Chapter I: Part 1

The Augustan Reprint Society

LEWIS THEOBALD
_Preface to The Works of Shakespeare_
(1734)

With an Introduction by
Hugh G. Dick

Publication Number 20
(Extra Series, No. 2)

Los Angeles
William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
University of California
1949

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_GENERAL EDITORS_

H. RICHARD ARCHER, _Clark Memorial Library_ RICHARD C. BOYS, _University of Michigan_ EDWARD NILES HOOKER, _University of California, Los Angeles_ H.T. SWEDENBERG, JR., _University of California, Los Angeles_

_ASSISTANT EDITORS_

W. EARL BRITTON, _University of Michigan_ JOHN LOFTIS, _University of California, Los Angeles_

_ADVISORY EDITORS_

EMMETT L. AVERY, _State College of Washington_ BENJAMIN BOYCE, _University of Nebraska_ LOUIS I. BREDVOLD, _University of Michigan_ CLEANTH BROOKS, _Yale University_ JAMES L. CLIFFORD, _Columbia University_ ARTHUR FRIEDMAN, _University of Chicago_ SAMUEL H. MONK, _University of Minnesota_ ERNEST MOSSNER, _University of Texas_ JAMES SUTHERLAND, _Queen Mary College, London_

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INTRODUCTION

Lewis Theobald's edition of Shakespeare (1734) is one cornerstone of modern Shakespearian scholarship and hence of English literary scholarship in general. It is the first edition of an English writer in which a man with a professional breadth and concentration of reading in the writer's period tried to bring all relevant, ascertainable fact to bear on the establishment of the author's text and the explication of his obscurities. For Theobald was the first editor of Shakespeare who displayed a well grounded knowledge of Shakespeare's language and metrical practice and that of his contemporaries, the sources and chronology of his plays, and the broad range of Elizabethan-Jacobean drama as a means of illuminating the work of the master writer. Thus both in the edition itself and in his Preface, which stands as the first significant statement of a scholar's editorial duties and methods in handling an English classic, Theobald takes his place as an important progenitor of modern English studies.

It is regrettable, though it was perhaps historically inevitable, that this pioneer of English literary scholarship should have been tagged "piddling Theobald" by Pope and crowned the first king of _The Dunciad_. Pope's edition of Shakespeare was completed by 1725, and in the following year Theobald made the poet his implacable enemy when he issued his _Shakespeare Restored_, which demolished Pope's pretensions as an editor by offering some two hundred corrections. But the conflict was not merely strife between two writers: it was a clash between two kinds of criticism in which the weight of tradition and polite taste were all on the side of Pope. What Theobald had done, in modern terms, was to open the rift between criticism and scholarship or, in eighteenth-century terms, to proclaim himself a "literal critic" and to insist upon the need for "literal criticism" in the understanding and just appreciation of an older writer. The new concept, which Theobald owed largely to Richard Bentley as primate of the classical scholars, was of course the narrower one--implicit in it was the idea of specialization--and Theobald's opponents among the literati were quick to assail him as a mere "Word-catcher" (cf. R.F. Jones, _Lewis Theobald_, 1919, p. 114).

His own edition of Shakespeare, therefore, was the work of a man and a method on trial. At first Theobald had proposed simply to write further commentary on Shakespeare's plays, but by 1729 he determined to issue a new edition and in October of that year signed a contract with Tonson. From the first Theobald found warm support for his project among booksellers, incipient patrons, and men of learning. His work went forward steadily; subscribers, including members of the Royal Family, were readily forthcoming; and by late 1731 Theobald felt that his labors were virtually complete. But vexing delays occurred in the printing so that the edition, though dated 1733, did not appear until early in 1734, New Style. When it did appear, it was plain to all that Theobald's vindication of himself and his method was complete. Judicious critics like the anonymous author of _Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet_ (1736) were quick to applaud Theobald's achievement, and even Pope himself was silenced.

Ultimately of course Theobald came under severe attack by succeeding editors of Shakespeare, notably Warburton and Johnson, yet both men were guilty of unwarranted abuse of their predecessor, whose edition was nine times issued in the course of the century and was still in current use by the time of Coleridge (cf. Wm. Jaggard, _Shakespeare Bibliography_, 1911, pp. 499-504). Warburton and Johnson's abuse, coupled with that of Pope, obscured Theobald's real achievements for more than a century until J.C. Collins did much to rehabilitate his reputation by an essay celebrating him as "The Porson of Shakespearian Criticism" (_Essays and Studies_, 1895, pp. 263-315). Collins's emotional defense was largely substantiated by T.R. Lounsbury's meticulous _The Text of Shakespeare_ (1906), R.F. Jones's _Lewis Theobald_ (1919), which brought much new material to light, and most recently by R.B. McKerrow's dispassionate appraisal, "The Treatment of Shakespeare's Text by his Earlier Editors, 1709-1768" (_Proceedings of the British Academy_, XIX, 1933, 23-27). As a result, so complete has been Theobald's vindication that even in a student's handbook he is hailed as "the great pioneer of serious Shakespeare scholarship" and as "the first giant" in the field (_A Companion to Shakespeare Studies_, 1934, ed. H. Granville Barker and G.B. Harrison, pp. 306-07).

Theobald's Preface occupied his attention for over a year and gave him much trouble in the writing. Its originality was, and still is, a matter of sharp dispute. The first we hear of it is in a letter of 12 November 1731 from Theobald to his coadjutor Warburton, who had expressed some concern about what Theobald planned to prefix to his edition. Theobald announced a major change in plan when he replied that "The affair of the _Prolegomena_ I have determined to soften into a _Preface_." He then proceeded to make a strange request:

But, dear Sir, will you, at your leisure hours, think over for me
upon the contents, topics, orders, &c. of this branch of my labour?
You have a comprehensive memory, and a happiness of digesting the
matter joined to it, which my head is often too much embarrassed to
perform.... But how unreasonable is it to expect this labour, when
it is the only part in which I shall not be able to be just to my
friends: for, to confess assistance in a _Preface_ will, I am
afraid, make me appear too naked (John Nichols, _Illustrations
of the Literary History of the Eighteenth Century_, 1817, II,
621-22).

