INTRODUCTION.
[]A PROFESSED panegyric on the genius of Shakeſpeare, has been the uſual preface to the various editions of his writings. A ſcholiaſt, like a tranſlator, is almoſt univerſally the encomiaſt of his author. A rhetorical expoſitor, therefore, will not be expected to break through a cuſtom; which affords ſo great a ſcope for declamation! But, to recite, what has been often written, will yield little ſa⯑tisfaction to my auditors; and, to advance any thing new on a ſubject, which has employed the pens of the greateſt wits, for almoſt two centuries paſt, is an attempt above my preſumption. For, though too much cannot be ſaid in praiſe of our in⯑comparable poet, it may be impertinent to attempt to ſay more than has already been ſo well ſaid by others. Formal encomiums reſemble mere compliments; which are the more futile and ſuperfluous, as they rather tend to depreciate, than enhance, extraordi⯑nary merit.
It will, I flatter myſelf, be a more en⯑tertaining and uſeful taſk to exemplify the particular excellencies, which juſtify our [2] univerſal admiration of this favourite bard, than to expatiate, in general terms, on his ſuperiority of genius. General admirers are caught by ſuperficial attractions; and, however enthuſiaſtic their devotion, it uſu⯑ally depends on the ſlightneſs of their ac⯑quaintaince with the object of their ido⯑latry.
Pools may ADMIRE, but men of ſenſe APPROVE!
Approbation, therefore, muſt ſecond out applauſe, to give it ſterling value and prove our attachment real.—But, to approve we muſt underſtand, and fully to underſtand ſo comprehenſive and ſublime a writer as Shakeſpeare, is perhaps not quite ſo eaſy as is generally imagined. At leaſt there are many, and thoſe not uncritical readers, who are ingenious enough to confeſs that, after repeated peruſals of his works, they ſeldom recur to him, without meeting with ſome new difficulty to ſurmount, or excellence to admire.
Not that I have preſumed to invite my auditors to a dull enumeration of verbal errors, the dry inveſtigation of doubtful phraſeology, or the ellucidation of obſcuri⯑ties, [3] ariſing from obſolete diction and vulgar alluſions; many of them too mean to ex⯑cite curioſity, or too long loſt to be worth the labour of reſearch.—Thanks to the ſuc⯑ceſsful induſtry of more laborious criticks, they have releaſed me, in a great meaſure, from the painful taſk of aſcertaining am⯑biguities, diſentangling intricacies, and re⯑covering the meaning of terms, long loſt in the darkneſs of antiquity!
The text of Shakeſpeare gives room for a more pleaſing and inſtructive comment. The poetical beauties and defects of this wonderful bard, whoſe works are allowed to afford the moſt numerous as well as con⯑ſpicuous inſtances of both, fall under the immediate cognizance of the liberal ſcho⯑liaſt. Hence Mr. Pope affirms, that his writings not only preſent the faireſt and fulleſt ſubject of criticiſm; but that, to cri⯑ticiſe on them effectually, would be the beſt method to form the judgment and taſte of our nation.—This were an arduous at⯑tempt indeed! An attempt, in which ſo many of the leviathans of literature have failed, that it might be juſtly deemed arro⯑gance in me to reſume it.
[4]It is near twenty years ſince the admirers of Shakeſpeare were publickly addreſſed, in favour of an Editor, poſſeſſed of a ge⯑nius, of which it was ſaid, as of Caeſar, ‘The Alps and Pyreneans ſink before it.’ From him we were promiſed an edition w [...]y of the author and himſelf: in w [...] the beauties of the former were to be pointed out agreeably to the ſublime imagination of the editor; who had con⯑feſſedly all the requiſite qualifications of a great critic. ‘Quid dignum tanto ſeret hic promiſſor hiatu!’ Nothing!—The promiſer was no prophet; this mighty genius, after buoying up the public expectation for about ten years, moſt egregiouſly failed in the execution of his deſign. His edition had hardly ap⯑peared, before a new one was ſet on foot by the very proprietors who had employed him; ſoliciting eleemoſynary contributions: which were levied, in much about the ſame time, with ſucceſs on the public.
In this laſt compilation, which, to the honour of the conductor, may be ſtiled a [5] ſtupendous monument of verbal criticiſm; almoſt every thing is done but that which ſeems moſt wanted; an illuſtration of the poetical beauties and moral excellencies of the writer. This was deemed ſo eſſential⯑ly neceſſary by Mr. Pope and Dr. War⯑burton, that they thought it incumbent on them to diſtinguiſh, by their manner of printing, the more ſtriking paſſages of the author, ſo as to arreſt the attention of the indolent, and direct the judgment of the ignorant, reader.
