———————— "Lend thy hand,And pluck mymagick garmentfrom me.—So;(Lays dawn his mantle.Lie there my art."
———————— "Lend thy hand,And pluck mymagick garmentfrom me.—So;(Lays dawn his mantle.Lie there my art."
———————— "Lend thy hand,
And pluck mymagick garmentfrom me.—So;
(Lays dawn his mantle.
Lie there my art."
A similar importance is assigned to his staff or wand; for he tells Ferdinand,—
—— "I can here disarm thee with this stick,And make thy weapon drop:"[516:B]
—— "I can here disarm thee with this stick,And make thy weapon drop:"[516:B]
—— "I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop:"[516:B]
and, when he abjures the practice of magic, one of the requisites is, to "break his staff," and to
"Bury it certain fathoms in the earth."[516:C]
"Bury it certain fathoms in the earth."[516:C]
"Bury it certain fathoms in the earth."[516:C]
But the more immediate instruments of power wereBooks, through whose assistancespellsandadjurationswere usually performed. Reginald Scot, speaking of the traffickers in Magic of his time, says,—"These conjurors carrie aboutat this daie, books intituled underthe names ofAdam,Abel,Tobie, andEnoch; whichEnochthey repute the most divine fellow in such matters. They have also among them bookes that they saieAbraham,Aaron, andSalomonmade. They have bookes ofZacharie,Paule,Honorius,Cyprian,Jerome,Jeremie,Albert, andThomas: also of the angels,Riziel,Razael, andRaphael."[517:A]
Books are, consequently, represented as one of the chief sources of Prospero's influence over the spiritual world. He himself declares,—
———————— "I'll to mybook;For yet, ere supper time, must I performMuch business appertaining;"[517:B]
———————— "I'll to mybook;For yet, ere supper time, must I performMuch business appertaining;"[517:B]
———————— "I'll to mybook;
For yet, ere supper time, must I perform
Much business appertaining;"[517:B]
and, on relinquishing his art, he says, that
—— "deeper than did ever plummet sound,I'll drown mybook;"[517:C]
—— "deeper than did ever plummet sound,I'll drown mybook;"[517:C]
—— "deeper than did ever plummet sound,
I'll drown mybook;"[517:C]
whilst Caliban, conspiring against the life of his benefactor, tells Stephano, that, before he attempts to destroy him, he must
—————————————— "Remember,First to possess hisbooks; for without themHe's but a sot, as I am, nor hath notOne spirit to command."[517:D]
—————————————— "Remember,First to possess hisbooks; for without themHe's but a sot, as I am, nor hath notOne spirit to command."[517:D]
—————————————— "Remember,
First to possess hisbooks; for without them
He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command."[517:D]
Though we perceive the effect of Prospero's spells, the mode by which they are wrought does not appear; we are only told that silence is necessary to their success:—
——————————— "Hush, and be mute,Or else our spell is marr'd."[517:E]
——————————— "Hush, and be mute,Or else our spell is marr'd."[517:E]
——————————— "Hush, and be mute,
Or else our spell is marr'd."[517:E]
He afterwards assures us, that his "charms crack not," and that his "spirits obey;" and, in one instance, he commissions Ariel to "untie the spell" in which he had bound Caliban and his companions.[518:A]
It is probable that any attempt to represent the forms of adjuration and enchantment would have been either too ludicrous or too profane for the purposes of the poet. In the one instance, the mysterious solemnity of the scene would have been destroyed; and in the other, the serious feelings of the spectator might have been shocked; at least, such are the results on the mind of the reader, in perusing the numerous specimens of adjuration in the fifteenth book of Scot'sDiscoverie of Witchcraft. One of these, as including an example of the then fashionable mode of conjuration, that of fixing the spirit in a beryl, glass, or stone, according to the practice ofDeeandKelly, shall be given; omitting, however, all those invocations and addresses which, by a frequent use of names and phrases the most hallowed and sacred, must, on such occasions, prove alike indecorous and disgusting. The adjuration in question is termed by Scot, "an experiment of the dead," or, "conjuring for a dead spirit:" it commences in the following manner, and terminates in obtaining the services of a good and beautiful spirit of the fairy tribe; and such we may suppose to have been the process through which Prospero procured the obedience and ministration of Ariel, for we are expressly told, that "graves" at his "command"
"Have waked their sleepers; oped and let them forth."
"Have waked their sleepers; oped and let them forth."
"Have waked their sleepers; oped and let them forth."
"First fast and praie three daies, and absteine thee from all filthinesse; go to one that is new buried, such a one as killed himselfe, or destroied himself wilfullie: or else get thee promise of one that shal be hanged, and let him sweare an oth to thee, after his bodie is dead, that his spirit shall come to thee, and doe thee true service, at thycommandements, in all daies, houres, and minutes. And let no persons see thy doings, but thy fellow. And about eleven o clocke in the night, go to the place where he was buried, and saie with a bold faith and hartie desire, to have the spirit come that thou dost call for, thy fellow having a candle in his left hand, and in his right handa christall stone, and saie these words following, the maister havinga hazell wandin his right hand, and these names—written thereupon,Tetragrammaton+Adonay+Craton. Then strike three strokes on the ground, and saie, Arise, Arise, Arise!—
"The maister standing at the head of the grave, his fellow having in his hands the candle and the stone, must begin the conjuration as followeth, and the spirit will appeare to you in the christall stone, in a faire forme of a child of twelve yeares of age. And when he is in, feele the stone, and it will be hot; and feare nothing, for he or shee will shew manie delusions, to drive you from your worke. Feare God, but feare him not."
Then follows a long conjuration to constrain the appearance of the spirit, which being effected, another is pronounced to compell him to fetch the "fairie Sibylia."
"This done, go to a place fast by, and in a faire parlor or chamber, make a circle with chalke:—and make another circle for the fairieSibyliato appeare in, foure foote from the circle thou art in, and make no names therein, nor cast anie holie thing therein, but make a circle round with chalke; and let the maister and his fellowe sit downe in the first circle, the maister having thebookein his hand, his fellow having thechristall stonein his right hand, looking in the stone when thefairiedooth appeare."
