Chapter 26

“EnterCromwell,and stands amazed.Wol.Why, how now, Cromwell!Crom.I have no power to speak, sir.Wol.What, amazedAt my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonderA great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,I am fall’n indeed.Crom.How does your grace?Wol.Why, well:Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.I know myself now; and I feel within meA peace above all earthly dignities,A still and quiet conscience.. . . . . . . .I am able now, methinks,Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,To endure more miseries and greater farThan my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.”

“EnterCromwell,and stands amazed.

Wol.Why, how now, Cromwell!

Crom.I have no power to speak, sir.

Wol.What, amazed

At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder

A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,

I am fall’n indeed.

Crom.How does your grace?

Wol.Why, well:

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.

I know myself now; and I feel within me

A peace above all earthly dignities,

A still and quiet conscience.

. . . . . . . .

I am able now, methinks,

Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,

To endure more miseries and greater far

Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.”

And, on the other hand, the stings of Conscience, the deep remorse for iniquities, the self-condemnation which lights upon the sinful, never had expounder so forcible and true to nature. When Alonso, as portrayed in theTempest(act iii. sc. 3, l. 95, vol. i. p. 53), thought of his cruel treachery to his brother Prospero, he says,—

“O, it is monstrous, monstrous!Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it:The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder.That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronouncedThe name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.”

“O, it is monstrous, monstrous!

Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it:

The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder.

That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced

The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.”

And the King’s dream, on the eve of Bosworth battle (Richard III., act v. sc. 3, lines 179, 193, and 200, vol. v. p. 625), what a picture it gives of the tumult of his soul!—

“O coward conscience, how dost thou affright me!. . . . . . . .My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,And every tongue brings in a several tale,And every tale condemns me for a villain.. . . . . . . .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.Methought, the souls of all that I had murder’dCame to my tent; and everyone did threatTo-morrow’s vengeance on the head of Richard.”

“O coward conscience, how dost thou affright me!

. . . . . . . .

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,

And every tongue brings in a several tale,

And every tale condemns me for a villain.

. . . . . . . .

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.

Methought, the souls of all that I had murder’d

Came to my tent; and everyone did threat

To-morrow’s vengeance on the head of Richard.”

Various expressions of the dramatist may end this notice of the Judge within us,—

“The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul.”

“Every man’s conscience is a thousand swordsTo fight against that bloody homicide.”

“Every man’s conscience is a thousand swords

To fight against that bloody homicide.”

“I’ll haunt thee, like a wicked conscience still,That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thought.”

“I’ll haunt thee, like a wicked conscience still,

That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thought.”

“Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all.”

In some degree allied to the power of conscience is the retribution for sin ordained by the Divine Wisdom. We have not an Emblem to present in illustration, but the lines fromKing Lear(act v. sc. 3. l. 171, vol. viii. p. 416),—

“The gods are just, and of our pleasant vicesMake instruments to plague us,”—

“The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices

Make instruments to plague us,”—

are so co-incident with a sentiment in theConfessions(bk. i. c. 12, § 19) of the great Augustine that they deserve at least to be set in juxta-position. The Bishop is addressing the Supreme in prayer, and naming the sins and follies of his youth, says,—

“De peccanti meipso justè retribuebas mihi.Jusistienim, & sic est, ut pœna sua sibi sit omnis inordinatus animis.”

i.e.“By my own sin Thou didst justly punish me. For thou hast commanded, and so it is, that every inordinate affection should bear its own punishment.”[174]

“Timon of Athens,” we are informed by Dr. Drake (vol. ii. p. 447), “is an admirable satire on the folly and ingratitude of mankind; the former exemplified in the thoughtless profusion of Timon, the latter in the conduct of his pretended friends; it is, as Dr. Johnson observes,—

“‘A very powerful warning against that ostentatious liberality, which scatters bounty, but confers no benefits, and buys flattery but not friendship.’”

There is some doubt whether Shakespeare derived his idea of this play from the notices of Timon which appear in Lucian, or from those given by Plutarch. The fact, however, that the very excellent work by Sir Thomas North, Knight,The Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romaines, &c., was published in 1579,—and that Shakespeare copies it very closely in the account of Timon’s sepulchre and epitaph, show, I think, Plutarch to have been the source of his knowledge of Timon’s character and life.

One of the Emblem writers, Sambucus, treated of the same subject in eighteen Latin elegiacs, and expressly named it,Timon the Misanthrope. The scene, too, which the device represents, is in a garden, and we can very readily fancy thatthe figure on the left is the old steward Flavius come to reason with his master,—

ΜισάνθρωποςοςΤίμων.Ad Hieron. Cardanum.Sambucus, 1584.

ΜισάνθρωποςοςΤίμων.Ad Hieron. Cardanum.

ΜισάνθρωποςοςΤίμων.

Ad Hieron. Cardanum.

Sambucus, 1584.

Oderathic cunctos, nec ſe, nec amabat amicos,Μισῶν ἀνθρώπους nomina digna gerens.Hoc vitium, & morbus de bili naſcitur atra,Anxiat hæc, curas ſuppeditatq́₃quegraues.Quapropter cecidiſſe piro, fregiſſeq́₃quecruraFertur, & auxilium non petiiſſe malo.Suauibus à sociis, & conſuetudine dulciQui se ſubducunt, vulnera ſæua ferunt.Conditio hæc miſera eſt, triſtes ſuſpiria ducunt,Cumq́₃quenihil cauſæ eſt, occubuiſſe velint.At tu dum poteris, noto ſociere ſodali,Subleuet vt preſſum, corq́₃quedolore vacet.Quos nulla attingunt prorſus commercia gratoAtque ſodalitio, ſubſidiisq́₃quecarent:Aut Dij ſunt proprij, aut falſus peruertit inanesSenſus, vt hos ſtolidos, vanaq́₃quecorda putes.Tu verò tandem nobis dialectica ſponteDonata, in lucem mittito, ſi memor es.

