (Mrs. 21 Retrospective Review 36 Dryden 7 Lyttelton (Lord 22 Sherlock (Rev. M. 37 Dennis 8 Addison 23 Heminge & Condell 38 Fisher (Archdeacon 9 Fenton 24 Tweddell 39 Brougham (Lord 10 Spenser (Edmund 25 Price (Rev. Thomas 40 Knight (Charles 11 Jonson (Ben 20 Coleridge 41 Quarterly Review 12 Carlyle (Thomas 27 Clarke (Rev. Dr. Adam 42 Montagu (Mrs. 13 Theobald 28 Warburton (Bishop 43 Hurd (Bishop 14 Jeffrey (Lord 29 Fox (Rev. W. J. 44 Johnson (Dr. 15 Digges 30 Procter 'h'tCK H Sherlock (Rev. Martin) on Shakespeare's beauties; 90. Siddons (Mrs.) on Shakespeare's intuitiveness ; 192. Slavery and the Slavetrade ; 154. Smith (Sir Harry) on the profession oi Soldier; 137. Squeamishness in English society; 199. Steevens, a corrujpter of Shakespeare's Text ; 61. Swift (Dean) on Puns; 130. Symmons (Rev.Dr.) on Shakespeare; 70; on Johnson ; 127. xu. Teachers of Religion the chief instigaters and abetters of War; 142. Teetotalers, very imiew^erata; 161. The Play scene in Hamlet ; 107. Theobald, an inserter of indecencies into the text of Shake- speare; 61. The three Parts of Henry 6th and Richard III, but one drama; 40. Thomson (James) on Shakespeare ; 14. To the Pure, all things axe pure; 103. Tweddell (George) on Shakespeare ; 2. Udall, on Plutarch, applicable to Shakespeare"; 62. Usury — 25, 50, 80 per cent. 157. Verdicts ou Suicidal cases ; 1 82. Villemain, on collecting Shakespeare's thoughts; 210. Virtue, variously defined by Philosophers ; 114. Voltaire, on Shakespeare ; 10, 95. Warburton (Bishop) on Shakespeare's Tvit zjiA purity ; 57. His Eirrogance in altering [marring] the text of the great theologian, Shakespeare; 62. War destructive, both in its nature and consequences; 134 ; a legionary Evil; 146. Wellington, on the profession of Soldier; on War ; 135. TheDukeaDueHst; 150. Wesley's (Rev. John) manuscript Edition of the Complete Works of Shakespeare, humed hy the Goths; 203. Witchcraft, an Article of religious Faith, in the 15 th and 1 6th centuries ; 118. Wordsworth, on Shakespeare's writings; 178. Writer of this Essay, prejudiced against Shakespeare from Infancy; 10. Oijeci of this little work ; 12. Though a lasher of Pulpit-cant, a detester of Hypocrisy, an enemy to Wolves in Sheep's clothing — stUl, a respecter of upright ReUgious-teachers of all denominations ; 75. Young (Rev. Dr. Ed.) on Shakespeare, as a Dramatist ; 54. Appendix II — on the Spellings of words; 225. TtME AND TRUTH RECONCILING The MORAL and RELIGIOUS World TO SHAKESPSARE. =^ London, 22 Feb. 1854. Chapter I. The Writings of Shakespeare constitute a Species of Study in themselves. The proper Study of mankind, is — Man; Pope. and what think you, gentle Reader, of the man Shakespeare ? who has been more highly lauded and more deeply censured than any other man in the annals of our literature. Have you read him? andAoro? with your own eyes ? or, through the spectacles of other men? with the exercise of your own. understanding? or, prejudiced with the whims, notions, and opinions of his editors, commentators, and critics? He was "not in the roU of common men;" He was a man, take him for all in all. Eye shall not look upon his like again : Samlet. consequently, He is one of the fittest subjects for his countrymen's contemplation. Soule of the Age! The applause, delight, the wonder of the Stage, My Shakespeare rise ! I will not lodge Thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lye A little further, to make Thee a roome : Thou art a moniment without a tombe; And art aliue still, while thy Booke doth line And we have wits to read and praise to giue! Ben Ionson. Folio ed. of Shakespeare, 1623. The myriad-min'ded Shakespeare was the Daguerreotype of Mankind; and were you to peruse a hundred Essays on Shakespeare, you would assuredly read as many essentially diiFerent discourses; because, Shakespeare is a different writer to every different reader: he is not to me, what he is to you; there are not two individuals who think similarly of him; he strikes every inteUigent mind, yet, he strikes not two alike. Different minds Inchne to different objects ; one pursues The vast alone, the wonderftd, the wild ; Another sighs for harmony, and grace, And gentlest beauty. Hence, when lightning fires The arch of heaven, and thunders rock the ground ; When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air. And ocean, groaning from his lowest bed. Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky — Amid the mighty uproar, while below The nations tremble, Shakespeare looks abroad. From some high cliff superior, and enjoys The elemental war! Pleasures of Imagination. From this passage, we learn the impression which Shake- speare had made on the mind of Akenside; how different to the impress made on the mind of Milton, who wrote of Sweetest Shakespeare, _/aracy'« child. Warbles his native wood-notes wild! L' Allegro. and how different these, to the impression struck on the mind of his well-meaning Defender against the " Misrepre- sentations of Voltaire — We are apt to consider Shakespeare, only as a Poet; but, he is certainly one of the greatest Moral-philoso- phers that ever lived. Elizabeth Montagu. An impression the very reverse of this, seems to have been stamped on the pusillanimous mind of Bell, the anonymous biographer of Shakespeare, in Lardner's Cabinet Cyclo- paedia; for, he roundly asserts — Shakespeare had no moral purpose in view; "he sac- rifices virtue to convenience." To please was his great object; he paid no attention to that retributive justice, which, when human affiairs are rightly under- stood, pervades them all. Lives of eminent men, p. 128. " Ye gods, it doth amaze me !" But, in his clever little volume, published in 1852, George Tweddell more advisedly writes — What a fine Philosophy pervades each of his dramas! and weak indeed must be the penetration of the man. 3 who can discover no high moral purpose running, like veins of silver in the earth, through all the writings of Shakespeare. We need not envy the soul, that has never felt its self-reliance strengthened, hy a perusal of these immortal dramas. They are not only moral, but religious, in the highest meaning of that word. Shakespeare: his Times and Cotemporaries. In his once much admired History of England (which has for some time been gradually falling to its proper level) Hume has expressed his iwiphilosophical notions regarding the Plenipotentiary of the human race, in the following derogatory terms — If Shakespeare be considered as a Man, born in a rude age, and educated in the lowest manner, without any instruction, either from the world or from books, he may be regarded as a prodigy ; if represented as a Poet, capable of furnishing a proper entertainment to a refined or intelligent audience, we must abate much of this eulogy. In his compositions, we regret that many irregularities, and even absurdities, should so frequently disfigure the animated and passionate scenes intermixed with them ; and, at the same time, we, perhaps, admire the more those beauties, on account of their being surrounded with such deformities. A striking peculiarity of sentiment, adapted to a single character, he frequently hits, as it were, by inspira- tion; but, a reasonable propriety of thought, he cannot for any time uphold. Nervous and picturesque expressions, as well as descriptions, abound in him ; but, it is in vain we look either for purity or simplicity of diction. His total ignorance of all theatrical art and conduct, however material a defect, yet, as it affects the spectator rather than the reader, we can more easily excuse than that rvant of taste which often prevails in his productions, and which gives way, only by intervals, to the irradiation of genius. A great and fertile genius he certainly possessed, and one enriched equally with a tragic and comic vein ; but, he ought to be cited as a proof, how dangerous it is to rely on these advantages alone, for attaining an excel- ence in the finer arts. And there may even remain a suspicion, that we overrate, if possible, the greatness of his genius; in the same manner, as bodies often appear more gigantic, on account of their being dis- proportioned and misshapen. But, in Hallam (a man of deeper penetration and sounder judgement [not jiidgmeni} than Hume) we read — Shakespeare was, as I believe, conversant with the better class of English literature, which the reign of Elizabeth afforded. The name of Shakespeare is the greatest in our literature — it is the greatest in all literature. No man ever came near to him in the creative powers of the mind ; no man had ever such strength at once, and such variety of imagination. The number of characters in his plays, is astonish- ingly great, without reckoning those, who, although transient, have often their individuality all distinct, all types of human-life, in well-defined differences. He leaves far behind, not the dramatists alone, but all writers of fiction. Compare with him Homer — the tragedians of Greece — the poets of Italy — Plautus, Cervantes, Moliere, Addison, Lesage, Fielding, Rich- ardson, Scott — the romancers of the elder or later schools — one man has far more than surpassed them all. Others may have been as sublime, others may have been more pathetic, others may have equalled [properly eqttaled] him in grace and purity of lan- guage, and have shunned some of his faults ; but, the philosophy of Shakespeare, his intimate searching out of the human heart, whether in the gnomic form of sentence, or in the dramatic exhibition of character, is a gift peculiarly his own. If originality of invention did not so much stamp almost every play of Shakespeare, that to name one as the most original, seems a disparagement to others, we might say, that his great prerogative of genius was exercised above all in Lear. Yet, there are those who still aflfect to speak of Shakespeare as a barbarian ; and others, who, giving what they think due credit to his genius, deny him sJI judgment [better judgement'] and dramatic taste. A comparison of his works with those of his cotem- poraries — and it is surely to tliem that we should look — wiU prove that his judgment is by no means the least of his rare qualities. Introduction to the Literature of Europe. In the works of the critical Bishop of Worcester, I read — There was a time, when the art of Jonson was set above the divinest raptures of Shakespeare. The present age is well-convinced of the mistake. And now, the genius of Shakespeare is idolized in its turn. Happily, for the public taste, it can scarcely be too much so. Such was the opinion of Bishop Hurd — observe now its contrast, in the foUowLng deliberately penned critique, by the Rev. Richard Cecil — Shakespeare had a low and licentious taste. When he chose to imagine a virtuous and exalted character, he could completely throw his mind into it, and give the perfect picture of such a character. But, he is at home in FalstafF. No high, grand, virtuous, religious aim, beams forth in him. A man whose heart and taste are modelled [modeled] on the Bible, nauseates him in the mass, while he is enraptured and astonished by the flashes of his pre-eminent genius. Cecil's Remains- In allusion to critiques and censures similar to this, from the pen of the sincerely devout Cecil, who was not by any means singular in his notions regarding the yet but par- tially known Shakespeare, Rankin, in his praise-worthy little volume, has expressed himself as follows — Some reverend writers, more zealous than wise, have gone so far as to affirm, that Shakespeare was destitute of religious feeling and reverence for God. The true friends of religion and morality must regret, that their advocates, in making such a charge, have grossly departed from truth. The fact ig, that the profane passages occurring in eur author's Plays, are either uttered by personages whom Shakespeare in- tends to hold up to reprobation, and in whom piety would destroy consistency of character; or. He manages to show, in the context, that He himself approves them not. The faults of Shakespeare, were faults of his times;' his beauties are beauties of eternity. And, in spite of the frequent occurrence of the objectionable passages, it may still be safely affirmed, that the tendency of bis works is universally of the highest moral character. and that they abound with the highest possible wisdom — namely, Chkistian Philosoj'ht. The Philosophy of Shahespeare. The Rev. W. J. Bu-ch, among a variety of accusatory and condemnatory observations on the principles and senti- ments of the Father of the English Drama, boldly asserts — Shakespeare treated reUgion with less respect even than Marlow : but, Procter, who was much better acquainted with both Marlow and Shaliespeare than Birch is ever likely to be, assures us, that — Marlow stands forth, the historian of lust and the demonstrater of physical power; whilst Shakespeare is ever the champion of humanity and intellect. From this dozen of contradictory testimonies regarding Shakespeare, those of my readers who have not read him for themselves, must, on a little reflection, infer there is some more than ordinary cause for such wide differences of opinion amongst such accredited writers as I have quoted ; there are many causes; but, I shall not attempt an enumera- tion: I shall simply remark, in passing, that the highest and deepest things in Shakespeare, can be properly appreci- ated by readers of a high moral tone only, fully capable of apprehending and of originating sublimely poetic things. Gifford, in his defense of Ben Jonson against the charge of " daring profanation of the Scriptures," writes of Shakespeare in language as strange as it is indefensible — The fact is, that the crime which is fsdsely charged on the one, falls with dreadful eflPect upon the other. Shakespeare is, in truth, the coryphaeus of profanation. Texts of Scripture are adduced by him with the most wanton levity; sind, like his own Hal, he has led to damnable iteration. He too, let us hope, regarded his conduct, in this respect, "with horror," though no record of it be found on earth. Memoir of Ben Jonson. As a set off against this unwarrantable accusation, by Gifford, I shall quote the opinion of the Rev. James Plumbtre, who, in his " Copious supplementary Notes" to the "Four Discourses on subjects relating to the amusement of the Stage, preached at Great St. Mary's Church, Cam- ' bridge," in 1808, maintains — 7 Scriptural allusions and phrases may be introduced with propriety; p. 158. and immediately quotes half-a-dozen examples from Shake- speare, in support of his opinion. On p. 139, the Reverend author has shown that "the general idea of the Tempest, the Shipwreck, and the Island, is taken from the account of St. Paul's shipwreck on the Island of Mehta, as mentioned in Acts xxvii and xxviii" — and, on p. 190, he adds — That the most sublime doctrines of religion may be introduced on the Stage, if done with seriousness and address, the following instances, I think, will show: — quoting 6 closely printed 8vo. pages of passages from Plays, confirming his opinion — countenanced by the good Bishop Home. There is no scarcity of Reverend and Right Reverend authorities to justify Shakespeare's use of the language, the very phraseology of holy- writ, in his Dramas. Were it necessary, I could easily quote 100 pages of the Writings of Ministers of the Gospel, of various denominations, in justification of the frequent use made by the Father of the English Drama, of scriptural allusions, words, and senti- ments; but, such a display would be out of place here; my present object being to show, not similarity but dissimi- larity of opinions on Shakespeare. The Rev. W. J. Fox, more as a Statesman than a Minister of Religion, has published his opinions on Shake- speare, in a series of papers; and, among other pointed remarks, tells us — Shakespeare prized sincerity in religion, and res- pected it as a thing too sacred to be touched by the shafts of ridicule; but, he looked upon religion as a a thing to be intirely reprobated when it assumed the spirit of intolerance, and interfering with temporal aflFairs, and with the free and natural thoughts, feelings, and habits of mankind, sought for plunder and aggran- disement. We have Shakespeare's verdict against the mixing up ecclesiastical and political authority; he shows us, that the beauty of Religion and the character of the Priest, require perfect freedom from the entanglements of party strife and the sordid ends that arise out of a connexion [better connection'] with the State. Political Morality of Shakespeare's Plays. 