His next letter, which contains the list of acknowledgements substantially as printed, thanks Warburton for consenting to give the requested help, announces that he is himself busy about "the Contents... wch. I am Endeavouring to modell in my Head, in Order to communicate them to you, for your Directions & refinement," indicates that he has "already rough-hewn the Exordium & Conclusion," and asserts that "What I shall send you from Time to Time, I look upon only as Materials: wch I hope may grow into a fine Building, under your judicious Management" (Jones, _op. cit._, pp. 283-84).

Warburton apparently misunderstood or overlooked Theobald's remarks about materials, for in his next letter Theobald was obliged to return, somewhat ambiguously, to the same point:

I make no Question of my being wrong in the disjointed Parts
of my Preface, but my Intention was, (after I had given you the
Conclusion, & the Manner in wch. I meant to start) to give you a
List of all the other general Heads design'd to be handled, then to
transmit to you, at proper Leisure, my rough Working off of each
respective Head, that you might have the Trouble only of refining &
embellishing wth: additional Inrichments: of the general Arrangement,
wch. you should think best for the whole; & of making the proper
Transitions from Subject to Subject, wch. I account no inconsiderable
Beauty (_Ibid._, pp. 289-90).

Finally on January 10, 1733, Theobald wrote Warburton: "I promise myself now shortly to sit down upon ye fine Synopsis, wch. you so modestly call the Skeleton of Preface" (_Ibid._, p. 310).

It is clear from the foregoing that Theobald wrote most of the Preface topic by topic, and probably followed the plan for the general structure as submitted by Warburton. Yet it is equally clear that certain parts of the Preface, such as the contrast between _Julius Caesar_ and Addison's _Cato_, which Warburton later claimed as his and which Theobald omitted from his second edition, were furnished Theobald as "additional Inrichments" (D.N. Smith, _Eighteenth Century Essays on Shakespeare_, 1903, pp. xlviii-ix). When later a break did occur between the two men, neither was free from blame. Theobald had asked and got so much help with the Preface that he should have acknowledged the debt, no matter how naked it might have made him seem. Warburton, on the other hand, had had honest warning that acknowledgement would not be made for this part of his help; and if his synopsis were followed, as seems likely, his condemnation of the Preface as "Theobald's heap of disjointed stuff" was disingenuous, to say the least. Far less defensible was his assertion in the same letter to Thomas Birch that, apart from the section on Greek texts, virtually the entire Preface was stitched together from notes which he had supplied (Nichols, _Illustrations_, II, 81).

Three further points concerning the Preface demand mention. First, the section on Shakespeare's life is often dismissed as a simple recension of Rowe's Life (1709). Actually, however, the expansion itself is a characteristic example of Theobald's habit of exploring original sources. To take only a single instance, Rowe says that Shakespeare's "Family, as appears by the Register and Publick Writings relating to that Town, were of good Figure and Fashion there, and are mention'd as Gentlemen" (ed. S.H. Monk, Augustan Society Reprints, 1949, p. ii). To this statement Theobald adds plentiful detail drawn from the same Stratford records, from tombs in the Stratford Church, and from documents in the Heralds' Office connected with the coat of arms obtained for the playwright's father. Such typical expansions were the result of conscientious research.

Second, all critics have agreed to condemn the digression in which Theobald advertised his ability to emend Greek texts. Theobald himself was hesitant about including it lest he be indicted for pedantry, but was encouraged to do so by Warburton, who later scoffed at what he had originally admired. This much may be said in Theobald's behalf. Such a digression would not have seemed irrelevant in an age which took its classical scholarship seriously; and such digressions, arising naturally out of context and strategically placed before the conclusion, were not only allowed but actually encouraged by classical rhetoricians like Cicero and Quintilian, whose teachings were still standard in the English schools.

Finally, the Preface exists in two forms. The later and shorter form was that designed for Theobald's second edition (1740), which omits all passages presumably contributed by Warburton and more besides, the section on Greek texts, and the list of acknowledgements to contemporary Shakespearian enthusiasts. This abridged form has been frequently reprinted. From a copy in the University of Michigan Library the original Preface is here reproduced for the first time.

Hugh G. Dick
University of California,
Los Angeles

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* * * *
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[Transcriber's Note: Most Sidenotes appear at the beginning of a paragraph. Where they originally appeared at mid-paragraph, their approximate position is shown with an asterisk*.]

The
WORKS
of
_SHAKESPEARE:_

in
Seven Volumes.

Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected;
With NOTES, Explanatory, and Critical:

By Mr. _THEOBALD_.

_I, Decus, i, nostrum: melioribus utere Fatis._
Virg.

_LONDON:_
Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch,
J. Tonson, F. Clay, W. Feales,
and R. Wellington.

MDCCXXXIII.

* * * * *

THE

PREFACE.

The Attempt to write upon SHAKESPEARE is like going into a large, a spacious, and a splendid Dome thro’ the Conveyance of a narrow and obscure Entry. A Glare of Light suddenly breaks upon you, beyond what the Avenue at first promis’d: and a thousand Beauties of Genius and Character, like so many gaudy Apartments pouring at once upon the Eye, diffuse and throw themselves out to the Mind. The Prospect is too wide to come within the Compass of a single View: ’tis a gay Confusion of pleasing Objects, too various to be enjoyed but in a general Admiration; and they must be separated, and ey’d distinctly, in order to give the proper Entertainment.

[Sidenote*: A sketch of _Shakespeare’s_ general Character.]

And as in great Piles of Building, some Parts are often finish’d up to hit the Taste of the _Connoisseur_; others more negligently put together, to strike the Fancy of a common and unlearned Beholder: Some Parts are made stupendiously magnificent and grand, to surprize with the vast Design and Execution of the Architect; others are contracted, to amuse you with his Neatness and Elegance in little. *So, in _Shakespeare_, we may find _Traíts_ that will stand the Test of the severest Judgment; and Strokes as carelessly hit off, to the Level of the more ordinary Capacities: Some Descriptions rais’d to that Pitch of Grandeur, as to astonish you with the Compass and Elevation of his Thought: and others copying Nature within so narrow, so confined a Circle, as if the Author’s Talent lay only at drawing in Miniature.