Dr. Johnſon, indeed, cenſures this prac⯑tice as uſeleſs, or rather hurtful. Its only effect, ſays he, is to preclude the pleaſure of judging for ourſelves; to teach the young and ignorant to decide without prin⯑ciples; to defeat curioſity and diſcernment, by leaving them leſs to diſcover; and at laſt to ſhew the opinion of the critick, without the reaſons on which it was found⯑ed, and without affording any light by which it may be examined.
In the courſe of the preſent Lectures (which are offered, however, as a mite only into the general treaſury of expoſi⯑tion) I ſhall endeavour to ſhun this cauſe of cenſure, by laying down the principles [6] and giving ſuch reaſons of approbation or cenſure, as may enable my auditors to judge for themſelves; without preventing the exerciſe of their own curioſity, or al⯑together depriving them of that ſelf-com⯑placency which attends the congratulation of one's own diſcernment.
It were to ſuperſede the expediency of all claſſical expoſition, ſhould we adopt the maxim, "that a reader is never plea⯑ſed with the meaning of a writer, unleſs it be immediately obvious to his own ap⯑prehenſion."
Yet ſuch is the aſſertion of that learned commentator, who inſiſts on the facility of comprehending the works of Shake⯑ſpeare in the following terms of amplifica⯑tion. ‘A deſcription of the obvious ſcenes of nature, a repreſentation of general life, a ſentiment of reflection or ex⯑perience, a deduction of concluſive ar⯑gument, a ſorcible eruption of effer⯑veſcent paſſion, are to be conſidered as proportionate to common apprehen⯑ſion, unaſſiſted by critical officiouſneſs; ſince, to conceive them, nothing is more requiſite than acquaintance with the general ſtate of the world, and thoſe [7] faculties which he muſt almoſt bring with him who would read Shakeſpeare.’
—But, granting that Shakeſpeare's reflec⯑tions, reaſonings and repreſentations, were univerſally obvious, and that perſons of every capacity poſſeſs the faculties of com⯑prehending them; it is not ſo much the exertion of abilities as of attention that is in this caſe required. The poet can be but half-read by half-readers; for the works of Shakeſpeare will by no means rank with thoſe frivolous productions, which our Engliſh Ariſtophanes facetiouſly calls pret⯑ty light ſummer reading.
Pope, in his Eſſay on Criticiſm, ſays, we ſhould read
—a work of wit
With the ſame ſpirit that its author writ.
To do juſtice to the poet and ourſelves, therefore, in the reading of Shakeſpeare, we ſhould ſummon up all our attention to his ſubject. The immediate compre⯑henſion of flights of genius and force of argument, requires that both the imagina⯑tion and judgment ſhould be wide awake. It is not enough that the eye of an indolent reader run careleſsly over the page of ſuch [8] a writer, to take in, at ſo curſory a view, the full extent of his meaning. Even a more intent peruſer will ſometimes fail to ſeize (in a moment) that combination of ideas, which may have coſt the mod ready writer, the labour of days, weeks, months, to collect, compare and combine.
Congenial talents, it is true, like drops of a ſimilar fluid, readily coaleſce: men of the ſame turn for observation, and of ſimilar modes of thinking, eaſily under⯑ſtand each other: but this is not the caſe with others, who differ as well in opi⯑nion as intellectual abilities. To ſuperior geniuſes, who may themſelves affect to vie with the great maſter of our Engliſh drama, my lectures may afford as little inſtruction as amuſement. But in this extenſive metro⯑polis, I preſume there are to be found a ſufficient number of his more humble ad⯑mirers, to whom they may prove both acceptable and uſeful, however futile or frivolous they may ſeem to men of ſuper⯑lative ingenuity.
As to the expediency of their oral de⯑livery, it may be pleaded, that the proprie⯑ties of dramatic compoſition ſtrike more forcibly from recital, than in peruſal. The [9] ableſt commentator on Shakeſpeare might diſcover, in the declamation of a Quin or a Garrick, many exquiſite ſtrokes of cha⯑racter, paſſion and humour, evidently de⯑ſigned by the poet, which yet Would other⯑wiſe eſcape the notice of the mere literary critick. Nay, it is even poſſible that the poet himſelf (who, it muſt be remembered, was but an indifferent ſtage-player) did not intend all thoſe nice touches and for⯑cible ſtrokes of expreſſion; which an able actor or artful declaimer might, by pro⯑priety of pauſe, ſignificance of tone, and variety of cadence, give his writings in re⯑cital.
This may ſeem an hereſy, too bold to come from an orthodox admirer of Shake⯑ſpeare, eſpecially if we admit the juſtice of the ingenious encomium, paſſed on him by one of his lateſt and beſt commentators. Shakeſpeare, ſays ſhe, (for we are told the encomiaſt is a Lady) ſeems to have had the art of the derviſe, in the Arabian tales; who could throw his ſoul into the body of another man, and be at once poſſeſſed of his ſentiments, adopt his paſſions, and riſe to all the functions and feelings of his ſitu⯑ation.