Oderathic cunctos, nec ſe, nec amabat amicos,

Μισῶν ἀνθρώπους nomina digna gerens.

Hoc vitium, & morbus de bili naſcitur atra,

Anxiat hæc, curas ſuppeditatq́₃quegraues.

Quapropter cecidiſſe piro, fregiſſeq́₃quecrura

Fertur, & auxilium non petiiſſe malo.

Suauibus à sociis, & conſuetudine dulci

Qui se ſubducunt, vulnera ſæua ferunt.

Conditio hæc miſera eſt, triſtes ſuſpiria ducunt,

Cumq́₃quenihil cauſæ eſt, occubuiſſe velint.

At tu dum poteris, noto ſociere ſodali,

Subleuet vt preſſum, corq́₃quedolore vacet.

Quos nulla attingunt prorſus commercia grato

Atque ſodalitio, ſubſidiisq́₃quecarent:

Aut Dij ſunt proprij, aut falſus peruertit inanes

Senſus, vt hos ſtolidos, vanaq́₃quecorda putes.

Tu verò tandem nobis dialectica ſponte

Donata, in lucem mittito, ſi memor es.

In this case we have given the Latin of Sambucus in full, and append a nearly literal translation,—

“All men did he hate, nor loved himself, nor his kindred,—One hating mankind was the name, worthy of him, he bore.This faultiness and disease from the black bile arise,When freely it flows heavy cares it increases.Wherefore from a pear tree he is said to have fallen,To have broken his legs, nor help to have sought for the evil.From pleasant companions, and sweet conversationThey who withdraw themselves, cruel wounds have to bear.Wretched this state of theirs, sorrowful what sighs they draw,And though never a cause arise, ’tis their wish to have died.But thou, while the power remains, join thy well-known companion,Thee overwhelmed he strengthens, and free sets the heart from its grief.Whom, with a friend that is pleasing, never intercourse touches,Without companionship, long without assistance they remain.Either the gods are our own, or false feeling perverteth the soul,And you fancy men stupid, and their hearts all are vain.To us at length reasoning power freely being granted,Into light do thou send them, if of light thou art mindful.”

“All men did he hate, nor loved himself, nor his kindred,—

One hating mankind was the name, worthy of him, he bore.

This faultiness and disease from the black bile arise,

When freely it flows heavy cares it increases.

Wherefore from a pear tree he is said to have fallen,

To have broken his legs, nor help to have sought for the evil.

From pleasant companions, and sweet conversation

They who withdraw themselves, cruel wounds have to bear.

Wretched this state of theirs, sorrowful what sighs they draw,

And though never a cause arise, ’tis their wish to have died.

But thou, while the power remains, join thy well-known companion,

Thee overwhelmed he strengthens, and free sets the heart from its grief.

Whom, with a friend that is pleasing, never intercourse touches,

Without companionship, long without assistance they remain.

Either the gods are our own, or false feeling perverteth the soul,

And you fancy men stupid, and their hearts all are vain.

To us at length reasoning power freely being granted,

Into light do thou send them, if of light thou art mindful.”

The character here sketched is deficient in the thorough heartiness of hatred for which Shakespeare’s Timon is distinguished, yet may it have served him for the primal material out of which to create the drama. In Sambucus there is a mistiness of thought and language which might be said almost to prefigure the doubtful utterances of some of our modern philosophers, but in Shakespeare the master himself takes in hand the pencil of true genius, and by the contrasts and harmonies, the unmistakeable delineations and portraitures, lays on the canvas a picture as rich in its colouring as it is constant in its fidelity to nature, and as perfect in its finish as it is bold in its conceptions.

The extravagance of Timon’s hatred may be gathered from only a few of his expressions,—

“Burn, house! sink, Athens! henceforth hated beOf Timon man and all humanity.”Timon of Athens, act iii. sc. 6, l. 103

“Burn, house! sink, Athens! henceforth hated be

Of Timon man and all humanity.”

Timon of Athens, act iii. sc. 6, l. 103

“Timon will to the woods, where he shall findThe unkindest beast more kinder than mankindThe gods confound—hear me, you good gods all!—The Athenians both within and out that wall!And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may growTo the whole race of mankind, high and low!Amen.”Act iv. sc. 1, l. 35.

“Timon will to the woods, where he shall find

The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind

The gods confound—hear me, you good gods all!—

The Athenians both within and out that wall!

And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow

To the whole race of mankind, high and low!

Amen.”

Act iv. sc. 1, l. 35.

“All is oblique;There’s nothing level in our cursed naturesBut direct villany. Therefore be abhorr’dAll feasts, societies and throngs of men.”Act iv. sc. 3, l. 18

“All is oblique;

There’s nothing level in our cursed natures

But direct villany. Therefore be abhorr’d

All feasts, societies and throngs of men.”

Act iv. sc. 3, l. 18

“I am misanthropos, and hate mankind.For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,That I might love thee something.”Act iv. sc. 3, l. 51

“I am misanthropos, and hate mankind.

For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,

That I might love thee something.”