The fairieSibyliais then seventimes cited to appear:—"I conjure theeSibylia, O gentle virgine of fairies, by all the angels of♃and their characters and vertues, and by all the spirits of♃and♀and their characters and vertues, and by all the characters that be in the firmament, and by the king and queene of fairies, and their vertues, and by the faith and obedience which thou bearest unto them,—I conjure thee O blessed and beautifull virgine, by all the riall wordsaforesaid; I conjure theeSibyliaby all their vertues to appeare in that circle before me visible, in the forme and shape of a beautifull woman in a bright and white vesture, adorned and garnished most faire, and to appeare to me quicklie without deceipt or tarrieng, and that thou faile not to fulfill my will and desire effectuallie."
The spirit in the christall stone having produced Sibylia within the circle, she is bound to appear "at all times visiblie, as the conjuration of words leadeth, written in thebooke," and the ceremony is wound up in the subsequent terms:—"I conjure theeSibylia, O blessed virgine of fairies, by the king and queene of fairies, and by their vertues,—to give me good counsell at all times, and to come by treasures hidden in the earth, and all other things that is to doo me pleasure, and to fulfill my will, without any deceipt or tarrieng; nor yet that thou shalt have anie power of my bodie or soule, earthlie or ghostlie, nor yet to perish so much of my bodie as one haire of my head. I conjure theeSibyliaby all the riall words aforesaid, and by their vertues and powers, I charge and bind thee by the vertue thereof, to be obedient unto me, and to all the words aforesaid, and this bond to stand betweene thee and me, upon paine of everlasting condemnation,Fiat, fiat, fiat. Amen."[520:A]
TheSibyliaof this incantation was, therefore, in origin, form, manners, and potency, very much assimilated to theArielof our author'sTempest, being gentle, beautiful, yet possessing great influence, and exerting high authority over numerous inferior essences and powers. Thus the spirits employed by Prospero were subservient to Ariel, and under his immediate direction, partly by his own rank in the hierarchy of elemental existences, and partly by the aid of Prospero.[520:B]
The orders of spirits constituting the miraculous machinery ofThe Tempestare inHamletranged under four heads,
—— "In sea or fire, in earth or air,"—
—— "In sea or fire, in earth or air,"—
—— "In sea or fire, in earth or air,"—
a distribution which, though seeming naturally to spring from the usual nomenclature of the elements, was not the division generally adopted; for Scot, detailing the opinion ofPsellus"De Operatione Demonum," classes the elementary spirits under six heads, by the addition ofsubterranean spirits, andspirits of darkness, "subterraneietlucifugi;" and theTalmudistsandPlatonistsadd to these,solar,lunar, andstellarspirits; but our poet was probably influenced in his enumeration, by the perusal ofBatman uppon Bartholome, who tells us, in a manner calculated to make an impression on the mind, that "spirites are divided one from another, that some are calledfirie, someearthly, someairie, somewatrie. Heereupon those foure rivers in Hell, are sayd to be of divers natures, to wit,Phlegethonfirie,Cocytusairie,Styxwatrye,Acheronearthly."[521:A]We are the more inclined to believe this to have been the case, notwithstanding the obvious facility of such a classification, because it appears to us, that in a prior part of this book, the germ ofCaliban'sgeneration may be detected. "Incubus," observes this commentator on Bartholome, "doth infest and trouble women, andSuccubusdoth infest men, by the which wordes (taken from Augustine "De Civitate Dei") it is manifest, that the godly, chast, and honest minded, are not free from this gross subjection, although more commonly thedishonestare molested therewith. Some hold opinion, thatMarlinein the time ofVortigerking of greatBritaine470 yeres before Christ, was borne after this manner.Hieronimus Cardanusin his tretiseDe rebus contra naturam, seemes to be of opinion that spirits or divells may beget and conceivebut not after yecommon manner, yet he reciteth a storie of a young damoisell ofScotlandwhich was got with child of an inchaunted divell, thinking that he had bene a fayre young man which had layen with hir, whereuponshe brought foorth so deformed a monster, that he feared the beholders." He then proceeds to observe, that the spirits thus procreating are not of a "subtill Materia," "but a more grose and earthie cause, asNymphæ,Dryades,Hobgoblins, andFairies," adding, that two instances of such connection, "it is no straunge secret to disclose," had taken place "in fewe yeares heere inEnglande."[522:A]
We find Prospero, in fact, employing these four classes of spirits in succession, but in every instance, through the immediate or remote agency ofAriel. Those offireare thus described:—
——————— "Now on the beak,Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,I flam'd amazement: Sometimes, I'd divide,And burn in many places; on the top-mast,The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the precursorsO' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentaryAnd sight-out-running were not:——————————— "All, but mariners,Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair,)Was the first man that leap'd; cried,Hell is empty,And all the devils are here."[522:B]
——————— "Now on the beak,Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,I flam'd amazement: Sometimes, I'd divide,And burn in many places; on the top-mast,The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the precursorsO' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentaryAnd sight-out-running were not:—
——————— "Now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flam'd amazement: Sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places; on the top-mast,
The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the precursors
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-out-running were not:—
—————————— "All, but mariners,Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair,)Was the first man that leap'd; cried,Hell is empty,And all the devils are here."[522:B]
—————————— "All, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair,)
Was the first man that leap'd; cried,Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here."[522:B]
The spirits of thewaterare divided intosea-nymphs, orelves of brooksandstanding lakes. Under the first of these characters they are most exquisitely introduced as solacing Ferdinand, after the terrors of his shipwreck:—
"Come unto these yellow sands,And then take handsCourt'sied when you have, and kiss'd,(The wild waves whist,)Foot it featly here and there;And, sweet sprites, the burden bear."
"Come unto these yellow sands,And then take handsCourt'sied when you have, and kiss'd,(The wild waves whist,)Foot it featly here and there;And, sweet sprites, the burden bear."
"Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands
Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,
(The wild waves whist,)
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear."