[10]But perhaps this elegant eulogy, though ſupported by as beautiful and pertinent an alluſion, may be no farther applicable than to the ſentimental powers of the writer, and not to the correſpondent ſenſations, or, in Dr. Johnſon's phraſe, efferveſcent paſ⯑ſions of the man. The poet (like the der⯑viſe) might be able to throw his ſoul into the unanimated body of another, without being able to accommodate his own body to the feelings and paſſions of another's ſoul: in which caſe, however juſtly he might ſpeak the general language of thoſe paſſions, he might ſtill learn ſomething from thoſe who could feel, as they ſpoke, from themſelves. If the Ghoſt in Hamlet (as we are told) was the beſt part his powers of declamation could arrive at; he could not perſonally aſſume the characters or diſ⯑play the feelings he ſo pathetically deſcribes, while he dictates their proper language to others.
But, be this as it may, with reſpect to Shakeſpeare, it is well known to have been the caſe with many modern authors, who have been aſtoniſhed at the latent meaning, that has been diſcovered in their compoſi⯑tions, by a Garrick a Clive, or a Pritchard. It even happens in compoſition, that a ſenſe, [11] more pertinent, ſublime or profound than at firſt intended, is often ſtruck out by a happy colliſion of words, as unforeſeen as unpremeditated. If paſſages of this kind are ſometimes fortuitouſly ſuggeſted to the writer, how much oftener will his genius, or art, deſignedly preſent them to the reader; who is not to be wondered at, if he content himſelf with the more obvious meaning, that floats on the ſurface; with⯑out diving into the depths of his author.
A line or two from almoſt any claſſical writer will afford an exemplary inſtance.—In Iago's celebrated ſpeech on the ineſti⯑mable value of a good name, he ſays,
Who ſteals my purſe, ſteals traſh. 'Tis ſomething, nothing.
'Twas mine, 'tis his and has been ſlave to thouſands.
I believe ſuch in general is the manner in which thoſe lines are repeated. And yet there ſeems to be a want of meaning in the words ſomething, nothing, ſo delivered. The antitheſis in the ſecond line, alſo, is confined to the various poſſeſſors, in the words mine, his, and thouſands. Whereas, if we conceive the ſpeaker to pauſe, on call⯑ing [12] his purſe, traſh, then to admit it to be ſomething, or make it a queſtion; and af⯑terwards go on, as if upon farther thought, more forcibly to undervalue it, by calling it expreſsly nothing, the ſenſe would be greatly improved. Again, if we extend the antitheſis in the ſecond line, or rather diſtinguiſh another, between the words, 'Twas, 'tis and has been, denoting the fu⯑tility of the poſſiſſion, as merely temporary and tranſitory; the paſſage would, in this caſe, be much more pregnant of mean⯑ing.
Who ſteals my purse, ſteals traſh —'Tis ſomething!— Nothing—
'TWAS mine, 'TIS his and HAS BEEN ſlave to thouſands.
A ſimilar inſtance of the double antitheſis is to be found in the firſt hook of Milton's Paradiſe Loſt: where Satan ſays, it is ‘Better to reign in Hell than ſerve in Heaven.’ If I remember right, Mr. Quin, as well as ſome other celebrated readers of Milton, gave no farther meaning or energy to this line; although it is evident, from the con⯑text, that the antitheſis is double, and re⯑quires [13] a farther diſtinction of emphaſis be⯑tween reigning in Hell and ſerving in Hea⯑ven,—The fallen ſpirit is addreſſing his companion in revolt, on the ſubject of their new abode, the infernal world; of which having taken a ſurvey; he thus exclaims
— Here, at leaſt,
We ſhall be free; th' Almighty
— will not drive us hence,
Here we may reign ſecure; and, in my choice,
To reign is worth ambition tho' in Hell:
Better to REIGN in Hell than SERVE in Heaven.
Innumerable are the paſſages in poetical and particularly dramatic compoſitions, where the whole meaning of the writer is not more obvious to the reader; nor more eaſily explained, without the aid of declamation; which, when it is juſt and emphatical, renders farther explanation unneceſſary. A proper, tho' ſimple, recital of the text is hence often a better comment than whole pages of written annotations.
A judicious actor is, therefore, the beſt expoſitor of the drama. We have a ſtrik⯑ing inſtance of this in Mr. Garrick; who is not improperly ſtiled a living comment on our author. What a pity that, out of [14] ſo great a number of capital parts as are found in the plays of Shakeſpeare, the walk of this great comedian has (of late years at leaſt) been confined to about twelve characters in tragedy, and, I think, to one only in comedy [Benedict.]