8 Lord Lyttelton has communicated his opinion of Shake- speare, in the following paragraph — No author had ever so copious, so bold, so creative an imagination, with so perfect a knowledge of the passions, the humors, the sentiments of mankind. He painted aU characters, from heroes and kings down to innkeepers and peasants, with equal truth and equal force. If human-nature were quite destroyed, and no monument left of it, except his works, other Beings might learn what Man was, from those writings. Dialogues of the Dead. And Mrs. Griffith has recorded her conceptions of those too little studied Dramas, in the following passage — Shakespeare is not only my Poet, but my Philoso- pher also. His anatomy of the human-heart is delin- eated from nature, not from metaphysics ; referring immediately to our intuitive sense, and not wandering with the schoolmen, through the pathless wilds of theory. We do not only see, but feel his dissections just and scientific. Morality of Shahespeare's Dramas Illustrated. And what says JeiFrey ? a writer whose opinion, on such a subject, ought to receive respectful consideration — More fuU of wisdom and ridicule and sagacity, than all the moralists and satirists in existence, Shake- speare is more wild, airy, and inventive, and more pathetic and fantastic, than all the Poets of all the regions and ages of the world ; and has cJl those elements so happily mixed up in him, and bears his high faculties so temperately, that the most severe reader cannot complain of him for want of strength or of reason, nor the most sensitive for defect of ornament or ingenuity. Everything in him is in im- measured abundance and unequaled perfection ; but, everything is so balanced and kept in subordination, as not to jostle or disturb or take the place of one another. The most exquisite poetical conceptions, images, and descriptions, are given with such brevity and introduced with such skill, as merely to adorn without loading the sense they accompany. All his excellencies [accurately excelences] like those of Nature herself, are thrown out together ; and, instead of interfering with, support and recommend each Other. Critique on Hazlitt, Carlyle, in his rhapsodical effusions on Tlie Hero as a Poet, furnishes me with the following temperate para- graph — Of this Shakespeare of ours, perhaps, the opinion one sometimes hears a little idolatrously expressed, is, in fact, the right one ; I think the best judgement — not of this country only, but of Europe at large, is slowly pointing to the conclusion, that Shakespeare is the chief of all Poets hitherto ; the greatest intellect, who, in our recorded world, has left record of himself, in the way of Literature. On the whole, I know not such a power of vision, faculty of thought, if we take all the characters of it, in any other man. Such a calmness of depth, placid joyous strength ; all things imaged in that great soul of his so true and clear, as in a tranquil unfathomable sea ! Six Lectures on Heroes, S^c. And every day is adding to the number of those readers who are disposed and prepared to subscribe to Shaw's opinion — From the works of Shakespeare may be gleaned a complete collection of precepts, adapted to every con- ceivable circumstance of human affairs. The wisest and best of mankind have gone to him for maxims of KisdoTn and goodness — maxims, expressed with the artlessness and simplicity of a casual remark, but, pregnant with the thought of consummate experience and penetration : from him the Courtier has learned grace, the Moralist prudence, the Theologian divinity, the Soldier enterprise, the King royalty : his roit is unbounded, his passion inimitable, his sjjlendor un- equaled ; and over all these varied glories, he has thrown a halo of human sympathy no less tender than his genius was immeasurable and profound — a light reflected from the most gentle, generous, loving spirit, that ever glowed within a human heart — the consummate union of the beautiful and the good ! Outlines of English Literature. 1849. To this score of dissimilar testimonies of the impressions engraven by Shakespeare on the minds of his readers, hundreds might be added, without once quoting Foreigners ; as we have Englishmen in abundance who have penned all that is commendatory and all that is condemnatory of B 2 10 Shakespeare : and were I to adduce but half the divers and diverse opinions. I have read on his Plays taken separ- ately, on the numerous contested passages, on his political opinions, his moral sentiments, and his religious tenets, I should not have hundreds but thousands of extracts. It would exhaust the patience of my most patient readers, ■ were I to quote but a tithe of the critiques which are to be found in the pages of Foreign writers on "the Genius of the British Isles " — such, for instance, as Voltaire's com- ment on the masterpiece of our philosophic poet — Samlet seems the work of a drunken Savage ! such as Buonaparte's contemptuous judgement of the great poet of Humanity, whose Dramas will be the delight of many nations, ages after the Corsican Emperor of France shall have passed into utter oblivion — I have read Shakespeare ; there is nothing that ap- proaches CorneUle and Racine. There is no possibility of reading one of his pieces through. They excite pity ! As to Milton, there is nothing but his invoca- tion to the Sun, and two or three other passages. The rest is mere rhapsody ! Thibaxtdeau's Memoirs of the Consulate. Neither am I disposed to weary my readers with the scores and hundreds of favorable and enthusiastic opinions to be met with in the works of such writers as Lessing, Tieck, Schlegel, Korner, Ulrici, Goethe, and a host of others — several of which 1 shall probably introduce into the follow- ing pages, as occasions may suggest the aptness of their insertion. Now, gentle reader, though it is not necessary that You and I should think alike of Shakespeare, it is necessary, as rational beings, that we should each think for ourselves. If you think as I think, for no better reason than because-! think so or so, I wad nae gi'e a Button for j^e ! Burns. To confess a truth, I was prejudiced against Shakespeare from infancy. In my boyhood, I was taught to consider him a pernicious author, a man of a groveling [not grovel- ling] and vicious taste, a writer of immoral Plays — in short, a notoriously bad character, who had, by his damnable writings, sent thousands of souls to Hell : but, in justice to those who taught me to think unworthily and ill of the noble-minded and beneficent Shakespeare, be it recorded — 11 they had never read him — consequently, they merely im- parted to me the impressions they had received from others. I, like the generality of young folks, was not instructed how to think, but, what to think ; and many years passed away, before I learned to think for myself : and, notwithstanding the progress which has been made in systematic Education since I used to sit, in the last century, hour after hour. Sorting and puzzling with a deal of glee. Those seeds of Science, called the A B C; Cowper. y£t, it may safely be averred, that thinking is, even in this; boastedly " enlightened age," the least exerted privilege of cultivated humanity. They who had the superintendence of my education, conceived they did their duty fully, in striving to make me a creditable Copy of those by whom 1 was providentially surrounded — perhaps, it never entered their minds that I was capable of becoming a Unit in the world : be this as it may, I was certainly brought up as a mere Fraction of a mass, called society ; and I am not now aware, that any one so much as attempted to make me an Individual — a Man. Have you, gentle reader, been better educated ? if so, you have been a highly favored child of the vast family of man. Are you really a thinker ? or, do you let others think for you ? like the great bulk of mankind. Do you read and study Shakespeare for yourself? or, do you passively accept whatever Editors choose to print re- specting him ? Let me tell you, if your knowledge of Shakespeare, be but secondhand knowledge, you know him not, though you may have read a whole host of Commen- tators and Critics ; for, believe me, even as Scripture is the- best interpreter of Scripture, so is Shakespeare the best interpreter of Shakespeare. Had not Shakespeare been a forbidden book in our family, my honored Parents would quickly have discovered, that he was not only a Poet, and a Dramatist, and a Microcosm of knowledge, but that he was a Moralist, a Philosopher, and a Philanthropist, in whose inestimable writings the principles of good and evil are no more con- founded, than they are confounded in Nature itself. Untill I was out of my Teens, I should no more have thought of studying Shakespeare, than of studying the Slack-art ; and there are tens of thousands of Adults to be found at this day, in what is denominated the Religious world, who have not the least conception of the Treasures 12 which prejudice has locked away from them, in the en- nobling pages of Shakespeare's writings — worth infinitely more than a whole library of conventional Morality anil orthodox Divinity ; for, it was the peculiar prerogative of the Father of the EngUsh Drama, To hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to Nature — to show Virtue her own feature, Scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the Time his form and pressure : Samlet. and, despite all that ignorance and prejudice and fanaticism have issued against him, most of his reading opponents (like Aufidius the inveterate opponent of Coriolanus) have been constrained to acknowledge, at the close of whatever charge they have attempted to substantiate against him — But, he has a merit To choke it in the utterance! Let not any one fancy, that in my expatiations upon Shakespeare, I have any ^nister end in view; my object is, simply to place his writings before my countrymen and countrywomen in the broad clear light of day — to eradicate error, to irradiate truth — "And Truth alone, where'er my lot be cast. In scenes of plenty, or, the pining waste. Shall be my end and aim, my glory to the last!" Hence, I do not cringingly solicit the indulgence of my readers, either for Shakespeare or myself; on the contrary, I fearlessly, yet, most respectfully, dare your judgement ; therefore. Censure us in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge ! Julius Cesar. In this introductory chapter, I have not scrupled to place before you the wwfavorable as well as favorable opinions of highly accredited writers — poets, critics, historians, phi- losophers, and divines — and if the score of dissimilar testimonies already given, have not produced the conviction, that Shakespeare is a different writer to every different reader, that his writings constitute a species of Study in themselves, I have bestowed much pains to very little pur- pose, and it behooves [not behoves, from behoof'] me to apologize for having occupied so much of your time in a fruitless attempt, aptly to introduce to your better acquaint- ance. 13 That demigod. Who Avon's flowery margin trod, While sportive Fancy round him flew ; When Nature led him by the hand. Instructed him in all she knew. And gave him absolute command ! Garrick. As to my private opinion, let it not sway your judge- ment ; have the manliness to read and tiiink and judge for yourselves ; be not mimics, but, men — only give me (and every one else) leave to do the like ; for, 'Tis with our judgements as our watches, none Go just alike, yet, each believes his own. Pope. To me, Shakespeare is, what I heard that able lecturer Cowden Clarke designate him, about 5 years ago, at Hull — The photographic transmission of the created world, both animate and inanimate : and, although I cannot say, with Ben Jonson, I lov'd the Man, and doe honour his Memory on this side idolatry ; I can most cordially say, in the playfully hyperbolic phrase- ology of the erudite and acute Dr. Adam Clarke — The man who has not read Shakespeare, ought to have public-prayers put up for him ! 14 Chapter II. Shakespeare as a Poet. For lofty sense. Creative fancy, and inspection keen Through the deep windings of the human-heart, Is not wild Shakespeare thine and nature's boast ? Thomson's panegyric on Great Britain. 1727. What an exhaustless subject is Shakespeare ! No other •writer, ancient or modern — not even Horace, whose works have passed through 500 editions, has had so many and various Commentators as Shakespeare ; nor has any other author been so highly extolled and so deeply condemned : I have heard him represented as the most exalted, and as the most debased of writers ; as the quintessence of intel- lectuality, and as the epitome of barbarism ; as a demon, and as a god ! and it is owing to this diversity of opinions, that we never rend an essay, never hear a lecture, on Shake- speare, that satisfies our desires, however much it may please, however much it may surpass our expectations — no matter whether we read Schlegel, Coleridge, or Knight; no matter whether we hear Dawson, Cooper, or Cowden Clarke, there ever is a something wanting; and no wonder. None but Himself can be his Parallel ! consequently, to do justice to Shakespeeire, Shakespeare himself should be the lecturer or essayist. Guizot remarks — It is to adopt an entirely \intire if inquire, entire if enquire'] false principle of criticism, to judge Shake- speare by himself, and to compare the impressions which he has succeeded in producing in a given style and subject, with those which he calls forth in another style and subject ; as if he possessed only a special and singular merit, which he was bound to display on every occasion, and which constituted his sole title to glory. His vast and true genius, must be measured on a larger scale ; we must compare Shakespeare with Nature, with the World ; and in every particular case, the comparison must be made between that portion of the world and of nature, which it was his intention to represent, and the picture which he has di-awn of it. 15 Do not expect from the painter of Brutus the same impressions and the same effects as from the dehneater of King Lear, or Romeo and JuUet. Shakespeare penetrates to the utmost recesses of all subjects, and can derive from each the impressions which naturally flow from it, and the distinct and original effects which it ought to produce. Shakespeare and his Times. 1852. ^ If, however, the essayist be well-read and honest; if true to his author, true to his reader, and true to himself, he will not rest satisfied with communicating his own views merely ; he win feel himself bound to combat the errors disseminated by those who have made Shakespeare their butt or their idol : the love of Truth will impel an honest-minded es- sayistj to expose the poreblindedness [not purblind] of Shakespeare's too enthusiastic admirers, and to raise up a standard against those who have issued false accusations against him — taking for his motto, the memorable words of Othello, Nothing extenuate. Nor set down aught in malice. That I have more than occasionally dipped into Shake- speare, that I have read more than a dozen volumes of critiques upon him, these pages bear testimony ; and though I do not wish in anywise to subvert the opinion of any reader, nor persuade any one to adopt mine, there is not, I trust, anything unbecoming in my desiring all who peruse this httle work, to give it as impartial a perusal as the prejudice of education may permit. It is too much the fashion, now-a-days, for essayists and lecturers to hold Shakespeare up to their auditors and readers, as a Model of Perfection ; as the King of Poets who could "do no wrong"; but, judging of the man from his writings, I think I have pretty soUd grounds for be- lieving, that even Shakespeare partook of the fallibility of human-nature. Notwithstanding the risk I run of being accounted Mwfashionable, I am bound to confess, I cannot think him perfect! nay, I venture publicly to adopt Hallam's expression — that, to be unwilhng to acknowledge any faults in Shakespeare, is "an extravagance rather derogatory to the critic, than honorable to the poet." In my judgement, Charles Knight (to whom every lover of Shakespeare owes a large tribute of thanks) has been too anxious, too fastidious, in some of his defenses of his idolized 16 poet, whom the enthusiastic admirer seems unwilling to admit capatje of having had any failings at all. This, though a pardonable wesikness, is a rcea/iness — which I hope he may outlive. Shakespeare is as open to criticism and to censure, as any other writer, ancient or modern; and Knight ought to have reflected how much more difficult it is to avoid censure, than to gain applause; applause may be obtained by one great or wise action in an age; but, to escape censure, a man must pass his whole life withou^ doing, or saying, or writing, a single bad or foolish thing ; and, gentle reader. Who has a breast so pure. But some uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets and law-days, and in sessions sit With meditations lawful ? Othello. Schlegel, who, confessedly, had devoted many years to the study of Shakespeare exclusively, and who may be said to have become saturated with his spirit, published to the world — I will undertake to prove, that Shakespeare's ana- chronisms are, for the most part, committed of set purpose and designedly! and Schlegel was such a clever fellow, and so thoroughly versed in Shakespeare, that I should not have been surprised at his accomplishing such a task. I am, however, person- ally acquainted with those who will attempt to prove everj' alledged [not alleged] fault in Shakespeare, an excelence or a beauty: I am not yet, quite so beshakespeared; I neither believe, nor wish to believe him faultless; I deem him the greatest of our Poets, the greatest of our Dramatists, the greatest of our Writers; I deem him the greatest Genius, "That ever lived in the tide of times:" yet, I neither think him perfect, nor vrish others to look upon him as faultless; I aver he was not immaculate ! 