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ESSAYS
ON SOME OF
SHAKESPEARE'S DRAMATIC CHARACTERS.
TO WHICH IS ADDED;
AN ESSAY
CM
THE FAULTS OF SHAKESPEARE.
THE FIFTH EDITION.
By WJLUAM RICHARDSON, M,A. F.R.S,E.
PROFESSOR OF HUMANITY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR J. MURRAY AND S. HIGHLEY, NO. '32, FLEET STREET.
1797.
PR
Cf^i^l
a
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■ Xp
INSCRIBED,
IN TESTIMONY OF
THE GRATITUDE AND ESTEEM
OF THE AUTHOR,
To ROBERT GRAHAM, Esq.
OF GARTMpRE,
LATELY LORD RECTOR
OF THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW,
AND MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT
FOR THE COUNTY
OF STIRLING.
ADVERTISEMENT.
In the year 1774 was publiflied, " Aphllo- fophical Analyfis and Illuftration of fome of Shakefpeare's Dramatic Characters." In the year 1784 were publilhed " EiFays on Shake- fpeare's Dramatic Charad:ers of Richard the Third, King Lear, and Timon of Athens ; to which were added. An Effay on the Faults of Shakefpeare ; and Additional Ob- fervations on the Charafter of Hamlet." Soon after were publiflied " EiTays on Shakepeare's Dramatic Charadler of Sir John Falftaff ; and on his Imitation of Fe- male Chara6lers :" to which were added, fome general Obfervations on the chief Ob- je<5ts of Criticifm in the Works of Shake- fpeare,
VI ADVERTISEMENT.
Thefe different performances are now colled:ed into one volume with one uni- form title : they are more commodioufly arranged ; and have received fuch corre(5lion and improvement, as muft neceffarily have occurred to the author, and been fuggefted by his friends, in the courfe of feveral preced- ing Exlitions. He hopes therefore that, on thefe accounts, they are rendered ilill lefij unworthy of public notice.
/
/
^
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
Introduction ----- i
I. Charaaer of Macbeth - - - - ^^
II. Charader of Hamlet - •- - - 69
III. Additional obfervations on the chara6ber of
Hamlet - - -' - - - 121
IV. The charafter of Jacques - - - - 142
V. The charader of Imogen - - - - 170 VT. The charaaer of Richard the Third - - 197
VII. The charader of Sir John Falftaff - - 240
VIII. The charatSter of King Lear - - - 289 i"^
IX. The chara6ter of Timon of Athens - -313 X. On Shakefpeare's imitation of Female Cha- racters _ - - . - 333 XL On the Faults of Shakefpeare - - 3(3 1 XII. Conclufion, containing obfervations on the chief obje6ts of criticifm in the works of Shakefpeare . . - - - 393 ,
The Reader is rcquefted to corred the following ERRATA.
p. 22, 1. 22j^r cannon, read canon.
90, — 15 and 16, for It is, read Is it,
91, — 22, /or may have, are, read may have to other
obje6ls, are.
J go, — laft of the note, Jbr of fedudion, read of the arts of fedudtion.
306, — 19, Jor puts, read put.
31 9^ — 7,^^ early our inherent, read early or in- herent.
332, — 7, /or fmother'd, read fmooth'd.
333, — 15, /or contraiSl, read contraft.
372, — 1 , /or fafe in port, read on fome blifsful ifland. 379, — 26 and 27, /or to make " fewel cheap," read to make " coals cheap."
INTRODUCTION.
Moralists of all ages have recommended Poetry as an art no lefs inftrudlive than amufing; tending at once to improve the heart, and entertain the fancy. The ge- nuine and original Poet, peculiarly favoured by nature, and intimately acquainted with the conftitution of the human mind, not by a long train of metaphyseal deduftions, but, as it w^ere, by immediate intuition, difplays the w^orkings of every affed:ion, detects the origin of every paffion, traces its progrefs, and delineates its character. Thus, he teaches us to know^ ourfelves, infpires us with mag- nanimous fentiments, animates our love of virtue, and confirms our hatred of vice. Moved by his ftriking picflures of the infta- bility of human enjoyments, we moderate the vehemence of our defires, fortify our minds, and are enabled to fuftain adverfity. Among the ancient Greeks, the ftudy
B
2 IXTRODUCTIOy.
of the Poets conilitiitcd an eiTential part in their celebrated fyftcms of education. Plu- tarch obfcrvcs, in his treatife on this curious and interefting fubjed:, that, -as mandrakes planted among vines, imparting their virtue to the grape, correal its acidity, and improve its flavour; fo the poetic art, adorning the precepts of philofophy, renders them eafy and agreeable. Socrates, according to Xe- nophon, was affiduous in applying the works of Homer and Hcfiod to the valuable pur- pofes of moral inftruclion. Difcourfmg on the charatftcr of Therfites, he difplayed the nieannefs of calumny, and the folly of prc- fumption ; he argued, that modefty was the companion of merit, and that effrontery was the proper objccl: of ridicule and re- proach. Difcourfmg on the flory of Circe, Jic illuftratcd the fatal effects of intempe- rance; and rehearfmg the fable of the Sy- rens, he warned his difciples againft the al- lurements of falfe delight. This great teacli- <:r of virtue was fo fully convinced of the ad- Aanta2:es refultinsi; from the connection of poetry with philofophy, that he affiftcd Eu- ripides in compofmg his tragedies, and fur- 7
INTRODUCTION. g
niflied him with many excellent fcntiments and obfervations. The propriety of beftow- ing attention on the ftudy of human nature, and of borrowing affiftance from the poets, and efpecially from Shakefpeare, will be more particularly illuftrated in the following remarks.
The ftudy of human nature has been often and varioufly recommended. " Know thyfelf," was a precept fo highly efteemed by the venerable fages of antiquity, that they afcribed it to the Delphian oracle^. By reducing it to practice, we learn the dignity of human nature: Our emulation is excited by contemplating our divine origi- nal : And, by difcovering the capacity and extent of our faculties, we become deiirous of higher improvement. Nor would the practice of this apophthegm enable us mere- ly to elevate and enlarge our defires, but alfo, to purify and refine them; to withfland the folicitations of groveling appetites, and fubdue their violence: For improvement in virtue confifts in duly regulating our inferior
a Cic. de legibus. B 2,
4 INTRODUCTION,
appetites, no lefs than in cultivating the principles of benevolence and magnanimity. Numerous, however, arc the dcfires, and various arc the paflions that agitate the hu- man heart. Every individual is actuated by feelings peculiar to himfclf, infenfible even of their exifbcnce ; of their precife force and tendency often ignorant. But, to pre- vent the inroads of vice, and preferve our minds free from the tyranny of lawlefs paf- fion, vigilance muft be exerted where wc are weakeft and moft expofed. We muft there- fore be attentive to the ftatc and conftitution of our own minds; wc muft difcovcr to what habits we are moft addiclilcd, and of what propenfities we ought chiefly to be- ware: Wc muft deliberate with ourfelves on what refources we can moft aiTuredly de- pend, and what motives are beft calculated to repel the invader. Now, the ftudy of human nature, accuftoming us to turn our attention inwards, and rcflcd: on the va- rious propenfities and inclinations of the heart, facilitates felf-examination, and ren- ders it habitual.
Independent of utility, the ftudy of the 6
INTRODUCTION. 5
human mind is recommended in a peculiar manner to the curious and inquifitive ; and is capable of yielding delight by the novelty, beauty, and magnificence, of the obje6l. Many find amufement in fearching into the conflitution of the material world; and, with unwearied diligence, purfue the pro- grefs of nature in the growth of a plant, or the formation of an infecl. They fparc neither labour nor exp^nce, to fill their cabi- nets with every curious producflion: They travel from climate to climate : They fub- mit with cheerfulnefs to fatigue, and incle- ment feafons; and think their induflry fuf- ficiently compenfated, by the difcovery of fome unufual phasnomenon. Not a pebble that lies on the fliore, not a leaf that waves in the forefl, but attrads their notice, and flimulates their inquiry. Events, or inci- dents, which the vulgar regard with terror or indifference, afford them fupreme de- light : They rejoice at the return of a comet, and celebrate the blooming of an aloe, more than the birth of an emperor. Nothing is left unexplored: Air, ocean, tlic minutefl objcds of fenfe, as well as the grcatcft and
6 INTRODUCTION.
moft remote, are accurately and attentively fcrutlnized. But, though thefe refearches be laudable, and are fulted to the dignity of the human mind, we ought to remember^ that Mind itfelf deferves our attention. En- dowed with the fuperior powers of feeling and undcrftanding, capable of thought and reflection, active, confcious, fufceptible of delight, and provident of futurity, it claims to itfelf a duration, when the moft fplendid obje<5ls around us Ihall be dellroyed. Ob- fcrve the vigilance of the fenfes in collecting images from every part of the creation: Memory preferves them as the materials of thought, and the principles of knowledge; Our reafoning faculty feparatcs, combines, or compares them, in order to difcover their relations and confequences : And imagina- tion, fedulous to amufe, arranges them into various groups and aiTemblagcs. If we con- fider the paffions and feelings of the heart; if we reflect on their diverfity, and contem- plate the various afpe6ts they aifume, the \ iolencc of fome will terrify and altoniili, the fantaftic extravagance of many will ex- cite amazement; and others, foft and com-
INTRODUCTION. 'jt
placcnt, will footh us, and yield delight. Shall we afTert, therefore, that the ftudy of human nature is barren or unpleafant? Or that Mind, thus a61:uated and informed, is lefs worthy of our notice than the infe(fl produced at noon-tide, to finifli its exiftence with the fetting-fun? " Shall a man," fays Socrates, " be fkilled in the geography of foreign countries, and continue ignorant of the foil and limits of his own ? Shall he in- quire into the qualities of external obje^s, and pay no attention to the mind?"
But, though the utility or plealure re- fulting from the ftudy of human nature are manifeft, the progrefs men have hitherto made in it, neither correfponds with the dignity of the fubjed:, nor with our ad- vances in other regions of fcience. Neither is our knowledge of the paffions and facul- ties of the mind proportioned to the nume- rous theories men have fabricated concern- ing them. On the contrary, the numerous theories of human nature that have appear- ed in various ages and languages, have been fo different from one another, and withal fo plaufible and impofmg, that, inftead of in-
8 INTRODUCTION.
forming, they perplex. From this uncer- tainty and diverfity of opinion, fome have alTerted that the mind of man, on account of its tranfcendent excellence, and the in- conceivable delicacy of its ftrudhire, can never be the objed; of precife inquiry. Others, again, from very different premifes, deduce the fame conclufion, forming their opinions on the numerous, and apparently difcordant, powers and affedilions of the mind, and affirming, that its operations are governed by no regular principles.
That a perfect knowledge of the nature and faculties of the mind is not to be ac- quired in our prefent condition, cannot pof- fibly be denied. Neither can the contrary be affirmed of any fubje6l of philofophical inquiry. Yet our internal feelings, our ob- fervation and experience, fupply us with rich materials, fufficient to animate our love of knowledge ; and, by enabling us to profecute our refcarchcs, to extend the limits of hu- man underflanding. Neither can we af- firm, that our thoughts, feelings, and affec- tions, are in a ftate of anarchy and confufion. Nothing, you fay, fcems wilder and more
INTRODUCTION. 9
incoherent, than the thoughts and images continually flud:uating in the mind : Like the " gay motes that people the fun-beams," they know no order, and are guided by no connedlion. We are confcious of no power that dire<fts their motions, reftrains their im- petuofity, or regulates their diforder. No iefs irregular and difcordant are the feelings and emotions of the heart. We are alike acceffible to love or hatred, confidence or ftifpicion, exultation or defpondency. Thefe paffions and difpofitions are often blended together, or fucceed each other, with a ve- locity which we can neither meailire nor ponceive. The foul that now melts with tendernefs, is inftantly frantic with rage. The countenance now adorned with com- placency, and beauteous with the fmile pf content, is in a moment clouded with anxiety, or diftorted with envy. He muft therefore be more than mortal who can re- duce this tumultuous and diforderly chaos to regularity. — " Lift up thine eyes to the fir- mament," faid a countryman to a philofo- pher, " number the ftars, compute their dif- lances, and explain their motions. Obfervc
lO INTRODUCTION.
the divcrfity of fcafons, and the confufioii occafioned by the changeablcnefs of the wea- ther : The fun and retreihing fhowers che- rifh the fruits of the earth ; but our fields arc often bhghted with mildews, the fky is fiiddcnly overcafi:, the ftorms defcend, and the hopes of the year are blafted. Prefcribe laws to the winds, and govern the rage of the tempclls ; then will I believe, that the courfc of nature is resT-ilar and determined.'*'
o
Thus, even external phaenomena, to an un- infl:rud:ed perfon, will feem as wild and in- congruous as the motions and affections of the mind. On a more accurate infpe^lion, he finds that harmony and defign pervade the univerfe ; that the motions of the ftars are regular ; and that laws are prefcribed to the tcmpeff. Nature extends her attention to the moft infignificant produ<5lions : The principles of vegetation arc cftablifhed im- mutable in the texture of the meaneft blof- fom ; the laws of its exiftencc are accurately defined; and the period of its duration in- variably determined. If thefe obfcrvations are juft, and if wc ftill maintain that the mind is in a flate of anarchy and diforder.
INTROI>UCTION. T I
we are reduced to the ncceffity of affirming, that nature hath exhaufted her powers in the formation of inferior objects, and ncg- led:ed the moft important ; that flie hath eftabhflied laws and 2!;overnment in the in- animate creation, and abandoned the mind to mifrule ; and that flie hath given us a body fuited to our condition, fafhioncd ac- cording to the moft accurate proportions, and adjufted to the niceft rules of mecha- nics ; and left the animating principle, the mover and director of this wonderful ma- chine, to be actuated by random impulfcs, miihapen, and imperfcd:. Shall we ac- quiefce in this opinion, and afcribe negli- gence or inability to the Creator ? The laws that regulate the intellectual l}ftem are too fine for fuperficial attention, and elude the perception of the vulgar. But every accu- rate and fedate obferver is fenfible of their cxiftence.
Difficulty in making juft experiments is the principal reafon why the knowledge of human nature has been retarded. The ma- terials of this ftudy arc commonly gathered from rcfledion on our own feelings, or from
12 INTRODUCTION.
obferv^ations on the condu6l of others. Each of thcfe methods is expofcd to difficulty, and confequcntly to error.
Natural philofophers poflcfs great advan- tages over moral ifts and metaph^-ficians, in fo far as the fubjecfts of their inquiries belong to the fenfes, are external, material, and often permanent. Hence they can retain them in their prefence till they have ex- amined their motion, parts, or compofition : They can have recourfe to them for a re- newal of their impreffions when they grow languid or obfcurc, or when they feel their minds vigorous, and difpofed to philofophize. ■jiBut paffions are excited independent of our ij volition, and arife or fubfide without our defire or concurrence. CompalTion is never awakened but by the view of pain or of for- row. Refentment is never kindled but by actual fufFcring, or by the view of injuftice.
Will anger, jcaloufy, and revenge, attend the fummons of the difpaffionate fage, that he may examine their conduct, and difmifs them ? Will pride and ambition obey the voice of the humble hermit, and affift him in explaining the principles of human na^
INTRODUCTION. I3
ture ? Or by what powerful fpell can the abllradted philofopher, whofc paflTions are all chaftened and fubducd, whofe heart never throbs with defire, prevail with the tender affections to appear at his unkindly com- mand, and fubmit the delicacy of their fea- tures to the rigor of ftrid: inquiry. The pliilofopher, accuftomed to moderate his paffions, rather than indulge them, is of all men leaft able to provoke their violence; and, in order to fucceed in his refearches, he muft recal emotions felt by him at fome former period; or he muft feize their im- preffion, and mark their operations at the very moment they are accidentally excited. Thus, with other obvious difadvantages, he will often lofe the opportunity of a happy mood, unable to avail himfelf of thofe ani- mating returns of vivacity and attention effential to genius, but independent of the will.
Obfervations made, whjle the mind is in- flamed, are difficult in the execution, in- complete, and erroneous. Eager paflions admit no partners, and endure no rivals in their authority. The moment refledion.
14 INTRODUCTION.
or any foreign or oppofmg principle, begins to operate, they arc either exceedingly exaf- pcratcd, agitating the mind, and leaving it no Icifurc for fpeculation ; or, if they arc unable to maintain their afcendant, they be- come cool and indiflind: ; their afpccl growls dim ; and obfcrvations made during their decline arc impcrfed;. The paiTions arc fwift and evanefccnt : We cannot arreft their celerity, nor fiifpend them in the mind during pleafure. You arc moved by ftrong affe(5lion : Seize the opportunity, let none of its motions efcape you, and obferve every fentiment it excites. You cannot. While the paflfion prevails, you have no leifure for fpeculation ; and be aflured it has fuffcred abatement, if you have time to philofo- phize.
But you proceed by recolleclion. Still, however, your obfcrvations arc limited, and your theory partial. To be acquainted with tlie nature of any paiTion, we muft know by what combination of feelings it is excited ; to what temperament it is allied ; in what proportion it gathers force and fvviftnefs ; what propenfities, and what aflbciations of
INTRODUCTION. 1$
thought either retard or accelerate its impe- tuofity; and how it may be oppofcd, weak- ened, or fuppreffcd. But, if thcfe circum- ftaiices efcape the moft vigilant and ab- ilradied attention, when the mind is ac- tually agitated, how can they be rccolleded when the paffion is entirely quieted ? More- over, every paffion is compounded of inte- rior and fubordinate feelings, eflential to its exiftence, in their own nature nicely and minutely varied, but whofe diiferent fliades and 2;radations are difficult to be difcerned. To thefe we muft be acutely attentive ; to mark how they are combined, blended, or oppofcd ; how they are fuddenly extinguiili- ed, in a moment renewed, and again extin- guiflied. But thefe fleet volatile feelings, v perceived only when the mind is affeded, elude the moft dexterous and aftive me- v mory. Add to this, that an object fiig- gefted by memory is ever fainter and lefs diftin6t than an a6lual perception, efpecially if the objcA to be renewed is of a fpiritual nature, a thought, fentiment, or internal fenfation.
Even allow^ing the poffibillty of accurate
l6 INTRODUCTION.
obfervatlon, our theories will continue par- tial and inadequate ''. We have only one view of the fubjedt, and know not what af- pcd:s it may aflume, or what powers it may poiTefs in the conftitution of another. No principle has been more varioufly treated, nor has given rife to a greater number of f^'ftems, than that by which we are deno- minated moral agents, and determine the merit or demerit of human adiions. But this can fcarcely proceed from any other caufe than the diverfity of our feelings, and the neceffity we are under of meafuring the difpofitions of others by our own. Even this moral principle, though a competent judge of the virtue and propriety of human actions, is apt to miflcad us in our inquiries concerning the ftrudure and difpofitions of the mind. Defirous of avoiding the rebuke of this fcvere and vigilant cenfor, we are ready to extenuate every blameable quality, and magnify what wc approve.
In order, therefore, to red:ify our opi- nions, and enlarge our conceptions of the human mind, we muil ftudy its operations
^ Dr. Reid's Inquiry, chap. i. fc6t. 2.
INTRODUCTION. ly
in the condu6l and deportment of others : We mull mingle in ibciety, and obferve the manners and characters of mankind, according as cafual or unexpected incidents may furnilh an opportunity. But the mind, not being an objed of the external fenfes, the temper and inclinations of others can only be known to us by figns either na- tural or artificial, referring us to our own internal fenfations. Thus, we are expofed nearly to the fame difficulties as before. We cannot at pleafure call forth the objects of our refearches, nor retain them till we have examined their nature. We can know no more of the internal feelings of another than he expreffes by outward figns or lan- guage; and confequently he may feel many emotions which we are unable eafily to con- ceive. Neither can we confider human charadlers and affections as altogether indif- ferent to us. They are not mere objects of curiofity; they excite love or hatred, appro- bation or dillike. But, when the mind is influenced by thefe afFe6lions, and by others that often attend them, thejudgment isapt to be biafled, and the force of the principle
c
|8 INTRODUCTION.
we contemplate is increafed or diminlfhcd accordingly. The inquirer muft not only beware of external difficulties, but mull preferve his heart, both from angry, and from kind afFeclion. The maxim, that all men who deliberate about doubtful matters, fhould diveft themfelves of hatred, friend- ship, anger, and compaffion, is as applicable in philofophy as in politics.
Since experiments, made by reflecting on ourownminds, or by attending to the conduct of others, are liable to difficulty, and confe- qucntly to error; we fhould embrace every affiflance that may facilitate and improve them. Were it poffiblc, during the con- tinuance of a violent paffion, to feizc a faith- ful imprclfion of its features, and an exad: delineation of the images it creates in us, fuch a valuable copy would guide the phi- lofopher in tracing the perplexed and intri- cate mazes of metaphyfical inquiry. By frequently examining it, every partial confi- deration, and every feeling tending to mif- lead his opinions, would be correcled: His conception would be enlarged by difcovering paffions more or lefs vehement than his own.