Act iv. sc. 3, l. 51

“I never had honest man about me, I; allI kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.”Act iv. sc. 3, l. 475

“I never had honest man about me, I; all

I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.”

Act iv. sc. 3, l. 475

And so his ungoverned passion of hatred goes on until it culminates in the epitaph placed on his tomb, which he names his “everlasting mansion,”—

“Upon the beached verge of the salt flood.”

That epitaph as given by Shakespeare, from North’sPlutarch(edition 1579, p. 1003), is almost a literal rendering from the real epitaph recorded in the Greek Anthology (Jacobs, vol. i. p. 86),—

“Ἐνθάδ’ ἀποῤῥηξας ψυχὴν βαρυδαίμονα κεῖμαι,Τοὔνομα δ’ οὐ πεύσεσθε, κακοὶ δὲ κακῶς ἀπόλοισθε.”

“Ἐνθάδ’ ἀποῤῥηξας ψυχὴν βαρυδαίμονα κεῖμαι,

Τοὔνομα δ’ οὐ πεύσεσθε, κακοὶ δὲ κακῶς ἀπόλοισθε.”

Of which a very close translation will be,—

“Here, having rent asunder a dæmon oppressed soul, I lie;The name ye shall not inquire, but ye bad ones badly shall perish.”

“Here, having rent asunder a dæmon oppressed soul, I lie;

The name ye shall not inquire, but ye bad ones badly shall perish.”

The epitaph of the drama (Timon of Athens, act v. sc. 4, l. 69,vol. vii. p. 305) is thus read by Alcibiades from the wax impression taken at the tomb,—

“Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft:Seek not my name: a plague consume you wicked caitiffs left!Here lie I, Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate:Pass by and curse thy fill: but pass and stay not here thy gait.”

“Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft:

Seek not my name: a plague consume you wicked caitiffs left!

Here lie I, Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate:

Pass by and curse thy fill: but pass and stay not here thy gait.”

Plutarch[175]introduces a mention of Timon into the life of Marc Antony, whom he compares in some respects to the misanthrope of Athens. He gives the same epitaph as that of the Anthology above quoted, except a letter or two,—

“Ἐνθαδ’ ἀποῤῥήξας ψυχὴν βαρυδαίμονα κεῖμαι,Τοὔνομα δ’ οὐ πευσοισθε, κακοὶ δὲ κακῶς ἀπόλοισθε.”

“Ἐνθαδ’ ἀποῤῥήξας ψυχὴν βαρυδαίμονα κεῖμαι,

Τοὔνομα δ’ οὐ πευσοισθε, κακοὶ δὲ κακῶς ἀπόλοισθε.”

Plutarch avers, “καὶ τοὺτο μὲν αὐτὸν ἔτιζῶντα πεποιηκέναι λέγουσι,”—“And people say that during his life he himself made this epitaph.” The narrator then adds, “τοὺτο δε περιφερόμενον, Καλλιμάχου εστι,”—“But this round the margin is by Callimachus,”—

“Τίμων μισάνθρωπος ἐσοικέω· ἀλλα πάρελθεΟἰμώζειν εἴπας πολλὰ, πάρελθε μόνον.”“I, Timon the manhater dwell within: but pass by,To bewailmethou hast spoken many things;—only pass by.“

“Τίμων μισάνθρωπος ἐσοικέω· ἀλλα πάρελθεΟἰμώζειν εἴπας πολλὰ, πάρελθε μόνον.”

“Τίμων μισάνθρωπος ἐσοικέω· ἀλλα πάρελθε

Οἰμώζειν εἴπας πολλὰ, πάρελθε μόνον.”

“I, Timon the manhater dwell within: but pass by,To bewailmethou hast spoken many things;—only pass by.“

“I, Timon the manhater dwell within: but pass by,

To bewailmethou hast spoken many things;—only pass by.“

The two epitaphs Shakespeare has combined into one, showing indeed his acquaintance with the above passage through North’sPlutarch, but not discriminating the authorship of the two parts. North’s translation of the epitaphs is simple and expressive, but the Langhornes, in 1770, vulgarise the lines into,—

“At last I’ve bid the knaves farewellAsk not my name, but go to hell.”

“At last I’ve bid the knaves farewell

Ask not my name, but go to hell.”

“My name is Timon: knaves begone,Curse me, but come not near my stone.”

“My name is Timon: knaves begone,

Curse me, but come not near my stone.”

How Wrangham, in his edition of the Langhornes, 1826, could without notice let this pass for a translation, is altogether unaccountable!

Shakespeare’s, adapted as it is by Sir Thomas North in 1612, may certainly be regarded as a direct version from the Greek, and might reasonably be adduced to prove that he possessed some knowledge of that language. Probably, however, he collected, as he could, the general particulars respecting the veritable and historical Timon, and obtained the help of some man of learning so as to give the very epitaph which in the time of the Peloponnesian war had been placed on the thorn-surrounded sepulchre of the Athenian misanthrope.

To conclude this notice we may observe that the breaking of the legs, which Sambucus mentions, is said to have been the actual cause of the real Timon’s death; for that in his hatred of mankind he even hated himself, and would not allow a surgeon to attempt his cure.

Envy and Hatred may be considered as nearly allied, the latter too often springing from the former. Alciat, in his 71st Emblem, gives a brief description of Envy,—

“Sqvallidavipereas manducans femina carnes,Cuiq. dolent oculi, quæq. suum cor edit,Quam macies & pallor habent, spinosaq. gestatTela manu: talis pingitur Inuidia.”