1 claim for him the first place in the first rank of England's heirs of immortality : still, I do not, and cannot consider him as being without spot or blemish — No ; Defects through nature's best productions rim ; Shakespeare had spots — and spots are in the Sun. According to Dr. Johnson (whom I always mention with respect, never with fashionable contumely) Shakespeare was the Poet of Nature; according to Milton (who has not yet 17 received his due meed of praise) Shakespeare was the Poet of Imagination : to me he is both, and more than both ; Shakespeare is, to me, essentially and intrinsically, the Poet of Humanity — he was "full o' the milk of human- kindness;" and, though very unpopular in his day, Shake- speare instilled into his auditors the now wide-spreading doctrine oi universal brotherhood; he taught Kings that they were men, and Men that they were brethren; he exhibited the nothingness of martial-glory; he exposed the heinous- ness of ambitious conquests; he denounced "the pride and pomp and circumstance of glorious mar;" he branded the then fashionable vice of dueling f not duelling'] he deprecated the monstrosities of slavery; he stigmatized inordinate uswry ; and he copiously poured forth his righteous indigna- tion upon every kind of political and rehgious persecution, together with all species of t'^ranny, cruelty, and oppres- sion — nobly inculcating those grand moral principles and heroically diffusing 'those civilizing and fraternizing senti- ments, which (Heaven be praised) are now taking deep root in the hearts of the rising generations — the men and women of coming years. Hume evinced bis lack of discernment and taste, when he wrote desparagingly of Shakespeare as a Poet (see p. 3) for, if Shakespeare be not a Poet, where, it may be asked, is Poetry to be found ? Whoever attempts to circumscribe Poetry by a definition, proves the narrowness of his own capacity; yet, a definition which could possibly exclude Shakespeare, cannot, I think, be made. Even Hume, insen- sible as he was to the taste and judgement of Shakespeare, admits — "a great and fertile genius he certainly possessed ;" and is not genius that peculiar power which constitutes a Poet? that particular quality without which judgement would be cold and knowledge inert? that singular energy which collects, combines, amplifies, and animates? But, I shall not waste time and paper on Hume's incapability of judging either what Poetry is, or, what it is not; I shall rather quote an author whose works prove him a qualified judge: and, according to Pope (whose sterling poetry has been huddled out of sight, by the loads of comparative trash of the present age) If ever any author deserved the name of original, it was Shakespe3,re ; Homer himself drew not his art so immediately from the fountains of Nature ; it pro- 18 ceeded through Egyptian strainers and channels, and came to him not without some tincture of the learning, or, some cast of the models of those before him — but, the poetry of Shakespeare was inspiration indeed ! He is not so much an imitater as an instrument of Nature; and it is not so just to say that he speaks from her, as tliat she speaks through him. But who, my readers, who shall attempt to describe the poetry of Shakespeare ? admirable as Pope was at descrip- tion, he did not venture to give us a delineation of the Bard of Avon's poetry ; that was beyond his skill ; nor would any description, perhaps, satisfy us fully, unless couched in the unapproachable language of the " Star of Poets " — Poet. Poesy is as a gum, which oozes* [*not issues From whence 'tis nourished. The fire i'the flint Shows not till it be struck ; our gentle flame Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies Each bound it chafes ! Timon of Athens. — when in a mood to insinuate the loveliness of the sweetest poetry, 0, it came o'er the ear, like the sweet sound* [*notsoMiA That breathes upon a bank of violets — Stealing and giving odor ! Trvelfth Night. — at other times, when our tragical Titan is storming the heavens and threatening to tear the world from off its hinges, his impassioned poetry seems to hang over us As fearfully, as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, SwUled with the wild and wasteful ocean ! Henry V. — yet, this is of short duration ; with him, as with Nature, what is violent seldom lasts long ; and every now and then, the " Sweet Swan of Avon " Makes sweet music with the enameled stones. Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage! Two Gent. — and when in a capricious vein (for " Gentle WUly," we are told, could be a " Merry Grig") He hath done Mad and fantastic execution. Engaging and redeeming of himself. With such a careless force and forceless care. As if that Luck, in very spite of cunning, Bade him win all ! Troilus and Cressida. 19 Such is Shakespeare's indescribable poetry ; infinitely su- perior to everything else in our language ; He is, in fact, what our North-countryman, Professor Aytoun, was con- strained to declare him, notwithstanding Shakespeare was not a Scotchman — The greatest Poet this world has ever known ! Lecture (in London) on 20 May, 1853. — therefore, any attempts of mine to laud him, would be To guard* a title that was rich before ; [*to ornament To gild refined gold, to paint the Ully,* [*not lily To throw a perfume on the violet, To smoothe the ice, to add another hue Unto the rainbow. King John. Even the melody of his words is astonishing ; there is no- thing like it in the writings of his highly-gifted cotem- poraries [not contemporaries] many of whom were elegant scholars and giants in literature : witness the harmony between the expression and the thought, in the following exquisite description of the harmony of the spheres, by Lorenzo to Jessica — How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears ; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. ^§° Look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold ! There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But, in his motion, like an angel sings. Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins :* [*not Such harmony is in immortal souls ; cherubim But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. Merchant of Venice. If we turn to earthly things, his choice of words is not less elegant — provided the nature of his subject does not forbid soft language. The string of lines or\. flowers, as given by Perdita, seem enamored of their own sweetness — Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and, take The winds of March with beauty ; violets, dim. But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes. Or, Gytherea's breath ! Winter's Tale. 20 Treating of insects, his words are equally appropriate ; ^vitness his fine rhetorical delineation of the effects of subordination in a State, beautifully illustrated from the Honey-bees — Therefore, doth heaven divide The State of man in divers functions. Setting endeavor in continual motion ; To which is fixed, as an aim or butt. Obedience : I^p° for, so work the honey-bees ; Creatures, that, by a rule in Nature, teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom. They have a king, and officers of sorts ; Where some, like magistrates, correct at home ; Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad ; Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings. Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds ; Which pillage, they, vrith merry march, bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor : Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold ; The civil citizens kneading up the honey ; The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burthens at his narrow gate ; The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum, Delivering o'er to executors pale The lazy yawning drone. King Menry V. And who, but Shakespeare, could have embodied such an admirable description of a horse, in 4 rhiming lines — Round hoofed, short jointed, fetlocks shag and long. Broad breast, full eyes, small head, and nostril wide. High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong. Thin meine, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide — Look, what a Horse should have, he did not lack. Save a proud rider on so proud a back. Venus and Adonh. Again — take his description of the Barge as well as of Cleopatra, both of which are resplendent with beauties — the words culled to suit both objects : The Barge she sat in, like a burnished throne. Burned on the water; the poop was beaten- gold ; Purple the saUs, and so perfumed, that [silver. The winds were love-sick : with them the oars were Which, to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made 21 The water which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggared all description : she did lie In her pavilion, &c. Anthony and Cleopatra. Where shall we find advice couched in happier terms, than, in the parental expressions of Polonius to Laertes — Give thy thoughts no tongue ; Nor any unproportioned thought, his act. Be thou familiar, but, by no means, vulgar. The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried. Grapple them to thy soul with/ hoops of steel ; But, do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware Of ent'rance to a quarrel ; but, being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice ; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgement. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But, not expressed in fancy — rich, not gaudy ; For, the apparel oft proclaims the man : And they in France, of the best rank and station. Are most select and generous chief in that. Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For, loan oft loses both itself and friend. And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all — To thine ownself be true ; And it must follow, as the night the day. Thou canst not then be false to any man. Samlet. This is the udvice of Polonius as a father, not as a gar- rulous courtier. But, indulgent reader, I must cease quoting; or, I'shall occupy too many pages on one point : besides, I need not instance more examples of either happy expressions or poetic thoughts, since every student in Shakespeare can quote a variety of passages, showing how The Poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling. Doth glance from heaven to earth, from, earth to heaven ; And, as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the Poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy Nothing A local habitation and a name. Midsumfner-night's Dream. 22 That I am not singular in my appreciation of Shakespeare's excelence in this particular, and that there are others who acknowledge his superiority, his best editor, Charles Knight, hears witness — We venture to oflFer an opinion, that if any single composition were required, to exhibit the power of the English language for purposes of Poetry, that com- position would be the Midsummer-night's Dream. Such minds as Dr. Johnson and Malone, were not constituted to enjoy the beauties and exquisite delicacies of this wonderful Drama with all the golden cadences of its resplendent poesy; but, it is not therefore the less wonderful and harmonious: Hallam writes of it as being "altogether original in one of the most beautiful'conceptions that ever visited the mind of a poet;" and as to Coleridge, he is fairly in raptures! the following extract, he pronounces to be "Very Anacreon, in perfectness, proportion, grace, and spontaneity. So far it is Greek; but then add, 0! what wealth, what wild ranging, and yet what com- pression and condensation of English fancy. In truth, there is nothing in Anacreon more perfect than these thirty lines, or half so rich and imaginative. They form a speckless diamond. Puck. Now the hungry lion roars. And the wolf behowls the moon ; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, AU with weary task fordone. Now the wasted brands do glow. Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud. Puts the wretch, that lies in wo* [*wo, woes In rememb'rance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite. In the church- way paths to glide : And we fairies, that do run By the triple* Hecate's team, [ought to be tripple. From the presence of the sun. Following darkness like a dream. Now are frolic ; not a mouse Shall disturb this hallowed house : I am sent, with broom, before, To sweep the dust behind the door. 23 (Enter Oberon and Titania, with their train) Oberon. Through the house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire ; Every elf, and every sprite. Hop as hght as bird from brier; And this ditty, after me, Sing and dance it trippingly. Titania. First, rehearse this song by rote: To each word a warbhng note. Hand in hand, with fairy grace, Will we sing and bless the place. I have inserted these 30 lines for the approval or disap- proval, the admiration or contempt, of my readers, according to the peculiar constitution of their individual minds. Phelps — the Shakesperean Phelps has recently ventured to produce this inimitable Drama on the boards .of Saddler's Wells, to the high gratification of the Islington adorers of the Star of Poets. I have not seen it — bodily; I would not risk the chance of destroying it in my mind's eye. But, enough! Shakespeare tells us — Never durst Poet touch a pen to write, Untill his ink were tempered with Love's sighs ; O, then his lines would ravish savage ears. And plant in tyrants mild humiUty. From Women' s-eyes this doctrine I derive : They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ; They are the books, the arts, the academes. That show, contain, and nourish all the world. Love's Labor's Lost. 24 Chapter III. Shakespeare as a Dramatist. When Learning's triumpli o'er her barbarous foes First reared the Stage, immortal Shakespeare rose ; Each change of many-colored life he drew. Exhausted worlds, and then. Imagined new; Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, And panting Time toiled after him, in vain : His powerful strokes presiding Truth impressed. And unresisted Passion stormed the breast ! Johnson's Prologue. 1747. Rare Ben Jonson styled his friend Shakespeare the Star of Poets ; and, I may safely add, Shakespeare was the Sun of Dramatists, around which, the Planets of oiu- drama, together with aU the lesser Orbs of our literatvire, may be said to revolve. Sir Walter Scott (the greatest of all modern Dramatists) has remarked — Nothing went before Shakespeare which in any respect was fit to fix and stamp the character of a national Drama : and certainly no one will succeed him capable of establishing, by mere authority, a form. more restricted than that which Shakespeare used. Other Dramatists have studiously lowered themselves to the tastes, and, too often, to the vices of their auditors, teUing us — "The Drama's laws the Drama's patrons give ; For, we that live to please, m,ust please to live : " but, it was the singular honor of Shaiespeare to elevate his auditors to himself — by enlarging their views and irra- diating their understandings. I am aware that he has been stigmatized as a Leveler [not leveller] but, the accu- sation is too contemptible to deserve my refutation ; for, every reader of Shakespeare knows, that if a Leveler, he was a Leveler of no ordinary cast ; the nobleness of his soul invariably impelling him to level upwards : his in- satiable desire of doing good to others, led him, ever and anon, to 25 Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks. Sermons in stones, and good in everything. As You Like It. Schlegel, who was richly imbued with the spirit of Shakespeare, dehvered a Course of 30 admirably composed Lectures, at Vienna, in 1808, on Dramatic Art and Liter- ature ; 7 of which are devoted to an Examination of the English Stage : and though some of our critics seem very unwilling to admit, that Schlegel, a German, should have taught the English nation how and why Shakespeare ought to be read, studied, admired, loved, I recommend those 7 Lectures to the attentive perusal of every reader of these pages. In his 23rd Lecturfe, he writes — • There never, perhaps, existed so comprehensive a talent for Characterisation, as that in Shakespeare. It not only grasps every diversity of rank, age, and sex, down to the lispings of infancy ; not only do the king and the beggar, the hero and the pickpocket, the sage and the idiot, speak and act with equal truth- fulness ; not only does he transport himself to distant ages and foreign nations, and portray with the greatest accuracy (a few apparent violations of costume ex- cepted) the spirit of the ancient Romans, of the French in the wars with the English, of the English themselves during a great part of their history, of the Southern Europeans (in the serious parts of many Comedies) the cultivated society of the day, and the barbarisms of a Norman-foretime; his human charac- ters have not only such depth and individuality that they do not admit of being classed under common names, and are inexhaustible even in conception : this Prometheus forms not men merely, but he opens the gates of the magical world of spirits, calls up the mid- night ghost, exhibits before us the witches amidst their unhallowed rites, peoples the air with sportive fairies and sylphs — and these beings, though existing only in the Imagination, nevertheless, possess such truth and consistency, that even with such misshapen abor- tions as Caliban, he extorts the assenting conviction, that were there such beings, they would so conduct themselves. Such was the opinion of Schlegel — a man whose single judgement on Shakespearean [not Shakespearian'] matters. 