Had all the principal perſonages, in the dramas of our immortal poet, the advan⯑tage of the living comment of ſuch an ex⯑cellent actor; it would have effectually pre⯑cluded the preſent undertaking. But, when ſo few of them are capitally filled, and the greater part of the reſt injudiciouſly ſhortened, with a view to accommodate them to the incapacities of inferior per⯑formers, it is doing a piece of juſtice to the poet, to endeavour to reſcue his mangled remains from ſuch injurious mutilators. My auditors will excuſe me, however, if I do not affect the grimace and roar of the lock, or the rant and whine of the buſkin. If I have voice enough to make myſelf diſtinctly heard, and ſufficient art in the management of it to convey the meaning of the poet, the end, I propoſe, will be anſwered, in giving ſome ſatisfaction to his admirers; and, if to them, to the public [15] at large; for who is not an admirer of Shakeſpeare?
Admirable as he is to be regarded as a poet, there is alſo another light, in which he is ſeldom preſented to us, tho' he ap⯑pears in it, if poſſible, to ſtill greater ad⯑vantage. This is that of a moral philoſopher; his works containing a practical ſyſtem of ethics, the more inſtructive and uſeful as the precept is almoſt every where joined to example. His moral reflections are not like thoſe of moſt other play-wrights, an ad⯑ventitious appendage to the dialogue. On the contrary, they riſe naturally from the; ſituation and circumſtance of the ſpeaker, and flow ſpontaneouſly from his lips, as the genuine effuſions of his heart. Hence it is that they make ſo forcible and laſting an impreſſion on the memory, and have per⯑haps contributed more to form our national character, for humanity, juſtice, and be⯑nevolence, than all the theoretical books of morality which have appeared in our language.
I am not ſingular in admiring this great poet as a philoſopher. The learned and in⯑genious Mrs. Montague obſerves, in like [16] manner, that "we are apt to conſider Shakeſpeare only as a poet, but he is certain⯑ly one of the greateſt moral philoſophers that ever lived." The teſtimony of Mr. Pope, on this head, does the poet the higheſt honour, "Shakeſpeare," ſay he, "is not more a master of the Great than of the Ridiculous in human nature; of our nobleſt tenderneſſes than of our vaineſt foibles; of our ſtrongeſt emotions than of our idleſt ſenſations!—Nor does he only excel in the paſſions: in the coolneſs of reflection and reaſoning he is full as admirable. His ſenti⯑ments, on every ſubject, are not only in general the moſt pertinent and judicious, hut, by a talent very peculiar, ſomething between penetration and felicity, he hits on that particular point on which the bent of each argument turns, or the force of each motive depends." Were any thing want⯑ing more concluſive, we might recur to the character given of this ſublime genius by one little his inſerior, Mr. Dryden. "Shakeſpeare," ſays he, "was the man, who, of all modern, and perhaps an⯑cient poets, had the largeſt and moſt com⯑prehenſive ſoul."—My auditors, I am per⯑ſuaded, will agree, therefore, with me, that the underſtanding of Engliſh, and even [17] a ſlight acquaintance with the author's ſtile and phraſeology, is inſufficient to enable the generality of readers to enter fully into his ſenſe and ſpirit, without much attention and more mature reflection, than is uſually beſtowed on dramatic productions.
I ſhall hence wave farther apology, as needleſs, either for this mode of comment, or for making the School of Shakeſpeare, not a ſchool of verbal criticiſm and theatri⯑cal declamation, but of poetical propriety and MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
A RETORT COURTEOUS ON THE CRITICKS.
[]THE reſpect which individuals owe to public opinion, eſpecially when they ſolicit the public patronage, reduces them to the neceſſity of conſidering every thing as im⯑portant, which regards the merit of their pretenſions. It is this neceſſity that ren⯑ders the remarks of writers, otherwiſe in⯑ſignificant, deſerving notice. Contemptible as are frequently the anonymous correſpon⯑dents of newſpapers, there is ſcarce a reader in town, to whom ſome one or other of thoſe papers does not appear an oracle. In an age ſo divided between the buſtle of buſi⯑neſs and the diſſipation of divertiſement, it is no wonder that curioſity ſhould adopt the means of acquiring knowledge without the trouble of thinking. Our daily chronicles pretend to offer thoſe means, and are therefore revered of courſe as oracular. Liable, however, to be deceived either by ignorance or deſign, their deciſions, like thoſe of the [20] oracles of old, ſhould be truſted with caution.