Nothing, indeed, can be more appropriately wild than the imagery of the ensuing song, which arrests the ear of Ferdinand whilst he is uttering his astonishment at the previous melody:—
"Where should this musick be? i' the air, or the earth?It sounds no more:——Sitting on a bank,Weeping again the king my father's wreck,This musick crept by me upon the waters;Allaying both their fury, and my passion,With it's sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,Or it hath drawn me rather:—But 'tis gone.No, it begins again.""Full fathom five thy father lies;Of his bones are coral made;Those are pearls that were his eyes:Nothing of him that doth fade,But doth suffer a sea-changeInto something rich and strange.Sea-nymphshourly ring his knell:Hark! now I hear them,—ding—dong, bell."[523:A]
"Where should this musick be? i' the air, or the earth?It sounds no more:——Sitting on a bank,Weeping again the king my father's wreck,This musick crept by me upon the waters;Allaying both their fury, and my passion,With it's sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,Or it hath drawn me rather:—But 'tis gone.No, it begins again."
"Where should this musick be? i' the air, or the earth?
It sounds no more:——Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the king my father's wreck,
This musick crept by me upon the waters;
Allaying both their fury, and my passion,
With it's sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,
Or it hath drawn me rather:—But 'tis gone.
No, it begins again."
"Full fathom five thy father lies;Of his bones are coral made;Those are pearls that were his eyes:Nothing of him that doth fade,But doth suffer a sea-changeInto something rich and strange.Sea-nymphshourly ring his knell:Hark! now I hear them,—ding—dong, bell."[523:A]
"Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphshourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them,—ding—dong, bell."[523:A]
Well may Ferdinand exclaim, "This is no mortal business!"
The spirits ofearth, orgoblins, were usually employed by Prospero as instruments of punishment. Thus Caliban, apprehensive of chastisement for bringing in his wood too slowly, gives us a fearful detail of their inflictions:—
——————————— "His spirits hear me—For every trifle are they set upon me:Sometime like apes, that moe and chatter at me,And after bite me; then like hedg-hogs, whichLie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mountTheir pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am IAll wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues,Do hiss me into madness."[524:A]
——————————— "His spirits hear me—For every trifle are they set upon me:Sometime like apes, that moe and chatter at me,And after bite me; then like hedg-hogs, whichLie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mountTheir pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am IAll wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues,Do hiss me into madness."[524:A]
——————————— "His spirits hear me—
For every trifle are they set upon me:
Sometime like apes, that moe and chatter at me,
And after bite me; then like hedg-hogs, which
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I
All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues,
Do hiss me into madness."[524:A]
They are afterwards commissioned, in the shape of hounds, to hunt this hag-born monster, and his friends Trinculo and Stephano, Prospero telling Ariel,—
"Go, chargemy goblinsthat they grind their jointsWith dry convulsions; shorten up their sinewsWith aged cramps; and more pinch-spotted make them,Than pard, or cat o'mountain."[524:B]
"Go, chargemy goblinsthat they grind their jointsWith dry convulsions; shorten up their sinewsWith aged cramps; and more pinch-spotted make them,Than pard, or cat o'mountain."[524:B]
"Go, chargemy goblinsthat they grind their joints
With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews
With aged cramps; and more pinch-spotted make them,
Than pard, or cat o'mountain."[524:B]
Lastly, the spirits ofair, as beings of a more delicate and refined nature, are appointed by our magician to personate, under the direction of Ariel, a "most majestic vision;" "spirits," says their great task-master,
———————————— "which by mine artI have from their confines call'd to enactMy present fancies;"[524:C]
———————————— "which by mine artI have from their confines call'd to enactMy present fancies;"[524:C]
———————————— "which by mine art
I have from their confines call'd to enact
My present fancies;"[524:C]
and which, on the fading of this "insubstantial pageant," melt "into air, into thin air."
It appears, also, that these etherial forms were occupied night and day in chanting the most delicious melodies, or in suggesting the most delightful dreams. The isle, says Caliban,
————————————— "is full of noises,Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.Sometimes a thousand twangling instrumentsWill hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep,Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,The clouds, methought, would open, and shew richesReady to drop upon me; that, when I waked,I cry'd to dream again."[524:D]
————————————— "is full of noises,Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.Sometimes a thousand twangling instrumentsWill hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep,Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,The clouds, methought, would open, and shew richesReady to drop upon me; that, when I waked,I cry'd to dream again."[524:D]
————————————— "is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,
That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds, methought, would open, and shew riches
Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked,
I cry'd to dream again."[524:D]
But of the filmy texture, the tiny dimensions, and fairy recreations of these elegant beings, we have the most exquisite description in the song which the poet puts into the mouth of Ariel on the prospect of his approaching freedom:—
"Where the bee sucks, there suck I;In a cowslip's bell I lie:There I couch when owls do cry.On the bat's back I do fly,After summer merrily:Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,Under the blossom that hangs on the bough."[525:A]
"Where the bee sucks, there suck I;In a cowslip's bell I lie:There I couch when owls do cry.On the bat's back I do fly,After summer merrily:Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,Under the blossom that hangs on the bough."[525:A]
"Where the bee sucks, there suck I;
In a cowslip's bell I lie:
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly,
After summer merrily:
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough."[525:A]
That all these elementary spirits were agents only on compulsion, and their obedience the result solely of magic power, is evident from the conduct of Ariel, and the language of Caliban; the former repeatedly asking for liberty, and the latter declaring, that "they all do hate him, as rootedly as I."