INTRODUCTION. tg
or by difcovering tempers of a different co- lour. We judge of mankind by referring their aciilions to the paffions and principles that influence our own behaviour. We have no other guide, fmce the nature of the paf- fions and faculties of the mind are not dif- cernible by the fenfes. It may, how^ever, be obje(5led, that, according to this hypothefis, thofe who deduce the conducft of others from malignant paffions, and thofe who are capa- ble of imitating them, muft themfelves be malignant. The obfervation is inaccurate. Every man, unlefs his conftitution be defec- tive, inherits the principles of every pafHon : but no man is the prey of all the paffions. Some of them are fo feeble in themfelves, or rather, fo entirely fuppreffed by the af- cendant of others, that they never become principles of ad:ion, nor conffitute any part of the character. Hence it is the bufmefs of culture and education, by giving exercife to virtuous principles, and by rendering them habitual, to bear down their opponents, and fo gradually to weaken and wear them out. If we mealure the minds of others precifely by our own, as we have formed and faffiioned
C 2
20 INTlMlDlTTTON.
tlicm bv liabit and education, and make no account of feeble and decaying principles, rmr theories muft necefTarily be inadequate. I^ut, by confidering the copy and portrait of minds different from our own, and by re- flecting on thefe latent and unexerted prin- ciples, augmented and promoted by ima- gination, we may difcover many new^ tints, and uncommon features. Now, that clafs of poetical writers that excel by imitating the paffions, might contribute in this refped: to redify and enlarge the fentiments of the philofopher: and, if fo, they w^ould have the additional merit of conducting us to the temple of truth, by an eaficr and more agreeable path than of mere metaphy- fics.
We often confound the writer who imi- tates the paffions with him \\ ho only de- fcribes them. Shakefpeare imitates, Cor- neille defcribes. Poets of the fccond clafs, no lefs than thofe of the firft, may invent the moft elegant fic^tions, may paint the moft beautiful imagery, may exhibit fitua- tions exceedingly intereiling, and condurt their incidents with propriety: their ver-
INTRODUCTION. 2 1
fification may be harmonious, and, above all, their characters may be judicioufly com- pofed, partaking of no incongruous qualities, and free from the difcord of jarring princi- ples. But the end of dramatic poetry not only requires that the charac^lers be judi- cioufly moulded and aptly circumftanccd, but that every paffion be naturally cxprcfl'ed. There is certainly a wide difference bctvs een the defcription of the fallies, the repulfes, and impatience of a violent affection, whe- ther they are defcribed by the agent or the fpeclator, and their a6lual imitation and ex- preffion. But perfect imitation can never be effectuated, unlefs the poet in fome mea- fure become the perfon he reprefents, clothe himfelf with his character, affume his man- ners, and transfer himfelf into his lituation. The texture of his mind muff be exquifitely fine and delicate; fufceptible of every feel- ing, and eafily moved by every impreffion. Together with this delicacy of affection, he muff poffefs a peculiar warmth and facility of imagination, by which he may retire from himfelf, become infenfible of his actual con- dition, and, regardlcfs of external circum-
c ::
22 INTRODUCTION.
fiances, feel the very incidents he invents: Like the votaries of a pagan reUgion, he mufl worfhip idols, the works of his own hands, and tremble before the demons of his own creation. Nothing affords a flron- c^er evidence of the aclive, verfatile nature of the foul, and of the amazing rapidity of its motions, than thcfc fcemingly inconceivable and inconfiftcnt exertions.
Shakefpearc, inventing the characters of Hamlet, Macbeth, or Othello, adually felt the pafTions, and contending emotions af- cribed to them. Compare a foliloquy of Hamlet, with one of the dcfcriptions of llodrigue in the Cid. Nothing can be more natural in the circumflances and with the temper of Hamlet, than the following reflections.
O, that this too too folid flefli would melt. Thaw, and refol\ e itfelf into a dew ! Or that the Everlafting had not fix'd His cannon 'gainft felf-flaughterl O God ! O God I How weary, ftale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the ufes of this world! Fie on't ! O fie 1 'Tis an unweeded garden, That grows to feed ; things rank, and grofs in nature, PolTcfs it merely. — That it fliould come to this ! But two months dead ' nay, not fo much 3 not two:
INTRODUCTION. 2$
So excellent a king, that was, to this,
Hyperion to a fatyr : So loving to my mother.
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Vifit her face too roughly. — Heaven and earth !
Muft I remember ? Why, (he would hang on him.
As if increafe of appetite had grown
By what it fed on : and yet, within a month —
Let me not think on't — Frailty, thy name is woman'
A little month ; or ere thofe flioes were old.
With which fhe foUow'd my poor father's body.
Like Niobe, all tears. — Why flie, even llie —
O heaven ! a beaft, that wants difcourfe of reafon,
Would have mourn'd longer — married with my uncle.
My father's brother 5 but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules. Within a month —
Ere yet the fait of moft unrighteous tears
Had left the fluftiing in her galled eyes
She married. — Oh, moft wicked fpeed, to poft
With fuch dexterity to inceftuous iheets !
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
In the Cid, Rodrigue, who is the hero of the tragedy, and deeply enamoured of Chimene, is called upon to revenge a hei- nous infult done to his father by the father of his miftrefs; and he delineates the diftrefs of his fituation, in the following manner; certainly with great beauty of expreffion and verfification, and with peculiar elegance of defcription, but not as a real fufferer.
c 4
24 INTRODUCTION.
Perce jufqu' au fond clu coeur D'unc atteintc imprevue aufli bien que mortelle ; MilVrnble vengeur dune trop jufte querelle, Et malheureux. objet d'une injulle rigueur, Je denacure immobile, et mon arae abattue Cede au coup qui me tuc
This harangue would better fuit a de- fer! ptive novelift or narrator of the Itor}^ than the perfon adually concerned. Let us make the experiment. Let us change the verbs and pronouns from the firft perfon in- to the third; and, inftead of fuppofmg that Rodrigue fpeaks, let us imagine that the ftate of his mind is defcribed by a fpedator: " Pierced, even to the heart, by an unforc- *' feen, as well as mortal ftroke, the mifcr- '* able avenger of a juft quarrel, and the un- '' happy obje6l of unjuft feverity, he remahis " motionlcfs, and li'is broken fpirit y/V/i/^ to '' tlic blow that dcftroys him."
7/demeurc immobile, c\. fjii ame abattue Cede au coup qui Ic tue.
Try the foliloquy of Hamlet by the fame tcft; and, without inferting the words ** he faid," which render it dramatic, the
INTRODUCTION. 2^
change will be impoflTible. Try alfo the following lines from Virgil: they are taken from that celebrated and well-known paf- fage, where Dido expreffes to Anna the paffion Ihe had conceived for iEneas.
Quis novus hie noftris fucceffit fedibus hofpes ? Quem fefe ore ferens ! quam forti peftore et armis! Credo equidem, nee vana fides, genus elfe deorum, &c.
It may be obferved in general, that, when- ever a fpeech feems proper and intelligible with the change of perfons above mentioned, and without inferting fome fuch words as, *' he faid," or, " he replied," it is narration, it is defcription; but can fcarcely be called the language of paffion. I am aware, that fome paffages, even in Shakefpeare, may be oppofed to this obfervation. When Macbeth returns from the aiTaffination of Duncan, Lvady Macbeth tells him to carry back the daggers, and fmcar with blood the faces of the king's attendants, meaning to faften upon them the fufpicion of the murder. Macbeth replies,
I'll go no more ; — I am afraid to think what I have donej Look on't again, I dare not.
26 INTRODUCTION.
Is this the diredl and natural cxpreflfion of fear? If fo, it bears hard againfl the forego- ing remark. But let us reflecfl attentively. Fear is not the prefent paflion in the mind of Macbeth: a tranfient defire of another kind for a moment engages him, namely, the defire of giving Lady Macbeth a reafon for not returning into the king's apartment. The man who tells you, " I am exceedingly angry, or exceedingly in love, and therefore I ad; in fuch or fuch a manner," docs not in thefc words fpcak the language either of love or of anger, but of his defire of giving you a reafon, or of his making an apology for his behaviour. You believe him, be- caufe ycu trull in his veracity, and becaufe you fee correfponding evidence in his de- portment; not that the words, '' I am an- gry, or I am in love," independent of tones of voice, looks or geftures, exprefs either love or anger.
It may alfo be objeded that : "The excellence of dramatic writing confifts in its imitating with truth and propriety the man- ners and paflTions of mankind. If, therefore, a dramatic writer, capable of defcribing and
INTRODUCTION. 27
of narrating with elegance and propriety, is nevcrthclefs incapable of expreffing the lan- guage and fentiments of paffion, he fails in the fole end and purpofe of his art, and of confequence can afford no pleafure. Con- trary to this, many tragedies are feen and read with uncommon applaufe, and excite even the livelieft feelings, which, if tried by the above-mentioned ftandard, would be reckoned defed;ive." To remove this objection, it may be obferved, that thofe Sympathetic emotions that intereft us in the happinefs and mifery of others, and yield us the higheff pleafure at theatrical entertainments, are, by the wife and be- neficial inftitutions of nature, exceedingly apt to be excited : fo apt, that if any con- comitant circumftances, though of a differ- ent kind, whether melancholy or joyful, draw the mind from its ufual ff ate of indifference, and difpofe it to a ffate of extreme fenfibi- lity, the lligheft incident or expreffion will call forth our fympathy. Now, in dramatic performances, many things concur to throw the mind into a fufceptible and tender mood, and chiefly, elegance of expreffion, harmony
28 INTRODL'CTION.
of compofition, and delightful imagerj. Thcfc working upon the mind, and being all united to imprefs us with the notion of certain events or circumftances very inte- reiting to perfons of certain qualities and difpofitions, our imaginations are immediate- ly Simulated and in action ; we figure to ourfelves the characters which the poet in- tends to exhibit; we take part in their in- terelts, and enter into their paffions as warm- ly as if they were naturally cxpreiTed. Thus it appears, that it is often with beings of our own formation that wc lament or rejoice, imagining them to be the workmanfliip of another. And indeed this delufion will ever prevail with people of warm imaginations, if what the poet invents be tolerable, or not worfe than infipid. VV^e may alfo obfervc, that we are much more fubjedl to delufions of this kind when dramatic performances are exhibited on the ftasre, and have their cfFctft fupportcd by the fcenery, by the dreiTes of the players, and by their aclion.
If this remark, that our own imaginations contribute highly to the pleafure we receive from works of invention, be well founded.
INTRODUCTION. 2^
it will explain the reafon why men of accu- rate difcernmcnt, and of undcrllandingsfut- ficiently polilhed, often differ widely frOm one another, and, at times, widely from themfelves, in their opinions concerning works of tafte. The imagination is a faculty of a nature fo verfatile and fo variable, tliat at one time it is animated and fruitful of images; at other times, it is cold, barren, and languifhing. At a fruitful moment, it will embellifh the dulleft performance with the moft brilliant ornaments; it will impofe them on you as genuine, and fo entice you to beftow applaufe. At other times, it will be niggardly, even of the affiftance that is neceffary. Hence, too, the reafon why cri- tics of a(5live imaginations are generally dif- pofed to favour. Read a performance, even of flight and fuperficial merit, to a perfon of lively fancy, and he will probably applaud. Some circumftances ftrike him : they alTem- ble a group of images in his own mind ; they pleafe him, and he perceives not, in the ardour of the operation, that the picture is his own, and not that of the writer. He examines it coolly: the phantom that
^O INTRODUCTION".
pleafed him vaniflies: he is afhamed of the dehght it yielded him, and of the praifes he fo freely beftowed. It follows alfo, on the fame principle, that men of lively imagina- tions receive more exquifite pleafure from works of fancy, than thofe whofe inventive faculties are not fo vigorous. Upon the w hole, it is manifeft, that a great portion of the delight we receive from poetry and fine writing, depends no Icfs on the ftate of our own minds, than on the intrinfic excellence of the performance. It is alfo obvious, that, though the dcfcription of a paffion or affec- tion may give us pleafure, whether it be dcfcribed by the agent or the fpedlator, yet, to thofe who would apply the inventions of the poet to the ufes of philofophical invcfti- gation, it is far from being of equal utility with a paffion exa(flly imitated. The talent of imitation is very different from that of defcription, and far fuperior*.
No writer has hitherto appeared who
* The Author of the Elements of Criticifm is, if I mif- take not, the firfl writer who has taken any notice of this important diP.inftion between the imitation and defcription of pallion.
7
INTRODUCTION. 3I
poflefles in a more eminent degree than Shakefpearc, the power of imitating the paffions. All of them feem familiar to him; the boifterous no lefs than the gentle; the benign no lefs than the malignant. There are feveral writers, as there are many players, who are fuccefsful in imitating fomc particular paffions, but who appear ftiff, aukward, and unnatural, in the exprefiion of others. Some are capable of exhibiting very ftriking reprefentations of refolute and intrepid natures, but cannot fo eafily bend themfelves to thofe that are fofter and more complacent. Others, again, feem full of amiable affedlion and tendernefs, but cannot exalt themfelves to the boldnefsofthe hero, or magnanimity of the patriot. The genius ofShakefpeare is unlimited. Poffeffmg ex- treme fenfibility, and uncommonly fufcep- tible, he is the Proteus of the drama; he changes himfelf into every charad;er, and enters eafily into every condition of human nature.
O youths and virgins ! O declining eld ! O pale misfortune's Haves ! O ye who dwell
k
32 INTRODUCTION.
Unknown with humble quiet ! Ye who wait In courts, and till the golden feat of kings : O fons of fport and plcafure ! C) thou wretch That weep'ft for jealous love, and the fore wound Of confcious guilt, or death's rapacious hand. That left thee void of hope ! O ye who mourn In exile ! Ye who thro' th' embattled field Seek bright renown; or who for nobler palms Contend, the leaders of a public caufc ! Hath not his faithful tongue Told you the fnfliion of your own eftate, The fecrets of your bofom*?
Many dramatic writers of* different ages are capable, occafionally, oF breaking out with great fervour of genius in the natural lanii^uasce of ftrono; emotion. No writer of antiquity is more diftinguillied for abihties of this kind than Euripides. His whole heart and foul feem torn and agitated by the force of the paffion he imitates. He ceafes to be Euripides; he is Medea; he is Orelles. Shakefpeare, however, is molt eminently- diftinguillied, not only by thele occafional fallies, but by imitating the paffion in all its afpe(^s, by purfuing it through all its wind- ings and labyrinths, by moderating or ac- celerating its impetuofity according to the
* Akenfide.
INTRODUCTION. g^
influence of other principles and of external events, and finally by combining it in a ju- dicious manner with other paifions and pro- penfities, or by fetting it aptly in oppofition. He thus unites the two eiTential powers of dramatic invention, that of forming charac- ters; and that of imitating, in their natural expreffions, the pafTions and afFedlions of which they are compofed. It is, therefore, my intention to examine fome of his re- markable characters, and to analyze their component parts. An exercife no lefs adapt- ed to improve the heart, than to inform the underflanding. My intention is to make poetry fubfervient to philofophy, and to employ it in tracing the principles of human "condud:. The defign furely is laudable: of the execution, I have no right to deter- mine.
D
k
( 35 )
ESSAY I.
ON THE
CHARACTER of MACBETH.
The human mind, in different {ituations and circumftances, undergoes many extraor- dinary changes, and aflumes a variety of dif- ferent afpecfls. Men of gaiety and cheerful- nefs become referved and unfocial : the bene- ficent temper, lofmg its kindnefs and compla- cency, becomes morofe and uncomplying: the indolent man leaves his retirement: the man of bufmefs becomes inactive : and men of gentle and kind afFed:ions acquire habits of cruelty and revenge. As thefe changes affedl the temper, and not the faculties of the mind, they are produced by irregular and outra- geous paffions. In order, therefore, to ex-
3^ THE CHARACTER
plain any unufual alteration of temper or chara(5lcr, we muft confider the nature of the ruling paffion, and obferve its tendency. In the character of Macbeth, we have an inflance of a very extraordinary change. In the following paiTages we difcover the com- plexion and bias of his mind in its natural and unperverted ftate.
Brave Macbeth, (well he deferves that name) Difdaining fortune, with his brandifli'd fteel, "Which fmok'd with bloody execution. Like Valour's minion, carved out his paffage.
The particular features of his charadler are more accurately delineated by Lady Macbeth.
Glamls thou art, and Cawdor; — and flialt be "What thou art prorais'd — Yet do I fear thy nature j It is too full o'the milk of human kindiiefs, To catch the nearefl way. Thou would'ft be great j Art not without ambition ; but without The illncfs ihould attend it.
He is exhibited to us valiant, dutiful to his Sovereign, mild, gentle, and ambitious: but ambitious without guilt. Soon after,
OF MACBETH. 37
we find him falfe, perfidious, barbarous, and vindi(5live. All the principles in his confti- tution feem to have undergone a violent and total change. Some appear to be altogether reduced or extirpated: others monftroufly overgrow^n. Ferocity is fub- ftituted inftead of mildnefs, treafonable in- tention, inftead of a fenfe of duty. His am- bition, how^ever, has fufFered no diminution: on the contrary, by having become exceed- ingly pow^erful, and by rifmg to undue pre- tenfions, it feems to have vanquifhed and fupprelTed every amiable and virtuous prin- ciple. But, in a conflift fo important, and where the oppofing powers were naturally vigorous, and invefted with high authority, violent muft have been the ftruggle, and obftinate the refiftance. Nor could the pre- vailing paffion have been enabled to contend with virtue, without having gained, atfome former period, an unlawful afcendency. Therefore, in treating the hiftory of this re- volution, we fhall confider how the ufurping principle became fo powerful ; how its pow- ers were exerted in its conflidl with oppof-
38 THE CHARACTER
ing principles; and what were the confe- quences of its vid:ory.
I. The growth of Macbeth's annbition was fo imperceptible, and his treafon fo un- expedled, that the hifhorians of an ignorant age, little accuftomed to explain uncommon events by fimple caufes, and ftrongly addi(ft- ed to a fuperftitious belief in forcery, afcrib- ed them to preeternatural agency. Shake - fpeare, capable of exalting this fiction, and of rendering it interefting, by his power over the "terrible graces," has adopted it in its full extent. In this part, therefore, having little affiftance from the poet, we lliall hazard a conjecture, fupported by fomc fad:s and ob- fervations, concerning the power of fancy, aided by partial gratification, to invigorate and inflame our palTions.
All men, who poflefs the feeds of violent paffions, will often be confcious of their in- fluence, before they have opportunities of indulging them. By nature provident, and prone to reflexion, we look forward with cagernefs into fiiturity, and anticipate our enjoyments. Never completely fatisfied
k
OF MACBETH. 39
with our prefent condition, we embrace in imagination the happinefs that is to come. But happinefs is relative to conftitution: it depends on the gratification of our defires : and the happinefs of nlankind is various, bccaufe the defires of the heart are various* The nature, therefore, of anticipated enjoy- ment is agreeable to the nature of our de- fires. Men of indolent difpofitions, and addi6led to pleafure, indulge themfelves in dreams of feflivity. Thofe, again, who have in their conflitution the latent prin- ciples of avarice, adminifler to the gratifi- cation of their fatal propenfity, by reveries of ideal opulence. Dignity, parade, and magnificence, are ever prefent to the ambi- tious man: laurels, if he purfue literary fame: battles and conquefl, if his genius be warlike. Whoever would cultivate an acquaintance with himfelf, and would know to wrhat pafTions he is mofl expofed, fliould attend to the operations of fancy, and by remarking the objeds flie with greatefl plea- fure exhibits, he may difcern, with tolerable accuracy, the nature of his own mind, and the principles mofl likely to rule him. Ex-
4-0 THE CHARACTER
curfions oftlie imagination, except in minds idly extra\'agant, are commonly governed by the probability of fuccefs. They are alfo regulated by moral confiderations*: for no man indulging vifions of ideal felicity, em- brues his hands in the blood of the guiltlefs, or fuffers himfclf in imagination to be un- juft or perfidious. Yet, by this imaginary indulgence, harmlefs as it may appear, our paffions become immoderate. This is ma- nifeft from the following obfervations.
When the mind is agitated by violent pafTions, the thoughts prefented to us are of a correfponding character. The angry man thinks of injury, perfidy, or infult. Under the influences of fear, we figure to ourfclves dangers that have no reality, and tremble without a caufef . Minds, differently fa-
* Sec Hiitchcfon on the origin of our ideas of beauty and harmony.
f Vitas hinnulco me fimilis, Chloe, Quaercuti pavidam montibus aviis Matrem, non fine vano Aurarum, et lilvae mctu. Nam feu niobilibus vitis iuhorruit Ad ventum foliis, feu virides rubum Dimovere lacertae, Et corde et genibus trcmit. Hob.