In how many Points of Light must we be oblig’d to gaze at this great Poet! In how many Branches of Excellence to consider, and admire him! Whether we view him on the Side of Art or Nature, he ought equally to engage our Attention: Whether we respect the Force and Greatness of his Genius, the Extent of his Knowledge and Reading, the Power and Address with which he throws out and applies either Nature, or Learning, there is ample Scope both for our Wonder and Pleasure. If his Diction, and the cloathing of his Thoughts attract us, how much more must we be charm’d with the Richness, and Variety, of his Images and Ideas! If his Images and Ideas steal into our Souls, and strike upon our Fancy, how much are they improv’d in Price, when we come to reflect with what Propriety and Justness they are apply’d to Character! If we look into his Characters, and how they are furnish’d and proportion’d to the Employment he cuts out for them, how are we taken up with the Mastery of his Portraits! What Draughts of Nature! What Variety of Originals, and how differing each from the other! How are they dress’d from the Stores of his own luxurious Imagination; without being the Apes of Mode, or borrowing from any foreign Wardrobe! Each of Them are the Standards of Fashion for themselves: like Gentlemen that are above the Direction of their Tailors, and can adorn themselves without the Aid of Imitation. If other Poets draw more than one Fool or Coxcomb, there is the same Resemblance in them, as in that Painter’s Draughts, who was happy only at forming a Rose: you find them all younger Brothers of the same Family, and all of them have a Pretence to give the same Crest: But _Shakespeare_’s Clowns and Fops come all of a different House: they are no farther allied to one another than as Man to Man, Members of the same Species: but as different in Features and Lineaments of Character, as we are from one another in Face, or Complexion. But I am unawares launching into his Character as a Writer, before I have said what I intended of him as a private Member of the Republick.

[Sidenote: Some Particulars of his private Life.]

Mr. _Rowe_ has very justly observ’d, that People are fond of discovering any little personal Story of the Great Men of Antiquity: and that the common Accidents of their Lives naturally become the Subject of our critical Enquiries: That however trifling such a Curiosity at the first View may appear, yet, as for what relates to Men of Letters, the Knowledge of an Author may, perhaps, sometimes conduce to the better understanding his Works: And, indeed, this Author’s Works, from the bad Treatment he has met with from his Editors, have so long wanted a Comment, that one would zealously embrace every Method of Information, that could contribute to recover them from the Injuries with which they have so long lain o’erwhelm’d.

’Tis certain, that if we have first admir’d the Man in his Writings, his Case is so circumstanc’d, that we must naturally admire the Writings in the Man: That if we go back to take a View of his Education, and the Employment in Life which Fortune had cut out for him, we shall retain the stronger Ideas of his extensive Genius.

His Father, we are told, was a considerable Dealer in Wool; but having no fewer than ten Children, of whom our _Shakespeare_ was the eldest, the best Education he could afford him was no better than to qualify him for his own Business and Employment. I cannot affirm with any Certainty how long his Father liv’d; but I take him to be the same Mr. _John Shakespeare_ who was living in the Year 1599, and who then, in Honour of his Son, took out an Extract of his Family-Arms from the Herald’s Office; by which it appears, that he had been Officer and Bailiff of _Stratford_, and that he enjoy’d some hereditary Lands and Tenements, the Reward of his Great Grandfather’s faithful and approved Service to King _Henry_ VII.

Be this as it will, our _Shakespeare_, it seems, was bred for some Time at a Free-School; the very Free-School, I presume, founded at _Stratford_: where, we are told, he acquired what _Latin_ he was Master of: but, that his Father being oblig’d, thro’ Narrowness of Circumstance, to withdraw him too soon from thence, he was so unhappily prevented from making any Proficiency in the Dead Languages: A Point, that will deserve some little Discussion in the Sequel of this Dissertation.

How long he continued in his Father’s Way of Business, either as an Assistant to him, or on his own proper Account, no Notices are left to inform us: nor have I been able to learn precisely at what Period of Life he quitted his native _Stratford_, and began his Acquaintance with _London_, and the _Stage_.

In order to settle in the World after a Family-manner, he thought fit, Mr. _Rowe_ acquaints us, to marry while he was yet very young. It is certain, he did so: for by the Monument, in _Stratford_ Church, erected to the Memory of his Daughter _Susanna_, the Wife of _John Hall_, Gentleman, it appears, that she died on the 2d Day of _July_ in the Year 1649, aged 66. So that She was born in 1583, when her Father could not be full 19 Years old; who was himself born in the Year 1564. Nor was She his eldest Child, for he had another Daughter, _Judith_, who was born before her, and who was married to one Mr. _Thomas Quiney_. So that _Shakespeare_ must have entred into Wedlock, by that Time he was turn’d of seventeen Years.

Whether the Force of Inclination merely, or some concurring Circumstances of Convenience in the Match, prompted him to marry so early, is not easy to be determin’d at this Distance: but ’tis probable, a View of Interest might partly sway his Conduct in this Point: for he married the Daughter of one _Hathaway_, a substantial Yeoman in his Neighbourhood, and She had the Start of him in Age no less than 8 Years. She surviv’d him, notwithstanding, seven Seasons, and dy’d that very Year in which the _Players_ publish’d the first Edition of his Works in _Folio_, Anno Dom. 1623, at the Age of 67 Years, as we likewise learn from her Monument in _Stratford_-Church.