“Sqvallidavipereas manducans femina carnes,

Cuiq. dolent oculi, quæq. suum cor edit,

Quam macies & pallor habent, spinosaq. gestat

Tela manu: talis pingitur Inuidia.”

Thus amplified with considerable force of expression by Whitney (p. 94),[176]—

Inuidiæ deſcriptio.Whitney, 1586.“Whathideous hagge with visage sterne appeares?Whose feeble limmes, can scarce the bodie staie:This, Enuie is: leane, pale, and full of yeares,Who with the blisse of other pines awaie.And what declares, her eating vipers broode?That poysoned thoughtes, bee euermore her foode.What meanes her eies? so bleared, sore, and redd:Her mourninge still, to see an others gaine.And what is mente by snakes vpon her head?The fruite that springes, of such a venomed braine.But whie, her harte shee rentes within her brest?It shewes her selfe, doth worke her owne vnrest.Whie lookes shee wronge? bicause shee woulde not see,An happie wight, which is to her a hell:What other partes within this furie bee?Her harte, with gall: her tonge, with stinges doth swell.And laste of all, her staffe with prickes aboundes:Which showes her wordes, wherewith the good shee woundes.”

Inuidiæ deſcriptio.

Whitney, 1586.

“Whathideous hagge with visage sterne appeares?Whose feeble limmes, can scarce the bodie staie:This, Enuie is: leane, pale, and full of yeares,Who with the blisse of other pines awaie.And what declares, her eating vipers broode?That poysoned thoughtes, bee euermore her foode.What meanes her eies? so bleared, sore, and redd:Her mourninge still, to see an others gaine.And what is mente by snakes vpon her head?The fruite that springes, of such a venomed braine.But whie, her harte shee rentes within her brest?It shewes her selfe, doth worke her owne vnrest.Whie lookes shee wronge? bicause shee woulde not see,An happie wight, which is to her a hell:What other partes within this furie bee?Her harte, with gall: her tonge, with stinges doth swell.And laste of all, her staffe with prickes aboundes:Which showes her wordes, wherewith the good shee woundes.”

“Whathideous hagge with visage sterne appeares?

Whose feeble limmes, can scarce the bodie staie:

This, Enuie is: leane, pale, and full of yeares,

Who with the blisse of other pines awaie.

And what declares, her eating vipers broode?

That poysoned thoughtes, bee euermore her foode.

What meanes her eies? so bleared, sore, and redd:Her mourninge still, to see an others gaine.And what is mente by snakes vpon her head?The fruite that springes, of such a venomed braine.But whie, her harte shee rentes within her brest?It shewes her selfe, doth worke her owne vnrest.

What meanes her eies? so bleared, sore, and redd:

Her mourninge still, to see an others gaine.

And what is mente by snakes vpon her head?

The fruite that springes, of such a venomed braine.

But whie, her harte shee rentes within her brest?

It shewes her selfe, doth worke her owne vnrest.

Whie lookes shee wronge? bicause shee woulde not see,An happie wight, which is to her a hell:What other partes within this furie bee?Her harte, with gall: her tonge, with stinges doth swell.And laste of all, her staffe with prickes aboundes:Which showes her wordes, wherewith the good shee woundes.”

Whie lookes shee wronge? bicause shee woulde not see,

An happie wight, which is to her a hell:

What other partes within this furie bee?

Her harte, with gall: her tonge, with stinges doth swell.

And laste of all, her staffe with prickes aboundes:

Which showes her wordes, wherewith the good shee woundes.”

The dramatist speaks of the horrid creature with equal power. Among his phrases are,—

“Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can,No, not the hangman’s axe, bear half the keennessOf thy sharp envy.”Merchant of Venice, act iv. sc. 1, l. 124

“Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can,

No, not the hangman’s axe, bear half the keenness

Of thy sharp envy.”

Merchant of Venice, act iv. sc. 1, l. 124

“And for we think the eagle-winged prideOf sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,With rival-hating envy, set on youTo wake our peace.”Richard II., act i. sc. 3, l. 129

“And for we think the eagle-winged pride

Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,

With rival-hating envy, set on you

To wake our peace.”

Richard II., act i. sc. 3, l. 129

“Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake’s groan,I would invent as bitter-searching terms,As curst, as harsh and horrible to hear,Deliver’d strongly through my fixed teeth,With full as many signs of deadly hate,As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave.”2 Hen. VI., act iii. sc. 2, l. 310

“Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake’s groan,

I would invent as bitter-searching terms,

As curst, as harsh and horrible to hear,

Deliver’d strongly through my fixed teeth,

With full as many signs of deadly hate,

As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave.”

2 Hen. VI., act iii. sc. 2, l. 310

“’tis greater skillIn a true hate, to pray they have their will:The very devils cannot plague them better.”Cymbeline, act ii. sc. 5, l. 33

“’tis greater skill

In a true hate, to pray they have their will:

The very devils cannot plague them better.”

Cymbeline, act ii. sc. 5, l. 33

“Men that makeEnvy and crooked malice nourishmentDare bite the best.”Hen. VIII., act v. sc. 3, l. 43

“Men that make

Envy and crooked malice nourishment

Dare bite the best.”

Hen. VIII., act v. sc. 3, l. 43

“That monster envy.”Pericles, act iv.Introd., l. 12

“That monster envy.”

Pericles, act iv.Introd., l. 12

The ill-famed Thersites, that railer of the Grecian camp, may close the array against “the hideous hagge with visage sterne” (Troilus and Cressida, act ii. sc. 3, l. 18, vol. vi. p. 169),—

“I have said my prayers; and devil Envy say Amen.”