It is equally clear, from various parts of this play, that each class had a period prescribed for its operations: thus Prospero threatens Caliban, that
———————————————— "urchinsShall for thatvast of night that may work,All exercise on thee;"[525:B]
———————————————— "urchinsShall for thatvast of night that may work,All exercise on thee;"[525:B]
———————————————— "urchins
Shall for thatvast of night that may work,
All exercise on thee;"[525:B]
and, in invoking the various elves, he speaks of those
"that rejoiceTo hear the solemn curfew;"[525:C]
"that rejoiceTo hear the solemn curfew;"[525:C]
"that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew;"[525:C]
a doctrine which is still more minutely expressed in other dramas of our poet. InHamlet, for instance, we are told that, at "thecrowing of the cock,"
"The extravagant and erring spirit hiesTo his confine;"[525:D]
"The extravagant and erring spirit hiesTo his confine;"[525:D]
"The extravagant and erring spirit hies
To his confine;"[525:D]
and inKing Lear, that the foul "fiend Flibbertigibbetbegins at curfew, and walks till the first cock."[526:A]
One principal reason for the reluctancy expressed by Ariel and his associates was, that they were driven, by the irresistible control of the magician, to perform deeds often alien to their dispositions, and to which, if left to themselves, they were either partially or totally inadequate, and, indeed, for the most part utterly averse. We accordingly find Prospero, in his celebrated invocation to these various ministers of his art, addressing them in a tone of high authority; "by 'your' aid," he exclaims,
"(Weak masters though ye be) I have be-dimm'dThe noon-tide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vaultSet roaring war: to the dread rattling thunderHave I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oakWith his own bolt: the strong bas'd promontoryHave I made shake; and by the spurs pluck'd upThe pine and cedar: graves, at my command,Have wak'd their sleepers; oped, and let them forthBy my so potent art."[526:B]
"(Weak masters though ye be) I have be-dimm'dThe noon-tide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vaultSet roaring war: to the dread rattling thunderHave I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oakWith his own bolt: the strong bas'd promontoryHave I made shake; and by the spurs pluck'd upThe pine and cedar: graves, at my command,Have wak'd their sleepers; oped, and let them forthBy my so potent art."[526:B]
"(Weak masters though ye be) I have be-dimm'd
The noon-tide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault
Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak
With his own bolt: the strong bas'd promontory
Have I made shake; and by the spurs pluck'd up
The pine and cedar: graves, at my command,
Have wak'd their sleepers; oped, and let them forth
By my so potent art."[526:B]
This is a passage, in which, with its immediately preceding context, Shakspeare has been indebted, as Dr. Farmer observes, to Gelding's translation of the Medea of Ovid; having evidently, in many parts, adopted the very language of that version. But it is also strictly conformable to the powers with which the magicians of his own day were invested. "These," says Scot, "deale with no inferiour causes: these fetch divels out of hell, and angels out of heaven; these raise up what bodies they list, though they were dead, buried, and rotten long before; and fetch soules out of heaven or hell.—These, I saie, take upon them also the raising of tempests, and earthquakes, and to doo as much as God himselfe can doo. These are no small fooles, they go not to worke with a baggage tode, or acat, as witches doo; but with akind of majestie, and withauthoritiethey call up by name, and have at their commandement—divells, who have under them, as their ministers, a great multitude of legions of petty divels."[527:A]
We may finally remark, that over the popular creed relative to the Art of Magic, and which, as detailed in the common books and traditions on the subject, presents us with little but what is either ridiculous or revolting, Shakspeare has exerted a species of enchantment which infinitely surpasses that of the most profoundMagiof classic or of Gothic lore; eliciting from materials equally crude, gigantic, and extravagant, the elements of beauty, sublimity, and awful wonder; and unfolding such a picture of whatmay be conceivedwithin the reach of human skill and science, and so much of the philosophy of poetry in his glimpses of the spiritual world, that while we are spell-struck by the creations of a fancy beyond all others glowing and romantic, we yet feel ourselves in the presence, and bow before the throne, of Nature.
34.Othello: 1612. Mr. Malone has assigned the composition of this play to the year 1611, though, as he confesses, with little satisfaction to himself, in consequence of Dr. Warburton having considered the following passage, in the third act of this play, as an allusion to the institution of the order of Baronets, created by James the First, in 1611:—
—————— "the hearts of old gave hands,But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts."[527:B]
—————— "the hearts of old gave hands,But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts."[527:B]
—————— "the hearts of old gave hands,
But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts."[527:B]
The baronets, remarks Warburton, "had an addition to their paternal arms, of an handgulesin an escutcheon argent. And we are not to doubt but that this wasthe new heraldryalluded to by our author."[527:C]
That the text contains a sly allusion to thenew heraldry of handsin the baronet's arms, there cannot, as Mr. Douce has justly observed, be a doubt[528:A]; but, unfortunately for Mr. Malone's chronology, Dr. Warburton was mistaken as to theperiodof the grant of arms, Mr. Chalmers having clearly proved, that "the additional armorial bearing, of the bloody hand, was not given by the patent of creation.—But the King, wishing toampliatehis favour towards the baronets, granted them, by asecondpatent, dated the28th of May 1612, among other preheminences, 'the arms of Ulster, that is, in a field argent, a handgeules, or abloudie hand.'"[528:B]
Now, as we have it recorded, on the authority of Mr. Vertue's MS., thatOthellowas acted at courtEARLYin the year 1613[528:C], it might have been imagined that Mr. Chalmers's discovery would have led him to the adoption of the epoch which we have chosen. But, strange as it may appear, this is not the case; for, finding Iago, in the subsequent act, remarking to Othello, in reference to Desdemona, "If you are so fond over her iniquity, give herpatentto[528:D]offend," he immediately disputes the testimony of Vertue, which had been allowed in every other instance, and because a clamour had occurred in the House of Commons against patents of monopoly, in May, 1614, placesOthelloin this very year[528:E], when, but three pages before, he had spoken of "theaudience" knowing, "from their feelings, how much vexation had arisen from thepatents of monopoly, whichQueen Elizabeth, and King James, had so frequently granted;" and referring, in a note, to a declaration of Sir Francis Bacon to the House of Commons, in which he tells them, "if you make a penal statute, theQueenwill dispense with it, and grant apatentwith anon obstante."[528:F]
Convinced that an allusion so indeterminate, and which might have been as much relished by an audience before, as after, the year1614, ought not to weigh against a positive and respectable testimony, we feel no hesitation in expressing our belief thatOthellowas written in the interval elapsing between the 28th of May, 1612, and the 1st of January, 1613.