How long he continued in this kind of Settlement, upon his own Native Spot, is not more easily to be determin’d. But if the Tradition be true, of that Extravagance which forc’d him both to quit his Country and way of Living; to wit, his being engag’d, with a Knot of young Deer-stealers, to rob the Park of Sir _Thomas Lucy_ of _Cherlecot_ near _Stratford_: the Enterprize favours so much of Youth and Levity, we may reasonably suppose it was before he could write full Many. Besides, considering he has left us six and thirty Plays, which are avow’d to be genuine; (to throw out of the Question those Seven, in which his Title is disputed: tho’ I can, beyond all Controversy, prove some Touches in every one of them to come from his Pen:) and considering too, that he had retir’d from the Stage, to spend the latter Part of his Days at his own Native _Stratford_; the Interval of Time, necessarily required for the finishing so many Dramatic Pieces, obliges us to suppose he threw himself very early upon the Play-house. And as he could, probably, contract no Acquaintance with the Drama, while he was driving on the Affair of Wool at home; some Time must be lost, even after he had commenc’d Player, before he could attain Knowledge enough in the Science to qualify himself for turning Author.

It has been observ’d by Mr. _Rowe_, that, amongst other Extravagancies which our Author has given to his Sir _John Falstaffe_, in the _Merry Wives_ of _Windsor_, he has made him a Deer-stealer; and that he might at the same time remember his _Warwickshire_ Prosecutor, under the Name of Justice _Shallow_, he has given him very near the same Coat of Arms, which _Dugdale_, in his Antiquities of that County, describes for a Family there. There are two Coats, I observe, in _Dugdale_, where three Silver Fishes are borne in the Name of _Lucy_; and another Coat, to the Monument of _Thomas Lucy_, Son of Sir _William Lucy_, in which are quarter’d in four several Divisions, twelve little Fishes, three in each Division, probably _Luces_. This very Coat, indeed, seems alluded to in _Shallow_’s giving the _dozen_ White _Luces_, and in _Slender_ saying, _he may quarter_. When I consider the exceeding Candour and Good-nature of our Author, (which inclin’d all the gentler Part of the World to love him; as the Power of his Wit obliged the Men of the most delicate Knowledge and polite Learning to admire him;) and that he should throw this humorous Piece of Satire at his Prosecutor, at least twenty Years after the Provocation given; I am confidently persuaded it must be owing to an unforgiving Rancour on the Prosecutor’s Side: and if This was the Case, it were Pity but the Disgrace of such an Inveteracy should remain as a lasting Reproach, and _Shallow_ stand as a Mark of Ridicule to stigmatize his Malice.

It is said, our Author spent some Years before his Death, in Ease, Retirement, and the Conversation of his Friends, at his Native _Stratford_. I could never pick up any certain Intelligence, when He relinquish’d the Stage. I know, it has been mistakenly thought by some, that _Spenser_’s _Thalia_, in his _Tears of his Muses_, where she laments the Loss of her _Willy_ in the Comic Scene, has been apply’d to our Author’s quitting the Stage. But _Spenser_ himself, ’tis well known, quitted the Stage of Life in the Year 1598; and, five Years after this, we find _Shakespeare_’s Name among the Actors in _Ben Jonson_’s _Sejanus_, which first made its Appearance in the Year 1603. Nor, surely, could he then have any Thoughts of retiring, since, that very Year, a Licence under the Privy-Seal was granted by K. _James_ I. to him and _Fletcher_, _Burbage_, _Phillippes_, _Hemmings_, _Condel_, &c. authorizing them to exercise the Art of playing Comedies, Tragedies, &c. as well at their usual House call’d the _Globe_ on the other Side of the Water, as in any other Parts of the Kingdom, during his Majesty’s Pleasure: (A Copy of which Licence is preserv’d in _Rymer_’s _Foedera_.) Again, ’tis certain, that _Shakespeare_ did not exhibit his _Macbeth_, till after the _Union_ was brought about, and till after K. _James_ I. had begun to touch for the _Evil_: for ’tis plain, he has inserted Compliments, on both those Accounts, upon his Royal Master in that Tragedy.

Nor, indeed, could the Number of the Dramatic Pieces, he produced, admit of his retiring near so early as that Period. So that what _Spenser_ there says, if it relate at all to _Shakespeare_, must hint at some occasional Recess he made for a time upon a Disgust taken: or the _Willy_, there mention’d, must relate to some other favourite Poet. I believe, we may safely determine that he had not quitted in the Year 1610. For in his _Tempest_, our Author makes mention of the _Bermuda_ Islands, which were unknown to the _English_, till, in 1609, Sir _John Summers_ made a Voyage to _North-America_, and discover’d them: and afterwards invited some of his Countrymen to settle a Plantation there. That he became the private Gentleman at least three Years before his Decease, is pretty obvious from another Circumstance: I mean, from that remarkable and well-known Story, which Mr. _Rowe_ has given us of our Author’s Intimacy with Mr. _John Combe_, an old Gentleman noted thereabouts for his Wealth and Usury: and upon whom _Shakespeare_ made the following facetious Epitaph.

Ten in the hundred lies here in-grav’d,
’Tis a hundred to ten his Soul is not sav’d;
If any Man ask who lies in this Tomb,
Oh! oh! quoth the Devil, ’tis my _John-a-Combe_.

This sarcastical Piece of Wit was, at the Gentleman’s own Request, thrown out extemporally in his Company. And this Mr. _John Combe_ I take to be the same, who, by _Dugdale_ in his Antiquities of _Warwickshire_, is said to have dy’d in the Year 1614, and for whom at the upper End of the Quire, of the Guild of the Holy Cross at _Stratford_, a fair Monument is erected, having a Statue thereon cut in Alabaster, and in a Gown with this Epitaph. “Here lyeth enterr’d the Body of _John Combe_ Esq; who dy’d the 10th of _July_, 1614, who bequeathed several Annual Charities to the Parish of _Stratford_, and 100_l._ to be lent to fifteen poor Tradesmen from three years to three years, changing the Parties every third Year, at the Rate of fifty Shillings _per Annum_, the Increase to be distributed to the Almes-poor there.”--The Donation has all the Air of a rich and sagacious Usurer.

_Shakespeare_ himself did not survive Mr. _Combe_ long, for he dy’d in the Year 1616, the 53d of his Age. He lies buried on the North Side of the Chancel in the great Church at _Stratford_; where a Monument, decent enough for the Time, is erected to him, and plac’d against the Wall. He is represented under an Arch in a sitting Posture, a Cushion spread before him, with a Pen in his Right Hand, and his Left rested on a Scrowl of Paper. The _Latin_ Distich, which is placed under the Cushion, has been given us by Mr. _Pope_, or his Graver, in this Manner.