26 has weight enough with me, to " o'erweigh a whole theatre of others." Hazlitt confesses, that he had heeu provoked to write his Characters of Shakespeare's Plays, from " some little jealousy " that it should have heen reserved for a Foreigner to give " reasons for the faith| which we Enghsh have in Shakespeare " — but, Hazlitt did not pos- sess the like philosophic aeuteness, nor a tithe of the vene- ration for Shakespeare, which had taken possession of the head and heart and soul of the enraptured German. Shakespeare, however, not only carried the most fruitful and daring Imagination into the Idngdom of Nature, and Nature into the regions of Imagination, lying far beyond the confines of reaUty — approximating the remote and familiarizing the wonderful — but, in his Characters, whe^ ther virtuous or vicious, whether noble or ignoble, whether admirable or despicable. He is ever mindful of inculcating humanity, morality, and religion. It was one of the prerogatives of Shakespeare, to be equally eminent in imparting weakness and littleness as strength and greatness — witness. Justice Shallow and King Lear, Dol Tearsheet and Lady Macbeth, Prince Arthur and Prince Hamlet. Who, like Shakespeare, has proved himself capable of producing such widely different casts of character as Bottom and Mercutio, Wolsey and Falstaff, Imogen and Cleopatra, the Spirit Ariel and the Ghost of the Majesty of Denmark, with many others .' Shakespeare has certainly challenged the judgement of Critics, by introducing into the same play, and even into the same scene, the feigned madness of Hamlet and the real madness of Ophelia, the real madness of Lear and the feigned madness of EdgEir — characters so wonderfully ac- curate and definitely true, that Physicians have again and again recommended them to the study of their Pupils, firom which they might enrich their knowledge as surely as from observing real cases. Shakespeare's analysis of madness has often been referred to for " clearness, conciseness, and accuracy " — the President of the College of Physicians, in a Lecture retently delivered before that scientific Body, illustrated his observations on Insanity by quoting " Shake- speare's exemplary definition of that malady " — Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain : This bodiless creation ecstasy* [not eestacy Is very cunning in. 27 Hamlet. Ecstasy ! My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time. And makes as healthful music. It is not madness That I have uttered ; bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word — which madness Would gambol from. Look at the two characters of misanthropy, Timon and Apemantus, placed side by side ; the one a man-hater from nature, the other from circumstances ; so exhibited, as if penned to dare criticism. Examine the two pedants, Sir Nathaniel and Holofernis ; where are their fellows ? In O'Keefe's Agreeable Swrprise and in Colman's Meir at Law, you may meet with single pedants — the one talking Latin to a milkmaid, the other to a tallow-chandler, which, as Knight avows, is mere farce : but, in the pedantry of Shakespeare's curate and schoolmaster, whom he brings face to face, you have not farce, but comedy. Who, but the master-dramatist, would have introduced Jaques and Touchstone to each other ? Knight is not far wrong, when he asserts — The amalgamation of Jaques and Touchstone vidth Orlando and Rosalind, is one of the most wonderful efforts of originality in the whole compass of poetical creation. Again — consider Shakespeare's various portraitures of one and the same Passion ; take, for instance, the jealousy in Othello, in Leontes, in Posthumus, in Ford, and in others; you cannot but admit, that the jealousies are as diiFerent as the men; yet, each and all equally true to Nature. Behold his Fools; observe the motley range of these ticklish gentry, from Aguecheek to Jaques ; all cast in the moulds of Nature — yet, every mould ' broken, when the individual character had been formed; there is but one of each. I am here reminded of what Archdeacon Fisher wrote to one of his friends — I must repeat to you an opinion I have long held ; that no man had ever more than One conception. Milton emptied his mind in the First part of Paradise Lost ; all the rest is transcript of Self. The Odyssey is a repetition of the Iliad. When you have seen one 28 Claude, you have seen all. I can think of no excep- tion — but, Shaliespeare ; he is always varied, never mannered. And this remark reminds me of that voluminous sen- tence, Shakespeare, an Exception to aU Rules ! pronounced by England's greatest living Benefactor, in his eloquent Glasgow Discourse, 6 April, 1825. It has often been asserted (and Pope held the opinion) Not one of the Speeches in Shakespeare's dramas, could be transferred to any other Character, without impropriety — that some word or circumstance would, by transfer, be out of place, and prove it to have been torn from that connec- tion in which the master Artist fixed it — and, hitherto, I have not discovered that the assertion exceeds truth. Hence, the insufFerableness of the many pseudo-improvements on the first folio edition of Shakespeare's works ; hence, the impatience of all true Shakespeareans with the dislocated, the marred and mangled Acting-editions, so styled — those monstrosities got up liy Cibber, Dry den, Lansdowne, Tate, and' other tinkers and butchers of Shakespeare ; hence, the indignation so frequently and forcibly expressed by Schlegel, Coleridge, Charles Lamb, Knight, and other discriminating writers of our day, against the spurious and worse than good-for-nothing editions, now, I hope, for ever repudiated by jucUcious Managers and intelligent Readers. I require no further proof of any man's want of taste, no further proof of his utter incapability to appreciate the myriad- minded Shakespeare, than the possibility of his reading the disfigurations and abominations of Colley Cibber and the gang of slaughterers, in preference to Charles Knight's copy of the original edition of Shakespeare's Works, published in 1623. Having enumerated Dryden among the tinkers of Shake- speare, it is but common justice to his literary character, to state, that He lived to see his error in disturbing the text of Shakespeare's Works as given to the world by John Heminge and Henrie CondeU ; that he not only regretted his presumption, in having had the audaciousness to alter Shakespeare's text, but, that he had the manliness to ac- knowledge it, the moral courage to confess it publicly. 29 To me, it is evident, that, in his earlier days, Dryden did not apprehend the real nature of the romantic drama, the Shakespearean drama ; he did not perceive that simplicity constituted one of its chief elements ; his head was full of the intricacy of the schools of Greece ; but, in his riper years, he writes, in his Preface to All for Love — In my style, I have professed to imitate the divine Shakespeare ; which, that I might perform more freely, I have disencumbered myself from rhime. It had become fashionable to prefer Fletcher to Shake- speare, in the transition-period of English poetry — the age of Dryden ; but Dryden, whose mind had become sus- ceptible of higher intellectuality, and capable of appreciating the towering Genius of the Father of the English Drama, boldly expressed his opinion in the following words — The characters of Fletcher are poor and narrow, in comparison of Shakespeare's ; I remember not One which is not borrowed from him — imless you will except that strange mixture of a man in the King and no King. So that, in this part, Shalcespeare is gener- ally worth our imitation ; and to imitate Fletcher, is but to copy after him who was a Copier. Shakespeare had a universal mind ; Fletcher a more confined and limited ; for, though he treated love in perfection ; yet, honor, ambition, revenge, and, generally, all the stronger passions, he either touched not, or, not ma- sterly. To conclude all, he was a limb of Shakespeare. Dryden, as all my well-read perusers know, was the great critical authority of the age in which he flourished ; an authority before whose opinions all other critics, bowed ; and in reference to his " great scene " between TroUus and Hector, he wrote, in 1 679 — They who think to do me &xi injury, by saying it is an imitation of the scene betwixt Brutus and Cassius, do me an honor — by supposing I covM imitate the incompEirable Shakespeare. Hence, though Dryden, in his earlier critiques, depre- ciated Shakespeare, he did not remain ignorant in spite of experience ; as he grew older, he grew wiser ; and rose into higher and still higher admiration of the master Genius. As this is a point of considerable importance, in treating upon Shakespeare as a Dramatist, I shall endeavor to place it unmistakably before my readers — without occupy- ing much space. 30 That the genius of the Father of the English Drama was tiot revealed to the Shakespearean Tinkers of by-gone days, I shall render apparent, by quoting their own words, which they palmed upon the public as improvements. The redoubted and redoutable John Dennis, one of the great pseudo-improvers of Shakespeare's text, among other daring things, attempted to remodel Coriolanus ; and ap- plied himself, might and main, to smoothe down Shake- speare's verses, " according to the rules of Art." Well, he remodeled Coriolanus, after this fashion — This boy, that, like an eagle in a dove-cot. Fluttered a thousand Voices in Corioli, And did it without second or acquittance. Thus sends their mighty chief to mourn in hell ! On turning to Shakespeare's text, I find the original of these lines, in the quarrel between Aufidius and Coriolanus — but, expressed in terms perfectly intelligible and appro- priate. When Coriolanus apostrophizes Mars, Aufidius bids him not name the god, calling Coriolanus a hoy of tears, which rouses the indignation of the Roman beyond controll [not control nor yet controul] — but, I shall give a few lines previous to the remodeled passage — Aufidiits. You Lords and heads of the State, perfidiously He has betrayed your business, and given up. For certain drops of salt, your city Rome — I say your city — to his wife and mother: Breaking his oath and resolution, like A twist of rotten silk ; never admitting Counsel o' the war ; but, at his nurse's tears, H^ whined and roared away your victory ; That pages blushed at him, and men of heart Looked wondering each at others. Coriolanus. Hear'st thou. Mars ! Aufidius. Name not the god, thou boy of tears — Coriolanus. Ha! Aufidius. No more! Coriolanus. Measureless Liar! thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy — O slave ! Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever I was forced to scold. Your judgements, my grave lords. Must give this cur the lie : and his own notion [bear (Who wears my stripes impressed on him, that must My beatmg to his grave) shall join to thrust The lie unto him. 31 1st. Lord. Peace, both! and hear me speak. Coriolanus. Cut me to pieces, Voices ; men and lads. Stain all your edges on me — Boy — false hound! If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there. That, like an eagle in a dove-cot, I Fluttered your Volcians in Corioli : Alone I did it — Boy ! — but, these lines, too impassioned for the water-gruel Critics of the last century, were reduced to what they called classical propriety. Out! I say, upon such classical Tin- kers and unnatural Butchers — I had rather be a Kitten and cry — mem ! Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers ; I had rather hear a brazen candlestick turned. Or, a dry wheel grate on the axletree; And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, Nothing so much as mincing poetry; 'Tis hke the forced gait of a shuffling nag. Henry IV. — yet, this same Dennis was looked up to as everyway superior to Shakespeare, whose comedies as well as tragedies he took upon him to reform; and he so thoroughly met- amorphosed The Merry Wives of Windsor into the Comical Gallant, that it would be a waste of time to present a single quotation. It is, perhaps, worthy of remark, this prosaic reformer of Shakespeare, prefixed to his outrageous trans- formation of the Merry Wives, an Essay on — on what think you, gentle reader? why, on the degeneracy of the Taste for poetry! It is stiU more strange, how a clever man, like Sir William Davenant, who certainly had a turn for poetry — witness his Gondihert, and other poems, could so far lose his self-respect, as to fabricate The Law against Lovers, out of Measure for Measure and Much ado about Nothing : and a precious Nothing he made of it! In Shakespeare we read — Isabella. Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet ; For, every pelting petty officer Would use his heaven for thunder— nothingbutthunder : Merciful Heaven ! Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, 32 Than the soft myrtle : but man, proud man ! Dressed in a little brief authority, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven. As make the angels weep. Measure for Measwre. — which was altered, by Davenant, as follows — If men could thunder As great Jove does, Jove ne'er would quiet be ; For, every choleric petty officer. Would use his magazine in heaven for thunder : We nothing should but thunder hear. Sweet Heaven ! Thou rather with thy stiff and sulph'rous bolt Dost split the knotty and obd&rate oak. Than the soft myrtle. Not to criticize these pitiable alterations too severely, I cannot but prefer, with Charles Knight, Shakespeare's Merciful to Davenant's Sweet Heaven; Sharp and sulphurous, to stiff and sulph'rous holt; Unwedgeable and gnarled to knotty and obdurate oak. It was not the ideas merely, but the words and expressions of Shakespeare which annoyed the pigmy Critics of the last century; they could not appreciate his " sweet and honeyed sentences," his " quips and quiddities ;" they did not admire his "red pestilence," his "still- vexed Bennoothes;" they could not imagiue it "an easy leap to pluck bright honor from the moon," nor conceive how a murderer's hand, should "the multitudinous seas incamardine;" they were too gross, dull, and insensible to feel the "honey heavy dew of slumber;" for, they were not "made of penetrable stuff:" they remind one of suoh men as FalstafF mentions — "made after supper of a cheese-paring." If, when farther advanced in penning this little work, 1 find room for such an exhibition, I shall present specimens of still deeper Sinkings in the dramatic Art, from that Prince of Tinkers, Colley Cibber. In his Characters of Shakespeare's Plays (which Re- viewers have praised beyond their worth) Hazlitt has, to his credit, discountenanced the wretched Acting-editions — The manner in which Shakespeare's plays have been generally altered or rather mangled by modem mech- anists, is a disgrace to the, English stage. The patchwork Richard III, which is acted under the sanction of his name, and which was manufactured by Cibber, is a striking example of this remark. &c. 33 Even The Tempest, one of the most original as well as one of the most perfect of Shakespeare's dramas, wherein he has exhibited such vast variety of power, filling it with grace and grandeur, was actually tinkered, by Davenant and and Dryden jointly, to suit the vitiated taste of that tasteless period : and Shadwell, a brother tinker, tinkered it into an opera; and an opera it remained in Garrick's time, who (would it were not so) dirtied his fingers in similar tinkerings — an irrefragable proof to my mind, that Garrick, the idoliser of Shakespeare, beheld his idol as through a glass — darkly. But, as Knight justly observes — It is one of the manifestations of the vitality of Shakespeare, that, going about their alterations in the regular way, according to the rules of art, the most stupid and prosaic of his Improvers have been unable to deprive the natural man of his vigour \yigor\ even by their most violent depletions. His robustness was too great even for the poetical doctors to destroy it. Lord Lansdowne actually stripped the flesh off Shy lock j but, the anatomy walked about vigorously for sixty years, till Mackhn put the muscles on again. CoUey Gibber turned King John into Papal Tyranny i and the stage King John was made to denounce the Pope and Guy Faux for a century, till Mr. Macready gave us back again the weak and crafty King in his original truth and character. Nahum Tate deposed the Richard II. of Shakespeare wholly [wholeh/] and irredeemably, turning him into The Sidlian Usurper. How Gibber manufactured Richard III. is known to all men. Durfey melted down Cymbeline with no slight portion of alloy, [allay'] Tate remodelled [remodeled] Lear — and such a Lear ! Davenant mangled Macbeth — but, we can hardly quarrel with him for it; for, he gave us the music of Locke in company with his own verses. &c. History of Opinion, We of the present day, cannot conceive how these various Play-menders summoned impudence sufiicient,thus to distort and deform Shakespeare's dramas, by their execrable alter- ations and transformations; and we might, perhaps, discredit the reports given of the existence of such brazen-faced Tinkers, had we not printed copies of their pitiful excres- cences. In that maudlin age, the critics had, somehow, got it into their heads, that Shakespeare wanted Art, and c2 34 that Shakespeare wanted Learning — because, Ben Jonaon had said the former in a conversation, in January 1619, with Drummoud of Hawthomden ; and had hinted the latter, in his commendatory verses on the publication of the first folio edition of Shakespeare's Works, in 1623 — therefore, the Purveyors of stage amusements, set to, in right good earnest, to rectify Shakespeare's defects in art and to supply his deficiencies in learning. But, to the honor of Jonson, be it stated in this place. He not only esteemed Shakespeare as a man, but recorded it as his opinion, that Shakespeare was greater than the greatest of all the great Poets and Dramatists, ancient and modem. See his beautiful and manly Ode on Shakespeare. In 1854, it is pretty generally known and admitted, that Shakespeare had his own Art, and that Aristotle himself would readily succumb to Shakespeare's higher authority. As to his Learning let Dryden's opinion have its due weight — He was the man who of all modern, and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of Nature were stiU [constantly] present