The tragedy ofOthello, certainlyoneof the first-rate productions of its author, is yet, in our opinion, inferior, in point of originality and poetic wealth, toMacbeth, toLear, toHamlet, andThe Tempest, though superior, perhaps, to every other play. It is, without doubt, an unrivalled representation of the passion of jealousy, in all its stages and effects; but the incidents, if we except the catastrophe, are pretty closely copied from the novel ofGiraldi Cinthio, who, as Mr. Steevens has observed, "supplied our author with a regular and circumstantial outline." It has also been remarked by Mr. Dunlop, and with some truth, that "the characters of Iago, Desdemona, and Cassio, are taken from Cinthio with scarcely a shade of difference[529:A];" a declaration, however, which, with respect to Desdemona, cannot be admitted without great qualification; for with what beauty, with what pathetic impressiveness, is her part filled up, when compared with the sketch of the Italian novellist! We must also recollect, that although the incidents in which Othello is concerned be nearly the same in both productions, thecharacterof the Moor has no prototype in Cinthio, but is exclusively the property of Shakspeare.
But the most extraordinary criticism which was probably ever passed on the general cast and execution ofOthello, has fallen from the pen of Mr. Steevens. "Should readers," says this gentleman, "who are alike conversant with the appropriate excellences of poetry and painting, pronounce on the reciprocal merits of these great productions, (OthelloandMacbeth,) I must suppose they would describe them as of different pedigrees. They would add, that one was of the school of Raphael, the other from that of Michael Angelo; and that if the steady Sophocles and Virgil should have decided in favourofOthello, the remonstrances of the daring Æschylus and Homer would have claimed the laurel forMacbeth."[530:A]
ThatOthello, being more regular in the construction of its fable thanMacbeth, might, on that account, be preferred by Sophocles and Virgil, will readily be granted; but that it has, in its general style of composition, any pretensions to be classed as a production of the school of Raffaelle, the leading features of which, according to Sir Joshua Reynolds, are, in conception,beauty,dignity, andgrace, and in execution,correctness of drawingandpurity of taste[530:B], is an imagination alike extravagant and unfounded. Were we disposed to carry on the allusion to the art of painting, it might be said with a much greater approximation to truth, that this very impressive drama wasdesignedin the school ofSpagnuoletto, and tinted in that ofRembrandt; the dark strong manner of the former, and the bold pencil and distinct colouring of the latter, being infinitely more analogous to the strength of its characterisation, and the forcible and often contrasted tone of its composition.
What, for instance, can be more opposed in structure, or contrasted in manner, more partaking of the rapid transition of light and shade which distinguish the school of Rembrandt, than the characters of Othello and Desdemona. From the one we involuntarily retire, appalled by the storm of vindictive passion which agitates his breast; while the other, all tenderness, gentleness, and humility, is entwined about our hearts by the most fascinating ties of simplicity and spotless purity. The prevailing tone of the picture is, nevertheless, gloomy and terrific in the extreme, and the denouement such, as not even Spagnuoletto, though remarkable for the direful nature of his subjects, has ever exceeded.
We must acknowledge, however, that there is a grandeur andsublimity in the delineation of Othello, of which the painter just mentioned had no conception; for though in his jealousy he is sensual and ferocious, apart from this horrid phrenzy which burns within him quenchless as the fervors of his native climate, he exhibits many of the noblest virtues of humanity, being open, magnanimous, and brave, confiding, grateful, and affectionate; and, considering the subtlety with which his suspicions are fostered and inflamed, he becomes at length, from the intensity of his sufferings, an object both of pity and admiration.
Iago, the artful instrument of his ruin, the most cool and malignant villain which the annals of iniquity have ever recorded, would, from the detestation which accompanies his every action, be utterly insupportable in the representation, were it not for the talents, for the skill and knowledge in the springs and principles of human thought and feeling, which he constantly displays, and which, fortunately for the moral of the scene, while they excite and keep alive an eager interest and curiosity, shield him not from our abhorrence and condemnation.
Amid this whirlwind and commotion of hatred and revenge, the modest, the artless, the unsuspicious Desdemona, seems, in the soothing but transient influence which she exerts, like an evening star, that beams lovely, for a moment, on the dark heavings of the tempest, and then is lost for ever!
35.Twelfth Night: 1613. When Mr. Malone adopted the following passage, on the suggestion of Mr. Tyrwhitt[531:A], as a sufficient basis for the assignment of this play to the year 1614, he appears to have been easily and egregiously misled. Antonio, addressing Sir Toby Belch, says,—
——————— "If this young gentlemanHave done offence,I take the fault on me:"
——————— "If this young gentlemanHave done offence,I take the fault on me:"
——————— "If this young gentleman
Have done offence,I take the fault on me:"
to which the knight replies:—"Nay, if you be anundertaker, I am for you[532:A];" a retort which Mr. Tyrwhitt imagined to contain an allusion to some persons who, in 1614, "hadundertaken, through their influence in the House of Commons, to carry things according to His Majesty's wishes;" and who, in consequence of this conduct, were stigmatised with the invidious name ofundertakers.[532:B]But we find, from a reference to the Journals of the House of Commons, that the termsTakersandUndertakershad been frequently used in King James's parliaments, anteriorly to 1614[532:C], and Mr. Ritson pertinently observes, that "Undertakerswere persons employed by the King's purveyors to take up provisions for the royal household, and were no doubt exceedingly odious[532:D];" so that an allusion to this epithet, in apoliticalsense, if one were here intended, could not serve to appropriate the date of 1614. This being the case, there can be no hesitation in adopting the opinion of Ritson and Mason, who conceive Sir Toby intended a mere quibble on the word, of which the simple meaning is, that of one man taking upon himself the quarrel of another.[532:D]
Having set aside, therefore, any chronological inference from this source, let us turn to Mr. Chalmers, who seems to have determined the date of this drama on better grounds. Yet of the three intimations on which he has formed his conclusion, thefirst, derived from a supposed reference to the British Undertakers for the plantation of Ulster, we believe to be entitled to as little credit as the kindred hypothesis of Mr. Malone. Thesecond, which is founded on the evident intention of our poet to place in a ludicrous light the then very fashionable rage for duelling, is exclusively his own, and carries with it no inconsiderable weight. "InTwelfth Night," he remarks, "Shakspeare tried to effect, by ridicule, what the state was unable to perform by legislation. The duels, which were so incorrigiblyfrequent in that age, were thrown into a ridiculous light bythe affairbetween Viola and Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. Sir Francis Bacon had lamented, in the House of Commons, on the 3d of March, 1609-10, the great difficulty of redressing the evil of duels, owing to the corruption of man's nature.[533:A]King James tried to effect what the Parliament had despaired of effecting; and, in 1613, he issued 'An Edict and Censure against Private Combats[533:B],' which was conceived with great vigour, and expressed with decisive force; but, whether with the help of Bacon, or not, I am unable to ascertain. This is another remarkable event in 1613, which the commentators have overlooked, though it may have caught Shakspeare's eye."[533:C]
Thethird, common to both chronologers, but which has only received its due influence, in the chronological scale, from the statement of Mr. Chalmers, turns on the declaration of Fabian to Sir Toby, that he would not give his part of the sport, alluding to the plot against Malvolio, "for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy[533:D];" and on the assertion of Sir Toby to Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, that Viola had been "fencer to the Sophy."[533:E]Now it appears from Mr. Chalmers, that "in 1613, Sir Anthony Shirley published his travels into Persia; with hisdangersanddistresses, and hisstrangeandunexpected deliverances;" that "Sir Robert Shirley, the brother of Sir Anthony, arrived in October, 1611, as Ambassador fromthe Sophy; bringing with him a Persian Princess, as his wife;" that "he remained here, through the whole of the year 1612, at an expence to King James of four pounds a day," and that "he departed in January, 1613."[533:F]
These intimations induced Mr. Chalmers to infer, "thatTwelfth Nightwas written in 1613, while these various objects were in theeye, or in the recollection of the public;" a conclusion which we see no reason to dispute.