The wrong done to the soul, through denying it at the last hour the consolations of religion, or through negligence in not informing it of its danger when severe illness arises, is set forth with true Shakespearean power in Holbein’sSimulachres & Historiees faces de la Mort(Lyons, 1538), on sign. Nij,—

“O si ceulx, qui font telles choses, scauoient le mal qu’ilz font, ilz ne cõmettroient iamais vne si grande faulte. Car de me oster mes biens, persecuter ma personne, denigrer ma renommée, ruyner ma maison, destruire mõ parẽtaige, scãdalizer ma famille, criminer ma vie, ces ouures sõt dũg cruel ennemy. Mais d’estre occasion, q̃ ie perde mõ ame, pour nõ la cõseiller au besoing, c’est vne oeuure dũg diable d’Enfer. Car pire est q̃ vng diable l’hõme, qui trompe le malade.”

It is in a similar strain that Shakespeare inOthello(act iii. sc. 3, lines 145 and 159, vol. viii. pp. 512, 513) speaks of the wrong done by keeping back confidence, and by countenancing calumny,—

“Oth.Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,If thou but think’st him wrong’d and mak’st his earA stranger to thy thoughts.. . . . . . . .Iago.It were not for your quiet nor your good,Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,To let you know my thoughts.Oth.What dost thou mean?Iago.Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,Is the immediate jewel of their souls:Who steals my purse steals trash; ’tis something, nothing;’Twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands;But he that filches from me my good nameRobs me of that which not enriches himAnd makes me poor indeed.”

“Oth.Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,

If thou but think’st him wrong’d and mak’st his ear

A stranger to thy thoughts.

. . . . . . . .

Iago.It were not for your quiet nor your good,

Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,

To let you know my thoughts.

Oth.What dost thou mean?

Iago.Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,

Is the immediate jewel of their souls:

Who steals my purse steals trash; ’tis something, nothing;

’Twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands;

But he that filches from me my good name

Robs me of that which not enriches him

And makes me poor indeed.”

The gallant ship, courageously handled and with high soul of perseverance and fearlessness guided through adverse waves, has for long ages been the type of brave men and brave women struggling against difficulties, or of states and nations amid opposing influences battling for deliverance and victory. Even if that gallant ship fails in her voyage she becomes a fitting type, how “human affairs may decline at their highest.” So Sambucus, and Whitney after him (p. 11), adapt their device and stanzas to the motto,—

Res humanæ in ſummo declinant.Sambucus, 1584.Inmedio librat Phœbus dum lumina cælo,Diſſoluit radiis, quæ cecidere, niues.Cùm res humanæ in ſummo ſtant, ſæpe liqueſcunt:Et nihil æternum, quod rapit atra dies.Nil iuuat ingentes habitare palatia Reges,Conditio miſeros hæc eadémque manet.Mors æquat cunctos, opibus nec parcit in horam,Verbáque dum Volitant, ocyus illa venit.Heu, leuiter ventus pellit nos omnis inermes,Concidimus citiùs quàm leuat aura roſas.“The gallante Shipp, that cutts the azure surge,And hathe both tide, and wisshed windes, at will:Her tackle sure, with shotte her foes to vrge,With Captaines boulde, and marriners of skill,With streamers, flagges, topgallantes, pendantes braue,When Seas do rage, is swallowed in the waue.The snowe, that falles vppon the mountaines greate,Though on the Alpes, which seeme the clowdes to reache,Can not indure the force of Phœbus heate,But wastes awaie, Experience doth vs teache:Which warneth all, on Fortunes wheele that climeTo beare in minde how they haue but a time.”

Res humanæ in ſummo declinant.

Sambucus, 1584.

Inmedio librat Phœbus dum lumina cælo,Diſſoluit radiis, quæ cecidere, niues.Cùm res humanæ in ſummo ſtant, ſæpe liqueſcunt:Et nihil æternum, quod rapit atra dies.Nil iuuat ingentes habitare palatia Reges,Conditio miſeros hæc eadémque manet.Mors æquat cunctos, opibus nec parcit in horam,Verbáque dum Volitant, ocyus illa venit.Heu, leuiter ventus pellit nos omnis inermes,Concidimus citiùs quàm leuat aura roſas.

Inmedio librat Phœbus dum lumina cælo,

Diſſoluit radiis, quæ cecidere, niues.

Cùm res humanæ in ſummo ſtant, ſæpe liqueſcunt:

Et nihil æternum, quod rapit atra dies.

Nil iuuat ingentes habitare palatia Reges,

Conditio miſeros hæc eadémque manet.

Mors æquat cunctos, opibus nec parcit in horam,

Verbáque dum Volitant, ocyus illa venit.

Heu, leuiter ventus pellit nos omnis inermes,

Concidimus citiùs quàm leuat aura roſas.

“The gallante Shipp, that cutts the azure surge,And hathe both tide, and wisshed windes, at will:Her tackle sure, with shotte her foes to vrge,With Captaines boulde, and marriners of skill,With streamers, flagges, topgallantes, pendantes braue,When Seas do rage, is swallowed in the waue.The snowe, that falles vppon the mountaines greate,Though on the Alpes, which seeme the clowdes to reache,Can not indure the force of Phœbus heate,But wastes awaie, Experience doth vs teache:Which warneth all, on Fortunes wheele that climeTo beare in minde how they haue but a time.”