to him, and he drew them not laboriously but luckily [happily]; when he describes anything, you more than see it, you feel it too. Those who accuse him to have wanted Learning, give him the greater commendation; he was naturally learned: he needed not the spectacles of books to read Nature; he looked inwards, and found her there. These few hues from Dryden, have more intrinsic worth, than all the pedantic and impertinent observations to be found in the Rev. Dr. Farmer's once admired Essay on the Learning of Shakespeare. I wish now, my respected readers, to direct your attention to the Nicety of Shakespeare' s Discriminations; as, in my judgement, his discriminations prove his supe- riority, as a Dramatist, more incontestibly than the variety of his Characters ; for, even those which resemble each other most, are as individually distinct, as those which stand in direct contrast. To test this bold assertion, examine any two Characters possessing similitude in their leading features — such, for instance, as the noted imbecile characters, Richard II and 35 Henry VI ; which an ordinary dramatist would have con- founded, hut which Shakespeare has kept perfectly distinct, notwithstanding they were both of them kings, both of them effeminate and unfortwnate, both of them deposed, losing their crowns through imbecility — and other points, common to both. Hazlitt attempted an improvement on the analytical criticism of Mason, contained in his parallel between Mac- beth and Richard III; and, notwithstanding Leigh Hunt has styled Hazlitt " an admirable critic;" notwithstanding Hazlitt thought himself a prodigious critic and a mighty clever fellow — taking for his printed motto lago's bragging sentence, I am nothing, if not Critical! notwithstanding all that has been written to Hazlitt's honor and glory, by Patmore, in Douglas Jerrold's excelent Shilling Magazine; I shall try to make an improvement on HazUtt. Those of my readers who may not feel interested in such analytical critiques, can spare themselves the trouble [properly trouhble'] of wading through the following Gliap- ter, and continue the general subject, at the commencement of Chapter V — for, as Shakespeare has it, No profit grows, where is no pleasure ta'en,* l*taken 36 Chaptek IV. Analytical examination of the two Characters Macbeth and Richard III. Pride of his own, and wonder of this age. Who first created, and yet rules the Stage ; Bold to design, all-powerful to express, Shakespeare each passion drew in every dress : Great above rule, and imitating none ; Rich without borrowing — Nature was his own ! Mallet. Cumberland, in 4 consecutive papers of his Observer (69 — 72) has contemplated Macbeth and Richard, in 3 lights ■! — I. The premeditation of their crime ; II. The perpetration of it ; and III. The catastrophe of their death : but these are not sufficient for my present purpose ; neither am I satisfied with Mason's, nor with Hazlitt's attempt ; and as I consider the Nicety of Discrimination a matter of much importance in the reputation of Shakespeare, as a Dramatist, I am desirous of placing his superiority in this particular, irrefragably before my inquiring readers. In Shakespeare's representation of Macbeth andRichard, both of them are hold and daring; both of them violent, cruel, and treacheroiis ; both of them I'ighbvm and am- hitious; hoth oi ^era tyrants, uswrpers, 9SI&. kings ; both of them murderers of their lawful sovereigns ; and both of them slain in battle : hence, in a dozen particulars, Mac- beth and Richard are similar ; and, in any other artist's hand than that of our unrivaled Discriminater, we should have had a repetition of the like general traits, more or less exaggerated ; but, the Secretary of Nature has written them down with marked speciality, and presented us with two strikingly different characters. Macbeth is introduced to us (in his Wife's soliloquy, on the receipt of his letter) as frank, sociable, and generovs — Yet, do I fear thy Nature; It is too fuU o' the milk of human-kindness. To catch the nearest way : thou would' st be great; Art not without ambition; but, without The illness should attend it. Hie thee hither. 37 That I may pour my spirits in thine ear, And chastise, with the valor of my tongue, All that impedes thee from the golden-round Which fate and metaphysical* aid doth seem [*mpe*"- To have thee crowned withall. natural Richard is introduced, in the Play bearing his name, as being, from his very cradle, deformed in mind as well as body. The dramatist opens the Play with a soliloquy, in which Richard, duke of Glo'ster, says — But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks. Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am cilrtailed thus of fair proportion, Cheated of feature, by dissembling Nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up — And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them ; Why I, in this weak piping time of Peace, Have no delight to pass away the time — Unless to see* my shadow in the sun, [*not spy And dfescant on mine own deformity : And, therefore since I cannot prove a Lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days* [*not dames I am determined to prove a Villain ! — whence we learn, that Richard is violent, cruel, and treacherous, in constitution; whereas, Macbeth becomes so, from "fate and metaphysical aid." The prophecies of the weird sisters, the instigations of his wife, and the golden opportunity, lead and impel Macbeth into guilt, crime, and murder; but, Richard needs no extraneous influences to spur him on to vnckedness; the violence of his passions and his constitutional 'longings after mischief, carry him unscrupulously through a variety of atrocities, in the pro- . secution of his ambitious designs. Observe, curious reader, there is a dawri to the violence in Macbeth's mind ; it breaks forth in faint glimmerings — like a morning in winter, gathering strength hy degrees; but, in Richard, it blazes out at once : and, like a tropical sun, it mounts without any harbinger of its approach. But, t^p° such is Richard, as he appears before us in the play of Richard III. It would, however, be gross injustice towards Shakespeare, not to acknowledge that Richard is not introduced to the reader for the first time in the play 38 bearing his name ; he is an old acquaintance, familiar to the reader of 2nd and 3rd Parts of Henry VI; and his very first Speech is characteristic of the sort of man the dramatist had in his mind's eye. When York asks his sons, Edward and Richard, whether they will be bail for him, how characteristic their replies — York. Will you not. Sons? i Edward. Ay, noble father; if our TOorc^s will serve. Richard. And if words will not, then, our weapons shall. In 3rd Scene of the same Act, Richard speaks as a gallant knight, on his father's saying — This happy day Is not itself, nor have we won one foot. If Sal'sbury be lost. Richard. My noble father. Three times today I holp him to his horse. Three times bestrid him, thrice I led him off. Persuaded him fi'om any fiu:ther act; But stiU, where danger was, still there I met him; And, 3ike rich hangings in a homely house, So was his will, in his old feeble body But, noble as he is, look where he comes. Salisb. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought today; By the mass, so did we all! I thank you, Richard: God knows how long it is I have to live. And it hath pleased him, that three times today You have defended me from imminent death. At the opening of 3rd Part of Henry VI, Richard enters with the head of Somerset, and, throwing it down, says — Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did. YorTc. Richard hath best deserved of all my Sons. In this first Scene, Henry and York agree, that Henry shall be King for life and York succeed to the crown; yet, in the very next Scene, Richard urges his father to breai his oath with Henry — An Oath is of no njoment, being not took Before a true and lavrful magistrate, That hath authority o'er him that swears : Henry had none, but did usurp the place; Then, seeing 'twas He that made you to depose. Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. Therefore, to arms! The Act closes with the death of York; and in 2nd Act, the 39 dramatist continues develloping [not developping] the char- acter of Richard; the Act closing with his brother Edward's elevation to the throne : in 3rd Act, speaking of Edward, Richard exclaims, at the commencement of a long and very important soliloquy — 'Would he were wasted — marrow, bones, and all! That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring. To cross me from the golden time / look for. — the dramatist thus preparing his auditors and readers for the Icind of Richard he intended should eventually sit upon the throne — closing that soliloquy with. Can I do this, and cannot get a Crown ? Tut! were it further off. Til pluck it down! It is in this soliloquy and in that in Act V, commencing — What ! will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground? that the dramatist teaches his readers to draw the most im- portant inferences as to Richard's mental temperament. And here, I must call my reader's particular attention to the skill with which Shakespeare gradually unfolds, in tones of the sublimest morality, the direful consequences of placing the moral in subordination to the mere intellectual man — it is one of the grand moral lessons so abundant in his dramas. Scblegel, treating of Richard, has remarked — He lowers obliquely, like a dark thunder-cloud on the horizon, which gradually approaches nearer and nearer, and first pours out the devastating elements with which it is charged, when it hangs over the head of mortals. Richard's favorite amusement, is, to ridicule others; and he possesses an eminent satirical wit. He enter- tains, at bottom, a contempt for all mankind; for, he is confident of his ability to deceive them, whether as his instruments or his adversaries. In hypocrisy he is particularly fond of using religious forms, as if actuated by a desire of profaning in the service of hell the religion whose blessings he had inwardly abjured. Notwithstanding the uniform aversion with which he inspires us, he still engages us in the greatest variety of ways, by his profound skill in dissimulation, his wit, his prudence, his presence of mind, his quick activitj', and his valor. The 3rd Part of Henry VI, closes with Edward's being peacefully seated on the throne; and Shakespeare opens 40 the 4th Part of his One drama (I, II, III Part of Henry VI, and Richard III) with Richard's well-known soliloquy, be- ginning — Qlo'ster. Now is the winter of our discontent [son Made glorious summer, by this sun* of York — [*not wherein are the 15 lines already quoted, which, though "very abrupt," if the Play be taken as a whole, have not anything abrupt in them, if taken as the dramatist designed them — that is, a continuation of the 3 preceding Parts. In this same soliloquy, Richard avows — Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous. By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams. To set my brother Clarence and the King In deadly hate, the one against the other: And, if king Edward be as true and just As I am subtle, false, and treacherous. This day should Clarence closely be mewed up — Unlike Macbeth, here are not any gradations in guilt, any expressions of hesitation ; Richard plunges into blood with the familiarity of habit ; ordering his tools to murder his Brother, with all the unfeeling tranquility of a Caligula: whereas, Macbeth is filled with horror but at the thought of murdering Duncan, and hesitates at committing the bloody deed — his wife taunting him with his Letting I dare not wait upon I would. Do not overlook the dramatist's having made humanity and honor the grand characteristics of Macbeth, whose pro- gress in crime, is an unparalleled lecture in ethical anatomy; that, to his Wife, cruelty was natural ; and that, ambition was common to them both. Nothing short of the all-sub- verting influences of his highly gifted Wife, could have converted the honoraUe and Mnd-hearted Macbeth into the callous villEiin he becomes. The dramatist has ably develloped Lady Macbeth's character, in the following 14 lines — Come, you Spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here; And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood, Stop up the access and passage to remorse ; That no compunctious visitings of Nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace* between [*nQt The effect and it? Come to my woman's breasts, [jpaee 41 And take my milk for gall, you murthering ministers, Wherever in your sightless suhstances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick Night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark. To cry — Hold! Hold! Who, but our inimitable dramatist would have dared thus to introduce a character so loftily, so sublimely tragic ? presenting her in a Speech containing such a terrible invo- cation: and who else could have brought such a terrific creation to an appropriate close? On her very first appearance, she prepares for an assault on Macbeth's consdenee, notwithstanding He is too full o' the mUk of human kindness. He enters before she quits the Scene — just as she is uttering the words Hold! Hold! and mark, my readers, with what consummate address she receives him — Great Glamis! Worthy Cawdor! Greater than both — by the All-hail hereafter! thus artfully greeting him with the gratulations of the weird sisters — not with the softening caresses of a Wife, but with confirmatory predictions, with the alluring salutations of ambition — Thy letters have transported me beyond This ignorant present, and I feel now The future in the instant! The intensity of Lady Macbeth's passionate feelings, hurries her into an instant preparation for Duncan's never going thence — Macbeth. My dearest love, Duncan comes here tonight. Lady M. And when goes hence? Macbeth. Tomorrow — as He purposes. Lady M. O, ne'er Shall sun that morrow see ! ' Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men May read strange matters : to beguile the time. Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye. Your hand, your tongue ; look like the innocent flower, But, be the serpent under it. He that's coming Must be provided for; and you shall put This night's great business into my dispatch; 42 Which shall to all our nights and days to come. Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. Macbeth. We will speak further. Lady M. Only look up clear; To alter favor,* ever is to fear : [*the countenance Leave all the rest to me. The precipitate advances of Lady Macbeth to insure the object of her Husband's ambition, seem to take him by surprise and half-stupify him. The 4 pregnant words, we will speak further, foretell the catastrophe ; from that in- stant, we feel that he is lost. The chief obstacle in the way of Macbeth's selfish desires, proceeded from the opposition of his moral faculties, with which he was invested by Nature, to judge with supreme authority, concerning his passions, and to restrain their im- petuosity. Accordingly, when the thought of seizing the crown arises in his mind, he feels at once shocked and astonished: justice and humanity are alike surprised; they shrink from the suggestion; he regards his own mind with amazement, and recoils at the guiltiness of the thought — This supernatural soliciting Cannot be iU — cannot be good — If ill. Why hath it given me earnest of success. Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor: If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair. And make my seated heart knock at my ribs. Against the use of Nature? His virtuous principles have here the apparent ascendency over his passions; but his ambition is not repulsed: he abandons the enterprise, because the means of gratifying it, seem both shocking and impracticable; but, the passion itself is not renounced; it continues vehement; it perseveres with obstinacy; it importunes, it harasses his mind; still the desire exists; and, though deterred by his moral feelings from proceeding directly, he indulges the somewhat romantic wish — [me, If Chance will have me King, why. Chance may crown Without my stir. Thus distracted vnth contending principles, irresolute, long- ing for the event, but, fearful of promoting it, he seems to have given up the design of murdering Duncan, and entertains some extravagant expectation of inheriting the crown by right of succession — 43 Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day! and thus, he recovers some degree of tranquility. But, it is of short duration; for he is again roused, by the following words of Duncan — My plenteous joys. Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes. And you whose places are the nearest, know. We will establish our estate upon Our eldest, Malcolm; whom we name, hereafter The Prince of Cumberland — — the uneasy sensation in Macbeth's mind, excited by the perception of the obstacle to the accomplishment of his wishes, in the person of Malcolm, renews his ambition and increases its violence — (Aside) The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step On which I must fall down, or else, o'erleap; For, in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires ! Let not light see my black and deep desires : The eye wink at the hand! yet, let that ie. Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see ! Observe, my respected readers, that the thought of murder- ing Duncan, arose in the mind of Macbeth before his coming in contact with his Wife; she did not Jirst suggest the murder to Macbeth. It was his Letter which prepared her mind to be, alive to such a suggestion : and the dramatist has taken some pains to show us, that Macbeth was not less guilty than his Wife. Richardson has observed, in his Philosophical Analysis — Habitual passions possess superior advantages over those opposite principles which ' operate by a violent and sudden impulse. For, so delicate is the constitu- tion of the human mind, that lively feelings unless they form the temper of being confirmed by action, are enfeebled by repetition and frequent exercise. The horror and aversion excited by enormous wickedness, unless we act in conformity to them, " are mere passive impressions, which, by being repeated, grow weaker;"* and though their resistance against an habituated passion be animated, it is of short duration. They subside; they are overwhelmed; but, not extinguished. * Butler's Analogy. 44 Macbeth appears reconciled to the idea of treason; he can think of it calmly, and without abhorrence : and all the opposition he has henceforth to encounter, will arise, not from h\& feelings, but from reflection. In Macbeth's soliloquy which follows shortly after his interview with Lady Macbeth, as already given, on p. 42, the dramatist has furnished us with Macbeth's reflections upon it; wherein, are masterly strokes of compunction. Macbeth ruminates on the villainy [not villany] of the contemplated deed, on the infamy which must necessarily follow it; and honor and nature assail him with that ar- guement [not argumenf] of double force — [properly doubblel He's here in double trust: First, as I am his kinsman and his subject. Strong both against the deed ; then, as his host, Who should against his murtherer shut the door. Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead, like Angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-oif : And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or, heaven's cherubim, horsed Upon the sightless couriers of the air. Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself* [*not its sell And falls on the other* [*suddenly broken off — and this appeal to nature, hospitality, and allegiance, backed by the dread of the infamy which will attend it, produces such a powerful effect upon his mind, that, on Lady Macbeth's enterance [not entrance nor ent'ranee'] he says — We will proceed no further in this business : He hath honored me of late ; and 1 have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which mould be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon. — but, what a retort does this yielding to the impulses of his better nature, ehcit from his Evil-angel — Was the hope drunk. Wherein you dressed yourself? hath it slept since ? 45 And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely ? From this time. Such I account thj"^ love. Art thou afeared To be the same in thine own act and valor. As thou art in desire? Would'st thou have that Which thou esieem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem ? Letting / dare not wait upon I would, Like the poor Cat i'the adage ? Macbeth stsinds confounded before her reproaches at his cowardice; and she satirizes him so keenly, and heaps de- grading interrogatories so rapidly upon him, that he readily catches hold of that One small, but precious fragment in the wreck of innocence and honor — Pr'ythee, Peace! thus demanding a truce from her attack, with the spirit of a combatant who has not yielded up his weapons. The words pr'ythee peace, are usually delivered, by Actors, as if they were mere expletives; but, Shakespeare did not so design them ; they are not put in to fill up a sentence, they con- stitute one; they stand in an important pass; they defend the breach her awakened ambition had made in his citadel of hu?nanity; they are (alas) the last utterance of that dignified struggle of his virtue, which so soon afterwards fell before her sophistry — Pr'ythee, Peace! I dare do all that may become a Man; Who dares do more, is none ! She instantly changes her mode of attack — What beast* was't then, [*not boast That made you hreaJc this enterprise to me ? When you durst do it, then you- were a Man; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place. Did then adhere, and yet, you would maJce both ; They have made themselves, and that, their fitness, now Does unmake You ! Mark, interested reader, mark the tact of the dramatist: Lady Macbeth seeing that her husband was ensconced by humanity and honor, calls in sophistry to her aid ; and, by a cunning and a ready turn, she gives him credit for his sen- timent, but, erects a more glittering, though fdlladous logic upon it; for, while admitting his objection, she speciously confutes it. After having thus skilfully parried his objection, 46 by a sophistry calculated to blind his reason and influence his ambition, she bursts out, in that vaunting display of hardened intrepidity, which presents one of the most terrific pictures ever drawn — and which has more than once rendered me breathless, while listening to their effusion from the lips of the never-to-be-forgotten Mrs. Siddons — I have given suck; and know How tender 'tis to love the Babe that milks me : I would, while it was smiling in my face. Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums. And dashed the brains out! had I so sworn. As you have done to this. Macbeth fairly sinks under this attack, offering nothing in delay of execution, except the feeble hesitation given in the 4 words — If we should fail Lady M. We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking place. And we'll not fail. Now, patient reader, the fatal cause of Macbeth's fall was this — When he marshaled before him the secondary conse- quences of the contemplated crime and the secondary arguements against its commission, he lost sight of the primary QjVisstion.; which was that of the One step — the step from innocence into guilt; and losing sight of the primary, the real question, be fell before the sophistry of his wife. Another of Shakespeare's moral lessons to his auditors and readers. Under the influence of fatal preju- dices, flattering himself with the hope of impunity, he engages to execute the black design. He becomes armed with an assumed ferocity, caught from Lady Macbeth — I am settled, and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show ; False face must hide what the false heart doth know ! Agitated and shaken by tumultuous passions, his mind becomes both wild and sickly; and reason, beaming at intervals, increases the disorder — Is this a dagger which I see before me. The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee— I have thee not; and yet, I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling, as to sight? or, art thou but 47 A dagger of the mind? a false creation. Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshaVst me the way that I was going. And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses — Or else, worth all the rest : I see thee still ; And on thy blade, and dudgeon, gouts of blood ; Which was not so before — There's no such thing ! It is the bloody business which informs Thus to mine eyes. Immediately after the murder, he is amazed at his own atrocity ; he is then first thoroughly conscious of his per- fidy, and of the resentment it will excite. Terrific images are created by his fancy, and his soul is distracted by remorse. Macbeth. I've done the deed — Didst thou not hear a noise? Lady M. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry. Did not You speak? Macbeth. When? Lady M. Now. Macbeth. As I entered? Lady M. Ay. Macbeth. Hark — Who lies i' the second chamber ? Lady M. Donalbain. Macbeth. {LooJcing on his hands.) This is a sorry sight — Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. Macbeth. There's one did laugh in his sleep. And one cried Murther! that they did wake each other; I stood and heard them : but, they did say their prayers. And addressed them again to sleep. Lady M. There are two lodged together. Macbeth. One cried God bless us ! and Amen! the other — As they had seen me, with these hangman's hands. List'ning their fear, I could not say Amen When they did say God bless us. Lady M. Consider it not so deeply. Macbeth. But, wherefore could not I pronounce amen ? I had most need of blessing, and amen Stuck in my throat. Lady M. These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad. 48 Macbeth. Methought, I heard a voice cry Sleep no morel Macbeth does murther sleep! The innocent sleep; Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care. The death of each da)''s life, sore labor's bath. Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course. Chief nourisher in life's feast ! Lady M. What do you mean ? Macbeth. Still it cried Sleep no more! to all the house: Glamis hath murthered sleep ; and, therefore, Cawdor Shall sleep no more ! Macbeth shall sleep no more ! How different Richard ! who never seems to enjoy him- self except in the success, or prospect of success, in his villainies. There seems to be but a small portion of common humanity in the composition of Richard; he appears what Margaret called him — Thou elvish-marked, abortive, rooting hog ! Thou that was sealed in thy nativity The slave of nature and the son of hell ! — for, he is alike regardless of kindred and posterity, owning no fellowship with mankind; saying — I have no Brother; I am hke no brother; And this word love, which graybeards call divine. Be resident in men like one another. And not in me — I am myself alone! This "bottled spider," this "foul bunch-backed toad," perpetrates several murders ; some in his passage to power, others after being seated on the throne. Ferociousness and cruelty, deceit and hypoarisy, are marked features in his portrait. Unlike Macbeth, Richard does not appear to have any humane or honorable principles to contend against — the murder of his brother Clarence, the murders of the Queen's kinsmen, the murder of the young Princes, of his Wife, of his accomplice Buckingham, are all perpe- trated in the style of hardened cruelty — but, Macbeth possesses considerable sympathy; feels the dint of pity; experiences remorse; accounts the loss of honor, friends, and followers, among the causes which conspire to make him weary of life — Oh, fuU o' scorpions is my mind, dear Wife! and the dramatist has deeply interested us in Macbeth's approaching end, by casting over him a mantle of thought- ful, touching melancholy — 49 I have lived long enough ! my way* of life [*not Mtiy Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf: And that which should accompany old-age — As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but, in their stead. Curses, not loud, but deep; mouth-honor, breath; Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. — but, we have not any sympathy with Richard at the close of his career; he is hunted down, lilce a wild-boar, and we would not spare him, if we could. It was with difficulty that Macbeth proceeded to the murder of Duncan; and after the deed was perpetrated, he was filled with horrqr and remorse ; he regretted having seized the crown; and his remorse and regret were not a little augmented by the consideration of his inability to transmit the crown to his posterity — For Banquo's issue have I 'filed* my mind; [* defiled For them the gracious Duncan have I murthered; Put rancors in the vessel of my peace. Only for them; and mine eternal jewel Given to the common enemy of man, To make them Kings — the seed of Banquo kings! — and, in the agitation of his thoughts, he seems to envy those whom he had so ruthlessly dispatched — Better be with the Dead, {place Whom we, to gain our peace,* have sent to peace, i*not Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well ; Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy — nothing Can touch him further! Macbeth then becomes hardened; callous and more callous, as he proceeds in guilt; his conscience becomes seared, as with a hot iron; he even surprises his wife with his bloody intentions — Ere the bat hath flown His cloistered flight; ere to black Hecate's summons The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums. Hath rung night's yawning peal, There shall be done a deed of dreadful note. Zadj/ M. What's to be done.? 50 Much. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest Chuck, Till thou applaud the deed. Thou marvelest at my words : but, hold thee still; Things had begun make strong themselves by ill. He had then determined upon murdering both Banquo and Fleance his son : but, on the escape of Fleance, Macbeth is thrown into consternation, and knows not what to do — I wiU tomorrow. And betimes I wUl, unto the weird sisters ; More shall they speak ; for now, I am bent to know B)' the worst means, the worst : for mine own good All causes shall give way ; I am in blood Stepped in so far, that, should I wade no more. Returning, were as tedious as go e'er ! At this advanced stage of his progress in wickedness, when Macbeth no longer requires the instigation, support, and watchfulness of his Wife; the dramatist prepares for her removal: and Lady Macbeth, lacking sufficient goads to action, / Is troubled with thick-coming fancies. That keep her from her rest; she walks and talks in her sleep; goes distracted, and dies; and He, on hearing 'the cry given by the women, is most characteristically made to say — I have almost forgot the taste of Fears : The time has been, my senses would have cooled To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair Would, at a dismal treatise, rouse and stir. As life were in't : I have supped full of horrors ; Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts. Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that Ciy? Seyton. The Queen, my lord, is — Dead. 3Iacbeth. She should have died hereafter! There would have been a time for such a word — Tomorrow — and tomorrow — and tomorrow — Creeps in this petty pace* from day to day, [*not space To the last syllable of recorded time ; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty* Death ! [not dusky Poor Macbeth strives to drown reflection, by busily repelling the consequences of his evil deeds ; he endeavors, in the contrivance jaf fresh crimes, to obliterate the remem- berance of the commission of the past; necessity drives him 51 on to new acts of violence ; and he stands before us a signal example how hard it is to kick against the pricks- — I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun. And wish the estate o' the world were now undone! But, to Richard, cruelty and violence and crime, are heartfelt gratifications; he indulges in murder, as a passtime [not pastime] ; he is a consummate villain, replete with wanton malice and cool-blooded malignity ; there are no conflicting passions in his breast ; in the turbulence of his projects, he maintains his self-possession — I was born so high. Our aerie buildeth in the cedar's top. And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun ! Yet, villain as he is, Richard has not been cast by Shalcespeare without the pale of humanity; he has not wholly lost his rank among mew; he is still a human being. Notwithstanding Richard says, I am in So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin ; Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye — yet, these very words show that he is human still. And after the Ghosts had all vanished, we find humanity is in him while soliloquizing thus — My conscience hath a thousand several tongues. And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a Villain. Perjury, perjury, in the highest degree, Murther, stern murther, in the dir'st degree ; All several sins, all used in each degree. Throng to the bar, crying all — Guilty ! Guilty ! I shall despair — There is no creature loves me ; And if I die, no soul shall pity me — Nay, wherefore should they .'' since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself ! — here are certain cords still binding him to humanity; he is not so demoniacal as lago — nevertheless, Richard has not any such qualms of conscience as those experienced by Macbeth : we do not discover in Richard, what is so evident in Macbeth, that the way of transgressors is hard ; for the dramatist has made Richard a character of pure will; he does not undergo any of those inward agitations which render Macbeth's mind like the tossing of the ocean 52 in a tempest; Richard seems, with a certain forced- com- posedness, to have said, in the phraseology ascribed to his Satanic majesty — >. EvU, be thou my good ! Milton. But, not to out-weary my patient readers, by pursuing this analytical examination further, let me recommend an inquisitive perusal of the two dramas throughout; when you may discover other marked similarities and differences between Richard and Macbeth : those I have pointed out, may be sufficient to show Shakespeare's superiority as a discriminating artist; and this discrimination pervades the whole of his dramas ; for, believe it or not, out of the 1,000 Characters represented by our master-dramatist, you cannot find 2 alike — they are, at least, as dissimilar as tlie apparitions which haunt Richard in his sleep only, and those which encounter Macbeth in his waking-dreams; and that is amply sufficient to stamp them with unmistaliable individualitrj. Ladij Macbeth. This sublime creation has not had justice done it, by Commentators and Critics on the writings of Shakespeare. Lady Macbeth is not the monster usually depicted; she is not "the extreme opposite of Macbeth, destitute of a drop of the milk of human-kindness;" she is not " the least human of all Shakespeare's females;" Goneril and Regan surpass her in the quality of inhumanity, as far as lago surpasses Richard in villainy : , Lady Macbeth is a more terrific impersonation of evil passions and stupendous ener- gies, but, she is not so far removed from human feelings and sympathies as the ingrates portrayed in Lear; she never tears herself so intirely away from her sex, from humanity ; she is and remains a woman. Richardson avers, in the work already quoted, on p. 43, Lady Macbeth, of a character invariably savage, proceeds easily, and without reluctance, to the con- trivance of the blackest crimes. Illustration of Shakespeare's Characters. — but, such a Lady Macbeth is not to be found in Shake- speare ; such a monster would not have suited his purpose. 