The dramatic career of our immortal poet could not be closed with a production, in its kind, more exquisitely finished, than the comedy ofTwelfth Night. The serious and the humorous scenes are alike excellent; the former
——————— "give a very echo to the seatWhere love is thron'd,"[534:A]
——————— "give a very echo to the seatWhere love is thron'd,"[534:A]
——————— "give a very echo to the seat
Where love is thron'd,"[534:A]
and are tinted with those romantic hues, which impart to passion the fascinations of fancy, and which stamp the poetry of Shakspeare with a character so transcendently his own, so sweetly wild, so tenderly imaginative. Of this description are the loves of Viola and Orsino, which, though involving a few improbabilities of incident, are told in a manner so true to nature, and in a strain of such melancholy enthusiasm, as instantly put to flight all petty objections, and leave the mind rapt in a dream of the most delicious sadness. The fourth scene of the second act more particularly breathes the blended emotions of love, of hope, and of despair, opening with a highly interesting description of the soothing effects of music, in allaying the pangs of unrequited affection, and in which the attachment of Shakspeare to the simple melodies of the olden time is strongly and beautifully expressed.
From the same source which has given birth to this delightful portion of the drama, appears to spring a large share of that rich and frolic humour which distinguishes its gayer incidents. The delusion of Malvolio, in supposing himself the object of Olivia's desires, and the ludicrous pretensions of Sir Andrew Ague-cheek to the same lady, fostered as they are by the comic manœuvres of the convivial Sir Toby, and the keen-witted Maria, furnish, together with the professional drollery of Feste the jester, an ever-varying fund of pleasantryand mirth; scenes in which wit and raillery are finely blended with touches of original character, and strokes of poignant satire.
To thesethirty-five genuineplays[535:A], as they may be termed, a large number, when we consider that the life of their author extended very little beyond half a century, interest and unauthorised rumour have added a long list of spurious productions. Among these, we have assigned our reasons for placing what has been commonly called theFirst Part of King Henry the Sixth, but which, in Henslowe's catalogue of plays performed at the Rose theatre, is simply designated by the title ofHenry the Sixth. In the same catalogue, also, is to be foundTitus Andronicus, which, though printed likeHenry, in the first folio, has, if possible, still fewer pretensions to authenticity, having been clearly ascertained by the commentators, both from external and internal evidence, to possess no claim to such distinction, and to hold no affinity with the undisputed works of Shakspeare.[536:A]
In a new edition of theSupplement, therefore, which Mr. Malone published in 1780, it is our recommendation that these two pieces be inserted, as proper companions forLocrine,Sir John Oldcastle,Lord Cromwell,The London Prodigal,The Puritan, andA Yorkshire Tragedy. Of these wretched dramas, it has been now positively proved, through the medium of the Henslowe Papers, "that the name of Shakspeare, which is printed at length in the title-pages ofSir John Oldcastle, 1600, andThe London Prodigal, 1605, was affixed to those pieces by a knavish bookseller, without any foundation," the following entry occurring in the manuscript, on the 16th of October, 1599:—"Received by me Thomas Downton, of Philip Henslowe, to pay Mr. Monday, Mr. Drayton, Mr. Wilson, and Hathway, forThe first part of the Lyfe of Sir Jhon Ouldcastell, and in earnest ofthe Second Pte, for the use of the company, ten pound, I say received 10lb."[536:B]
Not content with this ample addition, which first appeared in the folio of 1664, the public has been further imposed upon by another illegitimate group, principally derived from a blind confidence in the accuracy of catalogues, and the fabrication of booksellers. From these sources, and from the authority of a volume formerly in the possession of King Charles the Second, and lettered on the back,Shakspeare, Vol. I., the subsequent enumeration has been given by Mr. Steevens, viz.:—1.The Arraignment of Paris; 2.The Birth ofMerlin; 3.Edward III.; 4.Fair Emm; 5.The Merry Devil of Edmonton; and 6.Mucedorus; to which may be added, from Warburton's Collection of Old Dramas, where they are said to have been entered on the books of the Stationers' Company, as written by Shakspeare, 7.Duke Humphrey, a Tragedy; and 8. The History ofKing Stephen, both registered, June 29. 1660.[537:A]George Peele, it appears, was the author ofThe Arraignment of Paris[537:B], and a writer, who signs himself T.B., ofThe Merry Devil of Edmonton[537:C], while the ascription of the plays, once in Warburton's library, was probably owing, at that distance of time, either to the ignorance, credulity, or fraud, of some heedless or mercenary trader.