OF MACBETH. 4I
Ihloned, and under the influence of different paffions, receive from the fame objects dif- limilar imprcffions. Exhibit the fame beau- tiful valley to the mifer and to the poet. Elegant and lovely images arife in the poet's mind: Dryads prefide in the groves, and Naiads in the fountains. Notions of wealth feize the heart of the mifer: he computes the profits of the meadows and cornfields, and envies the pofiefi^or. The mind, dwelling with pleafure on thefe images that coincide with its prcfent humour, or agree with the prefent paffion, embellillies and improves them. The poet, by figuring additional lawns and mountains, renders the landfcape more beautiful, or more fublime: but the mifer, moved by no compaffion for Wood- nymphs or Naiads, lays wafte the foreft, changes the windings of the river into a dead canal, and folicits wealth at the ex- pence of beauty. Now, as the influences of pafiTion govern and give a train to our thoughts, thefe, in return, nourifh and promote the paffion. If any objed: appears to us more ftriking and excellent than ufual, it com- municates a ftronger impulfe, and excites a
4Z THE CHARACTER
keener and more vehement deflre. When the lover difcovers, or fancies he difcovers, new charms in the character of his miftrefs, if her complexion glow^ with a fofter blufh, if her manner and attitude feem more en- gaging, his love waxes ardent, and his ardour ungovernable. Thus imaginary reprefen- tations, more even than real objed:s, Simu- late our defires; and our paflions, adminifter- ing fewel to themfelves, are immoderately inflamed. Joy is in this manner enlivened; anger more keenly exafperated; envy burns with additional malice; and melancholy, brooding over images of mifery and dif- appointment, is tortured with anguifh, and plunges into defpair.
Thus far ambition may be invigorated, } aflifted merely by a lively temperament, and ■ a glowing imagination. Prompted by its In- citements, we engage with eagernefs In the career of glory; and, with perfcvering cou- rage, undergo fatigue and encounter danger. But though imagination may dazzle and In- flame, the prudent man, in the purfuit of honours, limits his defires to objed:s within his reach. The moil adlivc fpirit, confined
OF MACBETH. 43
to a narrow fphcrc, is never defirous of un- attainable glory, but is ambitious of being diftinguillicd in his condition. If, however, by fuccecding in inferior enterprizes, higher objects are exhibited to us, our ambition, by partial gratification, becomes more violent than before. In producing this effedl, the following caufes co-operate.
The temporary and accidental emotion of joy, occafioned by fuccefs, enlivens and animates the paffion upon which it depends. You love your friend; he returns unexpe6l- cdly from a long journey; your joy on hiss arrival heightens your affedlion, and you re- ceive him with tranfport.
Non ego fanius Bacchabor Edonis* recepto Dulce mihi furere eft amico. Hok,
The new object appearing more excellent than the former, excites a livelier appetite. To the churchman, who was meek and moderate in purfuit of inferior dignity, ex- hibit a mitre, and you fpoil his peace.
The proximity of the objccl, becaufe nothing intermediate diverts our attention,
44 THE CHARACTER
quickens and promotes the paflion. The profligate heir, who longs for the death of an avaricious father, is more eagerly impa- tient during his laft moments, than during the courfe of a tedious life. And the nearer the hour of allignation approaches, the heart of the lover throbs with a keener and more intenfe defire. To thefe illuftrations the following paflTage from a celebrated* hif- torian, is extremely appofite: " James, har- *' raffed with his turbulent and fad:ious fub- " jeds, caft a wifliful eye to the fucceffion " of England; and, in proportion as the *' queen advanced in years, his defire increaf- " ed of mounting that throne."
Succcfs, as it produces vanity, invigorates our ambition. Eminently or unexpectedly diftinguifhed, w^c fancy ourfclves endowed with fuperior merit, and entitled to higher honour. Alexander, after the conqucft of Perfia, grew more vain and more extrava- gantly ambitious than before.
In this manner, by joy, by the profpe6l, and proximity of a more fplendid objedl, and by vanity, all depending on partial
* Hume.
OF MACBETH. 4^
gratification, the paffion is fwelled, and be- comes excelTive. Macbeth having repelled the inroads of the illanders, and having van- quifhed a numerous hoft of Norwegians, is rewarded by his king, and revered by his countrymen. He rifes to unexpected ho- nours : his ambition, foftered by imagination, and confirmed by fuccefs, becomes immo- derate: and his foul, elevated above mea- fure, afpircs to fovereignty.
II. Every variation of characfler and paf- fion is accompanied with correfponding changes in the fentiments of the fpeclator. Macbeth, engaged in the defence of his country, and purfuing the objects of a laud- able ambition, is juftly honoured and ef- teemed. But the diftracflion which enfues from the conflift between vicious and vir- tuous principles renders hiin the object of compaffion mixed with difapprobation.
The chief obflacle in the way of our felfilh defires proceeds from the oppofition of our moral faculties. Inverted by na- ture with fupreme authority to judge con- cerning the paffions of mankind, they exert
4.6 THE CHARACTER
thcmfelves in rcltraining their impetuofity, and in prefcrving the harmony of the in- ternal fyftem. Accordingly, when the no- tion of feizing the crown is fuggefted to Macbeth, he appears Ihockcd and aftonifh- ed. Juftice and humanity fliudder at the defign : he regards his own heart w ith amazement : and recoils with horror from the guilty thought.
This fupernatural foliciting Cannot be ill j cannot be good. If ill. Why hath it given me earneft of fuccefs. Commencing in a trutli? I am Thane of Cawdor, If good, why do I yield to that fuggeftion, Whofe horrid image doth unfix my hair, And make my feated heart knock at my ribs, Againll the ufe of nature ?
Though virtuous principles appear in this inftancc to predominate, his ambition is not rcpulfcd. The means of gratifying it feem fliocking and impracticable : and he abandons the entcrprize, without re- nouncing the palTion. The paffion con- tinues vehement : it perfeveres with obftl- nacy: it harafles and importunes him. He {IIU dcfircs : but, deterred by his moral
7
OP MACBETH. 47
feelings, he is unable to proceed dire(^ly, and indulges romantic willies.
If chance will have me King, why, chance may crown me. Without my ftir.
It appears from this and fome following paflages, that, in agony, and diftraded with contending principles, hefitating and irrefo- lute, anxious for the event, but afraid of promoting it, he had abandoned the defign of murdering Duncan, and had formed fome extravagant exped:ation of inheriting the crown by right of fucceilion. Thus he recovers fome portion of his tranquillity.
Come what, come may. Time and the hour runs thro' the rougheft day.
He enjoys an interval of compofure till an unexpeded obftacle rouzes and alarms him.
King. My plenteous joys, Wanton in fulnefs, feek to hide themfelves In drops of forrow, — Sons, kinfmen, Thanes, And you whofe places are the neareft, know. We will eftablilh our eftate upon
48 THE CHARACTER
Our eldeft, Majcolm ; whom we name hereafter The prince of Cumberland.
The furprize, and the uneafy fenfation ex- cited by the perception of difficulty, agitate the mind of Macbeth, and their emotions coinciding with his ambition, renew and increafe its violence.
The prince of Cumberland ! — ^That Is a ftep, On which I muft fall down, or elfe o'erleap. For in my way it lies.
But confcience and his humanity are again alarmed, again interfere, -and fliew him the horror of his defigns.
Stars, hide your fires. Let not light fee my black and deep defires.
Habituated paffions poflcfs fuperior advan- tages over thofc oppofite principles which operate by a violent and fuddcn impulfe. For, fo delicate is the conftitution of the human mind, that lively feelings, unlefs they form the temper by being confirmed by adion, arc enfeebled by repetition and frequent exercifc. The horror and aver-
OF MACBETH. 49
fion excited by enormous wickedncfs, un- lefs we a<5l in conformity to them, " * are *' mere paffive impreffions, which, by be- " ing repeated, grow weaker;" and though their refiftance againft an habituated paf- fion be animated, it is of fliort duration. They fubfide: they are overwhelmed; but not extinguifhed. Macbeth, in the follow- ing conference, appears reconciled to de- figns of treafon: he can think of them calm- ly, and without abhorrence : and all the op- pofition he has henceforth to encounter, will arife, not from feeling, but from re- flecflion.
Macb. My deareft love ! Duncan comes here to-night.
La. Macb. And when goes hence ?
Macb. To-morrow, as he purpofes.
La. Macb. O, never Shall fun that morrow fee,
Macb. We (hall fpeak further.
Inward contention of mind naturally pro- vokes foliloquy. The reafon of this ap- pearance is obvious. In the beginning of life, feeble and unable to affift ourfelves,
* Butler's Analogy, Part I. chap. v. £
ii^
\
48
THE CHARACTER
Our eldeft, Malcolm 5 vhom we name hereafter The prince of Cumberland.
The furprize, and the uneafy fenfation ex- cited by the perception of difficulty, agitate the mind of Macbeth, and their emotions coinciding with his ambition, renew and increafe its violence.
The prince of Cumberland ! — That is a flep, On Avl;ich I muft fall down, or elfe o'erlcap, For in my way it lies.
But confcience and his humanity are again alarmed, again interfere, -and fliew him the horror of his defigns.
Stars, hide your fires. Let not light fee my black and deep defires.
Habituated paffions poiTefs fuperior advan- tages over thofe oppofite principles which operate by a violent and fudden impulfe. For, fo delicate is the conftitution of the human mind, that lively feelings, unlefs they form the temper by being confirmed by adion, are enfeebled by repetition and frequent cxercife. The horror and aver-
1
^v^X^^f^*^^^^^
•' kV:
f r
mwA ,
OF MACBETH. 49
fion excited by enormous wickednefs, un- lefs we ad: in conformity to them, " * are '* mere paffive impreffions, which, by be- " ing repeated, grow weaker;" and though their refiftance againft an habituated paf- fion be animated, it is of fhort duration. They fubfide: they are overwhelmed; but not extinguished. Macbeth, in the follow- ing conference, appears reconciled to de- figns of treafon: he can think of them calm- ly, and without abhorrence : and all the op- pofition he has henceforth to encounter, will arife, not from feeling, but from re- fled;ion.
MacB. My deareft love 1 Duncan comes here to-night.
La. Mad. And when goes hence?
Mad. To-morrow, as he purpofes.
La. Mad. O, never Shall fun that morrow fee.
Mad. We fhall fpeak further.
Inward contention of mind naturally pro- vokes foliloquy. The reafon of this ap- pearance is obvious. In the beginning of life, feeble and unable to affift ourfelves.
* Butler's Analogy, Part I. chap. v. £
50 THE CHARACTER
we depend entirely upon others ; we are conftantly in fociety; and, of courfe, if we are afFeded by any violent emotions, we are accuftomed to utter them. Confe- quently, by force of aflbciation and habit, when they return exceflivc on any future occafion, impatient of reftraint, they will not be arrellcd by refled:ion, but vent themfelves as they were wont. We may obferv^e, in confirmation of this remark, that children are often prone to foliloquy : and fo are men of lively paffions. In chil- dren, the affociation is vigorous and entire: in men of lively pafTions, habits are more tenacious than with men of a cooler tem- perament. When the contending princi- ples are of equal energy, our emotions are uttered in broken and incoherent fen- tences, and the difordered ftate of our mind is expreflcd by interrupted gcftures, abfencc of attention, and an agitated de- meanour.
Banquo. Look how our partner's rapt.
La. Mticb. Your face, ray Thaue, is as a book, where men
May read Ibange matters. To beguile the time.
Look like the time.
OF MACBETH. ^l
But, when the inward diforder proceeds from the violence of paffion, unoppofed by internal feelings, and thwarted only by external circumftances, defirous of fuccefs, doubtful concerning the means, delivered from oppofmg principles, and capable of re- fleding, without abhorrence, on intended injury, our foliloquies, if we are difpofed to them, are more coherent. Macbeth, rea- foning anxiouily concerning the confe- quences of his deiign, refled:ing on the opi- nions of mankind, on the hatred and infa- my he mufh incur, and on the refentment he muft encounter, overcome by fear, re- linquifties his undertaking.
If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly : if the alTaflination Could tramel up the confeqnence, and catch With his furceafe, fuccefs ; that but this blow Might be the Be-all and the End-all Aere, But /lere, upon this bank and Ihoal of time : ■ We'd jump the life to come.— But, in thefe cafes. We flill have judgment /rere; that we but teach Bloody inftruaions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor : this even-handed juftice Commends the ingredients of our poifon'd chalice To our own lips. He's here in double truft : Firft, as I am his kinfman and his fubjed,
E Z
v
53 THE CHARACTER
Strong both againft the deed; then, as his hoft,
Who ftiould againlt his murth'rer fliut the door.
Not bear the knife myfelf. Befides, this Duncan
Hath borne his faculties fo meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead, like angels, trumpet-tongu'd, againft
The deep damnation of his taking off:
And pity, like a naked new-bom babe.
Striding the blali, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd
Upon the fightlefs couriers of the air.
Shall blow the horrid deed in ev'ry eye.
That tears fhall drown the wind. —
We will proceed no further in this bufinefs :
He hath honour'd me of late ; and I have bought
Golden opinions from all forts of people,
Which fhould be worn now in their neweft glofs,
Not caft alide fo foon.
Thus, the irregular paffion is again re- pulfcd : yet fymptoms of the decay of vir- tue are manifeft. Immediate inftindiive averfion, in cafes of cenfure, accompanies the decifions of our moral faculty : and thofe who are deterred from crimes, merely by the dread of punifliment, and a regard to the opinions of mankind, betray a vitiated and depraved conllitution *. The lively feelings, oppofed to ambition, unable, by the vivacity
* Tu nihil adraittes in te formidine pocnae ; Sit fpes falleudi ; mifcebis facra prufanis. Hok.
OF MACBETH. g$
of their firflimpreffion, to extirpate the habit, languilh, and are enfeebled. The irregular paffion, Hke the perfevering Fabius, gathers flrength by delay: the virtuous principle, like the gallant, but unfupported Hannibal, fuffers diminution, even by fuccefs. Thus, it is manifeft, that the conteft between the obftinacyofan habituated paffion, and the ve- hemence of an animated feeling, is unequal; and that there is infinite danger even in the apparently innocent and imaginary indul- gence of a felfifh paffion. The harmony of ] the internal fyftem is nicely adjufted; and / the exceffive tenfion or relaxation of any of the parts produces irregular and difcordant tones.
The opinions of mankind are variable: for nations and communities, no lefs than individuals, are liable to prejudice. Parti- cular emergencies and prepoffeffions miflead the judgment; and wg applaud, at one time, what we blame at another. A fyftem ol conduct, founded on the opinion of others, is, therefore, unftable, inconfiftent, and often vicious. Macbeth, confidering the aflaffma- tion of Duncan as a deed deferving puniih-
^4 THE CHARACTER
ment, is deterred from his enterprize; but, reflecting upon it as an event which he de- iired, but durfl not accomphih, his courage is queflioned, and his honour impeached. When the fenfe of honour is corrupted, vir- tue expires. Influenced by fatal prejudices, ) and flattering himfelf with the hope of im- punity, he finally determines himfelf, and engages to execute the black defign.
La. Macb. Art thou afeard To be the fame in thine own a£t and valour. As thou art in defirc? Would'ft thou have that, Which thou efleem'ft the ornament of life. And live a coward in thine own eftecm? Letting I dare not wait upon Iivou/d?
Macb. Pr'ythee, peace : I dare do all that may become a man.—* If we ihould fail !
La. Macb. We fail ! But fcrew your courage to the flicking place, And we'll not fail. When Duncan is afleep, &c.
Macb. I'm fettled, and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.
In the natural and healthful ftate of the
mind, all its operations are regular and cor-
j re6l. The external organs of the fenfes,
' correfponding with memory, prcfcnt objects
J
OF MACBETH. 55
to the underfiianding; and we regulate our ' adlions according to the notices they com- municate. But, when the mind is feized and occupied by violent paffions, its ope- rations are difturbed, and the notices we receive from the fenfes are difregarded. The foldier, in the field of battle, eager to fignalize his valour, perceives not that he is wounded, till he falls. The prieils of Cybele, ad:uated by wild enthufiafm, in- flicted wounds on their own bodies, and feemed infenfible of the pain. In like man- ner, the notices communicated to the foul of Macbeth, agitated and fliaken by tumul- tuous paffions, are wild, broken, and inco- herent: and reafon, beaming at intervals, heightens the horror of his diforder.
Is this a dagger which I fee before me. The handle toward my hand ? Come let r^e clutch
thee: — I have thee not ; and yet I fee thee flill. Art thou not, fatal vifion! fenfible .*
To feeling as to light ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind ; a falfe creation Proceeding from the heat-oppreifed brain ? I fee thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. —
^6 THE CHARACTER
Thou marflial'ft me the way that I was going j And fach an inftrument I was to ufe. Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other fenfes, Or clfe worth all the reft : — I fee thee ftill ; And on thy blade, and dudgeon, gouts of blood, Which was not fo before.— There's no fuch thing.
Let us review the conflid:. Ambition, grown habitual and inveterate in the foul of Macbeth, fuggefts the idea of aflaffina- tion. The fenfe of virtue, compaflion, and other kindred principles, are alarmed, and oppofe. His ruling paiTion is repulfed, but not enfeebled. Refigning himfclf to the hope of profiting by fome future emergency, he renounces the idea of violence. A dif- ficulty appears: it renews, rouzes, and in- flames his ambition. The principles of vir- tue again oppofe ; but, by exercife and repe- tition, they are, for a time, enfeebled: they excite no abhorrence: and he reflcdis, with compofure, on his dcfign. But, in refledl- ing, the apprehcnfion of danger, and the fear of retribution alarm him. He abandons his purpofc; is deemed irrefolute: not lefs innocent for not daring to execute what he dares to defire, he is charged with cowardice :
OF MACBETH. 57
impatient of the charge, and indignant; haraffed by fear, by the confcioufnefs of guilt, and by humanity flruggUng to refume her influence, he rufhes headlong upon his bane.
III. We come now to confidcr the effects ^^ produced in the mind of Macbeth, by the indulgence of the vicious paffion. Invefted with royalty, he has attained the fummit of his defires. His ambition is completely gra- tified. Will he, therefore, enjoy repofe? Unmolefled by anxiety and fruitlefs wifhes, will he enjoy the happinefs of his condition, and the dignity he has fo dearly purchafed? Or will the principles of virtue that oppofed his preferm,ent, baffled and put to fliame, fubmit, without murmuring, to the yoke; and, unable to recal the pafl, acquiefce, and be filent?
All cafes of internal confli6l and common, tion fuppofe vigorous and oppofmg princi- ples. But principles inherent in our con- ftitutions are feldom extirpated. Suppofe them vanquifhed. The contending paffion is gratified. A paffion, when gratified, f
58 THE CHARACTER
ccafes to operate: it no longer exiils; and the mind is left vacant. But paffions or propenfities that have been fupprelTed by in- compatible and more powerful principles, flill remain in the mind; and when oppo- fition is removed, they arife and refume their llation. The profligate, hurried away by unruly appetites, plunges into every fpecies of excefs: and when his dcfires are fated, confcience, formerly active, but difregarded, overwhelms him with deep contrition. This ftate of mind continues, till the irregular appetites recover flrength, folicit indulgence, and are obeyed. Regret follows: and his life is thus divided between the extrava- gance of illicit defire, and the defpondcncy of repentance. In Macbeth, the amiable and congenial fcntiments of humanity and com- paffion, a fenfe of duty, and a regard to the opinions of mankind, contended with ambi- tion. Their efforts were incflx^dual, but their principles w ere not extinguifhed. Formerly, they warned and intreated; but, when the deed is perpetrated, and no adverfary is oppofed to them, they return with vio- lence, they accufe and condemn. Macbeth,
OF MACBETH. 59
alarmed by his feelings, now operating with- out controul, reflects with allonifhment on his condu<5l; and his foul, darkened with horror, Ihudders and is confounded at the atrocity of his guilt. He feels himfelf the obje6l of univerfal hatred and indignation. Religious fentiments, formerly weak and difregarded, are now animated by his con- fufion; and, borrowing their complexion from his prefent temper, they terrify and overwhelm him. Amazed at the atrocity of his own proceedings, confcious of perfidy and injuftice, and of the refentment they will excite; apprehenfive, that both heaven and earth are ftirred up againft him, his fan- cy is haunted with tremendous images, and his foul diftrad:ed with remorfe and terror.
I have done the deed : — Did'ft thou not hear a noife ? — There's cue did laugh in his fleep, and one cried. Murder! That they did wake each other: I Hood and heard
them.
One cried, God hiefs us ! arid, Amen ! the other ; As they had feen me with thefe hangman's hands lAftening their fear. I could not fay, Amen,
When they did fay, God blefs us.
But wherefore could not I pronounce, Amen ^
6o THE CHARACTER
1 bad moll need of blefling, and Amen
Stuck in my throat.
Mcthought I heard a voice cry, S/ecj> no jnore !
Macbeth doth murder Jleef .
Still it cry'd. Sleep no more! to all the houfe ; Gh7nis hath murder djleep; and therefore Cawdor Shall fleep no more, Macbeth Ihall fleep no more.