INGENIO _Pylium_, Genio _Socratem_, Arte _Maronem_,
Terra tegit, Populus mæret, Olympus habet.

I confess, I don’t conceive the Difference betwixt _Ingeniô_ and _Geniô_ in the first Verse. They seem to me intirely synonomous Terms; nor was the _Pylian_ Sage _Nestor_ celebrated for his Ingenuity, but for an Experience and Judgment owing to his long Age. _Dugdale_, in his Antiquities of _Warwickshire_, has copied this Distich with a Distinction which Mr. _Rowe_ has follow’d, and which certainly restores us the true meaning of the Epitaph.

_JUDICIO Pylium_, Genio _Socratem_, &c.

In 1614, the greater part of the Town of _Stratford_ was consumed by Fire; but our _Shakespeare_’s House, among some others, escap’d the Flames. This House was first built by Sir _Hugh Clopton_, a younger Brother of an ancient Family in that Neighbourhood, who took their Name from the Manor of _Clopton_. Sir _Hugh_ was Sheriff of _London_ in the Reign of _Richard_ III, and Lord Mayor in the Reign of King _Henry_ VII. To this Gentleman the Town of _Stratford_ is indebted for the fine Stone-bridge, consisting of fourteen Arches, which at an extraordinary Expence he built over the _Avon_, together with a Cause-way running at the West-end thereof; as also for rebuilding the Chapel adjoining to his House, and the Cross-Isle in the Church there. It is remarkable of him, that, tho’ he liv’d and dy’d a Batchelor, among the other extensive Charities which he left both to the City of _London_ and Town of _Stratford_, he bequeath’d considerable Legacies for the Marriage of poor Maidens of good Name and Fame both in _London_ and at _Stratford_. Notwithstanding which large Donations in his Life, and Bequests at his Death, as he had purchased the Manor of _Clopton_, and all the Estate of the Family, so he left the same again to his Elder Brother’s Son with a very great Addition: (a Proof, how well Beneficence and Oeconomy may walk hand in hand in wise Families:) Good part of which Estate is yet in the Possession of _Edward Clopton_, Esq; and Sir _Hugh Clopton_, Knt. lineally descended from the Elder Brother of the first Sir _Hugh_: Who particularly bequeathed to his Nephew, by his Will, his House, by the Name of his _Great-house_ in _Stratford_.

The Estate had now been sold out of the _Clopton_ Family for above a Century, at the Time when _Shakespeare_ became the Purchaser: who, having repair’d and modell’d it to his own Mind, chang’d the Name to _New-place_; which the Mansion-house, since erected upon the same Spot, at this day retains. The House and Lands, which attended it, continued in _Shakespeare_’s Descendants to the Time of the _Restoration_: when they were repurchased by the _Clopton_ Family, and the Mansion now belongs to Sir _Hugh Clopton_, Knt. To the Favour of this worthy Gentleman I owe the Knowledge of one Particular, in Honour of our Poet’s once Dwelling-house, of which, I presume, Mr. ROWE never was appriz’d. When the Civil War raged in _England_, and K. _Charles_ the _First’s_ Queen was driven by the Necessity of Affairs to make a Recess in _Warwickshire_, She kept her Court for three Weeks in _New-place_. We may reasonably suppose it then the best private House in the Town; and her Majesty preferr’d it to the _College_, which was in the Possession of the _Combe_-Family, who did not so strongly favour the King’s Party.

How much our Author employ’d himself in Poetry, after his Retirement from the Stage, does not so evidently appear: Very few posthumous Sketches of his Pen have been recover’d to ascertain that Point. We have been told, indeed, in Print, but not till very lately, That two large Chests full of this Great Man’s loose Papers and Manuscripts, in the Hands of an ignorant Baker of _Warwick_, (who married one of the Descendants from our _Shakespeare_) were carelesly scatter’d and thrown about, as Garret-Lumber, and Litter, to the particular Knowledge of the late Sir _William Bishop_, till they were all consumed in the general Fire and Destruction, of that Town. I cannot help being a little apt to distrust the Authority of this Tradition; because as his Wife surviv’d him seven Years, and as his Favourite Daughter _Susanna_ surviv’d her twenty six Years, ’tis very improbable, they should suffer such a Treasure to be remov’d, and translated into a remoter Branch of the Family, without a Scrutiny first made into the Value of it. This, I say, inclines me to distrust the Authority of the Relation: but, notwithstanding such an apparent Improbability, if we really lost such a Treasure, by whatever Fatality or Caprice of Fortune they came into such ignorant and neglectful Hands, I agree with the _Relater_, the Misfortune is wholly irreparable.

[Sidenote*: His Character as a _Writer_.]

To these Particulars, which regard his Person and private Life, some few more are to be glean’d from Mr. ROWE’s Account of his _Life_ and _Writings_: *Let us now take a short View of him in his publick Capacity, as a _Writer_: and, from thence, the Transition will be easy to the _State_ in which his _Writings_ have been handed down to us.

No Age, perhaps, can produce an Author more various from himself, than _Shakespeare_ has been universally acknowledg’d to be. The Diversity in Stile, and other Parts of Composition, so obvious in him, is as variously to be accounted for. His Education, we find, was at best but begun: and he started early into a Science from the Force of Genius, unequally assisted by acquir’d Improvements. His Fire, Spirit, and Exuberance of Imagination gave an Impetuosity to his Pen: His Ideas flow’d from him in a Stream rapid, but not turbulent; copious, but not ever overbearing its Shores. The Ease and Sweetness of his Temper might not a little contribute to his Facility in Writing; as his Employment, as a _Player_, gave him an Advantage and Habit of fancying himself the very Character he meant to delineate. He used the Helps of his Function in forming himself to create and express that _Sublime_, which other Actors can only copy, and throw out, in Action and graceful Attitude. But _Nullum fine Veniâ placuit Ingenium_, says _Seneca_. The Genius, that gives us the greatest Pleasure, sometimes stands in Need of our Indulgence. Whenever this happens with regard to _Shakespeare_, I would willingly impute it to a Vice of _his Times_. We see Complaisance enough, in our own Days, paid to a _bad Taste_. His _Clinches_, _false Wit_, and descending beneath himself, seem to be a Deference paid to _reigning Barbarism_. He was a _Sampson_ in Strength, but he suffer’d some such _Dalilah_ to give him up to the _Philistines_.