Intereſted in the effect of thoſe deciſions reſpecting the preſent undertaking, it is in⯑cumbent on me to mention their miſtake, expoſe their errour and correct their miſ⯑conception. Not that I have reaſon to com⯑plain that the majority, or the moſt reſpect⯑able, of our diurnal critics, have not paſſ⯑ed ſufficient encomiums on my firſt Lecture. The misfortane of it is, they have moſt of them applauded and cenſured in the wrong place; ſeeming not to have entered fully into my deſign.—The moſt general objection is, that I am deficient in oratory, and that I cannot "with the true ſtage-mechaniſm of proper emphaſis recite Shakeſpeare's verſifi⯑cation." To this, I anſwer, that I neither pretend to, nor require, the peculiar talents of an orator, or actor, to deliver a decla⯑matory comment on that poet. I affect not the grace, but aim merely at the propriety of declamation; as it is by conviction and not perſuaſion that I would with to affect my auditors. Did I pretend to oratory, I ſhould take the trouble to commit my diſ⯑courſe, as well as all the paſſages I recite, to memory, ſo as to be able to repeat them by rote, and aſſume the different characters [21] of the reſpective ſpeakers; without which it is impoſſible to deliver them oratorially: and the talk of ſpeaking with energy and propriety for two whole hours without book, is what I am perſuaded my auditors will not think it reaſonable to impoſe on me. The critick of the Public Advertiſer, indeed, has furniſhed me with a better apo⯑logy on this head than probably I could make for myſelf. He intimates, with a perhaps, what is certainly true, that the Lecturer conſiders himſelf rather as a teacher than a practitioner of eloquence, as a rhetorical profeſſor rather than a profeſſed orator. "It is notorious, ſays the critick, that the dancing-maſter, who teaches the art of ad⯑dreſs to others, is not the moſt graceful in his own deportment. The drawing-maſter inſtructs his pupils alſo in the rudiments of deſign, not by the delicate touches of the pencil, but by the coarſe outlines of rough chalk: nay, we even are told there are muſical connoiſſeurs, who would rather hear a tune hummed over by a Bach or an Arne, with ſcarce any voice at all, than hear it melodiouſly warbled by a Linley or a Davis."
Had the criticks in general attended to the motto I have adopted from Horace, [22] ſignifying that "I meant to do the office of a whetſtone, which gives an edge to ſteel, without having any itſelf," * they muſt all have coincided with this writer: but perhaps ſome of them did not read it, and it is not impoſſible that, being in Latin, ſome others might not—underſtand it.
As to what has been ſaid about "the ſtage-mechaniſm of proper emphaſis," my deſign is in part to explode the mechanical emphaſis of the ſtage, as altogether impro⯑per. It is the habitual exerciſe of this mode of declamation that miſleads the actor from the meaning of the author. If, while I am endeavouring, therefore, to point out this meaning merely by a different mode of declamation, I am to be judged by the very ſtandard, which I am exploding; the prepoſſeſſion of the criticks in favour of theatrical habit, places me in a very pe⯑culiar predicament. The greater the errour I may attempt to correct in ſtage declaim⯑ers, the greater the blunder I ſhall be ſup⯑poſed to have committed myſelf: unleſs indeed, I ſhould trouble my auditors with a comment on every ſuch paſſage; giving the reaſons for ſpeaking it differently from others; in which caſe the taſk I have un⯑dertaken [23] might, inſtead of fifteen Lectures, require fifty. I ſhall explain this by. ex⯑ample.
In the tragedy of Macbeth, there is a celebrated paſſage, which, having long puzzled both the actors and commentators, ſeems at length to have obtained the general ſanction of being ſpoken in a manner the moſt quaint and abſurd imaginable.
After the murder of Duncan, Macbeth, whoſe hands are ſtill bloody, exclaims,
Will all great Neptune's ocean waſh this blood
Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather
The multitudinous SEA incarnadine,
Making the Green, One Red.
The players uſed to ſay,
The multitudinous ſeas incarnadine
Making the green one, red.
This the criticks objected to, as a bald and puerile mode of expreſſion unworthy of Shakeſpeare. But granting that, making the green one, red, is a little bald and puerile, the making the green, One red, is full as quaint and childiſhly affected. Multitudinous ſea in the ſingular, and making the Green, One Red, were however contended for and adopted, [24] I think, firſt by Mr. Murphy, afterwards by Mr. Sheridan, by Mr. Macklin, and, if I rightly remember, by Mr. Garrick; as alſo by Dr. Johnſon, who reads THY multitudinous, conceiving the laſt lines to be an apoſtrophe to Neptune.—Mr. Steevens reads the multitudinous SEAS in the plural, ſtill making the green, One red.—In my manuſcript text, I read partly with one and partly with the other; thinking with Dr. Johnſon it may be thy, and with Mr. Steevens that it ſhould be ſeas in the plural; at the ſame time differing with both, as to the green's being converted into red. Mr. Steevens indeed tells us, that the ſame thought occurs in an old play, called the Downfall of the Earl of Huntingdon. ‘He made the green ſea red with Turkiſh blood.’