Macbeth, elevated with high and afpir- ing wilhes, dazzled with the glare of royalty, and inftigated by keen ambition, entertains opinions bordering on impiety; and, thoughts of retribution in a future ftate of exiftence ieeming to affed: him flightly, he would "jump the life to come." But, having perpetrated the bloody deed, every noife appals him; and, when others prefer their orifons to heaven, he cannot fay Amen.
If impelled by irregular and headftrong paflions, we not only tranfgrefs the limits of recflitude, but are guilty of heinous adls of oppreffion and violence, reflcd:ing on the fentiments of mankind, and mcafuring them by our own, we imagine ourfclvcs no lefs abhorred by the fped:ator, than by the fuf- ferer. Confcious of our crimes, and appre- henfive of the refentment and indignation they have necefTarily excited, we dread the
OF MACBETH. 6l
punilliment they deferve, and endeavour to avoid it. By fiifpicion and diftruft, the nc- ceflary offspring of treachery, the foul is for ever tormented. Perfidious ourfelves, we repofe no confidence in mankind, and are incapable of friendfliip. We are particular- ly fearful of all thofe to whom eminent virtue and integrity have given a ftrong fenfe of injuftice, and to whom w ifdom and intrepi- dity have given power to punifh. Prompted by our fears, we hate every amiable and ex- alted character, we wage war with the vir- tuous, and endeavour, by their deftruftion, to prevent our own. So tyrannical is the dominion of vice, that it compels us to hate W'hat nature, having ordained for our bene- fit, has rendered lovely, and recommended to our efteem.
To be thus, is nothing, But to be fafely thus : — Our fears in Banquo Stick deepj and in his royalty of nature Eeigns, that, which would be fear'd. 'Tis much he dares, And, to that dauntlefs temper of his mind. He hath a wifdom that doth guide his valoui To ad in fafety. There is none but he, Whofe being I do fear : and under him My genius is rebuk'd.
62 THE CHARACTER
Whoever regards with fuitablc veneration the rights of mankind, the fancSity of friend- lliip, and the duty we owe to legal authority ; whoever with thefe, poflciTcs a heart fufcep* tible of tcndernefs and of compaflion, will have a higher fcnfe of injury and injuftice than men of colder complexions, and lefs llrongly impreflcd with the importance of focial duties. Therefore, if a man of un- common fenfibility, adorned with amiable and beneficent difpofitions, milled by fome pernicious appetite, commits ads of cruelty and opprcflion, he will be more apt, by re- flefting on his own condud:, to conceive the refentmcnt and indignation it excites, than men of a different temper. Refle<fling on the companion and rcfentment that would have arifen in his own mind, on the view of crimes fimilar to thofe he has himfelf perpetrated, he becomes afraid of the punifh- ment he would himfelf have inflidcd. Thus, inftigated by his fears, and, imagining him- felf univerfally hated, he conceives a fcnti- ment of univerfal hatred : and, as his fears arc exactly proportioned to his feelings and fenfibility, fo are his hatred and malevolence. 8
OF MACBETH. 63
In like manner, a man of no fenfibility, of little beneficence, and little afFed:ed by feci- al obligation, carried by avarice or ambition to commit a6ts of injuftice, and having no lively conceptions, from his own feelings, of the refentment he has excited, will, con- fequently, be lefs afraid of mankind, and of courfe, lefs violent in his hatred. It follows, that, in the circumftances of having pro- cured undue poffeffions by inhuman means, and of defiring to preferve them, men of in- nate fenfibility will be more cruel and fan-( guinary, than men naturally fevcre, rugged, \ and infenfible. May not thefe obfervations unravel a feeming difficulty in the hiftories of Sylla, and Augufiius, of Nero, and of He- rod ? Sylla and Augufi^s, naturally fevere, having attained the fummit of their defires, had no imaginary apprehenfions of punifli- ment, and ended their days in peace. Nero and Herod, naturally of foft and amiable difpofitions, betrayed by unruly paffions, committed adils of cruelty, were confcious of their crimes, dreaded the refentment they deferved, and, in order to avoid it, became infamous and inhuman. By confidcring
64 THE CHARACTER
Sylla and Auguftus in this light, ibme cx^ traordinary circumftances in their condud:^ much celebrated by fome modern writers, namely the refignation of the diclatorfhip by the one, and the apparent clemency of the other, after he arofe to the imperial dignity, feem divefted of their merit; and, without having recourfe to moderate or magnani- mous fentiments, may eafily be explained, as being perfedlly confonant to the general tone of their characters. Sylla refigned the did:atorfhip, without any dread of fuffer- ing punifhment for his antecedent cruelties, not becaufe he had extirpated all thofe he had injured, but becaufe his fenfibility and his power of difcerning moral excellence being originally languid, he felt no ab- horrence of his own ferocity; and there- fore, incapable of conceiving how any but real fufferers fhould feel or refent his bar- barity, he was incapable of apprehenfion. Auguftus, naturally of an unfeeling tem- per, committed inhuman a<5lions in pur- fuing the honours he afpired to, and hav- ing cftabliflied hi? authority as abfolute- ly and as independently as he wifhed for>
OF MACBETH. 6$
he had no fenfe of his former inhumanity, had no regret for the pait, and no fear of the future. Reafoning on the fame prin- ciples, we may eafily reconcile fome appear- ances of benignity and tender affed:ion in the conduct of Nero and of Herod, to their natural and original difpofitions. That, in the early part of their lives, they difcovered gentle and benign affections is unqueftioned. But their fubfequent cruelties, and particu- larly thofe related by ecclefiaftical writers, have led men, indignant of their crimes, to pronounce them, in the very ftru6lure and conftitution of their minds, monftrous and inhuman. Thus, from exceffive refentment and indignation, we lefTen the enormity of their guilt, charging that ferocity upon na- ture, which was the effed; of their own im- petuous and ungoverned paffions. Senfi- bility is in itfelf amiable, and difpofes us to benevolence: but, in corrupted minds, by infufmg terror, it produces hatred and inhu- manity. So dangerous is the dominion of vice, that being eftablifhed in the mind, it bends to its baneful purpofes even the prin- ciples of virtue. Lady Macbeth, of a cha-
66 THE CHARACTER
rad:cr invariably favagc, perhaps too favagc to be a genuine reprefentation of nature *, proceeds eafily, and without relud:ance, to the contrivance of the blackeft crimes. Macbeth, of a fofter temper, and full of the *' milk of human kindnefs," ftruggles, and is reludant. Lady Macbeth encourages and incites him. He commits the deed, trem- bles, and is filled ^^ ith horror. Lady Mac- beth enjoys perfed: compofure, is neither (hocked nor terrified, and reproves him for his fears.
Why, worthy Thane, Do you unbend your noble ftrength to think
•So brain-iickly of things ?
My hands are of your colour, but I fcorn To wear a heart fo white.
Macbeth, inftigated by his apprehenfions, meditates another a6l of barbarity. Lady Macbeth, fo far from beins: afraid of confe- quences, or from having contrived another affaffination, is even ignorant of his inten- tions; but on being informed of them, fhc very eafily acquielces.
* Elements of Ciiticifm.
OF MACBETH. 6/
ha. Macb. Come on 5 gentle my lord, Sleek o'er your rugged looks 3 be bright and jovial Among your guefts to-night.
Much. O, full of fcorpions is my mind, dear wife I Thou know'll, that Banquo, and his Fleance lives.
La, Much. What's to be done ?
Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge. Till thou applaud the deed. Come, feeling night. Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day. And with thy bloody and invifible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond. Which keeps me pale.
Macbeth, urged by his terrors, adds one a(ft of cruelty to another; and thus, inftead of vanquifhing his fears, he augments them. His agony increafes, and renders him ftill more barbarous and diftruftful.
There's not a tliane of them, but in his houfe I keep a fervant fee'd — The caftle of Macduif I will furprize, &c.
He, at length, meets with the punifhment due to his enormous cruelty.
Macdtiff. Hail, king ! for fo thou art. Behold where ftands Th' ufurper'.s curfed head,
F 3 •
68 THE CHARACTER, &C.
Thus, by confidcring the rife and pro- grefs of a ruling paffion, and the fatal con- fequences of its indulgence, we have fliown, how a beneficent mind may become inhu- man: and how thofe who are naturally of an amiable temper, if they fuffer themfelves to be corrupted, will become more ferocious and more unhappy than men of a conftitu- tion originally hard and unfeeling. The formation of our charad:ers depends confi- derably upon ourfelves; for we may improve, or. vitiate, every principle we receive from nature.
( ^9 )
ESSAY II.
ON THE
CHARACTER of HAMLET,
In analyzing the mind of Hamlet, I lliali
accompany him in his different fituations. I
fhall obferve the various principles of action
that govern him in various circumftance^; i:-
and fum up the w^hole with a general view *^'^r-^=-'^
of his chararacler. 'K\
In his firft appearance, he difcovers grief, '^
averfion, and indignation. Thefe emotions are in themfelves indifferent: they are nei- ther objedis of cenfure nor of applaufe: they are of a fecondary nature, and arife from fome antecedent paffion or affection. To judge, therefore, of their propriety, we muft examine their motives, and the temper
T
THE CHARACTER
or ftate of mind that produces them. For •we may grieve for the lofs of a vicious gra- tification, no lefs than for thofe that are vir- tuous: and we may conceive averfion at w^orthy chara6lers, no lefs than at their op- pofites. But the grief of Hamlet is for the death of a father: he entertains averfion againft an incelluous uncle, and indignation at the ingratitude and guilt of a mother. Grief is paffive: if its objec^l be irretrievably loft, it is attended with no defires, and roufes no a^ive principle. After the firft emotions, it difpofes.us to filcnce, folitude, and inac- tion. If it is blended with other paffions, its operations will pafs unnoticed, loft in the violence of other emotions, though even thefe it may have originally excited, and may fecrctly ftimulate. Accordingly, though forrow be manifeft in the features and de- meanour of Hamlet, averfion and indigna- tion are the feelings he exprefles. Averfion not only implies diflike and difapprobation of certain qualities, but alfo an apprchenfion offufferingby their communion; and, con- fequcntly, a defire of avoiding them. As it atiies on the view of groveling and fordid
OF HAMLET. yt
qualities, wc treat the characfler they belong to with contempt, rather than with indig- nation. They influence the imagination; we turn from them with difguft and loath- ing, as if they were capable of tainting uf^ by their contagion; and, if thofe that pofleis^ them difcover any expe<5lation of our regard- ing them, we are offended at their preten- fions. Claudius, endeavouring to carefs and flatter Hamlet, of whofe virtues and abilities he is afraid, thinks of honouring him by a claim of confanguinity, and is replied to with fymptoms of contempt and averfion. Yet Hamlet delivers himfelf ambiguoufly, inclined to vent his difpleafure, but unwil- ling to incur fufpicion.
King. But now, my coufin Hamlet, and my fon — Ham. A little more than kin, and lefs than kind. King. How is it, that the clouds ftill hang on you? Ham. Not fo, ray lord, I am too much i'the fun.
Averfion has no reference to any thing amiable or refpedable. Indignation is dif- ferent. It arifes, as the etymology of the words indicates, from the ftnfe of fome- thing unworthy. But the unworthy in hu-
73 THE CHABACTER
man condud: affects us by contraft: and this contrail is cither between the antecedent behaviour or imagined good character of the agent, and the particular actions that expofe him to our prefent cenfure ; or it is between the merits of a fuffercr, and the in- juries he fuftains. We fay, your deed is un- worthy, if you a6l inconfiftently with your ufual good condud:; and that you fuffer un- worthily, if behaving honourably you are defamed. The indignation of Hamlet arifes from both of thefe fources, both from the merit of his father, and from the behaviour of Gertrude. It is, therefore, vehement. But, as the circumftances of the times ren- der it dangerous for him to difcover his fen- timents, and the real ftate of his mind, he governs them, as far as the ardour of his emotions allows him, and difguifes their ex- ternal fymptoms. His indignation labours for utterance: and his reafon ftrives to re- ftrain it. He inveighs with keennefs, but ob- liquely, againft the infmcerity of Gertrude's forrow; and, in an indirect, but flinging manner, oppofes her duty to her acflual con- dud.
OF HAMLET. y^
Seems, Madam ? nay, it is j I know not feetas. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother. Nor cuftomary iuits of folemn black, Nor windy fufpiratiun of forc'd breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejefted 'haviour of the vifage. Together with all forms, modes, ihews of grief. That can denote me truly. — Thcfe, indeed, feem, For they are adions that a man might play : But I have that within, which palfeth (hew ; Thefe, but the trappings, and the fuits of woe.
The human mind, poiTefTed of diftinguilli- ed faculties, and aduated by various princi- ples, is, neverthelefs, extremely limited. As the underftanding is capable of attending but to a certain number of objeds at a time; fo the heart is never at the fame time influenced by a number of ^ iolent paffions. Perhaps there is a greater difference in the minds of men, in regard to the capacity of the under- ftanding, than in regard to that of the heart. One man, perhaps, may contemplate at the fame moment a wider range of objecfts than another, but cannot, at the fame moment, be agitated by a greater number of pafTions. It may, indeed, be a queftion, how far the capacity of the underftanding may not influ-
74 THE CHARACTER
cncc the paffions. In governing them, it may have fome effcft, as it may enable us to confider the caufe or fubjedl of our emo- tions under different afpe6ts. For, does it not often happen, that a partial view of an object renders the paflfion it excites more vio- lent? Yet, if the foul is exceedingly moved, our thoughts will not arife in their natural and common order, but will be entirely re- gulated by the prefent paflfion or flate of mind. It is a certain fact, confirmed by univerfal experience, and it may be laid down as an important axiom in the ftudy of human nature, that our notions and opi- nions are ever influenced by our prefent tem- per. Happy is the man who is often calm and difpafTionate, who, impelled by no eager appetite, nor urged by any reftlefs affection, fees every object by the unerring light of reafon, and is not impofed upon by the fal- lacious medium of his defires. Men of a fufceptible nature, the prey of fucceffive emotions, for ever happy or miferable in ex- tremes, often capricious and inconfiflent, ought to cherifh their lucid intervals, and dwell upon, and treafure up in their minds
OF HAMLET. 75
thofe maxims ot wifdorai and of virtue, that, in times of internal tumult, may afTuagc their difordcr, and adminifter peace to their fouls. In confequence of the limited nature of the human heart, ever apt to be engrofl'ed and occupied by prefent emotions, and of the power of paffion to enflave the under- ftanding, and poiTefs it with notions fuited to its own complexion; the mind of Hamlet, violently agitated, and filled with difpleafmg and painful images, lofes all fenfe of felicity. He even wiihes for a change of being. The appearance is wonderful, and leads us to in- quire into the afFed:ions and opinions that could render him fo defpondent. The death of his father was a natural evil, and as fuch he endures it. That he is excluded from fuc- ceeding immediately to the royalty that be- longs to him, feems to affecl him flightly; for to vehement and vain ambition he ap- pears fuperior. He is moved by finer prin- ciples, by an exquifite fenfe of virtue, of moral beauty and turpitude. The impro- priety of Gertrude's behaviour, her ingrati- tude to the memory of her former hufband, and the depravity Hie difcovcrs in the choice
yS THE CHARACTER
of a fuccciTor, afflicfl his foul, and caft him into utter agony. Here then is the princi- ple and fpringof all his actions: let us ob- ferve it clofely as it excites other feelings and affcd:ions, unites or contends with them, is inflamed as they are inflamed, and governed as they are governed.
It is acknowledged, even by men of cor- rupted manners, that there is in human na- ture a fuprcme, and, in many cafes, a power- ful principle, that pronounces fentence on the conduct of mankind, and, in well-re2;u- lated tempers, is a fource of anguifli or of de- light. In minds uncommonly excellent, it is more frequently a fountain of bitter fuf- fering, than of immediate pleafure. This may feem a paradox; but, by refleding on the following brief obfervations, the difliculty will difappcar. If our fenfe of virtue is ex- ceedingly refined, or, in other w ords, if our flandard of moral excellence is exceedingly elevated, comparing our own condud: with this exalted meafure, and perceiving the dif- ference, our joy on ading agreeably to the didatcs of reafon will fufFcr abatement. Add to this, that ingenuous minds, happy in the
OF ItAMLET. ^7
confcioufnefs of their integrity, yet afraid of arrogating too much honour to themfelves, will diminifh the value of their good anions rather than augment it. The fame delicacy of moral fentimcnt, the fame elevated idea of perfection, will heighten the mifery of a good man, if he accufcs himfelf of any tref- pafs. It is not the dread of punifhment, for punifhment is not always inflided : it is not the pain of infamy, for wicked deeds may- be done in fecret; but it is the rebuke of i an internal cenfor, who w ill neither be flat- I tered nor deceived.*
The man whofe fenfe of moral excellence is uncommonly exquifite, will find it a fourcc of plealure and of pain in his commerce with mankind. Sufceptible of every moral im- preffion, the difplay of virtuous actions will yield him delight, and the contrary excite
"* Oime fon io fon io. Che giova ch' io non oda e non paventi I ditti 'el mormorar pell folic volgo, O r accufe de faggi, o i iieri monl Di troppo acute o velenofo dente ? Se la mia propria confcienza immonda Altamente nel cor rimbomba e mugge.
Jl Torrifmondo dell Ta(lo.
y8 THE CHARACTER
uncarmefs. He will not receive that genuine and fuprcme felicity in aiTociatini:; with the w^ealthy and the magnificent, the gay and the loquacious, if they have nothing in their hearts to recommend them, that he will en- joy in the fociety of gentle, benevolent, and enlightened fpirits, though they are not the favourites of fortune, and have not that glit- ter and falfe brilliancy of intellectual en- dowments, that dazzle without being ufeful, yet often recommend men of llender abili- ties, and lefs virtue, to the attention of man- kind. As moral qualities are thofe, princi- pally, that produce and cement his attach- ments, the efteem he entertains for his af- fociates will be exactly proportioned to their degree of merit. To eraze an eftabliihed affediion, and fubiliitute averilon, or even in- difference, in its ftead, does violence to our nature; and to fee thofe, for whom we have contracted habits of attachment and regard, a(5l inconfiftently with their former conducfl, and fliow difpofitions of an immoral kind, and fo lay the ax to the root of our faireft friendfliips, overwhelms us with anguifh: our affliction will bear an exact proportion
OF HAMLET. 79
to our former tendernefs, and confcquently, to our belief of former merit. Add to this, that even a flight tranfgreffion in thofc wc efteem, ifitis evidently a tranfgreffion, will afFed: us more fenfibly than a grofs enormi- ty committed by a perfon indifferent to us. So delicate is your affection, and fo refined your fenfe of moral excellence, when the moral faculty is foftened into a tender attachment, that the fan<5lity and purity of the heart you love muff appear to you without a ffain. The triumph and inward joy of a fon, on account of the fame and the high defert of a parent, is of a nature very fublime and tender. His for- row is no lefs acute and overwhelming, if the fon or the parent, united to him by a con- nection fo intimate, have ad:ed unbecom- ingly, and have incurred difgrace. Such is the condition of Hamlet. Exquifitely fen- fible of moral beauty and deformity, he dif- cerns turpitude in a parent. Surprize, on a difcovery fo painful and unexpected, adds bitternefs to his forrow; and led, by the fame moral principle, to admire and glory in the high defert of his father, even this ad- 6
8o THE CHARACTER
miration contributes to his uneafincfs. Avct- fion to his uncle, arifing from the fame origin, has a fimilar tendency, and augments his anguifh. All thefe feelings and emotions uniting together, arc rendered ftill more violent, being exafperated by his recent in- terview with the Queen. Agitated and over- whelmed with afflidiing images, no footh- insT, no exhilaratins; affe^lion can have ad- million into his heart. His imatrination is vifited by no ^iflon of happinefs; and he wifhes for deliverance from his afflic- tions, by being delivered from a painful ex- iflence.
O, that this too too folid flefli would melt. Thaw, and refolve itfelf into a dew ! Or that the Evprl.ifting had not fix'd His canon 'gainft felf-llaughter. O God, O God ' How weary, ftale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to mc all the ufes of this world ! Fie on't ! O fie ! 'Tis an unweeded garden. That grows to feed ; things rank, and grofs in nature, Pollefs it merely.
By giving vent to any paffion, its violence at the time increafes. Thofe, for inllancc, who exprefs their forrow by lliedding tears.
OF HAMLET. 8l
feel themfelves at the inftant of weeping more cxceffively affected than pcrfons of a more referved and inflexible conftitution. Yet, by thus giving vent to their inquietude, they find relief, while thofe of a taciturn hu- mour are the victims of unabating pain: and, the reafon is, that the emotion, raifed to its higheft extreme, can no longer con- tinue equally violent, and fo fubfides. In cafes of this nature, that is, when emotions, by being expreffed, become excelTive, the mind pafles from general refledions to mi- nute and particular circumflances : and ima- gination, the pliant flatterer of the pafTion in power, renders thefe circumflances flill more particular, and better adapted to pro- mote its vehemence. In the foregoing lines the reflections are general ; but, in thefe that follow, they become particular; and the emotion waxing flronger, the imagination, by exhibiting fuitable images, and by fitting to its purpofe even the time between the death and the marriage, renders it exceffive.