As I have mention’d the Sweetness of his Disposition, I am tempted to make a Reflexion or two on a Sentiment of his, which, I am persuaded, came from the Heart.

The Man, that hath no Musick in himself,
Nor is not mov’d with Concord of sweet Sounds,
Is fit for Treasons, Stratagems, and Spoils:
The Motions of his Spirit are dull as Night,
And his Affections dark as _Erebus_:
Let no such Man be trusted.----

[Sidenote: A Lover of _Musick_.]

_Shakespeare_ was all Openness, Candour, and Complacence; and had such a Share of Harmony in his Frame and Temperature, that we have no Reason to doubt, from a Number of fine Passages, Allusions, Similies, &_c._ fetch’d from _Musick_, but that He was a passionate Lover of it. And to this, perhaps, we may owe that great Number of _Sonnets_, which are sprinkled thro’ his _Plays_. I have found, that the Stanza’s sung by the Gravedigger in _Hamlet_, are not of _Shakespeare_’s own Composition, but owe their Original to the old Earl of _Surrey_’s Poems. Many other of his Occasional little Songs, I doubt not, but he purposely copied from his Contemporary Writers; sometimes, out of Banter; sometimes, to do them Honour. The Manner of their Introduction, and the Uses to which he has assigned them, will easily determine for which of the Reasons they are respectively employ’d. In _As you like it_, there are several little Copies of Verses on _Rosalind_, which are said to be the right _Butter-woman’s Rank to Market_, and the very _false Gallop of Verses_. Dr. _Thomas Lodge_, a Physician who flourish’d early in Queen _Elizabeth_’s Reign, and was a great Writer of the Pastoral Songs and Madrigals, which were so much the Strain of those Times, composed a whole Volume of Poems in Praise of his Mistress, whom he calls _Rosalinde_. I never yet could meet with this Collection; but whenever I do, I am persuaded, I shall find many of our Author’s Canzonets on this Subject to be Scraps of the Doctor’s amorous Muse: as, perhaps, those by _Biron_ too, and the other Lovers in _Love’s Labour’s lost_, may prove to be.

It has been remark’d in the Course of my Notes, that Musick in our Author’s time had a very different Use from what it has now. At this Time, it is only employ’d to raise and inflame the Passions; it, then, was apply’d to calm and allay all kinds of Perturbations. And, agreeable to this Observation, throughout all _Shakespeare_’s Plays, where Musick is either actually used, or its Powers describ’d, it is chiefly said to be for these Ends. His _Twelfth-Night_, particularly, begins with a fine Reflexion that admirably marks its soothing Properties.

That Strain again;--It had a dying Fall.
Oh, it came o’er my Ear like the sweet South,
That breathes upon a Bank of Violets,
Stealing and giving Odour!

[Sidenote*: _Milton_ an Imitator of him.]

This _Similitude_ is remarkable not only for the Beauty of the Image that it presents, but likewise for the Exactness to the Thing compared. This is a way of Teaching peculiar to the Poets; that, when they would describe the Nature of any thing, they do it not by a direct Enumeration of its Attributes or Qualities, but by bringing something into Comparison, and describing those Qualities of it that are of the Kind with those in the Thing compared. So, here for instance, the Poet willing to instruct in the Properties of Musick, in which the same Strains have a Power to excite Pleasure, or Pain, according to that State of Mind the Hearer is then in, does it by presenting the Image of a sweet South Wind blowing o’er a Violet-bank; which wafts away the Odour of the Violets, and at the same time communicates to it its own Sweetness: by This insinuating, that affecting Musick, tho’ it takes away the natural sweet Tranquillity of the Mind, yet, at the same time, communicates a Pleasure the Mind felt not before. This Knowledge, of the same Objects being capable of raising two contrary Affections, is a Proof of no ordinary Progress in the Study of human Nature. *The general Beauties of those two Poems of _MILTON_, intitled, _L’Allegro_ and _Il Pensoroso_, are obvious to all Readers, because the Descriptions are the most poetical in the World; yet there is a peculiar Beauty in those two excellent Pieces, that will much enhance the Value of them to the more capable Readers; which has never, I think, been observ’d. The Images, in each Poem, which he raises to excite Mirth and Melancholy, are exactly the same, only shewn in different Attitudes. Had a Writer, less acquainted with Nature, given us two Poems on these Subjects, he would have been sure to have sought out the most contrary Images to raise these contrary Passions. And, particularly, as _Shakespeare_, in the Passage I am now commenting, speaks of these different Effects in Musick; so _Milton_ has brought it into each Poem as the Exciter of each Affection: and lest we should mistake him, as meaning that different Airs had this different Power, (which every Fidler is proud to have you understand,) He gives the Image of those self-same Strains that _Orpheus_ used to regain _Eurydice_, as proper both to excite Mirth and Melancholy. But _Milton_ most industriously copied the Conduct of our _Shakespeare_, in Passages that shew’d an intimate Acquaintance with Nature and Science.

[Sidenote: Shakespeare’s _Knowledge of Nature_.]

I have not thought it out of my Province, whenever Occasion offer’d, to take notice of some of our Poet’s grand Touches of Nature: Some, that do not appear superficially such; but in which he seems the most deeply instructed; and to which, no doubt, he has so much ow’d that happy Preservation of his _Characters_, for which he is justly celebrated. If he was not acquainted with the Rule as deliver’d by _Horace_, his own admirable Genius pierc’d into the Necessity of such a Rule.

----Servetur ad imum
Qualis ab incœpto processerit, & sibi constet.