“The gallante Shipp, that cutts the azure surge,

And hathe both tide, and wisshed windes, at will:

Her tackle sure, with shotte her foes to vrge,

With Captaines boulde, and marriners of skill,

With streamers, flagges, topgallantes, pendantes braue,

When Seas do rage, is swallowed in the waue.

The snowe, that falles vppon the mountaines greate,Though on the Alpes, which seeme the clowdes to reache,Can not indure the force of Phœbus heate,But wastes awaie, Experience doth vs teache:Which warneth all, on Fortunes wheele that climeTo beare in minde how they haue but a time.”

The snowe, that falles vppon the mountaines greate,

Though on the Alpes, which seeme the clowdes to reache,

Can not indure the force of Phœbus heate,

But wastes awaie, Experience doth vs teache:

Which warneth all, on Fortunes wheele that clime

To beare in minde how they haue but a time.”

But with brighter auguries, though from a similar device, Alciat (Emb. 43) shadows forth hope for a commonwealth when dangers are threatening. A noble vessel with its sails setis tossing upon the billows, the winds, however, wafting it forward; then it is he gives utterance to the thought,Constancy the Companion of Victory; and thus illustrates his meaning,[177]—

“By storms that are numberless our Commonwealth is shaken,And hope for safety in the future, hope alone is present:So a ship with the ocean about her, when the winds seize her,Gapes with wide fissures ’mid the treacherous waters.What of help, the shining stars, brothers of Helen, can bring:To spirits cast down good hope soon doth restore.”

“By storms that are numberless our Commonwealth is shaken,

And hope for safety in the future, hope alone is present:

So a ship with the ocean about her, when the winds seize her,

Gapes with wide fissures ’mid the treacherous waters.

What of help, the shining stars, brothers of Helen, can bring:

To spirits cast down good hope soon doth restore.”

Whitney (p. 37), from the same motto and device, almost with a clarion’s sound, re-echoes the thought,—

Constantia comes victoriæ.ToMiles CorbetEsſquier.Whitney, 1586.“Theshippe, that longe vppon the sea dothe saile,And here, and there, with varrijng windes is toste:On rockes, and sandes, in daunger ofte to quaile.Yet at the lengthe, obtaines the wished coaste:Which beinge wonne, the trompetts ratlinge blaste,Dothe teare the skie, for ioye of perills paste.Thoughe master reste, thoughe Pilotte take his ease,Yet nighte, and day, the ship her course dothe keepe:So, whilst that man dothe saile theise worldlie seas,His voyage shortes: althoughe he wake, or sleepe.And if he keepe his course directe, he winnesThat wished porte, where lastinge ioye beginnes.”

Constantia comes victoriæ.ToMiles CorbetEsſquier.

Constantia comes victoriæ.

ToMiles CorbetEsſquier.

Whitney, 1586.

“Theshippe, that longe vppon the sea dothe saile,And here, and there, with varrijng windes is toste:On rockes, and sandes, in daunger ofte to quaile.Yet at the lengthe, obtaines the wished coaste:Which beinge wonne, the trompetts ratlinge blaste,Dothe teare the skie, for ioye of perills paste.Thoughe master reste, thoughe Pilotte take his ease,Yet nighte, and day, the ship her course dothe keepe:So, whilst that man dothe saile theise worldlie seas,His voyage shortes: althoughe he wake, or sleepe.And if he keepe his course directe, he winnesThat wished porte, where lastinge ioye beginnes.”

“Theshippe, that longe vppon the sea dothe saile,

And here, and there, with varrijng windes is toste:

On rockes, and sandes, in daunger ofte to quaile.

Yet at the lengthe, obtaines the wished coaste:

Which beinge wonne, the trompetts ratlinge blaste,

Dothe teare the skie, for ioye of perills paste.

Thoughe master reste, thoughe Pilotte take his ease,Yet nighte, and day, the ship her course dothe keepe:So, whilst that man dothe saile theise worldlie seas,His voyage shortes: althoughe he wake, or sleepe.And if he keepe his course directe, he winnesThat wished porte, where lastinge ioye beginnes.”

Thoughe master reste, thoughe Pilotte take his ease,

Yet nighte, and day, the ship her course dothe keepe:

So, whilst that man dothe saile theise worldlie seas,

His voyage shortes: althoughe he wake, or sleepe.

And if he keepe his course directe, he winnes

That wished porte, where lastinge ioye beginnes.”

To a similar purport is the“Finis coronat opvs,”The end crowns the work,—of Otho Vænius (p. 108), if perchance Shakespeare may have seen it. Cupid is watching a sea-tossed ship, and appears to say,—

“Ni ratis optatum varijs iactata procellisObtineat portum, tum perijsse puta.Futilis est diuturnus amor, ni in fine triumphet,Nam benè cœpit opus, qui benè finit opus.”

“Ni ratis optatum varijs iactata procellis

Obtineat portum, tum perijsse puta.

Futilis est diuturnus amor, ni in fine triumphet,

Nam benè cœpit opus, qui benè finit opus.”

i.e.

“Unless the raft though tossed by various stormsThe port desired obtains, think that it perishes;Vain is the daily love if it no triumph forms,For well he work begins, who well work finishes.”

“Unless the raft though tossed by various storms

The port desired obtains, think that it perishes;

Vain is the daily love if it no triumph forms,

For well he work begins, who well work finishes.”