That it fhould come to this ! But two months dead ! nay, not fo much ; not two: So excellent a king, that was, to this.
SZ THE CHARACTER
Hyperion to a fatyr ! So loving to my mother, Tliat he might not beteem the winds of heaven Vifit her face too roughly.
The emotion grows ftill more vehement^ and overflows the mind with a tide of cor- Tcfponding images.
Heaven and earth ! IMuft I remember? Why, Ihe would hang on him. As if increafe of appetite had grown By what it fed on : and yet, within a month—
Obfcne too, that Hamlet's indignation is augmented gradually, by admiration of his father, ' So excellent a king;' by abhorrence of Claudius, ' That was, to this, Hyperion to a Satyr;' and, finally, by a flinging reflec- tion on the Queen's inconflancy:
Why, ilie would hang on him, As if increafe of appetite had grown By what it fed on : and yet, within a month —
This afFefts him fo fevercly, that he flrives to obliterate the idea:
Let me not think on't —
OF HAMLET. 83
By this effort he lofcs fight, for a moment, of the particular circumilanccs that gave him pain. The impreffion, however, is not entirely effaced; and he exprelfes it by a general reflection.
Frailty, thy name is woman !
This expreffion is too refined and artificial for a mind flrongly agitated: yet, it agrees entirely with fuch a degree of emotion and penfivenefs as difpofes us to moralize. Con- fidered as the language of a man violently af- fected, it is improper: confidered in relation to what goes before and follows after, it ap- pears perfectly natural. Hamlet's laboured compofure is imperfect; it is exceedingly tranfient; and he relapfes into deeper an- guifh. Though he turned afide from a pain- ful idea, he was unable to remove the im- preflion, or vary in any confiderable degree his ftate of mind: the impreflion remained, and reflored the idea in its fuUefl vigour.
A little month ; or ere thofe Ihoes were old. With which fhe follow'd my poor father's body. Like Niobe, all tears — Why, ihe, even flie-- G 2,
84 THE CHARACTER
O heaven ! a beaft, that wants difcourfe of reafon. Would have mourn'd longer — married with my uncle. My father's brother 5 but no more like my father Than I to Hercules.
It IS alfo obfervable, that, in confequence of the increafmg violence of his emotion, the time Co dexteroufly diminifhcd from two months, to a Httle month, and to even Icfs than a httle month, is rendered as it w^ere vifible by allufions and circumftances {a ftriking, as to have in themfelves a powerful tendency to ftimulate and augment his an- guifh.
Or ere thofe fhoes were old. With which Ihe followd my poor father's body, &c.
And again:
Within a month — Ere yet the fait of mod unrighteous tears Had left the flufliing on her galled eyes — She married ?
The crifis of his agitation heightened to its extremity, is ftrongly marked in the fol- lowing exclamation:
OF HAMLET, 85
Ob, moft wicked fpeed, to poll "With fuch dexterity to inceftuous (beets I
The obfcrvation following immediatelj after, is that of a mind reflecting, with fome compofure, on effefts and confequences.
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
Hamlet in his retirement exprefles his agony without referve, and by giving it ut- terance he receives relief. In public he reftrains it, and welcomes his friends with that eafe and affability which are the refult of polilhed manners, good fenfe, and huma- nity. Influenced by an exquifite fenfe of propriety, he would do nothing unbecom- ing*: he therefore fuppreffes every emotion which others cannot eafily enter into: he ftrives, as much as poffible, to bring the tone of his own mind into unifon witjb theirs: he not only conceals his internal afiii6tion, but would appear unconcerned: he would feem fprightly, or at leaft cheerful : he even jefts with his friends; and would have his converfation, though graceful, appear eafy and
* Smitb's Theorv of Moral Sentiments,
8^ THE CHARACTER
familiar. Yet in his demeanour we dif- cover a certain air of penfivenefs and fo- Icmnity arifmg naturally from his inward uneafmefs.
Hor. Hail to your Lordfhip !
Ha7n. 1 am glad to fee you wellj Horatio, — or I do forget myfelf ?
Hor. The fame, my Lord, and your poor fervant ever.
Ham. Sir, my good friend j I'll change that name with you. And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio .' Marcellus !
Mar. My good Lord —
Ham. I am very glad to fee you ? good even, Sir. —But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg ?
Hor. A truant difpofition, good my Lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy fay fo j Nor fliall you do mine car that violence. To make it trufter of your own report Againft yourfelf. I know, you are no truant. But what is your affair in Elfcnour ? We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.
Hor. IMy Lord, I came to fee your father's funeral.
On a fubjcdl fo interefting as his father's funeral, he cannot eafily command himfelf: and, repofmg confidence in the loyalty of his friend, he does not entirely difguife his emotion. He correds it, however; and.
OF HAMLET. Bf
avoiding any appearance of violence or of extravagance, he expreiTes himfelf with hu- mour.
I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow ftudent j I think, it was to fee my mother's wedding.
Hor. Indeed, my Lord, it followed hard upon.
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio I the funeral bak'd meats Did coldly furnilli forth the marriage tables.
Yet he is too violently agitated to pre- ferve, uniformly, the character of a cheerful fatirift. He becomes ferious.
Would I had met my deareft foe in heaven. Or ever I had feen that day, Horatio.
Having expreifed himfelf ftrongly, and pofleffing a delicate fenfe of propriety, he thinks it neceflary to explain the caufe. About to preface it with an account of his father, he mentions him:
My father —
The thought ftrikes his mind with a fud- den and powerful impulfe: he paufes: for- 6
68 THE CHARACTER
gets 'his intention of explaining himfelfto Horatio: the image of his father poflcffes him: and, by the moft folemn and ftriking apoftrophe that ever poet invented, he im- prefles it on his audience,
Methinks, I fee my father ! Hor. Where, my Lord ? Hatn. Inmy mind's eye, Horatio.
Returning from his reverie, he mentions his charafter to Horatio, not by a particular detail, but in a fummary manner, as if it were the refult of a preceding enumeration. Horatio, aftonifhed at his abftraded afpecft and demeanour, and having imagined that he faw the apparition which he had him- felf beheld, by a natural and eafy tranfition, makes mention of the ghoft.
Hor. I faw him once, he was a goodly king. Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all, I fliall not look upon his like again.
Hor. My Lord, I think, I law him yefteruigiit, &c.
The whole of this fcene between Ham- let and his friends is mafterly and affect- ing. Hamlet, exceedingly moved, expreffes
OF HAMLET. 89
amazement: yet he utters nothing ver- bofe and extravagant, nor any violent excla- mation of wonder. The narration is fim- ple and the dialogue eafy. Though the prince can entertain no doubt of the veracity of his friends, he is not credulous: and he quelHons them very minutely concerning the circumftances of the prodigy. His in- quiries indicate extreme uneafmefs, and even iufpicion concerning his father's death : yet he moderates his apprehenfions, and will not indulge his fufpicion, till, by the teili- mony of his fenfes, he is affured of the fad:.
I'll watch to-night ; perchance, 'twill walk again.
I cannot quit this admirable fcene, with- out remarking the fuperiority of a natural, fimple, and unaffected dialogue, to the va- nity of figurative and elaborate did:ion. It has been of late infmuated, that poetical genius is on the decline, and that, if modern dramatic writers abound in declamation and artificial ornament inffead of the language of nature, it is owing to the languor and fterility of their invention. May not the
C)0 THE CHARACTER
caule be different? Arc we confident, if a genuine reprefentation of human paifions and manners, conveyed in artlefs unaffeded language, were exhibited to us, that we would comply with the admonitions of na- ture, and applaud as our feelings dictate ? Are we confident that the pride of learning and the vanity of poifelfing critical difccrn- ment, do not impofe on our better judg- ment, and that we are not more attentive to the harmony of a period, than to the happy utterance of pafHion ?
Hamlet, in fome of the foregoing paffages, betrays fufpicion. But fufpicion is not na- tural to a humane and ingenuous temper. It is, therefore, a blemifli, or the refult of an amiable difpofition influenced by a fenfe of virtue ?
It is a property of the imagination, when governed by any paflion or opinion, to fol- low the impulfe it has received, and to di- minifh or aggrandize any obje6l not perfect- ly know to us, according to the judgment we may have formed of it. Under the in- fluence of fear, men, tainted with fviperfli- tion, people darknefs and the night with
OF HAMLET. $1
fpeftrcs, and terrify and torment themfelves with imaginary danger. If we are threat- ened with any unufual calamity, the nature and extent of which is unknown to us, governed by our terrors, we render its Ma- ture gigantic : but, if a<5luatcd by an intre- pid fpirit, we brave and undervalue it; ap- proaching to temerity and overweening con- fidence, we are apt to lefTen it beyond its real fize. If a man of plaufible manners, dextrous in difplaying his genius and under- ftanding, fecures your efteem, and an opi- nion of his being endowed with uncommon abilities, you fet no limits to his capacity, and imagining him wifer and more ingenious than he really is, you are almoft led to revere him. To explain the caufe of thefe appear- ances is difficult: yet a conjediure may be hazarded. If we think attentively on any fubjeft, many qualities and properties that may belong to it, or viev^s of the relation it may have, are often fuggefted: though of their aclual exigence we are not aflured. Yet, if we cannot negatively affirm that they do not belong to it; on the contrary, if they are agreeable to its nature and circumftances,
9- THE CHARACTER
their fpontaneous appearance in our minds, as connected with it, affords a prefumption that they really exift. Our belief, though not abfolutely confirmed, is yet fwayed by a plaufiblc probability; and what ftrengthens it ftill the more, is a reflexion on the nar- rowncfs of our powers and the imperfection of our fenfes. We reafon from analogy, and think it impoffible that an obje6lfhould be fo completely known to us, as that we can pronounce with certainty that we are intimately acquainted with the whole of its ftrufture ; and that qualities agreeing perfectly with its nature do not refide in it, merely becaufe we do not difcern them. As we are naturally inclined to ad:ion, a ftate of doubt and fufpenfc is ever accompanied with uneafmefs; we bear uncertainty with relu^ance; we muft be refolved; and if we cannot prove a negative, even a ilight pro- bability will influence our belief. There- fore, fmce correfponding qualities and rela- tions are prefented and engage the attention of our judging faculty, we feldom hefitatc, but afcribe them immediately to the caufe or obje<5l of our emotion. If they arc urged
OF HAMLET. 95
upon us in a lively manner, the impreffion they make will have a correfponding energy ; and according to the energy of the impreffion will be our casiernefs to decide. But the manner in which objeds excite attention depends on the ftrength of the exciting paf- fion; therefore proportioned to the vehe- mence of the paffion will be our pronenefs to be convinced. It is alfo manifeft, that/ if any object is naturally difficult to be appre- hended, and is fo complex or delicate, as to elude the acutenefs of our difcernment, or the intenfenefs of our inquir}^ we are more liable to error in cafes of this nature, than in thofe things that we perceive dif- tindly. Admiring the man of abilities, we cannot define with accuracy the precife boundaries of his genius; our imagination gives him energies additional to thofe he ex- hibits; and it is agreeable to our opinion of his endowments, and confonant to our pre- fent temper, to believe him more eminent than he really is. We are apt to judge in the fame manner of the qualities of the heart. To the man who amazes us by fome feat of perfonal bravery, we afcribe every heroic
94 THE CHARACTER
virtue, though he may have never diiplayed them: and we pronounce Uberal, generous, and difmterefted, the man who furprizes us by fome uncxped:ed beneficence. On the fame principles, thofe who excite our indig- nation by their ungrateful or inhuman con- dud: are fuppofed to have trampled on every moral obligation ; and we load them not only with the infamy of the crime they have committed, but with that of the crimes of which we believe them capable. The fizc and colour, fo to cxprcfs myfelf, of the ima- ginary qualities in this manner attributed to any object, will correfpond exa6lly to the violence of the prefcnt emotion, or the obftinacy of our opinion. If our fenfe of virtue is exceedingly delicate, our indigna^ tion and abhorrence of vice will be of pro- portioned vehemence; and, according to their vehemence, will be the atrocity of the indefinite imaginary qualities afcribed to the objed: of our abhorrence. If thofe whofe condud: we cenfure or lament were former- ly efteemed by us, furprizc and forrow for our difappointment, and indignation at a change fo unexpected, will augment the
OF HAMLET. 9^
violence of our emotion, and thus magnify their offences. Hence friendlhip, changed by negletfl or ingratitude into indifference, grows into a hatred, of all others the moft virulent and full of rancour. It is not won- derful, therefore, nor inconfiffent with ami- able and kind affetftions, that Hamlet, mov- ed by an cxquifite fenfe of virtue and pro- priety, fliocked and aftonifhed at the ingra- titude and guilt of Gertrude, whom he had revered and believed incapable of any ble- mifh, Ihould become apprehenfive of the total degeneracy of her nature, and harbour fufpicions concerning his father's death. To thefe fufpicions, the fuddennefs of the event, the extraordinary and myfterious circum- ftances attending it, together with the cha- racter of the prefent king, giv-e abundant colour. Hence, with a heart full of agony, prepared for the evidence, and willing to receive it, he exclaims.
All is not well — I doubt fome foul play.
Had Hamlet been more indifferent in his regard to propriety and moral obligation, he would have entertained lefs efteem for his
96 THE CHARACTER
father, lefs averfion at Claudius, and Icfi difplcafure at the hafty nuptials of Gertrude J he would have entertained no fufpicion, nor have given way to refentmcnt: wholly void of anxiety and vexed by no uneafy reflection, he would have enjoyed the happinefs of his exalted ftation. The obfervation is painful: it infers, that the union between virtue and happinefs, fo highly vaunted of by many moralifts, is not fo independent of external incidents as their theories would reprefent. Shakcfpear was abundantly capable of ex- hibiting the progrcfs of fufpicion in the mind of Hamlet till it was ripened into belief. Yet he proceeds in a different manner, and confirms his apprehcnfions by a teftimony, that, according to the prejudices of the times, could not eafily he refuted. In this he aded judicioufly: the difficulty was worthy of the interpofition. Befides it was an interpofition perfectly agreeable to the religious opinions of an unenlightened people: and afforded an opportunity of enriching the drama with a very awful and pathetic incident. The ghoft of Hamlet, even in nations where phi- lofophy flourilhes, and in periods the leall
OF HAMLET. 97
addlded to fuperftition, will for ever terrify and appal.
I am thy father's fpirit; Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, And, for the day, confin'd to fall in tires. Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature. Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid To tell the fecrets of my prifon-houfe, I could a tale unfold, whofe lightefl. word Would harrow up thy foul 3 freeze thy yoiing blood ; Make thy two eyes, like ftars, ftart from their fpheres ; Thy knotted and combined locks to part. And each particular hair to ftand on end Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon muft not be To ears of flelh and blood.— Lift, lift, oh lift ! If thou didft ever thy dear father love, &c.
The awful horror excited by the forego- ing paflage, is accompliflied by fimplicity of expreffion, and by the* uncertainty of the thing defcribed. The defcription is indi- red:; and, by exhibiting a pidure of the ef- fects which an adlual view of the real objed: would neceifarily produce in the fped:ator, it afFeds us more ftrongly than by a pofitive enu- meration of the moft dreadful circumstances. The imagination left to her own inventions,
* Eurke on the Sublime and Beautiful. H
98 THE CHARACTER
overwhelmed with obfcurity, travels far into the regions of terror, into the abyffes of fiery and unfathomable darknefs.
The condition of Hamlet's mind becomes ftill more curious and interefting. His fuf- picions are confirmed, and beget refentment. Conceiving defigns of punifliment, and fen- fible that he is already fufped:ed by the king, he is thrown into violent perturbation. Afraid at the fame time left his afpeift or demeanor fliould betray him, and aware that his project mufl be conducted with fecrecy, his ai^itation is fuch as threatens the over- throw of his reafon. He trembles as it were on the brink of madnefs ; and is at times not altogether certain that he ads or fpeaks ac- cordincr to the dictates of a found under- ftanding. He partakes of fuch infanity as may arife in a mind of great fenfibility, from cxceflTive agitation of fpirit, and much labour of thought; but which naturally fubfidcs when the perturbation ceafes. Yet he muft acl; and not only fo, he muft ad with prudence. He mull even conceal his in- tentions: and his adual condition fuggefls a mode of concealment. Knowing that he 6
OF HAMLET. 99
muft appear incoherent and inconfiftent, he is not unwilling to have it believed, that his reafon is fomewhat difarranged; and that the ftrangenefs of his condu<5l admits of no other explanation.
Swear, as before, never, fo help you mercy ! How ftrange or odd foe'er I bear myfelf, As I, perchance, hereafter ihall think meet To put an antic difpolition on, That you, at fuch times feeing me, never fhall, (With arms encumber'd thus, or this head-lhake. Or by pronouncing of fome doubtful phrafe. As, lueUy ivell — lue knozu;~-or, ive could, an ifive tuould-. Or, ifive lift to f peak j — or, there he, an if there might j Or fuch ambiguous giving out) denote. That you know aught of me.
As itisof fignal confequence to him to have the rumour of his madnefs believed and pro- pagated, he endeavours to render the coun- terfeit fpecious. There is nothing that re- conciles men more readily to believe in any extraordinary appearance than to have it ac- counted for. A reafon of this kind is often more plaufible and impofmg than many for- cible arguments, particularly, if the theory or hypothefis be of our own invention. Ac- cordingly, Hamlet, the more eafily to deceive n 2,
lOO THE CHARACTER
the king and his creatures, and to furnifli them with an exphcation of his uncommon deportment, pracflifes his artifice on OpheHa.
Oph. O, my Lord, my Lord, I have been fo affrighted !
Tol. With what, in the name of heaven ?
Oph. My Lord, as I was fevving in my clofet, Lord Hamlet — with his doublet all unbrac'd, No hat upon his head, his ftockings foul'd, Ungarter'd, &c.
And with a look fo piteous in purport, As if he had been loofeJ out of hell, To fpeak of horrors j he comes before rae.
Pol. Mad for thy love ?
Oph. My Lord, I do not know j But, truly, I do fear it.
Tol. Whatfaidhe?
Oph. He took me by tlie wrift, and held me hardj Then goes he to the length of all his arm ; And, with his other hand, thus o'er his brow. He falls to fuch perufal of my face, As he would draw it, &c.
Tol. This is the very ecftafy of love, Whofe violent property foredoes itfelf. And leads the will to defperate undertakings, &c.
There is no change in his attachment, unlefsinfo far as other paffions of a violent and unpleafing character have aflumed a temporary influence. His afFedion is per- manent. Nor ought the pretended rudenefs
OF HAMLET. 101
and feemlng inconfiftency of his behaviour to be at all attributed to inconftancy or an intention to infult. Engaged in a danger- ous enterprize, agitated by impetuous emo- tions, defirous of concealing them, and, for that reafon, feigning his underllanding dif- ordered ; to confirm and publifli this report, feemingly fo hurtful to his reputation, he would ad: in direct oppofition to his former conduct, and inconfiftently with the genuine fentiments and affe6lions of his foul. He would feem frivolous when the occafion re- quired him to be fedate: and, celebrated for the wifdom and propriety of his condud:, he would aflume appearances of impropriety. Full of honour and afFecftion, he would feem inconfiftent: of elegant and agreeable man- ners, and poiTeffing a complacent temper, he would put on the femblance of rudenefs. To Ophelia he would ihew diflike and in- difference; becaufe a change of this nature would be, of all others, the moil: remarkable, and becaufe his affedlion for her was paf- fionate and fmcere. Of the fuicerity and ardour of his regard he gives undoubted evi- dence.
I05 THE CHARACTER
I lov'd Ophelia : forty thoufand brothers Could not, with all their quantity of love, Make up my fum.
At any rate, Hamlet's treatment of Ophe- lia, who however had " repelled his letters, and denied his accefs to her;" and who was employed as a fpy on his condud:; has been greatly exaggerated. The fpirit of that re- markable fcene in particular, where he tells her, *' get thee to a nunnery," is frequently mifunderflood; and efpecially by the players. At leaft, it does not appear to me, that the Poet's intention was, that the air and man- ner of Hamlet in this fcene fhould be per- fectly grave and ferious. Nor is there any thing in the dialogue to juflifythe tragic tone with which it is frequently fpoken. Let Hamlet be reprefented as delivering him- felf in a light, airy, unconcerned, and thought- lefs manner, and the rudenefs, fo much com- plained of, will difappear.