1 really wish half of the Commentators had been asleep, instead of attempting to illustrate the Characters of the master-dramatist; for, they have done considerably more 53 harm than good: the Lady Macbeth of the discriminating Shakespeare, had the murder of Duncan first suggested to her mind by her husband, and she is ambitious less for her- self than for him. Possessed of great power of intellect, inexorable determination, -wonderful strength of nerve when she is once cast into the vortex of ambition. Lady Macbeth becomes more active than her husband ; but, her activity is not so much attributable to her pre-eminence in wickedness, as to her superiority of mind. She urged him to the fatal deed, 'tis true; but, that sentence — Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done't — proves her woman still; proves she is not that monster of depravity sorne Critics would make her. After the murder, she does not "urge Macbeth on to the commission of new crimes;" nothing of the kind ; she is sufficiently occupied in supporting the weakness of her conscience-stricken hus- band — Why, worthy thane. You do unbend your noble strength, to think So brainsickly of things — My hands are of your color ; but, I shame To wear a heart so white ! How now, my lord? Why do you keep alone. Of sorriest fancies your companions making? Using those thoughts which should indeed have died With them they think on? Things without all remedy. Should be without regard — what's done, is done! Come on; Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks; Be bright and jovial 'mong your guests tonight. O, proper stuff ! This is the very painting of your Fear ; This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said. Led you to Duncaa. O, these flaws, and starts, (Imposters to true Fear) would well become A woman's story, at a winter's fire. Authorized by the grandam. Shame itself! Why do you make such faces ? When all's done. You look but on a stool. You lack the season of all natures — Sleep. — these, and other passages, show her superiority over her husband, in both intellect and fortitude. 54 Mrs. Jameson has, very properly, censured three of our critics (Cumberland, Richardson, Forster) for their false views of the Shakespearean character of his wonderful creation. Lady Macbeth — I do deny that Shakespeare has represented Lady Macbeth a woman " naturally cruel," " invariably savage," or endued with "pure demoniac firmyiess" if ever there could have existed a woman to whom such phrases could apply — a woman without touch of modesty, pity, or fear — Shakespeare knew, that a thing so monstrous [properly m^nsterous] was unfit for all the purposes of Poetry. If Lady Macbeth had been naturally cruel, she needed not so solemnly to have abjured all pity, and called on the Spirits that wait on mortal thoughts to unsex her ; nor would she have been loved to excess by a man of Macbeth's char- acter ; for, it is the sense of intellectual energy and strength of will, overpowering her feminine nature, which draws from him that burst of intense admira- tion — Bring forth Tnen-children only ! If she had been invariably savage, her love would not have comforted and sustained her husband in his des- pair; nor would her uplifted dagger have been arrested by a dear and venerable image rising betWeen her soul and its fell purpose. If endowed with pure demoniac firmness, her woman's nature would not, by the re- action, have been so horribly avenged — she would not have died of remorse and despair. Characteristics of Women, vol. ii. p. 37. No, my readers, Shakespeare, the faithful Secretary of Nature, never penned such a monsterous Lady Macbeth as our self-baptized Illustraters of Shakespeare have made her. It has been asked — What could possibly have inspired Shakespeare with thoughts and words beyond the reach of any other man ? A grave question, truely ; and who shall answer it .? Dr. Young (a very competent as well as reverend authority) informs us — To claim attention and the heart invade, Shakespeare but wrote the play the Almighty made — and it may be, the Doctor could have defended what some 55 of my readers may be disposed to designate, an extrava- gantly impious assertion. Be this as it may, I have thought it writ down in my duty, while exhibiting his diS' criminating abiUty, to show that our critical Illustraters (so-called) have done him gross injustice ; that, if possible, I may be the honored instrument of inducing some preju-- diced mind to read Shakespeare himself, in preference to all Commentators and Critics and — Essayists ; for, itmay be said of him, in his own words — You, O you. So perfect, and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best ! 56 Chapter V. Co7itinuaiion of Shakespeare as a Dramatist. Great Homer's birth seven rival cities claim — Too mighty such monopoly of Fame. Yet, not to birth alone did Homer owe His wond'rous worth ; what Egypt could bestow. With all the Schools of Greece and Asia joined. Enlarged the immense expansion of his mind: Nor yet unrivaled the Mseonian strain; The British Eagle* and the Mantuan Swan [*Milton Tower equal heights. But, happier Stratford, thou With incontested laurels deck thy brow ; Thy Bard was thine unschooled, and from thee brought More than all Egypt, Greece, or Asia taught; Not Homer's self such matchless laurels won; The Greek has rivals — but, thy Shakespeare none! T. Seward. Now, gentle reader, notwithstanding I have aheady occupied so much of your time on Shakespeare as a Dramatist, 1 cannot dismiss this subject without adding something more. There is an incurable vulgar side of human nature, which, when he cannot help but show it, the Poet should never handle without a certain bashfulness; but, instead of this, Beaumont and Fletcher throw no veil whatever over nature. They express everything bluntly in words ; they make the spectator the un- willing confidant of all, that more noble minds en- deavor to hide even from themselves. The indeceiicm in which these poets indulged themselves, go beyond conception. Licentiousness of language, is the least evil ; many scenes, nay, even whole plots, are so con- trived, that the very idea, not to mention the beholding of them, is a gross insult to modesty. They were thoroughly acquainted with their cotemporaries ; but they found it more convenient to lower themselves to the taste of the public, than to follow the example of Shakespeare, who elevated the public to himself. Aristophanes is a bold mouth-piece of sensuality; but, like the Grecian statuaries in the figures of satyrs, &c. 57 he banisTies them into the animal kingdom, to which they wholly [wholely] belong ; and, judging him by the morality of his times, he is much less offensive than Beaumont and Fletcher^ Schlegel's Lecturen. In respect of Shakespeare's great sense, Aristo- phanes's best wit, is but bvffoonei'y ; and, in com- parison of Aristophanes'syrcerfom.?, Shakespeare writes v/ith tlhe 'purity of a vestal. Bishop Warburtox. If the freedom, of some of the expressions used by Rosalind or Beatrice be objected to, let it be remem- bered that this was not the fault of Shakespeare or the women, but generally of the age. Portia, Bea- trice, Rosalind, and the rest, lived in times when more importance was attached to things than to words; now, we think more of words than of things: and happy are we in these later days of super-refinement, if we are to be saved by our verbal modesty! Mrs. Jamesow. No one has ever combined, in an equal degree with Shakespeare, the double [doubble] character of aa. impartial observer and a man of profound sensibility.. Superior to all, by his reasons, and accessible to ail, by sym/pathy, he has nothing without judging it, and he judges it because he feels it. Could any one- who did not detest lago, have penetrated, as Shakespeare : has done, into the recesses of his execrable character?' To the horror with which he regards the criminal, must be ascribed the terrible energy of the language, , ■which he puts into his mouth. ' GuizoT. Shahesjieare and his Times. 1852. It has been the practice of Ben Joijson's biographers, , to institute a comparison between Him and Shake- speare. These parallels have not been always "after the manner of Plutarch ; " but indeed, their utility in ; any case will not be very apparent ; unless it should : he admitted, that Shakespeare is best set off, kv/ throwing every object brought near him into the" shade. Shakespeare wants no light but his onm. As he never has been equaled, and in all human pro- bability, never will be equaled, it seems an invidious employ, at least, to speculate minutely on the precise degree in which others fell short of him. Let him, with his- own Julius Cesar, bestride the narrow world, 58 like a colossus ; that is his due ; but, let not the rest be compelled to walk under Ms huge legs, and peep about to find themselves dishonorable graves. Giffokd's Memoir of Ben Jonson. There is, occasionally, a coarseness of phrase, which must be attributed to the age in which he lived; but, he never tampered with Truth — never threw down the boundaries between vice and virtue — never strove by voluptuous images to excite the passions — nor by fallacious arguements to ensnare the mind, or confuse the intellect, upon any subject whatever. Barky Cornwall, on Shakespeare. These testimonies are highly favorable, and have been presented to my uninitiated readers, to promote a favorable impression regarding our great Dramatist ; because, he is worthy of our admiration, our reverence, our esteem. The title of this little work, I have made as attractive as I could, to induce the timid members of the moral and religious world to give it a reading ; and as I expect to have several readers^ both male and female, who know something less than nothing of the dramatic and theatric world, but who, in all probability, think they know much that is bad of Shakespeare, I have inserted, and shall yet insert, many favorable testimonies of his greatness, his wisdom, and his goodness, by way of counteracting, in some degree, the unfavorable impressions received from those who have ignorantly, or foolishly, or basely, prejudiced my readers against him. I have already informed my attentive readers (on p. 10) that I weis prejudiced against Shakespeare from infancy ; I have heard much against him, and read much against him ; and now, I have resolved to tell you, how He has been misunderstood, traduced, belied, and I and Others misled, cheated, and befooled. I have neither time nor patience to wade through the mass of objections, charges, and censures, contained in the 550 pages of " An Inquiry into the Philosophy and Religion of Shakespeare ; by W. J. Birch, M.A. 1848;" because, this Reverend gentleman has not seen Shakespeare with his own eyes, but through the spectacles of his oracle. Bell, the fabricater of that despicable biography of Shakespeare in " Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopaedia :" I shall therefore pass the pupil (Birch) as being beneath the contempt of criticism, 59 and introduce nis instructer (Bell) who shall speak for him- self; as I am bound, in justice to Shakespeare, to my readers, and to myself, to produce and examine the blackest and worst charges that have been or can be brought against the Father of the English Drama. In the Lives of eminent Men, you may read the follow- ing passage, bearing upon Shakespeare as a Dramatist — Whoever has looked into the original editions of his dramas, wUl be disgusted with the obscenity of his allusions. They absolutely teem with the grossest im- proprieties — more gross hy far than can be found in any cotemporary Dramatist. p. 99 and 100. Patience, gentle reader, patience ! be not alarmed ; for, there is not a syllable of Truth in the whole quotation : it is A Lie ; an odious, damned Lie ; Upon my soul, a Lie ; a wicked Lie ! Othello. and hon such a scandalous, disgraceful, lying Biography of " the Genius of the British Isles," found its way into a respectable publication, issued into the world by one of the most reputable firms in Paternoster Row, fampus through- out Europe, known aU over the world, I cannot conceive : it is a reproach to all connected with its dissemination ; for, it is enough to blast the character of Shakespeare's writings for ever, in the minds of the uninitiated ; while those who know Shakespeare better, will be tardy iii consulting a Cyclopedia of which it forms a part, and fearful of crediting other articles in the same work. I think Knight treated the Biographer with too much indifference, when, in 1838, he wrote — We do not mention this writer as attaching any value to his opinions ; but simply, because he has contrived to put in » small compass all that could be raked together, in depreciation of Shahespeare as a foet and as a man. The Two Gentlemen of Verona, p. 7. — for. Knight was bound, in duty to the public, to expose the false assertions of Shakespeare's asperser ; to have proved him a calumniater; and not to have let him off with merely showing his contempt for his pitiable compila- tion — The man that dar.es traduce, because he can With safety to himself, is not a Man ! Cowper. 60 From Bell's insinuation, as base as it is false, we are te infer, that modern editions are less obscene than the original editions ; that modest editors of later years, have left out such passages as are too revolting for the refined readers of our day : and how many lines do my readers suppose may possibly have been left out of modern editions, to render them fitting for this refined age ? If the original editions "absolutely teem with the grossest improprieties — more gross by far than can be found in any cotemporaxy dra- matist," as Bell asserts, then, more than the Half must have been expunged ; as there are whole scenes of gross improprieties in the compositions of his cotemporaries. There are 37 Plays, each containing thousands of lines; to strike out 37 thousand lines would be like nothing, from such a mass of "gross improprieties;" yet, I am bold to assert, 37 hundred have not been struck out, nor 37 dozen, nor 37 lines; and if Bell had to go without his dinner untill he found the odd 7 struck out, he might fancy himself too harslily punished for the vileness of his insinuation. There are three in the first folio edition of Romeo and Juhet, ■which are not in tlie generality of modem editions; two of them bearing an allusion to what 99 readers out of 100 would not perceive on reading them; and one, like the one l;ne in Richard III, prohibited under the Statute of James, forbidding the introduction of "sacred things" into works of imagination". James, like Bell, was no better than he should be ; for, he could persecute his innocent subjects to Death, for the uncommittable crime of Witchcraft, at the same time that his piety forbade the printing of the follow- ing line — By Christ's dear blood, shed for our grievous sins. — James strained out [not at'] gnats, but felt as Httle difficulty as Bell, Birch, & Co. in swallowing camels. An evil spirit producing holy witness. Is like a villain with a smiling cheek ; A goodly apple rotten at the heart — O, what a goodly outside Falsehood hath! Measure for Measure. As to "the obscenity of his allusions," the implication is as dishonest as the Biographer is despicable; for, what i§ the fact.' Several passages which are indeed ohscaie in Bell's bepraised modern editions, have not an iota o obscenity in the original folio which he so unjustly con » 61 demns. It was a piece of consummate impudence in Bell to attempt writing a Biography of Shakespeare, of whose works he was shamefully ignorant. I very much question his ever having read Shakespeare, and 1 am very sure he could not apprehend him. Bell reading Shakespeare, is equivalent to a Cat looking in the Bible, or (as the pro- verb is expressed in another tongue) an Ape poring over Euclid. If Bell had read Shakespeare for himself, he could not possibly have so misrepresented him ; if he had taken the pains to compare the original with the modern editions, he would have known that later Editors have changed Shakespeare's pure words for words that are impure, Shakespeare's delicacies for downright obscenities; he would have known that Gently, gently; I must not insert the proofs which were about to flow from my pen ; as this little work must not contain any expressions unfit to be read aloud in modest families. I may, however, communicate to my readers, that Dryden, when remodeling Troilus and Cressida, rendered a certain sly allusion in Shakespeare, a revolting grossncss; that Theobald inserted indecencies which cannot be coun- tenanced by either folio or quarto editions; that Steevens (as Knight has justly remarked) "gloated on a double en- tendre;" that these Bell-lauded editors created obscenities neither expressed nor designed. by Shakespeare! That the dramas of Shakespeare "absolutely teem with the grossest improprieties — more gross by far than can be found in any cotemporary dramatist," is so diametrically opposed to Truth, that I half-suspect Bell must have been hired to pen the most disparaging and depreciating article he could invent on England's noblest son; for, not only Shakespeare's, but Ben Jonson's indelicaci£S "are as spots: while the indelicacies and impurities of their Cotempora- ries, constitute the essential coloring to their portraits, sometimes spreading over intire scenes." De])end upon it. Bell never read Shakespeare, or he would have known, as well as Tweddell, that the great dramatist was " the firm friend of every virtue and accom- plishment, the enemy of all that is vicious and unlovely." What Udall wrote in his Preface to the Apothegms of Erasmus, respecting Plutarch, may, with singular propriety, be applied to Shakespeare — 62 It is a thing scarcely believable, how much, how boldly, as well the common writers that, from time to time, have copied out of his works, as also certain [writers] that have thought themselves liable to con- troll and am^nd aU men's doings, have taken upon them in this author; who ought, with all reveretwe, to have been handled of them, and, with all fear, to have been preserved from altering, depraving, or corrupt- ing. If you, gentle reader, had waded through as many dif- ferent editions of Shakespeare, as have passed tlirough my hands during the last 35 years, you would, perhaps, have as little patience as I have with his Tinkers, and be equally indignant at his Aspersers. Every editor — with perhaps but one honorable exception, Charles Knight — has altered, depraved, and corrupted, the text of Shakespeare ; some in one way, some in another; each self-confident in his own peculiar superiority. Even Warburton (Bishop of Glouces- ter) who ought to have possessed more humility, oomipted the text, by altering it on points of theology — as if Shake- speare" was not a better theologian than any mere Doctor of Divinity! In the original folio edition of Shakespeare's Works, p. 67, I read — Aug. Your Brother is a forfeit of the Law, And you but waste your words. Isab. Alas, alas: Why all the soules that were, were forfeit once. And he that might the vantage best haue tooke, Foimd out the remedie : how would you be. If he, which is the top of ludgement, should But iudge, you, as you are } Oh, thinke on that. And mercie then will breathe within your hps Like man new made. Measure for Measure. 