But with due deference to Mr. Steevens, the thought is not the ſame, if we read, "making the green, One red;" there is no glaring abſurdity, though there is much bombaſt, in the notion of a green ſea be⯑ing turned by a bloody hand into a red one; but there is as palpable an impropriety in idea as impoſſibility in fact; for green, in the abſtract, to be turned, by any means, into red. A green ſea may become a red [25] ſea, but green, the colour, itſelf, can never become red: beſides, the epithet multitu⯑dinous appears in this caſe to be merely ex⯑pletive and uſeleſs, eſpecially if it be ſup⯑poſed to mean, as our Dictionaries, citing this very paſſage, explain it, "the having the appearance of, or looking like, a mul⯑titude." For why looking like a multitude? Such an epithet applied to the ſea has here no propriety whatever. But if we take it in the ſenſe in which Shake⯑ſpeare uſes the ſame word elſewhere, as meaning manifold, various, of different kinds, &c. there is the utmoſt propriety in it.—The colour of blood being the pre⯑dominant idea in the mind of Macbeth, it is plain he means by multitudinous ſea (or rather ſeas) the many-coloured or va⯑riouſly-coloured ſeas. Geographers have their Black Sea, their White Sea, their Red Sea. And, though a natural philoſopher ſhould queſtion whether thoſe ſeas took their name from the different colours of their waters, poetical licence will ſufficiently juſtify our author in alluding to their appellation: nay, without having recourſe to poetical licence, or reſting on nominal qualities, Shakeſpeare might, as a naturaliſt, advert to the occa⯑ſional variegation really effected in the co⯑lour of the ſea by floods, currents and other [26] cauſes: all which, however, being little and partial in compariſon of the main ocean, whoſe conſtant and general colour is green. Macbeth is made (by a very na⯑tural and eaſy climax) to inſinuate that his hand will not only incarnadine any par⯑ticular ſea of what colour ſoever it be oc⯑caſionally tinged; but that it will change even the native colour of the general con⯑courſe of waters, the main ocean, the GREEN ſea red.
I therefore read the paſſage thus:
Will all great Neptune's ocean waſh this blood
Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather
Thy multitudinous ſeas incarnadine;
Making the GREEN one, red.
Now, whither I am right or wrong in the explication of this paſſage, I ſhould read it in this manner; ſo that, if unapprized of my reaſons for it, the ſagacious critics, who have ſo greatly miſtaken my deſign, would in all probability think I had committed a blunder for want of the ſtage-mechaniſm of proper emphaſis. From this inſtance, taken from many hundreds of the like nature that might be given) may be deduced a ſufficient reaſon why I ſhould not effect the graces of elocution, were I even poſ⯑ſeſſed [27] of the powers and talents for diſ⯑playing them; and this is, that the ſtrong and pointed mode of artificial declamation which is neceſſary to convey and enforce any new or uncommon meaning, by words already well known, and ſuppoſed to be perfectly underſtood, is incompatible with the graceful cadence and voluble flow of oratory.*
In a commentator, it is neceſſary that he ſhould inveſtigate and diſcloſe all the ſenſe and meaning contained in his author. An orator who ſpeaks in his own character, or an actor who perſonates that of another, and would appear the man he repreſents, ſhould attempt to convey no more ſentiment than he can accompany with ſenſibility. On the ſtage we had rather loſe ſight of the author than the actor, who ſhould make every thing his own, and mean no more than he can deliver with gracefulneſs and eaſe. An actor, therefore, would ſome⯑times do well deſignedly to ſink a quaint or latent ſenſe in a ſentence overcharged [28] with meaning, rather than ſacrifice the gracefulneſs of delivery and propriety of repreſentation to the preciſe expreſſion of a particular idea, when the general mean⯑ing is natural and ſufficiently full and char⯑racteriſtick without it.
Enacting words (ſays the late ingenious author of the Actor) is labour too minute.
A commentator, on the other hand, cannot be too particular, preciſe and point⯑ed in-his emphaſis; even though a diſſonant or deficient voice ſhould ſubject him to the implication or wanting what he ought not to exert, if he had them, oratorial abilities.
It is not merely as an orator, however, that I have been cenſured by the criticks. I have been charged as a commentator with having groſsly miſtaken my author, in clearing the character of Sir John Falſtaff of imputed malignity of diſpoſition, and in deſcribing him as a harmleſs, inoffenſive, jocular creature. A writer in the Public ledger advances this charge, among other nmrepreſentations in that paper of Thurſ⯑day laſt.
[29]That Falſtaff is a jocular creature is uni⯑verſally admitted; but that he is harmleſs and inoffenſive, is what neither I, nor, I believe any body elſe ever before ſuggeſted. For my own part, I neither palliated his meanneſs nor extenuated his vices; but left him in full poſſeſſion of his character for gluttony, lying, cowardice and theft. This ſagacious critick, therefore, muſt be a great latitudinarian in morals and have adopted a very ſingular ſyſtem of ethicks, if he holds that a man, who is at once a glutton, a liar, a coward and a thieſ, is a harmleſs inoffenſive creature.