For what can be more ridiculous, than, in our modern Writers, to make a debauch’d young Man, immers’d in all the Vices of his Age and Time, in a few hours take up, confine himself in the way of Honour to one Woman, and moralize in good earnest on the Follies of his past Behaviour? Nor can, that great Examplar of _Comic_ Writing, _Terence_ be altogether excused in this Regard; who, in his _Adelphi_, has left _Demea_ in the last Scenes so unlike himself: whom, as _Shakespeare_ expresses it, _he has turn’d with the seamy Side of his Wit outward_. This Conduct, as Errors are more readily imitated than Perfections, _Beaumont_ and _Fletcher_ seem to have follow’d in a Character in their _Scornful Lady_. It may be objected, perhaps, by some who do not go to the Bottom of our Poet’s Conduct, that he has likewise transgress’d against the Rule himself, by making Prince _Harry_ at once, upon coming to the Crown, throw off his former Dissoluteness, and take up the Practice of a sober Morality and all the kingly Virtues. But this would be a mistaken Objection. The Prince’s Reformation is not so sudden, as not to be prepar’d and expected by the Audience. He gives, indeed, a Loose to Vanity, and a light unweigh’d Behaviour, when he is trifling among his dissolute Companions; but the Sparks of innate Honour and true Nobleness break from him upon every proper Occasion, where we would hope to see him awake to Sentiments suiting his Birth and Dignity. And our Poet has so well, and artfully, guarded his Character from the Suspicions of habitual and unreformable Profligateness; that even from the first shewing him upon the Stage, in the first Part of _Henry_ IV, when he made him consent to join with _Falstaffe_ in a Robbery on the Highway, he has taken care not to carry him off the Scene, without an Intimation that he knows them all, and their unyok’d Humour; and that, like the Sun, he will permit them only for a while to obscure and cloud his Brightness; then break thro’ the Mist, when he pleases to be himself again; that his Lustre, when wanted, may be the more wonder’d at.

Another of _Shakespeare_’s grand Touches of Nature, and which lies still deeper from the Ken of common Observation, has been taken notice of in a Note upon _The Tempest_; where _Prospero_ at once interrupts the Masque of _Spirits_, and starts into a sudden Passion and Disorder of Mind. As the latent Cause of his Emotion is there fully inquir’d into, I shall no farther dwell upon it here.

Such a Conduct in a Poet (as _Shakespeare_ has manifested on many like Occasions;) where the Turn of _Action_ arises from Reflexions of his _Characters_, where the Reason of it is not express’d in Words, but drawn from the inmost Resources of Nature, shews him truly capable of that Art, which is more in Rule than Practice: _Ars est celare Artem_. ’Tis the Foible of your worser Poets to make a Parade and Ostentation of that little Science they have; and to throw it out in the most ambitious Colours. And whenever a Writer of this Class shall attempt to copy these artful Concealments of our Author, and shall either think them easy, or practised by a Writer for his Ease, he will soon be convinced of his Mistake by the Difficulty of reaching the Imitation of them.

Speret idem, sudet multùm, frustráq; laboret,
Ausus idem:----

Another grand Touch of Nature in our Author, (not less difficult to imitate, tho’ more obvious to the Remark of a common Reader) is, when he brings down at once any _Character_ from the Ferment and Height of Passion, makes him correct himself for the unruly Disposition, and fall into Reflexions of a sober and moral Tenour. An exquisite fine Instance of this Kind occurs in _Lear_, where that old King, hasty and intemperate in his Passions, coming to his Son and Daughter _Cornwall_, is told by the Earl of _Gloucester_ that they are not to be spoken with: and thereupon throws himself into a Rage, supposing the Excuse of Sickness and Weariness in them to be a purpos’d Contempt: _Gloucester_ begs him to think of the fiery and unremoveable Quality of the Duke: and This, which was design’d to qualify his Passion, serves to exaggerate the Transports of it.

As the Conduct of Prince _Henry_ in the first Instance, the secret and mental Reflexions in the Case of _Prospero_, and the instant Detour of _Lear_ from the Violence of Rage to a Temper of Reasoning, do so much Honour to that surprizing Knowledge of human Nature, which is certainly our Author’s Masterpiece, I thought, they could not be set in too good a Light. Indeed, to point out, and exclaim upon, all the Beauties of _Shakespeare_, as they come singly in Review, would be as insipid, as endless; as tedious, as unnecessary: But the Explanation of those Beauties, that are less obvious to common Readers, and whose Illustration depends on the Rules of just Criticism, and an exact Knowledge of human Life, should deservedly have a Share in a general Critic upon the Author.

[Sidenote*: Mr. _Addison_ and _He_ compared, on a similar Topick.]

I shall dismiss the Examination into these his latent Beauties, when I have made a short Comment upon a remarkable Passage from _Julius Cæsar_, which is inexpressibly fine in its self, *and greatly discovers our Author’s Knowledge and Researches into Nature.

Between the acting of a dreadful Thing,
And the first Motion, all the _Interim_ is
Like a Phantasma, or a hideous Dream:
The Genius, and the mortal Instruments
Are then in Council; and the State of Man,
Like to a little Kingdom, suffers then
The Nature of an Insurrection.

That nice Critick _Dionysius_ of _Halicarnassus_ confesses, that he could not find those great Strokes, which he calls the _terrible Graces_, in any of the Historians, which he frequently met with in _Homer_. I believe, the Success would be the same likewise, if we sought for them in any other of _our_ Authors besides our _British_ HOMER, _Shakespeare_. This Description of the Condition of Conspirators has a Pomp and Terror in it, that perfectly astonishes. Our excellent Mr. _Addison_, whose Modesty made him sometimes diffident in his own Genius, but whose exquisite Judgment always led him to the safest Guides, as we may see by those many fine Strokes in his _Cato_ borrow’d from the _Philippics_ of _Cicero_, has paraphrased this fine Description; but we are no longer to expect those _terrible Graces_, which he could not hinder from evaporating in the Transfusion.

O think, what anxious Moments pass between
The Birth of Plots, and their last fatal Periods.
Oh, ’tis a dreadful Interval of Time,
Fill’d up with Horror all, and big with Death.