The tendency of indignation, and of fu- rious and inflamed refentment, is to infli6l punifhmcnt on the offender. But, if re- fentment is ingrafted on the moral faculty, and grows from it, its tenor and conduct
OF HAMLET. TO3
will be different. In its firft emotion it may breathe exceffive and immediate ven- geance: but fentiments of juftice and pro- priety interpofmg, will arreft and fufpend its violence. An ingenuous mind, thus agitated by powerful and contending principles, ex- ceedingly tortured and perplexed, will appear hefitating and undetermined. Thus, the vehemence of the vindidiive paffion w411, by delay, fuffer abatement; by its own ar- dour it will be exhaufted; and our natural and habituated propenfities will refume their influence. Thefe continue in pofleffion of the heart till the mind repofcs and reco- vers vigour: then, if the convi6lion of injury ftill remains, and if our refentment feems juftified by every amiable principle, by reafon and the fentiments of mankind, it will re- turn with power and authority. Should any unintended incident awaken our fenfi- bility, and difpofe us to a ftate of mind fa- vourable to the influence and operation of ardent and impetuous paffions, our refent- ment will revifit us at that precife period, and turn in its favour, and avail itfelf of every other fentiment and affedion. The
104 THE CHARACTER
mind of Hamlet, weary and exhaufted by violent agitation, continues doubtful and undecided, till his fenfibility, excited by a theatrical exhibition, reftores to their autho- rity his indignation and defire of vengeance Still, however, his moral principles, the fu- preme and governing powers of his conftitu- tion, condud:ing thofe paffions which they feem to juftify and excite, determine him again to examine his evidence, or endea- vour, by additional circumftances, to have it ftrengthened.
Oh, what a rogue and peafant Have am I ! Is it not monftrous that this player here. But in a fidion, in a dream of paflion, Could force his foul fo to his own conceit. That, from her working, all his vifage wann'd : Tears in his eyes, diflraftion in's afpedt, A broken voice, and his whole funftion fuiting, "With forms, to his conceit? and all for nothing? For Hecuba !
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he Ibould weep for her ? Wliat would he do. Had he the motive and the cue for paflion That I have ? He would drown the fiage with tears. And cleave the general ear with horrid fpeech, Make mad the guilty, and appal the free. Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed. The very faculties of ears and eyes.
7
OF HAMLET. lO^
Yet I
can fay nothing ; no, not for a king.
Upon whofe property, and moft dear life, A damn'd defeat was made. — I have heard.
That guilty creatures, fitting at a play, Have by the very cunning of the fcene Been ftruck fo to the foul, that prefently They have proclaim'd their malefa6tions. I'll have thefe players
Play fomething like the murder of my father Before mine uncle. I'll obferve his looks ; I'll tent him to the quick j if he do blench, I know my courfe. The fpirit that I have fcen. May be the devil ; and the deviLhath power To affume a pleafing fliape ; yea, and, perhaps, Out of my weaknefs, and my melancholy, (As he is very potent with fuch fpirits) Abufes me to damn me. I'll have grounds More relative than this.
Refolving to carry his projed: into execu- tion, he conducts himfelf with his ufual candour and underftanding. In an affair fo difficult and fo important, he does not confide in his own obfervations ; but, in order to have his judgment re<5lified, in cafe of error, and to have his refentment tem- pered, in cafe of violence, he imparts his in- tention to Horatio. Hamlet,
The expeftancy and rofe of the fair ftate, The glafs of fafhion, and the mould of form,
I06 THE CHARACTER
knew the faiK^lty of friendfhlp, its ufes, and its importance. His friend was not merely the partner of his amufements, to be his aflbciate in his pleafures, and to cherifh his vanity by adulation : he was a friend to counfel and affift him in doubtful emergen- cies, to improve his heart, and corred: his judgment. The qualities that diftinguiih Horatio, and render him worthy of the efteem of Hamlet, are not affluence, nor pa- geantry, nor gay accomplilhmcnts, nor vi- vacity, nor even wit, and uncommon genius, too often allied to an impetuous temper: he is diftinguifhed by that equanimity and in- dependence of foul which arife from govern- ed and corrected pafTions, from a found and difcerning judgment.
Horatio, thou art e'en as juft a man. As e'er my converfation cop'd withal.
Hor. Oh, my dear Lord —
Ha7n. Nay, do not think I flatter : For what advancement may 1 liope from thee. That no revenue haft, but thy good fpirits, To feed and cloath thee ■■ Doft thou hear ?
Since my dear foul was miftrefs of her choice, A.nd could of men diftinguifli her ele6lion, Sheliath feal'd thee for herfelf: for thou haft beer.
OF HAMLET. IO7
As one, in fuffering all, that fuffers nothing j
A mail, that fortune's buffets and rewards
Haft ta'en with equal thanks *.
Give me that man,
That is not paffion's flave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart.
As I do thee.
Hamlet, by means of a dramatic exhibi- tion, into which he had introduced the repre- fentation of his father's murder, having af- fured himfelf of the guilt of Claudius by his emotions, has no longer any doubt concerning the propriety of his refentment. If we are eagerly interefted in any purfuit, whether of an end, or of a mean by which fome end may be accompliflied, our fuccefs is ever attended with joy, even when the end we are purfuing is in itfelf a foundation of for- row. It frequently happens too, if anger or refentment have taken pofTeffion of the foul, and have excited a defire of ven- geance ; and if there is yet fome uncer- tainty concerning the reality or groflhefs of the injury we have received, that, till reflec- tion operates, we are better pleafed to have our fufpicions confirmed and our refentment
* In quem manca ruit femper fortuna. Hor,
I08 THE CHARACTER
gratified, than to be convided of an error, and fo be delivered from a painful paffion. Hamlet, pleafed with the fuccefsof his pro- ject, though its iflue juftified his refentment, difcovers gaiety, the natural cxprelTion and fign of joy.
Why, let the ftrucken deer go weep.
The hart ungalled play : For fome mull watch, while fome muft lleep j
So runs the world away.
No fcene was ever better imagined than that where Rofmcrantz and Guildenftern accoft the prince. The creatures of Clau- dius, and inftigated by the queen, they are employed as fpies upon Hamlet. He per- ceives it, and treats them with deferved contempt: in fuch a manner, however, as to conceal, as much as poffible, the real ftate of his mind. Yet he is teafed with their importunity : the tranfient gaiety of his hu- mour, as it proceeded from a tranfient caufe, is foon diffipated, and is fucceeded by re- flections on his condition. His anger and refentment are inflamed; and indignant that the unworthy engines of a vile ufurper fliould
OF HAMLET. I09
be thought capable of infnarhig; him, he con- founds them, by fliewing them he had dif- covered their intentions, and overwhelms them with the fupercilious dignity of his difpleafure.
Ham. Will you play upon this pipe?
Guii. My Lord, I cannot.
Ham. I pray you.
Guil. Believe me, I cannot,
Hi7m. I do befeech you.
Guil. I know no touch of it, my Lord.
Hatn. 'Tis as eafy as lying. Govern thefe ventages with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will difcourfe moil eloquent mufic. Look you, thefe are the ftops.
Guil. But thefe cannot I command to any utterance of harmony J I have not the Ikill.
Ha7n. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me ? you would play upon me ; you would feera to know my ftops ; you would pluck out the heart of my myftery J you would found me from my loweft note to the top of my compafs : and there is much mufic, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it fpeak. 'Sblood, do you think, that I am eafier to be play'd on than a pipe ?
The king, alarmed by the confcioufnefs of his guilt, and rendered wary by the fuf- picions naturally accompanying the dread of punifhment, becomes exceedingly appre- henfiveofthe defi2:ns of Hamlet. Accord-
no THE CHARACTER
ingly, he engages his mother to quefllon him, to fift his foul, and dctcd: him. Ro- flncrantz and Guildcnftern invite him to the conference. They are followed by another engine, who, with all the fawning and felf- fiifficiency of a courtier, grown grey in adu- lation and paltry cunning, endeavours, by affentation, to fecure his confidence, and fo elicit his fecret purpofe. Hamlet, fretted and exafperated with a treatment fo ill-fuited to his fentiments and underftanding, receives him with contempt; he endeavours to im- pofe on him the belief of his madnefs, but can hardly bridle his indignation.
Pol. My Lord, tlie Queen would fpeak with you, and
prefently. Ham. Do you fee yonder cloud, that's almoft in ftiape
of a camel ? Pol. By the mafs, and it's like a camel, indeed, &c.
The perfidy and guilt of Claudius are nowunqueftioned. All the circumflances of the murder are ftamped indelibly on the imagination of Hamlet. Yet, though ve- hemently incenfed, the gentle and affection- ate principles of his nature prefcrve their influence, and to the unhappy Gertrude he
OF HAMLET. In
will not be inhuman. His character, in this particular, is finely diftinguiflied from the Oreftes either of Sophocles or of Euri- pides. His gentlenefs is far more natural, and renders him more amiable and more eftimable*. His violent refentment againft his uncle is contrafted in a very ftriking manner, with the warnings of his moral faculty, and the tendernefs of his affedion,
'Tis now the very witching time of night, When church-yards yawn, and hell itfelf breathes out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood. And do fuch bitter bufinefs as the day Would quake to look on. Softj now to my mother —
0 heart, lofe not thy nature; let not ever The foul of Nero enter this firm bofom : Let me be cruel, not unnatural :
1 will fpeak daggers to her, but ufe none.
The fcene between the Queen and Ham- let has been highly celebrated, and cannot
* In favour of Orefies, it may, however, be argued, that he was compelled to put Clytemneftra to death by religi- ous motives and the voice of an oracle : Hamlet, on the contrary, was deterred by a fimilar authoiity from conceiv- ing vengeance againli the Queen, and was warned by tiie ghoft,
Not to contrive againft his mother aught.
113 THE CHARACTER
fail, even though lefs advantageoufly repre- fcnted than by a Garrick and a Pritchard, to agitate every audience. The time, 'the very witching time of night,' and the flate of Hamlet's mind, when ' he could drink * hot blood, and do fuch bitter bufmefs as ' the day would quake to look on,' prepare us for this important conference. The fi- tuation, that of a fon endeavouring to re- claim a parent, is exceedingly interefting. All the fcntiments and emotions are ani- mated, and expreffive of character. In the Queen we difcern the confidence of a guilty mind, that, by the artifices of felf-deceit, has put to filcnce the upbraidings of confci- ence. We difcern in her the dexterity with which perfons perverted by evil habits abufe their own underllandings, and conceal from themfelves their blemifhes. We alfo per- ceive in her the anguifli and horror of a mind, appalled and confounded by the confciouf- nefs of its depravity, and its eager folicitudc to be refcued, by any means, from the per- fccuting and painful feeling. Hamlet, full of affcdion, fludics to fecure her tranquillity: and, guided by moral principles, he cndca-
OF HAMLET. I 13
vours to eftablifh it on the foundation of vir- tue. Animated by every generous and ten- der fentiment, and convinced of the fuperior excellence and dignity of an unblemifhed condu(5l, he cannot bear that thofe who are dear to him iliould be depraved. It is to gratify this amiable temper, that he labours to renew, in the mifguidcd Gertrude, a fenfe of honour and of merit, to turn her attention, without fubterfuge or difguife, on her own behaviour; and fo reftore her to her former fame. He adminifters his medicine with relud:ance: it is harfh, but the difeafe is defperate. It is not fuitable to the agitated ftate of his mind, to enter fedately into a formal and argumentative difcuffion of the impiety and immorality of her condud:: he mentions thefe in a fummary manner; and, following the impulfe of his own mind, he fpeaks the language of ftrong emotion, ad- dreffes her feelings, and endeavours to con- vey into her heart fome portion of the in- dignation with which he is himfelf inflamed.
Look here upon this picture, and on this ; The counterfeit prefentment of two brothers. See, what a grace was feated on this brow :
I
114 THE CHARACTEIl
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himfelfj
An eye, like Mars, to threaten or command j
A rtation, like the herald Mercury,
New-lighted on a heaven-kifling hillj
A combination, and a form, indeed,
Where every god did feem to fet his feal.
To give the world alTurance of a man:
This ivas your hulband. — Look you now, whatfoUowsj
Here is your hulband 3 like a mildew'd ear,
Blading his wholefome brother. Have you eyes ?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed.
And batten on this moor ? Ha I have you eyes ?
The contraft in thefe lines, co-operating with other caufes, has a very ftriking efFcd. The tranfition from admiration to abhor- rence, in a remarkable degree, heightens the latter. Hamlet dwells minutely on every circumftance of his father's charafter: but paffing from that to the picture of Claudius, his perturbation is vifibly augmented; his indignation and abhorrence are almoft too cxceffive for utterance: and the difference between the two characters appearing to him fo manifeft as to render a particular il- luftration needlcfs, he reflects with feverity on that woful pervcrfion of mind which has blunted the feelings and perceptions of Ger- trude.
Ot" HAMLET. 115
You canhot call it love ; for, at your age, The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment j and what judgment Would ftep from this to this ?
He convinces her of her guilt: but fo fallacious and fo impofmg are evil habits, that, in fpite of her recent convi<5lion, Ihe would yield herfelf to their fuggeffcions : by fuppofing her fon difordered, flie vs^ould lef- fen the authority of his argument, and fb relapfe. Hamlet, perceiving the workirigs of her invention, and anxious for her reco- very, touches the diftempered part of her foul v^ith a delicate and fkilful hand: he infufes fuch golden inftrudion, and difcovers fuch penetration and knowledge of human nature, as would have dignified a philofo- pher. He tempers the feverity of his ad- monition with mildnefs; and afiures her, in a pathetic manner, that affection, and zeal for her welfare, are his only motives.
Mother, for love of grace, Lay not that flattering un£tion to your foul, That not your trefpafs, but my madnefs, fpeaks : It will but fkin and film the ulcerous places Whilft rank corruption, mining all within, I 2
Il6 THE CHARACtER
Infefts unfeen. Confefs yourfelf to heaven j
Eepent what's paft ; avoid what is to come:
And do not fprcad the compoft on the weeds
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue :
For, in the fatnefs of thefe purfy times,
Virtue itfelf of vice muft pardon beg,
Yea, curb and wooe, for leave to do him good.
Q. Oh Hamlet ! thou haft cleft my heart in twain. Ham. O, throw away the worfer part of it,
And live the purer with the other half.
Good-night : but go not to mine uncle's bed j
AfTume a virtue, if you have it not.
That monfter cuftom, who all fenfe doth eat
Of habits evil, is angel yet in thisj
That to theufe of a6tions fair and good
Helikewife gives a frock, or livery,
That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night j
And that fhall lend a kind of eafinefs
To the next abftinence : the next, more eafy ;
For ufe can almoft change the ftamp of nature.
And either curb tlve devil, or throw him out
With wondrous potency.
As the contrition of Gertrude, and her confcquent good intentions, were the effed; of a fudden emotion, its violence no fooner abates, than her former habits refiime their influence. She appears irrefolute: and Ham- let, full of allonifliment and indignation, exprefles himfelf with keennefs. He in- \ cighs with acrimony againfl his uncle: and
OF HAMLET. II7
the Queen, vanquiflicd by his inve(5lives, af- fures him of her repentance.
On reviewing the analyfis now given, a fenfe of virtue, if I may ufe the language of an eminent philofopher, without profeffing myfelfof his fed, feems to be the ruhng principle in the charader of Hamlet. In other men, it may appear with the enfigns of high authority: in Hamlet, it poiTeffes abfolute power. United with amiable af- fections, with every graceful accomplifh- ment, and every agreeable quality, it em- bellifhes and exalts them. It rivets his at- tachment to his friends, when he finds them delerving: it is a fource of forrow, if they appear corrupted. It even Iharpens his penetration; and, if unexpe<5ledly he difcerns turpitude or impropriety in any character, it inclines him to think more deeply of their tranfgreffion, than if his fentiments were lefs refined. It thus induces him to fcru- tinize their conduA, and may lead him to the difcovery of more enormous guilt. As it excites uncommon pain and abhorrence on the appearance of perfidious and inhuman ad:ions, it provokes and ilimulates his refent^
Il8 THE CHARACTER
ment: yet, attentive to juftice, and eon- cerned in the interefts of human nature, it governs the impetuofity of that unruly paf- fion. It difpofes him to be cautious in ad- mitting evidence to the prejudice of another: it renders him diftruftful of his ow^n judg- ment, during the ardour and the reign of paiTion; and dired:s him in the choice of af- fociates, on whofe fideHty and judgment he may depend. If, foftencd by a beneficent and gentle temper, he hefitates in the exe- cution of any lawful enterprize, it reproves him. And if there is any hope of reftoring thofe that ^re fallen, and of renewing in them habits of virtue and of felf-command, it renders him afliduous in his endeavours to ferve them. Men of other difpofitions would think of gratifying their friends by contributing to their affluence, to their amufcment, or external honour: but, the acquifitions that Hamlet values, and the happinefs he would confer, are a confcience void of offence, the peace and the honour of virtue. Yet, with all this purity of moral fentiment, with eminent abilities, exceed- ingly cultivated and improved, with man-
6
OF HAMLET. I I9
ncrs the moft elegant and becoming, with the utmoft rectitude of intention, and the moft aAive zeal in the exercife of every duty, he is hated, perfecutcd, and deftroyed. Nor is this fo inconfiftent with poetical juftice as may at firft fight be apprehended. The particular temper and ftate of Hamlet's mind is conned:ed with weakneffes that embarrafs, or may be fomewhat incompa- tible with bold and per fevering projects. His amiable hefitations and reluctant fcruples lead him at one time to indecifion ; and then betray him, by the felf- condemning confci- oufnefs of fuch apparent imbecility, into ad:3 of rafh and inconfiderate violence. Mean- time his adverfaries, fuffering no fuch inter- nal conflid:, pcrfift with uniform, determin- ed vigour in the profecution of unlawful fchemes. Thus Hamlet, and perfons of his conftitution, contending with lefs virtuous opponents, can have little hope of fuccefs: and fo the poet has not in the cataftrophe been guilty of any departure from nature, or any infringement of poetical juftice. We love, we almoft revere the charad:er of Hamlet; and grieve for his fufferings. But
120 THE CHARACTER, &C.
we muft at the fame time confefs, that his weakncflcs, amiable weakneffes! are the caufe of his difappointments and early death. The lnftru(5lion to be gathered from this delineation is, that perfons formed like Hamlet, Ihould retire, or keep aloof, from fituations of difficulty and contention: or endeavour, if they are forced to contend, to brace their minds, and acquire fuch vigour and determination of fpirit as fhall arm them againfl malignity.
( 131 )
ESSAY III.
ADDITIONAL OBSERVATIONS
ON
SHAKESPEARE'S
DRAMATIC CHARACTER OF HAMLET.
IN A LETTER TO A FRIEND.
DEAR SIR,
I THANK you for your remarks on my account of Hamlet. Yet I frankly con- fefs that, notwithftanding their ingenuity, I ftill adhere to my opinion; and, as I am foli- citous that you fliould agree with me, I fliall, as briefly as poffible, lay my reafons before
12Z ADDITIONAL OBSERVATIONS
you. Nor have I any doubt, but that the fame candour which didiated the objedlions, will procure attention to the reply. Allow mc, then, to plead in behalf of Hamlet; and of Shakefpeare*, if he need fuch aid; and of the Public, w ho, by always interefting them- felves in the fate of Hamlet, have, in this moft unequivocal manner, as on many other occafions, exprefled their approbation of Shakefpearc.
The ftrongeft feature in the mind of Hamlet, as exhibited in the tragedy, is an exquifite fenfe of moral conduct. He dif- plays, at the fame time, great fenfibility of temper; and, is therefore, mofl " trem- blingly alive" to every incident or event that befalls him. His affections are ardent, and his attachments lafting. He alfo difplays a ftrong fenfe of characler; and therefore, a high regard for the opinions of others. His good fenfe, and excellent difpofitions, in the early part of his life, and in the prosperous ftate of his fortune, rendered him amiable
* Si tali auxilio.
ON HAMLET. 123
^nd beloved. No misfortune had hitherto befallen him ; and, though he is reprefented as fufceptible of lively feelings, we have no evidence of his having ever ihewn any fymp- toms of a morofe or melancholy difpofition. On the contrary, the melancholy which throws fo much gloom upon him in the courfe of the play, appears to his former friends and acquaintance altogether unufual and unaccountable.
Something have you heard
Of Hamlet's transformation : fo I call it ; Since nortli' exterior, nor tlie inward man, Refembles that it was.
In the conduct, however, which he dif- plays, in the progrefs of the tragedy, he ap- pears irrefolute and indecifive; he accord- ingly engages in enterprizes in which he fails; he difcovers reludtance to perform actions, which, we think, needed no hefi- tation; he proceeds to violent outrage, where the occafion does not feem to juftify violence; he appears jocular where his fi- tuation is moft ferious and alarming; he ufes fubterfuges not confiftent with an in-
T24 ADDITIONAL OBSERVATIONS
genuous mind; and exprefles fentiments not only immoral, but inhuman.
This charge is heavy: yet every reader, and every audience, have hitherto taken part with Hamlet. They have not only pitied, but efteemed him ; and the voice of the peo- ple, in poetry as well as politics, deferves fome attention. Let us enquire, therefore, whether thofe particulars which have given fuch offence, may not be confidcred as the infirmities of a mind conflituted like that of Hamlet, and placed in fuch trying circum- ftanccs, rather than indications of folly, or proofs of inherent guilt. If fo, he will ftill continue the proper object of ourcompaflion, of our regret, and efleem. The award of the public will receive confirmation.