Thus, however, rendered at the time into English and Italian,—

“Where the end is good all is good.”“The ship toste by the waues doth to no purpose saile,Vnlesse the porte shee gayn whereto her cours doth tend.Right so th’ euent of loue appeereth in the end,For losse it is to loue and neuer to preuaile.”“Il fine corona l’opere.”“Inutile è la naue, che in mar vagaSenza prender giamai l’amato porto:Impiagato d’Amor quel cor’ è à torto,Che con vano sperar mai non s’appaga.”

“Where the end is good all is good.”

“The ship toste by the waues doth to no purpose saile,Vnlesse the porte shee gayn whereto her cours doth tend.Right so th’ euent of loue appeereth in the end,For losse it is to loue and neuer to preuaile.”

“The ship toste by the waues doth to no purpose saile,

Vnlesse the porte shee gayn whereto her cours doth tend.

Right so th’ euent of loue appeereth in the end,

For losse it is to loue and neuer to preuaile.”

“Il fine corona l’opere.”

“Inutile è la naue, che in mar vagaSenza prender giamai l’amato porto:Impiagato d’Amor quel cor’ è à torto,Che con vano sperar mai non s’appaga.”

“Inutile è la naue, che in mar vaga

Senza prender giamai l’amato porto:

Impiagato d’Amor quel cor’ è à torto,

Che con vano sperar mai non s’appaga.”

Messin in his translation of Boissard’sEmblems(edition 1588, p. 24), takes the motto,“Av Navire agitésemble le jour de l’homme,”and dilates into four stanzas the neatly expressed single stanza of the original.

“Vita hæc est tanquam pelago commissa carina,Instanti semper proxima naufragio.Optima res homini est non nasci: proxima, si teNasci fata velent, quàm citò posse mori.”

“Vita hæc est tanquam pelago commissa carina,

Instanti semper proxima naufragio.

Optima res homini est non nasci: proxima, si te

Nasci fata velent, quàm citò posse mori.”

i.e.

“This life is as a keel entrusted to the sea,Ever to threatening shipwreck nearest.Not to be born for man is best; next, if to theeThe fates give birth, quick death is dearest.”

“This life is as a keel entrusted to the sea,

Ever to threatening shipwreck nearest.

Not to be born for man is best; next, if to thee

The fates give birth, quick death is dearest.”

Shakespeare takes up these various ideas of which the ship in storm and in calm is typical, and to some of them undoubtedly gives utterance from the lips of the dauntless Margaret of Anjou (3 Henry VI., act v. sc. 4, l. 1, vol. v. p. 325),—

“Great lords, wise men ne’er sit and wail their loss,But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.What though the mast be now blown overboard,The cable broke, our holding-anchor lost,And half our sailors swallow’d in the flood?Yet lives our pilot still: Is’t meet that heShould leave the helm and like a fearful ladWith tearful eyes add water to the seaAnd give more strength to that which hath too much;Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock,Which industry and courage might have saved?Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this!Say, Warwick was our anchor; what of that?And Montague our top-mast; what of him?Our slaughter’d friends the tackles; what of these?Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?And Somerset another goodly mast?The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings?And, though unskilful, why not Ned and IFor once allow’d the skilful pilot’s charge?We will not from the helm to sit and weep,But keep our course, though the rough wind say,—no,From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck.As good to chide the waves as speak them fair.And what is Edward but a ruthless sea?What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit?And Richard but a rugged fatal rock?All these the enemies to our poor bark.Say, you can swim; alas, ’tis but a while:Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink:Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,Or else you famish; that’s a threefold death.This speak I, lords, to let you understand,If case some one of you would fly from us,That there’s no hoped-for mercy with the brothersMore than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks.Why, courage then! what cannot be avoided’Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.”

“Great lords, wise men ne’er sit and wail their loss,

But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.

What though the mast be now blown overboard,

The cable broke, our holding-anchor lost,

And half our sailors swallow’d in the flood?

Yet lives our pilot still: Is’t meet that he

Should leave the helm and like a fearful lad

With tearful eyes add water to the sea

And give more strength to that which hath too much;

Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock,

Which industry and courage might have saved?

Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this!

Say, Warwick was our anchor; what of that?

And Montague our top-mast; what of him?

Our slaughter’d friends the tackles; what of these?

Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?

And Somerset another goodly mast?

The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings?

And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I

For once allow’d the skilful pilot’s charge?

We will not from the helm to sit and weep,

But keep our course, though the rough wind say,—no,

From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck.

As good to chide the waves as speak them fair.

And what is Edward but a ruthless sea?

What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit?

And Richard but a rugged fatal rock?

All these the enemies to our poor bark.

Say, you can swim; alas, ’tis but a while:

Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink:

Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,

Or else you famish; that’s a threefold death.

This speak I, lords, to let you understand,

If case some one of you would fly from us,

That there’s no hoped-for mercy with the brothers

More than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks.

Why, courage then! what cannot be avoided

’Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.”

Well did the bold queen merit the outspoken praises of her son,—

“Methinks, a woman of this valiant spiritShould, if a coward heard her speak these words,Infuse his breast with magnanimity,And make him, naked, foil a man at arms.”

“Methinks, a woman of this valiant spirit

Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,

Infuse his breast with magnanimity,

And make him, naked, foil a man at arms.”