I will appeal, therefore, to my auditors, whether I have not reaſon to expect that criticks, who can ſo readily overlook the vices of mankind, ſhould have a little more candour toward their ſoibles and defects. They forget that I told them my lectures were not calculated for auditors of ſuper⯑lative ingenuity; but for ſuch only as are modeſt enough to think that the poet, whoſe intellectual eye in a fine phrenzy rolling, could dart from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, may have ſometimes ſeen farther than is commonly deſcried by the mental opticks of unpoetical or un⯑critical readers.
ADDITION TO THE RETORT COURTEOUS
[]SUCH is the Retort Courteous to the criticks, which I had the honour of read⯑ing to my auditors laſt Wedneſday: to which ſo many objections, and of which ſo many miſrepreſentations, have been ſince made in the public papers, that it becomes neceſſary for me to make their authors ſome reply.
I have in the firſt place been charged with affecting a ſovereign contempt for newſpaper animadverſions, and yet ſtoop⯑ing ſo low as to profit by them, in impro⯑ving by the advice they contained. But ſurely my thinking them at firſt worth my animandverſion is a proof that the contempt, ſuppoſed to be affected, was not quite ſo ſovereign as alledged; eſpecially as I am ſaid to have thought them of ſtill ſo much more conſequence as to proſit by them. It were cruel to deny the authors of theſe [32] animadverſions the honour of having con⯑tributed to my improvement, while they admit I am improved. I am conſcious, however, of that improvement's being ſo very little, that it does neither them nor me any great credit.
But, though they admit I have improved by them, they ſeem determined not to im⯑prove by me. They allow that my re⯑marks are ingenious, but not convinc⯑ing: the critics or rather critic, for like ſovereign princes, they each write in the royal plurality, of we, us and our⯑ſelves.—One of theſe critics in particular, whom I diſtinguiſh as much for his ſupe⯑riour ingenuouſneſs as ingenuity, admits that my reading of the paſſage, cited from Macbeth, is defended in a plauſible man⯑ner; but that he (I ſhould ſay they) are nevertheleſs not converts to the doctrine; as they think ſuch reading exceedingly puerile, bald and improper. As to its baldneſs and puerility, I ſhall not attempt to controvert a matter of elegance and taſte; but I cannot help remarking, as ſomething whimſical, a critic's calling any expreſſion improper, who at the ſame time contends for the propriety of ſaying that the colour green may become red. He might as well [33] ſay black may become white, nay better for black and white are only the extremes of light and ſhade merely colourable acci⯑dents, and not like green and red, genuine and natural colours *.
This critic ſays, ‘A good logician will be able by ſophiſtry and the artifice of words to cheat the ſenſes.’—But a good logician never uſes ſophiſtry or the artifice of words, ſo that what he charges on a good logician proves that he means a bad one. Again, he ſays, ‘none but the weak will give up an opinion which was rationally founded on hearing the ſpecious argument of an able caſuiſt.’ This is to ſuppoſe that a weak man is better able to found a rational opinion, or judge when it is ſo founded, than an able caſuiſt. The truth indeed is, that the weak in judg⯑ment are generally the moſt ſtrong in opi⯑nion: for, as Shakeſpeare ſays, ‘Conceit the ſtrongeſt works in weakeſt minds.’ Or (not to go out of the line of the critic's reading,) as it is obſerved to the ſame pur⯑poſe, in the air of a well known Burletta, ‘Remember, when the judgment's weak that pre⯑judice is ſtrong.’
[34]I do not wonder, therefore, that our critic, even though he has conſidered, as he ſays, and reconſidered the point, ſhould ſtill remain in his former ſen⯑timents. Had he given any hint of the manner in which he inveſtigated this knotty point, one might judge of the depth and acuteneſs of his enquiry; and of the grounds of his tenaciouſneſs of opi⯑nion. As it is, he has leſt the point as much in the dark as he found it. I will endeavour therefore to elucidate it a little farther. The main difficulty ſeems to lie in the meaning of the epithet multitudin⯑ous, which Macbeth gives to the ſea.
Now to come at the meaning of doubt⯑ful words in an author there are only two ways; the one by enquiring in what ſenſe they are uſed by the ſame and con⯑temporary writers; and the other by en⯑tering fully into the ſentiment, and ex⯑plaining them by their neceſſary connexion with the context. For we muſt not arbi⯑trarily give ſuch words the meaning, we may take it into our heads ſuits beſt with the ſenſe, that we give as arbitrarily to the paſſage. This were only to make one blun⯑der give ſanction to another.