Confider, then, how a young perfon of good fenfe, of flrong moral feelings, pofTefT- ing an exquifite fenfe of character, great fenfibility, together with much ardour and conflancy of affection, would be apt to con- du<5l himfelf, in a fituation fo peculiar as that of Hamlet. He lofes a rei'pecftable fa- ther; nay, he has fome rcafon to fufpedl, tbat his father had been treacheroufly mur-
ON HAMLET. 12^
dered; that his uncle was the perpetrator of the cruel deed; and that his mother, ■whom he tenderly loved, was an accom- plice in the guilt: he fees her fuddenly mar- ried to the fufpedled murderer; he is him- felf excluded from his birth-right; he is placed in a confpicuous ftation; the world experts of him that he will refcnt or avenge his wrongs: while in the mean time he is juftly apprehenfive of his being furrounded with fpies and informers. In thefe circum- ftances, and of fuch a charafter, if the poet had reprefented him as a(5ling with fteady vigour and unexceptionable propriety, he would have reprefented not Hamlet, but a creature ib fanciful, as to have no prototype in human nature. We are not therefore to exped: that his conduct is to proceed ac- cording to the moft infallible rules of difcre- tion or of propriety. We muft look for frailties and imperfed:ions; but for the frail- ties and imperfediions of Hamlet.
I. The injuries he has fuftained, the guilt of Claudius, and the perverfion of Gertrude, excite his refentment, and indignation. Re-
1Z6 ADDITIONAL OfiSEftVATIONS
gard fof the opinions of others, A^ho exp6(5l: iuch refentment in the Prince of Denmark, promotes the palTion. He therefore medi- tates, and refolves on vengeance. But thd moment he forms his refolution, the fam6 virtuous fenfibility, and the fame regard to character, that roufcd his indignation, fug- geft objections. He entertains a doubt con- cerning the ground of his fufpicions, and the evidence upon which he proceeds.
• The fpirit that IVe feeh
May be a devil ; and the devil hath power T aflume a pleating fliapej yea, and, perhaps. Out of my weaknefs and my melancholy, (As he is very potent with fuch fpirits), Abufes me to damn me. I'll have groirnds More relative than this.
In this manner he becomes irrefoiute" and indecifive. Additionally, therefore, to the ibrrow and melancholy which he neceflarily feels for the fituation of his family, and which his peculiar frame of mind renders unufually poignant, the haralfment of fuch an inward ftruggle aggravates his affliction. His fcnfe of duty, a regard to charad:er, and feelings of juft rcfcntment, prompt him to revenge:
ON HAMLET. 12^
the uncertainty of his fufpicions, the falla* cious nature of the evidence on which he proceeds, and the dread of perpetrating in- juftice, embarrafs and arrefl: his purpofe.
The time is out of joint — O curfed fpight, That ever I was born to fet it right.
This irrefolution, which indeed blafts his defigns, but does not leflen our regard for his character, nor our compaffion for his misfortunes, and the mifery with which it afflid:s him, are pathetically defcribed and exprefled, in the famous foUloquy confequent to the rcprefentation of the Players.
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he fhould weep for her ? What would lie do. Had lie the motive and the cue for paflion That I have ? &c.— Yet I, &c.
II. In that particular mood, when he fees his own wrongs and the guilt of Claudius inaftriking light, his refentment is inflamed, the evidence feems convincing, and he ads- with a violence and precipitation very diffi- milar to, though not inconfiftent with, his native temper. In thefe circumftances, or
1:28 ADDITIONAL OBSERVATIONS
at a time when he tells us he
Could drink hot blood !
And do fuch bitter bufinefs, as the day Would quake to look on !
in flich a fituation and flate of mind he flew Polonius: he miftook him for the king: and fo ad:ed with a violence and precipita- tion of which he afterwards exprefles his repentance. In a fimilar fituation, when he had no leifurc nor inclination to weigh and examine appearances, he wrote the death-warrant of Rofencrantz and Guil- denftern.
Being thus benetted round with villanies. Or I could make a prologue to rgy brains, They had begun the play : I fat me down, Devis'd a new commiflion, &c. An earnefi conjuration from the king,
As England was his faithful tributary,
That on the view and knowing of thefe contents, He fliould the bearers put to fndden death.
Rofencrantz and Guildenftern had been employed as fpies upon Hamlet: under the difguife of friendlliip for him, they had accepted of this infamous office ; they were in fome meafure accelfary to his intended aflaflination ; *' they made love to this em-
ON HAMLET. 1^9
*' ployment;" and therefore, as " the defeat ^' grew from their own infniuation," there was no occafion why it ^' ihould fit near to " Hamlet's confcience." If leifurc had been given him to refled;, perhaps he would not have facrificed them ; but having done the deed, he does not charge himfelf with deh- berate guilt. He does not contend that his condud; was entirely blamelefs; he only tells us,
Tliey are not near my confcience.
III. Thus agitated by external circum- ftances, torn by contending emotions, liable to the weaknefles' nearly allied to extreme fenfibility, and exhaufted by the contefls of violent paffions, is it wonderful that he fhould exhibit dejection of mind, and exprefs difrelilli for every human enjoyment? This extreme is no lefs confident with his cha- radier than his temporary violence. " I have of late," he tells Rofencrantz and Guil- denftern, " loft all my mirth; forgone all ** cuftom of exercifes; and, indeed, it goes ** fo heavily with my difpofition, that this ** goodly frame, the earth, feems to me a
130 ADDITIONAL OBSERVATIONS
*' fterilc promontory; this moft excellent *' canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'er- *' hanging firmament; this majelliical roof *' fretted with golden fire; why, it appears '* no other thing to me than a foul and pef- " tilent congregation of yapours." &c. In like manner, the fame flate of internal con- tefl leads him to a condud: dlred:ly oppofitc to that of violence or precipitancy; and when we exped: that he will give full vent to his refentment, he helitatcs and recedes. This is particularly illuftrated in the very difficult fcene where Hamlet, feeing Clau- dius kneeling and employed in devotion, utters the folio v^ing foliloquy:
Now might I do it pat, now he is pra)'ing ^ And now I'll do it : — and fo he goes to heaven ; And fo am I reveng'd ? That would be I'cann'd : A villain kills my father, and for that, I, his fole fon, do this fame villain fend To heaven.
Why, this is hire and falary, not revenge. He took my father grofsly, full of bread. With all his crimes broad blown, as flulh as May; And, how his audit (lands, who knows, fave heaveti ^ But, in our circumliance and courfe of thought, Tis heavy with him : and am I then reveng'd, To take him in the purging of his foul. When he is lit and feafon'd for his palfage ? I
dN haMlet. 131
You afk me, why he did not kill tKe tlHirper? And I anfwer, becaufe he was at that inftant irrcfolute. This irrefolution arofe from the inherent principles of his conftitution, and is to be accounted natural : it arofe from virtuous, or at leaft from ami- able fenfibility, and therefore cannot be blamed. His fenfe of jullice, or his feelings of tendernefs, in a moment when his vio- lent emotions were not excited, overcame his refentment. But you will urge the in- confiftency of this account, with the inhu- man fentiments he exprefles:
Up, fword, and know thou a more horrid hent : When he is drunk, afleep, or in his rage, &c. Then trip him, &c.
In reply to this difficulty, and it is not inconfiderable, I will venture to affirm, that thefe are not his real fentiments. There is nothing in the whole charader of Hamlet that juftifies fuch favage enormity. We are therefore bound, in juftice and candour, to look for fome hypothefis that Ihall recon- cile what he now delivers, with his ufual maxims and general deportment. I would
K 3
1^2 ADDITIONAL OBSERVATIONS
afk, then, whether, on many occafions, we do not alledge thofe confiderations as the motives of our condud:, which really are not our motives? Nay, is not this fometimes done almoft w^ithout our knowledge? Is it not done when we have no intention to de- ceive others; butw^hen, by the influences of fome prefent paffion, we deceive ourfelves? The fad is confirmed by experience, if we commune with our own hearts; and by ob- fervation, if we look around. When the pro- fliiiate is accufed of enormities, he will have them pafs for manly fpirit, or love of fociety; and impofes this opinion not upon others, but on himfclf. When the mifer indulges his love of wealth, he fays, and believes, that he follows the maxims of a laudable oecono- my. So alfo, w hilc the cenforious and in- vidious flanderer gratifies his malignity, he boafl:s,.and believes, that he obeys the dic- tates of juflice. Confult Bifliop Butler, your favourite, and the favourite of every real enquirer into the principles of human condud, and you will be fatisfied concern- ing, the truth of the doftrine. — Apply it, then, to the cafe of Hamlet: fcnfeoffup-
ON HAMLET. I33
pofcd duty, and a regard to charader, prompt him to flay his uncle; and he is with-held at that particular moment, by the afcendant of a gentle difpofition ; by the fcruplcs, and perhaps weaknefs, of extreme fenfibility. But how can he anfwer to the world, and to his fenfe of duty, for miffing this oppor- tunity? The real motive cannot be urged. Inftead of excufing, it Avould expofe him, he thinks, to cenfure; perhaps to contempt. He looks about for a motive ; and one better fuited to the opinions of the multitude, and better calculated to lull refentment, is im- mediately fuggefled. He indulges, and fhel- ters himfelf under the fubterfuge. He al- ledges, as direct caufcs of his delay, motives that could never influence his conduct; and thus exhibits a moft exquifite picture of ami- able felf-deceit. The lines and colours are, indeed, very fine; and not very obvious to curfory obfervation. The beauties of Shake- Ipeare, like genuine beauty of every kind, are often veiled; they are not forward nor ob- trufive. They do not demand, though they claim attention.
134 ADDITIONAL OBSERVATIONS
IV. I would now offer fome obfervations concerning Hamlet's counterfeited or real madnefs: and as they are alfo intended to juftity his moral condud:, let me beg of you to keep ilill in view, the particular circum-^ fiances of his fituation, and the peculiar frame of his mind.
Harafled from without, and diftraded from within, is it wonderful, if, during his endeavour to conceal his thoughts, he fhould betray inattention to thofe around him; incoherence of fpeech and manner ; or break out inadvertently, into exprefTions of dif- pleafure? Is it wonderful that he fhould ^' forego all mirth," become penfive, melan- choly, or even morofe? Surely, fuch dif- order of rnind, in charadlers like that of Hamlet, though not amounting to adual madnefs, yet exhibiting reafon in extreme perplexity, and even trembling on the brink of madnefs, is not unufual. Meantime, Hamlet was fully fcnfiblc how ftrange thofe involuntary improprieties muft appear to others: he was confcious he could not fup- prefs them; he knew he was furrounded with fpies; and was juftly apprehcnfive, Icfl
ON HAMLET. 13^
his fufpiclons or purpofes iliould be dlfco- vered. But how are thefe confequences to be prevented? By counterfeiting an infa- nity which in part exifts. Accordingly, to Ophelia, to Polonius, and others, he difplays more extravagance than his real diforder would have occafioncd. This particular afped: of the human mind is not unnatural ; but is fo peculiar and fo exquilltely marked, that he alone who delineated the commenc- ing madnefs, the blended reafon and diftrac- tion of Lear, has ventured to pourtray its lineaments. That Hamlet really felt feme diforder, that he ftudied concealment, and ftrove to hide his diftradion under appear- ances of madnefs, is manifeft in the follow- ing pafllige, arpong others of the fame kind, where he difcovers much earneftnefs and emotion, and at the fame time, an affecta- tion of fprightlinefs and unconcern :
Swear by my fu'ord
Never to fpeak of thi'i that you have heard.
Ghojl. Swear by his fword.
Ham. Well faid, old mole ! cnn'fl work i' the earth fo fall? ^ worthy pioneer! Once more remove, good friends.
lior. O day and night, but this is wond'rous ftrangc '
136 ADDITIONAL OBSERVATIONS
Ham. And therefore, as a ftranger, give it welcome. There are more tilings in heaven and earth, Horatio, U'han are dreamt of in your philofopby. —
But come;
Here, as before, never, fo help you mercy !
G/ioJI. Swear, &c.
Hutu. Reft, reft, perturbed fpirit !
If wc allow that the poet adually intend- ed to reprefent Hamlet as feeling fome dif- trad:ion of mind; and was thus led to ex- travagancies which he affected to render ftill more extravagant, why, in his apology to Laertes, need we charge him with devia- tion from truth?
This prefence knows, and you muft needs have heard,
How 1 am punilhd with a fore diftra6tion.
What I have done,
That might your nature, honour, and exception,
lloughly awake, I here proclaim was madnefs.
Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes ? Never, Hamlet ;
If Hamlet from himfclf be ta'en away,
And, when he's not himfelf, does wrong Laertes,
Then Hamlet does it not ; Hamlet denies it.
Hamlet, no doubt, put to death Polonius; but without intention, and in the frenzy of tumultuous emotion. He might therefore
ON HAMLET. I37
fay, both of that aftlon and of the confc- quent madncfs of Ophelia,
Let my difclaiming from a purpos'd evil. Free me fo far in your moft generous thoughts. That I have fliot my arrow o'er the houfe. And hmrt my brother.
Neither is his condud: at the funeral of OpheHa to be conftrued into any defign of infulting Laertes. His behaviour was the effed: of violent perturbation; and he fays fo afterwards, not only to Laertes, but to Horatio :
1 am very forry, good Hoartio,
That to Laertes I forgot myfelf, &c.
Eut fure, the bravery of his grief did put me
Into a tow'ring paffion.
To this he alludes in his apology:
If Hamlet from himfelf be ta'en away.
And, when he's not himfelf, does wrong Laertes,
Then Hamlet does it not; Hamlet denies it.
The whole of his behaviour at the funeral, ihews a mind exceedingly difordered, and thrown into very violent agitation. But
138 ADDITIONAL OBSERVATIONS
his affe(5lion for Ophelia appears fincerc; and his regard for Laertes genuine. On recovery from his tranfport, to which, how- ever, Laertes provoked him, how pathetic is the following expoflulation:
■ Hear you, Sir,
What is the realbn that you us'd me thus ? I lov'd you ever.
I have been the more minute in confi- dering thofc particulars, that not only you, but Commentators of great reputation, have charged Hamlet, in this part of his condud:, with falfehood and inhumanity.*
V. It remains that I fhould offer a few obfcrvations concerning Hamlet'sjocularity. You feem to think it ftrangc, that he fliould affect merriment when his fituation is mi- ferable, and when he feels his mifery. Alas!
* With high refpcft and lincere cfteem for one of the moft enlightened critics, and moft ufeful moral philofophers that ever appeared in England, this and fome other remarks in the EfTay on the charader of Hamlet, are intended, as the attentive reader will perceive, to remove fome ftrong objec- tions urged by Dr. Johnfon againft both the play, and the character.
ON HAMLET. I39
it is a fymptom, too unambiguous, of his afflidlion. He is fo miferablc, that he has no relifh for any enjoyment; and is even weary of his exiftence.
O that this too, too folid flefli would melt. Thaw, and refolve itlelf into a dew ! &c.
Thinking himfelf incapable of happinefs, he thinks he lliould be quite unconcerned in any human event. This is another af- pe<fl of fclf-dcceit: for in truth he is not unconcerned. Yet ailing as if it were fo, he affe(fls to regard ferions, and even im- portant matters, with a carelefs indifference. He would laugh: but his laughter is not that of mirth. Add to this, that in thole moments when he fancies himfelf indifferent pr unconcerned, he endeavours to treat thofq actions which would naturally excite indig- nation, w"ith fcorn or contempt. This, on, feveral occafions, leads him to affume the appearance of an ironical, but melancholy gaiety. This ftate of mind is exquifitely delineated in the following paffage, where his affected melancholy betrays itfelf: and }jis gaiety and indifference, notwithflanding
140 ADDITIONAL OBSERVATIONS
his endeavours to preferve them, relapfc into his ufual mood.
Hor. My liOrd, I came to fee your father's funeral.
Ham. I pray thee do not mock me, fellow ftudent: I think it was to fee my mother's wedding.
Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd meats Did coldly furnilli forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my deareft foe in heaven. Or ever I had feen that day, Horatio.
If, however, this account of the matter ihould not feem to you fatisfad:ory, I muft refer you to the preceding elTay on the cha- rcd:er of Hamlet: for I confefs that I think the explanation given in that place is alto- s^ether fufficient. Hamlet affumcs an air of cafe, familiarity, and cheerful unconcern; and therefore jefts with his friends, not only to conceal his defigns, but that he may fuit the complexion of his ow^n mind to that of the unconcerned fpedlator; nor exhibit in his behaviour, any thing ftrange, improper, or unbecomino;.
******
From thcfe remarks, I hope you will now agree with me, that Hamlet defcrves com- 7
ON HAMLET. I4I
paffion ; and that Horatio may fay of him, with propriety,
■ Good night, fweet Prince ;
And flights of angels ling thee to thy reft.
The chara(5ler is confiftcnt. Hamlet is exhibited with good difpofitions, and ftrug- ghng with untoward circumftances. The conteft is interefting. As he endeavours to adl right, we approve and efteem him. But his original conftitution renders him unequal to the conteft: he difplays the weaknefles and imperfections to which his peculiar cha- racter is liable ; he is unfortunate ; his mif- fortunes are in fome meafure occafioned by his weaknefs: he thus becomes an objeCl not of blame, but of genuine and tender regret.
I4i Ttit CHARACTER
ESSAY IV.
ON THE
CHARACTER
OF THE
MELANCHOLY JAQUES.
Jaques, in As you like it, is exhibited to us in extraordinary circumftances, and in a fituation very romantic.
Lftrd. To-day my Lord of Amiens, and myfelf. Did ileal behind him, as he lay along Under an oak, whofc antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood : To the which place a poor fequefter'd flag. That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt. Did come to languiflij and, indeed, my Lord, The wretched animal heav'd forth fuch groans That their difcharprc did ftretch his leathern coat
OF JAQUES. 143
Almoft to burfting ; and the big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nofe In piteous chace: and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on the cxtremeft verge of the fvvift brook. Augmenting it with tears.
Duke. But what faid Jaques ? Did he not moralize this fpedacle ?
Lord. O yes, into a thoufand fimilies. Firft, for his weeping in the needlefs ftream ; Poor deer, quoth he, thou nialcjl a tejiament As ivorld'ings do, gi'ving thy fum of more, To that ivhich had too much. Then, being there alone. Left and abandoned of his velvet friends ; "Tm right, quoth he j thus mtj'ery doth part The flux of co7?ipany. Anon, a carelefs iierd, Full of the pafture, jumps along by him. And never ftays to greet him. Ay, quoth Jaques, Sweep on, you fat and greafy citizcfis ; 'Tis ju/l thcfijh'wn: ivherefore do you look Vpon that poor and broken bankrupt there ?
The moft ftriking charader in the mind of Jaques, according to this defcription, is extreme fenfibiUty. He difcovers a heart ftrongly difpofed to compaffion, and fufcep- tible of the moft tender impreffions of friend- fhip: for he who can fo feehngly deplore the abfence of kindnefs and humanity, muft be capable of relifliing the delight annexed to their exercife. But fenfibility is the foil
144 THE CHARACTER
where nature has planted focial and Aveet afFeclions: by fenfibility they are cherifhcd, and matured. Social difpofitions produce all thofe amiable and endearing connedlions that alleviate the forrows of human life, adorn our nature, and render us happy. Now Jaqucs, avoiding fociety, and bur}^^ing himfelf in the lonely forcft, feems to ad; in- confillcntly with his conftitution. He pof- fcU'es fenfibility; fenfibility begets affection; and affedion begets the love of fociety. But Jaques is unfocial. Can thefe inconfiftent qualities be reconciled? or has Shakefpearc exhibited a character of which the parts are incongruous and difcordant ? In other words, how happens it that a temper difpofed to be- neficence, and addicted to focial enjoyment, becomes folitaryand morofe? Changes of this kind are not unfrequent: and, if refearch- es into the origin or caufc of a dillemper candirediusin the difcovery of an antidote, or of a remedy, our prefent inquiry is of importance. Perhaps, the exccfs and luxu- riancy of benevolent difpofitions, blighted by unkindnefs or ingratitude, is the caufe that, inllead of yielding us fruits of compla-
OF JAQUES. 145
cency and frlendfhip, they flied bitter drops of mifanthropy.
Averfion from fociety proceeds from dif- like to mankind, and from an opinion of the inefficacy and uncertainty of external plea- fure. Let us conflder each of thefe apart: let us trace the progrefs by which they ef- tabhlhed themfelves in the mind of Jaques, and gave his temper an unnatural colour.