1623. — but, in Warburton's edition stands. Why all the souls that are, were forfeit once, because, as he says, the expression in the text is fahe divinity. Well, certainly, a Doctor of Divinity ought to know better than I do, what is true and what is false divinity; yet, I cannot think he knew better than Shake- speare, who had not only read but thoroughly understood his Bible — which is more than I would venture to say of many learned Doctors ; most of whom seem to be better acquainted with the Old than with the New Testament. 63 Warburton's ponderous quartoes [not quartos] on the Legation of Moses, may, perhaps, entitle him to respect as a theologian; but Shakespeare was better read in Christi- anity, and knew and inculcated more of the doctruies, precepts, and sentiments of Christianity, than the learned Bishop of Gloucester. It was in his New Testament that Shakespeare learned to write — Why all the souls that were, were forfeit once, for there it was he learned the forfeit had been released. But, not to annoy my readers with a theological disquisition, I shall dismiss this specimen of Warburton's impudence in changing Shakespeare's mere into are, and then giving it to the world as Shakespeare's text. He had no moral right to alter the text. If Shakespeare's conception of Christ's Re- demption of the forfeit of our first Parents, did not suit the Doctor's divinity, he might in a Note, have entered his Mosaic protest against the redeeming power of Christ, without corrupting the text of the dramatist, who (in well- known phraseology) had more Christianity in his little finger, than could be found in the Bishop's whole body. The close of the quotation. Like man new made, stsmd- ing, as it does, in immediate connection with Shakespeare's reference to the redemption of mankind by Christ, a reader of the Evangelists, one would suppose, must instantaneously associate with the new birth, the being "born again," the regeneration, so prominent in the New Testament; yet, on turning to the passage, in the Rev. H. N. Hudson's neatly "got up" American edition (which I possess "as a great favor") I am referred to a foot-note (on p. 51, vol. II.) given as a quotation, thus — "You will then be as tender-hearted and merciful as the first man was in his days of innocence ;" which, I take it for granted (knowing as I do, that the Americans have not yet acquired the Art of quoting accu- rately) is Hudson's mode of quoting Malone. But, inquisitive reader, is not this mystifying rather than irradiating Shakespeare.' To me, any explanatory Note to new made vfOuld he a superfluity; as it cannot mean anything else than made anew, born anew, born again, in this passage; an expression, however puzzling to Nicode- mus, a ruler of the Jews, ought to have been familiar to the Rev. H. N. Hudson, A. M. an accredited Teacher of Christianity. 64 Thus it is, that the plain text, the ohvious meaning, of Shakespeare, is distorted by Commentators and beclouded by lUustraters. Bishop Warburton bungles the Text, by his oiEcious and unscriptural alteration ; and the Rev. Mr. Hudson, who cannot perceive that Shakespeare alludes to the regenerate man, gallops off, after Malone, to associate the expression with the first man! Poor Shakespeare, what a Martyr art thou, to Clerical officiousness! The grand error in all our Commentators and Critics upon Shakespeare, is this — they do not approach him with reverence — " Chew upon this." I am here reminded of Johnson's good sense, in checking and restraining liis alterations of the text of Shakespeare, and of inserting his conjectures in the margin. He was of opinion, that "the history of our language, and the true force of our words, can only be preserved, by keeping the text of authors free from adulteration. Conjecture, though it be sometimes unavoidable, I have not wantonly nor licentiously indulged. It has been my settled principle, that the reading of the an- cient books is probably true, and, therefore, is not to be disturbed for the sake of elegance, perspicuity, or mere improvement of the sense. For, though much credit is not due to the fidelity, nor any to the judg- ment [better judgement'] of the first publishers, yet, they that had the copy before their eyes, were more likely to read it right, than we, who read it only by imagination. As I practised conjecture more, I learned to trust it less ; and, after I had printed a few Plays, resolved to insert none of my own readings in the text. Upon this caution I now congratulate myself, for every day encreases [increases] my doubt of mv emandations. Johnson's Worhs. vol. x- p. 185 — 188. Ed. of 1823. But, strange to say, writers of the Female sex, though gifted with quicker apivehensiontXvm. men, have repeatedly migconcei^•ed Shaliespeare ; and some of them have even disgraced themselves by actually telling fibs of him. The notable Mrs. Charlotte Lennox, for instance (like Bell, anonymously) has, in her so-called ShaJcespeare Illustrated, exerted her ingenuity to prejudice her readers against our jmre-v.inded dramatist. Dunlop (in his History of Fjction) 65 has styled her " an acute and elegant critic ;" but, I assure you, my fair readers, she is nothing of the kind; she is neither acute nor elegant ; and, what is more, she is un- worthy of confidence. Concerning The Winter's Tale, she writes — The original story of Greene, is more purely moral than that of Shakespeare. And wherein, think you, consists this lacJc of morality in our greatest moral dramatist ? Why, in Greene, the Father attempts to seduce his own Daughter ; and because Shake- speare has omitted that disgusting incident, his Female Illustrater has publicly accused him of being less purely moral ! But, so it is — No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure 'scape ; back- wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes. Meastwe for Measum. Shakespeare, you must know, selected some mell-knomn Tales, Ballads, or Romances, for the subjects of his dramas ; but, he did not think himself bound to adopt what he con- sidered objectionable in the originals ; no pecuniary advan- tages could induce him to become a pander to vice, to im- morality, to indecency : yet, he has been so accused, over and over again, by his pseudo-illustraters, commentators, and biographers. See the harsh, the unjust critiques upon his having founded the Merchant of Venice " on a low and licentious model ;" but, unlike Mrs. Lennox, Mrs. Jameson has carefully stated, that Shakespeare threw out all the licentiotis part of the model! This was a natural result of his refined taste. The Ophelia of our great Moral-philos- opher, is a very different chsiracter to the female in the original story, notwithstanding the " Good-for-naught" would have been more to the taste of that libidinous age. If, instead of believing the nonsense and lies, which such " coiners of scandal and clippers of reputation " as the anonymous Lennox, Bell, & Co. may choose to invent and publish against Shakespeare, my readers would but examine for themselves the sources whence the Moral- dramatist took the groundworks of his plays, you would be constrained to acknowledge, that whatever he altered he improved, whatever he touched he refined — Upon his brow. Shame is ashamed to sit ! Look at the Kynge Johan, written by no less a personage than Bishope Bale, "only 40 years before the time of 66 Shakespeare ;" then, look at the John of 1591 — two Plays well known to the public, when our Moral-philosopher produced his imperishable drama, wherein the intolerance of the furious protestant Bishop (Bale) against the Romish church, is softened and smoothed down, by thefratemieing spirit of the poet of humanity ; wherein the ribaldry exhib- ited in the offensive incident of Faulconbridge's finding a Nun concealed in an Abbot's large chest of treasures, is not allowed a place — to the disappointment of thousands of play-goers in that age, to the regret, I am sorry to re- cord, of Thomas Campbell of our day • but, Shakespeare- like, that popular and much admired scene (of 1591) was not permitted to defile the text of our great moral teacher! Again — look at the gentleness, kindness, goodness of our Shakespeare's Friar Laurence, the confessor and friend of the unsullied Juliet; how unlike the original! In the old poem, we have a description of his "secret place," and are told — Where he was wont, in Youth, his fayre frends to There now he hydeth Romeus : [bestowe, but here, as in the Abbot's case, we find our Reformer of the public taste above lending his countenance towards fixing a stigma upon large classes of mankind, by indulging his auditors in a popular prejudice. In that intolerant and persecuting age, the magnanimous Shakespeare taught to contending sects and parties the virtues oi forhearance and conciliation; and we, as a people, are more beholden to the humanizing and christianizing dramas of the grossly misrepresented Shakespeare, than to all the sermons deliv- ered by all the Doctors of Divinity then in possession of the pulpits ! It is deserving of remark, that Shakespeare, amidst the rancor of religious parties, takes a delight in paint- ing the condition of a Monk, and always represents his influence as beneficial. Schlegel's 24^A Lecture. Now, honest reader, I hope you are prepared to admit, that Shakespeare has been misrepresented; that he has been defamed, scsmdalized, and belied, by poets, historians, and divines, by illustraters, commentators, and hiogra- phers, male and female ; that he is not, never was " the abetter of immorality, the subverter of religion ;" but, on the contrary, that " he was the great purifier of the public taste," the unswerving " champion of humanity/," and " the 67 firm friend of every virtue Euid accomplishment; the enemy of all that is vicious' &nA. unlovely ." If any reader is not yet prepared to make these admissions, let him but keep his mind open to conviction, and not unreasonably resist the influence of Truth and undeniable Facts, and he shall yield full assent, before he has got through this essay — hut, A Manne convynsed agenst his Wille, Is of the same opinyon stille ! — which adage was altered (not improved) by Butler, in the 3rd Canto of his Hudibras (a poem replete with bullion) into — He that complies against his will. Is of the same opinion still. If asked. How is it, that Shakespeare has managed to impEirt to his Characters a vitality unknown to those of any other dramatist ?• I should reply, Shakespeare was a thorough mental-ventriloqtdst, who threw his imagination and expressions out of himself, into the various creatures he produced ; whereby the words proceed direct out of the lips of his animated beings : he so completely transported his spirit into every character, that he was qualified, as the Plenipotentiary of the whole human race, to act and spealf in the name and on the behalf of every individual ; and hence it is, that each of his 1,000 characters has its own. Shakespeare's imagination has been characterized, the handmaid of nature, as nature was the playmate of his imagination. He seems to have been each and all the Characters he portrayed — And almost thence my Nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand. , Sonnet, III. In The Friend, vol. iii, p. 121, Ed. of 1837, Coleridge writes — It is Shakespeare's peculiar excelence, that through- out the whole of his splendid picture gallery (the reader will excuse the acknowledged inadequacy of this metaphor) we find individuality everywhere — mere portrait nowhere. In all his various characters, we still feel ourselves communing with the same Nature which is everywhere present, as the vegetable sap in the branches, sprays, leaves, buds, blossoms, and fruits, their shapes, tastes, odors. SpeaJdng of the effect, that is, his works themselves, we may define the ex- 68 celence of their method, as consisting in that just pro- portion, that union and interpenetration of the universal and the particular, which must ever pervade all works of decided genius and true science. And, although this passage has heen uncourteously con- demned, as an outpouring of " Coleridge's unmeaning fine words," it contains more than the ungracious censurer dis- covered ; and I am pleased to see (in the Studies of Shake- speare) that it has not escaped the observant eye of Knight, who comments upon it, as follows — Nothing can be more just and more happy than this definition of the distinctive quality of Shakespeare's works — a quality which puts them so immeasurably above all other works — " the union and interpenetra- tion of the universal and the particular." It consti- tutes the peculiar charm of his matured style ; it fur- nishes the key to the surpassing exeelence of his re- presentations, whether of facts which are cognizable by the understanding or by the senses ; in which a single word individuaUzes the " particular " object de- scribed or alluded to, and, without sepai-ating it from the " universal" to which it belongs, gives it all the value of a vivid color in a picture, j)pli- cable to Shakespeare himself — Hear him but reason in divinity. And, all- admiring, with an inward wish You would desire tiie King were made a Prelate: Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs. You would say, it hatih been all-in-all his study: List his discourse of War, and you shall hear A fearful battle rend^ed you in music : Turn him to any cause of Policy, The Gordian Jcnot of it he will unloose, Fsunihar as his gaxter; that when he speaks. The air, a charta%d libertine, is still; And the mute wonder lurketh in jnen's ears. To steal bis sweet and honeyed sentences! 91 CaAETXB. VU. Shakespeare's Lwnguage in general. Uae and Abuse of Words. DeHnacy of Mxpression. He was not of an Age, but, for all time! Ben. Iowsok. In 1768, the "Colossus of English literature" informed his countrymen, that Shakespeare "is more agxeeaible to the ears of the present age, than any ofiier author equally remote; and, among his other excellences [««- cehnees] deserves to be studied as one of the original masters of our knguage. JoiHKsoiv's Preface to Shaketpemnei The like has been told us 100 times since; yet, there are but few, who, on this account, mske Shakespeare thar gta^. Englishmen (Eke the natives of other lands) db not make their own language a study; though many, among the ■"liibBrally 'educated," too often spend years in acquiring a knowledge (sometimes a mere smattering) of other languages. Our foie&'^rs had an adage, -wiiich the present genera1aE« seems to have thrown to the dogs — Leave all other tongues alone, "Till ye can read, write, speak your own; jtnd one of the results of neglecting this advice, may be seen in the discreditably expressed communications &om persons of rank and fortune, in the columns of our News- papers — may be heard from our Platforms, and from the Chairs at puijlic meetings. Without casting a stone at a giant, a scholar indeed, I may safely aver — ffe who is not Master of his own language, though a proficient in many others; is but an ilheducated man. Johnson has very prettfly said — "Whoever wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days amd nights to the volumes of Addison;" and I would say— Wioever is ashamed of his mother- tongue, let him opea the volumes of Shakespeare, and blush at his own want