I shall observe two Things on this fine Imitation: first, that the Subjects of these two Conspiracies being so very different, (the Fortunes of _Cæsar_ and the _Roman_ Empire being concern’d in the First; and That of only a few Auxiliary Troops, in the other;) Mr. _Addison_ could not with Propriety bring in that magnificent Circumstance, which gives the terrible Grace to _Shakespeare_’s Description.

The Genius and the mortal Instruments
Are then in Council.----

For Kingdoms, in the poetical Theology, besides their good, have their evil _Genius_’s likewise: represented here with the most daring Stretch of Fancy, as fitting in Council with the Conspirators, whom he calls the _mortal Instruments_. But this Would have been too great an Apparatus to the Rape, and Desertion, of _Syphax_, and _Sempronius_. Secondly, The other Thing very observable is, that Mr. _Addison_ was so warm’d and affected with the Fire of _Shakespeare_’s Description; that, instead of copying his Author’s Sentiments, he has, before he was aware, given us only the Image of his own Impressions on the reading his great Original. For,

Oh, ’tis a dreadful Interval of Time,
Fill’d up with Horror all, and big with Death;

are but the Affections raised by such forcible Images as these;

----All the _Int’rim_ is
Like a Phantasma, or a hideous Dream.
----the State of Man,
Like to a little Kingdom, suffers then
The Nature of an Insurrection.

Comparing the Mind of a Conspirator to an Anarchy, is just and beautiful; but the _Interim_ to a _hideous Dream_ has something in it so wonderfully natural, and lays the human Soul so open, that one cannot but be surpriz’d, that any Poet, who had not himself been, some time or other, engaged in a Conspiracy, could ever have given such Force of Colouring to Truth and Nature.

[Sidenote: The Question on _Shakespeare_’s Learning handled.]

It has been allow’d on all hands, far our Author was indebted to _Nature_; it is not so well agreed, how much he ow’d to _Languages_ and acquir’d _Learning_. The Decisions on this Subject were certainly set on Foot by the Hint from _Ben Jonson_, that he had small _Latin_ and less _Greek_: And from this Tradition, as it were, Mr. _Rowe_ has thought fit peremptorily to declare, that, “It is without Controversy, he had no Knowledge of the Writings of the ancient Poets, for that in his Works we find no Traces of any thing which looks like an Imitation of the Ancients. For the Delicacy of his Taste (_continues He_,) and the natural Bent of his own great Genius (equal, if not superior, to some of the Best of theirs;) would certainly have led him to read and study them with so much Pleasure, that some of their fine Images would naturally have insinuated themselves into, and been mix’d with, his own Writings: so that his not copying, at least, something from them, may be an Argument of his never having read them.” I shall leave it to the Determination of my Learned Readers, from the numerous Passages, which I have occasionally quoted in my Notes, in which our Poet seems closely to have imitated the Classics, whether Mr. _Rowe_’s Assertion be so absolutely to be depended on. The Result of the Controversy must certainly, either way, terminate to our Author’s Honour: how happily he could imitate them, if that Point be allow’d; or how gloriously he could think like them, without owing any thing to Imitation.

Tho’ I should be very unwilling to allow _Shakespeare_ so poor a Scholar, as Many have labour’d to represent him, yet I shall be very cautious of declaring too positively on the other side of the Question: that is, with regard to my Opinion of his Knowledge in the dead Languages. And therefore the Passages, that I occasionally quote from the _Classics_, shall not be urged as Proofs that he knowingly imitated those Originals; but brought to shew how happily he has express’d himself upon the same Topicks. A very learned Critick of our own Nation has declar’d, that a Sameness of Thought and Sameness of Expression too, in Two Writers of a different Age, can hardly happen, without a violent Suspicion of the Latter copying from his Predecessor. I shall not therefore run any great Risque of a Censure, tho’ I should venture to hint, that the Resemblance, in Thought and Expression, of our Author and an Ancient (which we should allow to be Imitation in One, whose Learning was not question’d) may sometimes take its Rise from Strength of Memory, and those Impressions which he ow’d to the School. And if we may allow a Possibility of This, considering that, when he quitted the School, he gave into his Father’s Profession and way of Living, and had, ’tis likely, but a slender Library of Classical Learning; and considering what a Number of Translations, Romances, and Legends, started about his Time, and a little before; (most of which, ’tis very evident, he read;) I think, it may easily be reconcil’d, why he rather schemed his _Plots_ and _Charaters_ from these more latter Informations, than went back to those Fountains, for which he might entertain a sincere Veneration, but to which he could not have so ready a Recourse.

In touching on another Part of his Learning, as it related to the Knowledge of _History_ and _Books_, I shall advance something, that, at first sight, will very much wear the Appearance of a Paradox. For I shall find it no hard Matter to prove, that from the grossest Blunders in History, we are not to infer his real Ignorance of it: Nor from a greater Use of _Latin_ Words, than ever any other _English_ Author used, must we infer his Knowledge of that Language.

A Reader of Taste may easily observe, that tho’ _Shakespeare_, almost in every Scene of his historical Plays, commits the grossest Offences against Chronology, History, and Antient Politicks; yet This was not thro’ Ignorance, as is generally supposed, but thro’ the too powerful Blaze of his Imagination; which, when once raised, made all acquired Knowledge vanish and disappear before it. For Instance, in his _Timon_, he turns _Athens_, which was a perfect Democracy, into an Aristocracy; while he ridiculously gives a Senator the Power of banishing _Alcibiades_. On the contrary, in _Coriolanus_, he makes _Rome_, which at that time was a perfect Aristocracy, a Democracy full as ridiculously, by making the People choose _Coriolanus_ Consul: Whereas, in Fact, it was not till the Time of _Manlius_ _Torquatus_, that the People had a Right of choosing one Consul. But this Licence in him, as I have said, must not be imputed to Ignorance: since as often we may find him, when Occasion serves, reasoning up to the Truth of History; and throwing out Sentiments as justly adapted to the Circumstances of his Subject, as to the Dignity of his Characters, or Dictates of Nature in general.