To enter into any critical discussion of the merits or defects of these pieces, would be an utter abuse of time. We do not believe that, either in the play ofHenry the Sixth, orTitus Andronicus, twenty lines can be found of Shakspeare's composition; and, in the residue of this first group, consisting of six more, we decidedly think not so many. In the second, including also eight dramas, the only production now extant, of any worth, isThe Merry Devil of Edmonton, which contains a few pleasing and interesting passages expressed with ease and simplicity.
We have still to notice some vague reports relative to our poet's occasional junction with his contemporaries in dramatic composition: thus, we are told, that he assisted Ben Jonson in his[537:D]Sejanus; Davenport, in hisHenry the First[537:E], and Fletcher, in hisTwo Noble Kinsmen.[537:F]Of these traditional stories, the first has been verydeservedly given up, as "entirely out of the question[538:A];" the second rests merely on the unsupported assertion of a Stationers' Register[538:B], and the third, though more express and distinct, has been completely refuted by Colman and Steevens.[538:C]Indeed, there is much reason to suppose thatThe Two Noble Kinsmenwas not written until after the death of Shakspeare.[538:D]
From what has been said, under each article of the preceding chronology, perhaps no very inadequate idea may be formed of theDramatic Characterof our poet; but, it will be expected here, and it is indeed essential to a just and facile comprehension of the subject, that a summary or condensed view of this character be attempted, in order, by collecting the scattered rays into a focus, to throw upon it a due degree of brilliancy and strength.
With the view of ascertaining the peculiarGenius of his Drama, it is necessary that we should attend to a distinction, which has been very correctly and luminously laid down by some late German critics, particularly byHerderandSchlegel, who oppose the modern to the ancient drama, under the appellation of theGothicorromantic, assimilating theantiqueorclassicaltheatre toa group in sculpture, and theGothicorromantictoan extensive picture,separationbeing the essence of theformer, andcombinationof the latter; or, in other words, that the spirit of the Grecian drama isplastic, and that of the Englishpicturesque.
In fact, theRomanticDrama is the result of that great change which took place in society on the extinction of the western empire, when the blended influence of Christianity and Chivalry, operating on the stern virtues of the Teutonic tribes, gave birth to a spirit of seriousness and sentiment, of love and honour, of enterprise and adventure, which led to a constant aspiration after the great, the wonderful, the wild, and, by mingling the melancholy of a sublime religion with an enthusiastic homage for female worth, threw an anxious but unparalleled interest over all the relations of existence, and all the products of intellectual effort.
The effect of this combination on the poetry of the middle ages, and more especially on that of the immediately subsequent centuries, in impressing it with an awful and mysterious character, has been beautifully sketched by Schlegel, particularly where, as in the following passage, he accounts for the solemn and contemplative cast of its structure, by tracing its dependency on the genius of our faith. "Among the Greeks," he observes, "human nature was in itself all-sufficient; they were conscious of no wants, and aspired at no higher perfection than that which they could actually attain by the exercise of their own faculties. We, however, are taught by superior wisdom that man, through a high offence, forfeited the place for which he was originally destined; and that the whole object of his earthly existence is to strive to regain that situation, which, if left to his own strength, he could never accomplish. The religion of the senses had only in view the possession of outward and perishable blessings; and immortality, in so far as it was believed, appeared in an obscure distance like a shadow, a faint dream of this bright and vivid futurity. The very reverse of all this is the case with the Christian; every thing finite and mortal is lost in the contemplation of infinity; life has become shadow and darkness, and the first dawning of our real existence opens in the world beyond the grave. Such a religion must waken the foreboding, which slumbers in every feeling heart, to the most thorough consciousness, that the happiness after which we strive we can never here attain; thatno external object can ever entirely fill our souls; and that every mortal enjoyment is but a fleeting and momentary deception. When the soul, resting as it were under the willows of exile, breathes out its longing for its distant home, the prevailing character of its songs must be melancholy. Hence the poetry of the ancients was the poetry of enjoyment, and ours is that of desire: the former has its foundation in the scene which is present, while the latter hovers betwixt recollection and hope. Let me not be understood to affirm that every thing flows in one strain of wailing and complaint, and that the voice of melancholy must always be loudly heard. As the austerity of tragedy was not incompatible with the joyous views of the Greeks, so the romantic poetry can assume every tone, even that of the most lively gladness; but still it will always, in some shape or other, bear traces of the source from which it originated. The feeling of the moderns is, upon the whole, more intense, their fancy more incorporeal, and their thoughts more contemplative."[540:A]
Who does not perceive that this reference to futurity, this apprehension of the possible consequences of death, which chills the blood with awful emotion, and mingles fear even with the energies of hope, is peculiarly characteristic of the serious drama of Shakspeare? In what poet, for instance, shall we find the terrors of dissolution painted with such appalling strength? where nature recoiling with such involuntary horror from the thoughts of extinction? and where those blended feelings which, on the eve of our departure, even agitate the good, ere the forms of earthly love sink into night, and a world unknown receives the disembodied spirit? Need we point toHenry the Sixth, toHamlet, toMeasure for Measure, toMacbeth, and to many others, for proofs of this continual appeal to life beyond the grave, this perpetual effort to unite, with influential power, these two states of our existence, certainly one of the most striking distinctions which separate theromanticfrom theantiquestyleof dramatic fiction, and in which, as in every other feature of this species of poetry, Shakspeare was the first who, in our own or any other country, exhibited such unrivalled excellence, as to constitute him, in every just sense of the term, the founder of this species of the drama.
For have we not, in his productions, the noblest model of that comprehensive form which, including under one view all the varieties and vicissitudes of human being, presents us with a picture in which not only the virtues and the vices, but the follies and the frailties, the levities and the mirth of man, are harmonised and blended into a perfect whole, connected too, and that intimately, with a vast range of surrounding circumstances which, both in the foreground and in the distance, are so managed, as, by the illusory aid of tinting, grouping, and shadowing, to assist in the production of a great and determinate effect. To evince the superiority of this mode of composition over that which prevailed on the Grecian stage, it is only necessary to reflect, that the concatenated series of events which is unfolded, with so much unity of design, in the single drama ofMacbeth, could only be represented, on the simple and confined plan of the school of Athens, by a trilogy, or succession of distinct tragedies! Can a system, thus necessarily broken into insulated parts, be put into competition with the rich and full evolution of theromanticor Shakspearean drama?