[35]Now according to the former mode of explanation, multitudinous means as before obſerved, looking like a multitude, alſo ma⯑nifold and various. Shakeſpeare calls the tongue multitudinous, meaning multifari⯑ous, ſpeaking many things or many lan⯑guages. But neither in Shakeſpeare nor in any of his contemporary writers do we find multitudinous uſed in any ſenſe that will juſtify the various ſuppoſitions that Mac⯑beth here gives it to the ſea, becauſe as ſome ſay, the ſea has many waves, or as others, becauſe it has many bays, creeks and harbours, or becauſe as others will have it, it contains ſhoals of herrings and mul⯑titudes of mackrel.
Attending to the ſecond mode of expla⯑nation, we ſhould enter into the ſentiment and place ourſelves in the ſituation of the ſpeaker, aſſume his perſonage, and aſk our⯑ſelves what we ſhould have ſaid in the ſame Circumſtances. The whole attention of Macbeth was engroſſed with the ſight of his bloody hands. His whole thoughts intent on the means of clearing them of that carnadine hue they were ſo deeply dyed with; ſo deep indeed, that he ſays all Neptune's ocean will not waſh them clean; Nay rather theſe hands will incarnadine [36] Neptune's ſeas. Is it reaſonable to ſuppoſe, that, in this agitation of mind, Macbeth could advert to any other property of thoſe ſeas than that which immediately related to the object before him? Would he call the ſea multitudinous becauſe it contained a multitude of fiſh, as if he were the buſy⯑brain'd projector of a Britiſh fiſhery? Im⯑poſſible! It is for thoſe reaſons I continue ſtill as firmly fixed in my opinion as the critic in his: to whom, however, being open to conviction, I ſhall be ready to give it up, if after having really conſidered and re-conſidered the point, he puts on his conſidering cap once again, and gives me a better reaſon for his opinion than I have given for mine.
To the critic of the Publick Ledger I am indebted for the miſrepreſentation of al⯑moſt every thing he hath noticed; parti⯑cularly for falſely charging me with adopt⯑ing the meanings I explode, and altering the text ot Shakeſpeare to countenance explanations, which I deduce from that text's ſtanding as it docs. Theſe miſrepre⯑ſentations are the more injurious as they ſubject me to unjuſt cenſure and expoſe me to unmerited ridicule. If they proceed, [37] therefore, from the critic's having unfor⯑tunately a treacherous memory and to his liberal propenſity to do me, on all occaſions, a good turn, I hope he will, for the future, ſpeak truth and I am armed againſt his ma⯑levolence. It is this writer who repeatedly informs the publick, that the ladies yawn, as he elegantly expreſſes it, at my lecture, for want of wit and muſick. But, after ſuch bad proofs as he has given of his ve⯑racity, he will give me leave to doubt the fact; for, tho' this gentleman may require a jig or a pun to prevent his falling aſleep, I have too good an opinion of my fair auditors to ſuppoſe they cannot be kept, two or three hours, awake, by a comment on Shakeſpeare, without the aid of a jeſt or the ſqueaking of a fiddle. Indeed I could not conceive that a critic could ſuppoſe my lectures calculated for ſuch auditors as can be amuſed with the entertainment they now meet with, at the playhouſes and the puppet-ſhews.
To the Public Advertiſer, Gazetteer, and moſt of the evening papers I am obliged for their truth, their impartiality and their candour.
[38]There is alſo a morning paper which has honoured me nearly as much by its abuſe; but I have too much reſpect for my audi⯑tors to notice any thing inſerted in the Morning Poſt which, indiſcriminately abuſing every body, may be aptly enough ſaid to have a tongue that utters no ſlan⯑der.
Indeed I beg pardon of my auditors for engaging their attention ſo long on the miſ⯑takes of verbal criticks and the wilful miſ⯑repreſentation, of mere word-catchers. The ſubject of to-night's lecture is of more im⯑portance, and will therefore be more ſe⯑rious than I propoſe to make the School of Shakeſpeare in general. If I ſhould hap⯑pen, however, to be too grave for my au⯑ditors to night, I may make them amends another time, by more frequent flaſhes of Shakeſpeare's merriment. At the ſame time I muſt beg leave to obſerve, that as I intend (with a view to have this undertak⯑ing more generally comprehended) to pub⯑liſh my Introductory Addreſs and Reply to the Criticks in a printed pamphlet, I mean, with, the conſent of my auditors, to recite them no more, not take any farther notice [39] in this place of the news-paper remarks, as it would lead me into a field of altercation too wide to be comprized within the limits of my preſent plan. If my auditors, how⯑ever, ſhould have any queſtions to propoſe reſpecting the elucidation of Shakeſpeare, and will take the trouble to reduce them, to writing, I ſhall endeavour to give them, after due conſideration, a ſatisfactory an⯑ſwer.
FINIS.