And in a like strain, when Agamemnon would show that the difficulties of the ten years’ siege of Troy were (l. 20),—

“But the protractive trials of great JoveTo find persistive constancy in men;”

“But the protractive trials of great Jove

To find persistive constancy in men;”

the venerable Nestor, inTroilus and Cressida(act i. sc. 3, l. 33, vol. vi. p. 142), enforces the thought by adding,—

“In the reproof of chanceLies the true proof of men: the sea being smooth,How many shallow bauble boats dare sailUpon her patient breast, making their wayWith those of nobler bulk!But let the ruffian Boreas once enrageThe gentle Thetis, and anon beholdThe strong-ribb’d bark through liquid mountains cut,Bounding between the two moist elementsLike Perseus’ horse.. . . . . . . .Even soDoth valour’s show and valour’s worth divideIn storms of fortune: for in her ray and brightnessThe herd hath more annoyance by the breeseThan by the tiger; but when the splitting windMakes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,And flies fled under shade, why then the thing of courageAs roused with rage with rage doth sympathize,And with an accent tuned in selfsame keyRetorts to chiding fortune.”

“In the reproof of chance

Lies the true proof of men: the sea being smooth,

How many shallow bauble boats dare sail

Upon her patient breast, making their way

With those of nobler bulk!

But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage

The gentle Thetis, and anon behold

The strong-ribb’d bark through liquid mountains cut,

Bounding between the two moist elements

Like Perseus’ horse.

. . . . . . . .

Even so

Doth valour’s show and valour’s worth divide

In storms of fortune: for in her ray and brightness

The herd hath more annoyance by the breese

Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind

Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,

And flies fled under shade, why then the thing of courage

As roused with rage with rage doth sympathize,

And with an accent tuned in selfsame key

Retorts to chiding fortune.”

To the same great sentiments Georgette Montenay’s“Emblemes Chrestiennes”(Rochelle edition, p. 11) supplies a very suitable illustration; it is to the motto,Quem timebo?—“Whom shall I fear?”—

“Du grand peril des vens & de la mer,C’est homme a bien cognoissance très claire,Et ne craind point de se voir abismerRusque son Dieu l’adresse et luy esclaire.”

“Du grand peril des vens & de la mer,

C’est homme a bien cognoissance très claire,

Et ne craind point de se voir abismer

Rusque son Dieu l’adresse et luy esclaire.”

The device itself is excellent,—a single mariner on a tempestuous sea, undaunted in his little skiff; and the hand of Providence, issuing from a cloud, holds out to him a beacon light.

“On a student entangled in love,” is the subject of Alciat’s 108th Emblem. The lover appears to have been a jurisconsult, whom Alciat, himself a jurisconsult, represents,—

“Immersed in studies, in oratory and right well skilled,And great especially in all the processes of law,Haliarina he loves; as much as ever lovedThe Thracian prince his sister’s beauteous maid.Why in Cyprus dost thou overcome Pallas by another judge?Sufficient is it not to conquer at Mount Ida?”

“Immersed in studies, in oratory and right well skilled,

And great especially in all the processes of law,

Haliarina he loves; as much as ever loved

The Thracian prince his sister’s beauteous maid.

Why in Cyprus dost thou overcome Pallas by another judge?

Sufficient is it not to conquer at Mount Ida?”

The unfinished thoughts of Alciat are brought out more completely by Whitney, who thus illustrates his subject (p. 135),—

Jn ſtudioſum captum amore.Whitney, 1586.“A Reuerend sage, of wisedome most profounde,Beganne to doate, and laye awaye his bookes:ForCvpidthen, his tender harte did wounde,That onlie nowe, he lik’de his ladies lookes?OhVenvsstaie? since once the price was thine,Thou ought’st not still, atPallasthus repine.”

Jn ſtudioſum captum amore.

Whitney, 1586.

“A Reuerend sage, of wisedome most profounde,Beganne to doate, and laye awaye his bookes:ForCvpidthen, his tender harte did wounde,That onlie nowe, he lik’de his ladies lookes?OhVenvsstaie? since once the price was thine,Thou ought’st not still, atPallasthus repine.”

“A Reuerend sage, of wisedome most profounde,

Beganne to doate, and laye awaye his bookes:

ForCvpidthen, his tender harte did wounde,

That onlie nowe, he lik’de his ladies lookes?

OhVenvsstaie? since once the price was thine,

Thou ought’st not still, atPallasthus repine.”

Note, now, how the thoughts of the Emblematists, though greatly excelled in the language which clothes them, are matched by the avowals which the severe and grave Angelo made to himself inMeasure for Measure(act ii. sc. 4, l. 1, vol. i. p. 327). He had been disposed to carry out against another the full severity of the law, which he now felt himself inclined to infringe, but confesses,—

“When I would pray and think, I think and prayTo several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words:Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth,As if I did but only chew his name;And in my heart the strong and swelling evilOf my conception. The state, whereon I studied,Is like a good thing, being often read,Grown fear’d and tedious; yea, my gravity,Wherein—let no man hear me—I take pride,Could I with boot change for an idle plume,Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form,How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser soulsTo thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood:Let’s write good angel on the devil’s horn;’Tis not the devil’s crest.”

“When I would pray and think, I think and pray

To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words:

Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,

Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth,

As if I did but only chew his name;

And in my heart the strong and swelling evil

Of my conception. The state, whereon I studied,

Is like a good thing, being often read,

Grown fear’d and tedious; yea, my gravity,

Wherein—let no man hear me—I take pride,

Could I with boot change for an idle plume,

Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form,

How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,

Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls

To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood:

Let’s write good angel on the devil’s horn;

’Tis not the devil’s crest.”

But the entire force of this parallelism in thought is scarcely to be apprehended, unless we mark Angelo’s previous conflict of desire and judgment. Isabel utters the wish, “Heaven keep your honour safe!” And after a hearty “Amen,” the old man confesses to himself (p. 324),—

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