It is evident, therefore, that theromanticorpicturesquedrama should be judged by laws and regulations of its own; that it is a distinct order of art, displaying great originality and invention, and a much more perfect and profound view of human life and its dependencies, than any anterior effort in the same department of literature; and as all the productions of our poet are exclusively referable to this order, of which he is, without dispute, the greatest master, a brief enquiry into theConduct of his Dramacannot fail to throw some light on the subject.
Of the three unities, upon which so much stress has been laid by the French critics, Shakspeare has in general, and, for the most part,very judiciously, rejected two. One of these, theunity of place, was, indeed, indissolubly connected with the tragedy of the Greeks; for as the chorus was continually on their stage, no curtain could be dropped, nor was any change of scene therefore possible; but theunity of timewas, most assuredly, neither rigidly observed by them, nor did it constitute any essential part of their system; on the contrary, Aristotle, after remarking, "that the dramatic fable should have such a length that the connexion of the circumstances may easily be remembered," immediately afterwards declares of this very length, that "as far as regards the time of the performance and the spectators, it has no relation to the poetic art," and that "as to the natural boundary of the action,the greater it is the better, provided it be perspicuous."[542:A]In fact, as tounity of place, no rule was required, this limitation, as we have seen, being the inevitable consequence of the defective and insulated construction of their dramatic fable; and as tounity of time, the observation which we have just quoted from Aristotle is decisive, the circumstances attending both thesesupposedlaws being such, as fully to warrant the assertion of Mr. Twining, who, commenting on the Stagyrite, observes, that "with respect to thestrictunities oftimeandplace, no such rules were imposed on the Greek poets by the critics, or by themselves; nor are imposed onanypoet, either by thenature, or theend, of the dramatic imitation itself;" and we may add, that, in as far as both have been simultaneously reduced to practice, either by the Greeks themselves, or by their still more scrupulous imitators the French, have interest and probability been proportionably sacrificed.
Whether Shakspeare, therefore, acting solely from his own judgment, rejected, or, guided merely by the usage of his day, overlooked, these unities, a great point was gained for all the lovers of nature and verisimilitude. For, omitting regulations which, though generally or partially observed by the ancients, were either altogetherarbitrary, or only locally necessary, he has adopted two of which it may be said, that neither time, circumstance, nor opinion, can diminish the utility. Tounity of action, the indispensable requisite of every well-constituted fable, he has added, what in him is found more perfect than in any other writer,unity of feeling, as applicable not only to individual character, but to the prevailing tone and influence of each play. Thus, while it must be confessed that the former is, in a few instances, broken in upon, by the admission of extraneous personages or occurrences, in no respect is the latter, throughout the whole range of his productions, forgotten or violated.
It is to this sedulous attention in the preservation ofunity of feeling, that Shakspeare owes much of his fascination and powers of impression over the hearts and minds of his audience. It has been duly panegyrised by the critics with respect to his delineation of character; but as referable to the expression and effect of an entire drama, it has been too much overlooked. What, for example, can be more distinct than the tone of feeling which pervades every portion ofRomeo and JulietandMacbeth, and how consistently is this tone preserved throughout each! Through the first, from its opening to its close, breathe the freshness and the fragrance of youth and spring, their sweetness, their innocency, and alas! their transiency; while in the second, a tempest of more than midnight horror, and the still more turbulent strife of human vice and passion, howl for ever in our ears! Again, how delightful is the tender and philosophic melancholy, which steals upon us in every scene ofAs You Like It, and how contrasted with the bustle and vivacity, the light and effervescent wit which animate, and sparkle in, the dialogue ofMuch Ado about Nothing!—We consider thisunity, by which the separate parts of a drama are rendered so strictly subservient to a single and a common object, namely, the production of a combined and uniform impression, as one of the most remarkable proofs of the depth and comprehensiveness of the mind of Shakspeare.
This excellence is the more extraordinary, as no part in theconduct of his dramais perhaps so prominent, as that mixture of seriousnessand mirth, of comic and tragic effect, which springs from the very structure itself of theromantic drama. But this interchange of emotion serves only to place the intention of the poet, and the fulness of his success, more completely in our view; for he has almost always contrived, that the ludicrous personages of his play should give essential aid to the pre-determined effect of the composition as a whole; and this co-operation is even most apparent, where the impression intended to be excited is the most tragic: thus the anguish which lacerates the bosom of Lear, when deserted by his children, and driven forth amid the horrors of the tempest, is augmented almost to madness by the sarcastic drollery of the fool; developed, indeed, with an energy and strength which no other expedient could have accomplished.
These contrasts, which are, in fact, of the very essence of theromantic drama, as requiring richer and more varied accompaniments than theantiquespecies, form, in their whole spirit and effect, a sufficient apology, were one in the least necessary, for thetragi-comictexture of our author's principal productions.
By embracing in one view the whole of the checkered scene of human existence, its joys and sorrows, its perpetually shifting circumstances and relations, and by blending these into one harmonious picture, Shakspeare has achieved a work to which the ancient world had nothing similar, and which, of all the efforts of human genius, demands perhaps the widest and profoundest exertion of intellect. It demands a knowledge of man, both as a genus and a species; of man, as acting from himself, and of man in society under all its aspects and revolutions: it demands a knowledge of what has influenced and modified his character from the earliest dawn of record; and, above all, it demands a conversancy of the most intimate kind with his constitution, moral, intellectual, and religious; so that in detaching a portion of history for the purposes of dramatic composition, the philosopher shall be as discernible in the execution as the poet.
It is this depth and comprehension of design in the conduct of his drama, this amplitude of "a mind reflecting ages past[545:A]," which, while it has rendered Shakspeare an object of admiration to the intelligent student of nature, has occasioned him to be so often and so grossly misinterpreted by the narrow critic and the careless reader.
To these brief remarks on theGeniusandConduct, it will be necessary to add a few observations on theCharacters, thePassions, theComic Painting, and theImaginative Powers, of his drama.