I. The gratification of our focial afFe(n:ion3 fuppofes friendfliip and efteem for others; and thefe difpofitions fuppofe in their ob- jed: virtues of a correfponding character : for every one values his ovv^n opinion, and fan- cies the perfon to whom he teftifies efteem actually deferves it. If beneficent affedlions, ardent and undifciplined, predominate in our conftitution, and govern our opinions, we enter into life ftrongly prepofi^efled in favour of mankind, and endeavour, by a generous and difinterefi:ed condu<fl, to render our- felves worthy of their regard. That fpirit of diffufive goodnefs, which eloquent and benign philofophy recommends, but without fuccefs, to men engaged in the commerce
I,
146 THE CHARACTER
of the world, operates uncontrouled. The heart throbs with aftonifhmcnt and indigna- tion at every ad: of injufticc, and our bowels yearn to relieve the afflidcd. Our benefi- cence is unlimited: we are free from fiifpi- cion: our friendfliips are eagerly adopted; they are ardent and fmcere. This condud may, for a time, be flattered: our fond ima- ginations may heighten every trivial ad of complacency into a teftimony of unfeigned eftecm: and thus, deceived by delufive appearances, we become ftill more credulous and profufe. But the fairy vifion will foon yanifh: and the novice who vainly tfufted to the benevolence of mankind, will fud- denly find himfelf alone and dcfolate, in the midft of a felfifh and deceitful world: like an enchanted traveller, who imagines he is journeying through a region of delight, till he drinks of fome bitter fountain, and in- ftantly, inftead of flowery fields and mea- dows, he finds himfelf dellitute and forlorn, amid the horrors of a dreary dcfart.
It feems an invariable law in the condud of our paffions, that, independent of the objed they purfue, they fliould yield us plea-
OF JAQUES. 147
furc, merely by their exerciic and operation. It is known by experience, that the pain of difappointed pafTion is not folely occafioned by our being deprived of fome defirable ob- jedl, but by having the current of the mind oppofed ; fo that the excited paffion recoils exafperated upon the heart. The anguifli of this fituation is ftrongly exprciTcd by Se- neca, " In angufto inclufae cupiditates fine " exitu feipfas ftrangulant." There can be no doubt, that anger, malice, and ail the malevolent and irregular paffions, indepen- dent of their fatal confequences, leave the mind in a ftate of anxiety and diforder. One ihould therefore imagine, that fatisfadiion vi^ould arife from their being repulfed, and that men vs^ould felicitate themfelves for a recovery fo elTential to their repole. Rea- fon and felf-love may confider it in this view, and our fenfe of propriety may hin- der us from complaining; but the heart is fecretly dejected, and the unbidden figh be- trays us. The gloom, however, is foon dlf- perfed. Yet it proves that the mind fuffers more when its operations are fuddenly fuf- pended, than when it languilTics in a ftate
148 THE CHARACTER
of liftlefs inad:ivity. Thus, our benevolent affections, confidered merely as principles of a^ion, partaking of the fame common na- ture with other paffions and affedions, if their tenor be interrupted, occafion pain.
But the peculiar character of thefe dif- pofitions renders the anguilh occafioned by their fufpenfion more exquifitely painful. They are of a foft exhilarating nature, they elevate and enlarge our conceptions, they refine our feelings, they quicken our fenfi- bility, and ftimulate our love of pleafiare: they diffufe joy and ferenity through the foul, and, by a delightful illufion, give every thing around us a fmiling afpect. To a mild and benevolent temper, even inanimate objefts, the beauties of nature, the fkies. the s;roves, and the fountains, communicate unufual pleafure, and of a quality too refined to be relifhed by malignant fpirits. But, proportioned to the delight annexed to the exercife of focial affecflions, is the pain arif- ing from their fufpenfion.
Social affeClions confer happinefs, not only by the feelings they excite in us, but by procuring us the friendfliip and efteem
OF JAQUES. 149
of Others. Adequate returns of tendernefs are effential to their exiftence. By difdain and indifference they languilli; they render us anxious, and defponding. ■ Other advantages lefs immediate, and which concern our fortune and external cir- cumftances, often depend on the benevolence and fmcerity of our friends. For, though it be contrary to the rules of prudence, and the maxims of the world, to repofe fuch entire confidence in the virtue of mankind as to render it poffiblc for them to injure or ruin us; yet there are cafes of ftrong neceffity that mock referve; and there are inftances of men fo unfufpcding, or fo improvident, as to allow themfelvcs, by exceffive facility, to be over-reached and undone.
The difappointments of focial affedlion may give us uneafmefs of another kind: they may offend againft the good opinion we are apt to entertain of ourfelves; a prin- ciple rivetted in our conftitution, ufeful and neceffary in itfelf, but, by difpofing us to overweening conceit, liable to be perverted.
Pain and uneafmefs give rife to forrow; and forrow varies accordina: to the fources
150 THE CHARACTER
from which, it flows: it is either gentle and languifhing, or imbittered with rancour and animofity.
When the uneafincfs arifes from the fud- den and iintoward fufpcnfion of our emo- tions, or from the difappointment of fome ardent affcdion, it is of a mild and deje<5led nature. It may difpofc us to remonllirate, but not to inveigh. It is modcft and unaf-* fuming. It even induces us to think indif- ferently of ourfelvcs, and, by laying the blame on our own unworthincfs, to excufc the inattention or difdain of others.
Perhaps T was void of all thought,
Perhaps it was plain to forefee, That a nymph lb complete would be fought
By a fwain more engaging than me.
Sorrow of this tender complexion, lead- ing us to complain, but not to accufc, and finding remonftrances and complaint inef- fectual, retires from fociety, and ponders its woe in fecret.
Ye woods, fpread your branches apace.
To your deepeft recefles I fly ; 1 would hide with the beafts of the chace,
I wo^ild vanilh from every eye.
OF JAQUES. 151
The flatc of mind produced by thefe emotions, is exhibited to us with uncom- mon tendernefs and fmipUcity by Orlando.
"^ If I'm foiled, there is but one (hamed that was never " gracious : if killed, but one dead that is willing to be fo: " I fliall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to la- "ment: the world no injury, for in it I have nothing : " only in the world I fill up a place which may be better " fupplied when I have made it empty."
But, when ambition, avarice, or vanity are concerned, our forrow is acrimonious, and mixed with anger. If, by trufting to the integrity and beneficence of others, our fortune be diminillied, or not augmented as we expected; or if we be not advanced and honoured agreeably to our defires, and the idea we had formed of our own defert, we conceive ourfelves injured. Injury provokes refentment, and refentment moves us to retaliate. Accordingly, we retaliate: we inveigh againft mankind: we accufe them of envy, perfidy, and injuftice. We fancy ourfelves the apoftles or champions of virtue, and go forth to combat and confound her
155 THE CHARACTER
opponents. The celebrated Swift, pofTeffing uncommon abilities, and actuated by am- bition, flattered his imagination with hopes of preferment and diftinguifhed honour, was difappointed, and wrote fatires on hu- man nature. Many who declaim with fo- lemn forrow and prolixity againft the de- pravity and degeneracy of mankind, and overcharge the pidlure of human frailty with Ihades of the gloomieft tinclure, ima- gine themfclves the elected heroes of true religion, while they are merely indulging a fplenetic humour.
On comparing the forrow excited by re-r pulfed and languifliing affection, with that arifnig from the difappointment of felfifh appetites, melancholy appears to be the tem- per produced by the one, mifanthropy by the other. Both render us unfocial; but melancholy difpofes us to complain, mifan- thropy to inveigh. The one rcmonftrates and retires : the other abufes, retires, and ftill abufes. The one is foftened with re- gret : the other virulent and fierce with rancour. Melancholy is amiable and bene- volent, and wilhes mankind would reform;
OF JAQUES. 153
mifanthropy is malignant, and breathes re- venge. The one is an objed: of compaffion; the other of pity.
Though melancholy rules the mind of Jaques, he partakes of the leaven of human nature, and, moved by a fenfe of iiijury and difappointment.
Mod inveftively he piercetli through The body of the country, city, court.
InlHgated by fentiments of felf-refpe6l, if not of pride, he treats the condition of hu- manity, and the purfuits of mankind, as in- fignificant and uncertain. His inve<5tives, therefore, are mingled with contempt, and exprefled with humour. At the fame time, he fhows evident fymptoms of a benevolent nature : he is interefted in the improvement of mankind, and inveighs, not entirely to indulge refentment, but with a defire to correal their depravity.
Duke. What! you look merrily !
Jat^. A fool, a fool ! I met a fool i' the foreft, A motley fool I A miferable world ! As I do live by food, I met a fool ;
154 THE CHARACTER
Who laid him down and balk'd him in the fun. And railVl on lady Fortune in good terms, In good fet terms, — and yet a motley fool. Good fnorrozu fool, quoth I: — No fir, quoth he. Call me not fool, till Heaven hathfcnt me fortune : And then he drew a dial from his pokej And looking on it with lack-luftre eye. Says, ver)' wifely, It is ten o clock; Tlius may •wefee, quoth he, hoivthe ivorld ^wa^s. 'Tis hut an hour ago f nee it ivas nine; And after one hour more, 'ttvill be eleven ; And fo, from hour to hour, ive life and ripe. And then, from hour to hour, ive rot and rot. And thi-rehy hangs a tale.
0 noble fool !
A worthy fool! — Motley's the only wear.
Dnh:. What fool is this ?
Jaq. O worthy fool ! — One that hath been a courtier j And fays, if ladies be but young, and fair. They have the gift to know it : and in his brain, "Which is as dry as the remainder bifltet After a voyage, he hath ftrange places cramm'd With obfervation, the which he vents In mangled forms : — O that I were a fool!
1 am ambitious for a motley coat.
Duke, Thou (halt have one.
Jaq. It is my only fuit ; Provided, that you weed }'our better judgments Of all opinion, that grows rank in them. That I am wife. I muft have liberty Withal; as large a charter as the wind. To blow on whom I pleafe 5 for fo fools have : And they that are moft gauled with my folly, They moft muft laugh : And why, fir, muft they fo ?
OF JAQUES. 155
The it¥^y is plain as way to parifh-church, &C.
Inveft me in my motley ; give me leave
To fpcak my mind, and I will through and through
Cleanfe the foul body of the infeded world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine.
This mixture of melancholy and mifan- thropy in the charad:er of Jaques is more agreeable to human nature than the repre- fentation of either of the extremes; for a complete mifanthrope is as uncommon an objed: as a man who fuffers injury without refentment. Mankind hold a fort of mid- dle rank, and are in general too good for the one, and too bad for the other. As be- nevolence and fenfibility are manifeft in the temper of Jaques, we are not offended with his feverity. By the oddity of his manner, by the keennefs of his remarks, and Ihrewd- nefs of his obfervations, while w^e are in- ftrucfled, we are alfo amufed. He is pre- cifely what he himfelf tells us, often wrapped " in a moil humorous fadnefs.'* His fadnefs, of a mild and gentle nature, recommends him to our regard; his hu- mour aiTiufes.
A picture of this kind fliews us the fertility
15^ THE CHARACTER
of Shakefpeare's genius, his knowledge of human nature, and the accuracy of his pencil, much more than if he had repre- fented in ftriking colours either of the com- ponent parts. By nmning them into one another, and by delineating their Ihades where they are gradually and almoft imper- ceptibly blended together, the extent and delicacy of his conceptions, and his amazing powers of execution are fully evident. Vio- lent and impetuous paffions are obvious, their colours are vivid, their features ftrong- ly marked, they may eafily be difcerned and eafily copied. But the fenfibility of the foul flows out in a variety of emotions and feelings, whofe impulfes are lefs apparent, and whofe progrefs and operation may efcape the notice of fuperficial obfervers; but whofe influence in governing the condud:, and fafliioning the tempers of mankind, is more extenfive than we are apt to imagine. Many paffions and afFcdions of an infmuating ra- ther than urgent nature gain an afcendant in the foul by filent and unobfcrvcd ap- proaches. Not to be difcerned in the gcf- turcs or countenance till they have eftabliflied
OF JAQUES. 157
a peculiar habit or temper, they are repre- fented to us by thofe only whom nature has diftinguilhed ; and whom, by rendering them exquifitely fufceptible of every feeling, fhe has rendered fupremely happy, or miferable beyond the common lot of humanity. To men of this characfter, endowed with lively imaginations, and a talent of eafy expreffion, the moft delicate emotions and affeftions of the foul fubmit themfelves, fufferlng them to copy their true appearance, and exhibit them for the profit and pleafure of mankind: like thofe aerial agents, the fylphs, fairies, and other divinities of the poets, that pre- fide over the feafons, and regulate the pro- grefs of vegetation, but which can only be rendered vifible by the fpells and authority of a fkilful magician.
II. That Jaques, on account of difap- pointments in friendlhip, fliould become referved and cenforious, is agreeable to human nature : but is it natural that he fhould abjure pleafure, and confider the world and every enjoyment of fenfe as fri- volous and inexpedient? Ought he not ra-
158 THE CHARACTER
thcrto have recurrcdto them for confolation? On the contrary, he expatiates with fatif- faction on the infufRciency of human hap- plnefs, and on the infignificance of our pnr*
fuits.
All the world's a ftage, And all tlie men and women merely pk)tr8 : They have their exits and their eutranoes j And one man in his time plays many parts, His aft? being fevcn ages. At firft, the infant. Mewling and puking in the nnrle's arms : — And then, the whining fchool-boy with his latchel. And fliining morning face, creeping like fuail, Unwillingly to fchool : — And theh, the lover j Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his miftrcfs' eye-brow : — ^Then, a foldier : Full of ftrange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, fuddcn and quick in quarrel ; Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth :— And then, the juftice. In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd, AVith eyes fevere, and beard of formal cut, Full of wife faws and modern inftances. And fo he plays his part :— The fixth age (hifls Into the lean and llipper'd pantaloon ; With fpe6tacles on note, and pouch on fide; His youthful hofc well fav'd, a world too wide For his ihruuk lliankj and his big manly voice. Turning again toward childifli treble, pipes And whiftles in his found : — Laft fcene of all. That ends this ftrange eventful hiftory.
OF JAQUES. 159
Is fecond childifhnefs, and mere oblivion ;
Sans teeth, fans eyes, fans tafte, fans every thing.
That the heart, forrowful and dejeded by the repulfe of an ardent paffion, is averfe from pleafure of every kind, has been often obferved. The mind, in a gay and health- ful flate, receives hope and enjoyment from every obje<ft around us. The fame objefts, if we languifli and defpond, are regarded with difguft or indifference. " What path of life would you purfue?" faid Pofcidippus, morofe and out of humour with his condi- tion: " in public you are perplexed with " bufinefs and contention: at home, you " are tired with cares: in the country, you ** are fatigued with labour: at fea, you are " expofed to danger: in a foreign land, if " rich, your are fearful; if poor, negleded: " have you a wife? exped: forrow: unmar- " ried? your life is irkfome: children will *' make you anxious: childlefs, your life is *' lonely: youth is foolifh: and grey-hair J " feeble. Upon the whole, the wife man " would chufe either not to have cxifl:ed, or >'* to have died the moment of his birth." " Chufe any path of hfe," replies the cheer*
6
l6o THE CHARACTER
ful Metrodorus: "in the forum are pro- " fits and wife debates: at home, relaxa- " tion: in the country, the bounty of nature : " the fea- faring life is gainful : in a foreign '* land, if wealthy, you are refpefted; if " poor, nobody knows it: are you married? " your houfe is cheerful? Unmarried? you " live without care : children afford delight : ** childlefs, you have no forrow: youth is " vigorous: and old-age venerable. The " wife man, therefore, would not chufe but " to have exifled." Morofe and fplenetic moments are tranfient; the foul recovers from them as from a lethargy, exerts her aftivity, and purfues enjoyment: but, in the temper of Jaques, morofencfs is become habitual: he abandons the world, he con- temns its pleafures, and buries himfelf in a cloiflcr. The caufe of this excefTive feverity requires a particular explanation.
Among the various defires and propenfities implanted by nature in the conflitution of every individual, fome one pafTion, either by original and fuperior vigour, or by reiterated indulgence, gains an afcendant in the foul, and fubducs every oppofmg principle; it
OF JAQUES. l6l
unites with defires and appetites that are not of an oppofite tendency, it bends them to its pleafure, and in their gratifications purfues its own. The man whofe govern- ing paflion is pride, may alfo be focial and beneficent; he may love his friends, and re- joice in their good fortune; but, even in their company, the defire of impreilQng them with an idea of his own importance, for ever obtruding itfelf, produces difguft and averfion. The ruhng paffion, blended with others, augments their vehemence, and con- fequently enhances their pleafure: for the pleafure arifnig from the gratification of any paffion, is proportioned to its force. More- over, the fenfations arifnig from the indul- gence of the governing principle will necef- farily be combined with thofe arifmg from the gratification of other appetites and de- fires; fo intimately combined, that their union is not eafdy difcerned, but by thofe who are accuflomed to reflect on their feel- ings: yet, by their union, they aiFe6l the mind with a ftronger impulfe than if they were feparately excited. Suppofe the rul- ing paflion thwarted, it ceafes to operate M
t62 the character
with fucccfs: the force it communicated to other paffions is withdrawn; confcquently, their vehemence fufFers abatement; and, confequently, the plcafure they yield is lef- fcned. By the difcomfiture and difappoint- ment of the governing principle, the plea- fure arifing from its gratification is no lon- ger united with that arifms; from other active but fubordinatc principles: and thus, the pleafure refulting from fubordinatc principles, by the failure and abfence of the adventitious pleafure with which it was formerly accompanied, is fenfibly diminiih- cd. It is, therefore, manifeft, that, if fo- cial and beneficent affedions, by gain- ing a fuperiority in the conftitution, have heightened every other enjoyment, and if their exercife is fufpended by difappoint- ment, all the pleafures of fenfe or of ambi- tion that formerly contributed to our felicity, though in thcmfelves they are ftill the fame; yet, being reft of their better part, of the fpirit that enlivened them, they ftrike the mind fo feebly, as only to awaken its atten- tion to the lofs it hath fuftained; and, in- ftead of affording comfort, aggravate our
OF JAQUES. 163
misfortune. We eftimate their importance, not as they really are, but as they afFcdt us in our prefent ftate; we undervalue and defpife them.
Qu'en fes plus beaux habits 1' Aurora au teint vermeil, Annonce ^ I'uoivers le retour du ibleil, Et, que devant fon char, fes legeres fuivantes Ouvrent de I'orient les portes eclatantes ; Depuis que ma bergere a quitte ces beaux, lieux, Le ciel n'a plus ni jour, ni clarte pourmes yeux.
Segrais.
We may alfo obferve, that focial and be- neficent affections are in their own nature gay and exhilarating; and that, by extending their influence to other active principles which are not oppofed to them, they accele- rate their motions and augment their viva- city. They animate, and even inflame the inferior appetites; and where reafon, and other ferious principles are not invefled with fupreme authority, they expofe us to the anarchy of unlawful pafTions. There are many inftances of men betrayed into habits of profligacy and diflipation, by the influence of their focial affections. Thefe men, difappointed and chagrined with the M 2,
164 THE CHARACTER
world, and, confequently, with every plea- fure, to whofe energy the love of fociety contributed, confider the enjoyments arifing from inferior appetites, not as they really are, when governed and guided by reafon, but immoderate and pernicious, agreeably to their own experience. Reformed pro- fligates are often very eloquent teachers of abftinence and felf-denial. Polemo, con- verted by Xenocrates from a courfe of wild extravagance, became eminent in the fchool of Plato. The wifdom of Solomon was, in like manner, the child of folly. And the melancholy Jaques would not have moral- ized fo profoundly, had he not been, as we are told in the play, a diffipated and fcnfual libcrtine.
To the foregoing obfervations, and to the confillcncy of Jaques's character, one thing maybe objefted: he is fond of mufic. But furely mufic is an enjoyment of fenfe; it affords plcafure; it is admitted to every joyous fcene, and augments their gaiety. How can this be explained?
Though action fccms eflential to our happinefs, the mind never exerts itfelf un- 8
OF JAQUES. 165
lefs it be a(^uated by fome paflion or defire. Thinking appears to be neceilary to its ex- iftence; for lurely that quaHty is necefTary, without which the objed; cannot be con- ceived. But the exigence of thinking de- pends upon thoughts or ideas: and, confc- quently, whether the mind is ad;ive or not, ideas are prefent to the thinking faculty. The motions and laws obferved by our thoughts in the impreffions they make on us, vary according as the foul may be in- fluenced by various paffions. At one time, they move with incredible celerity; they feem to rufli upon us in the wildeft difbrder, and thofe of the moft oppofite character and complexion unite in the fame aflem- blage. At other times, they are flow, re- gular, and uniform. Now, it is obvious, that their rapidity mufl: be occafioned by the eagernefs of an impelling paflion, and that their wild extravagance proceeds from the energies of various paflions operating at once or alternately. Paflions, appetites, and defires, are the principles of adlion, and govern the motions of our thoughts : yet they are themfelves dependent : they depend on our prefent humour, or fliate of mind, and
l66 THE CHARACTER
on our temporary capacity of receiving plea- sure or pain. It is always to obtain fome enjoyment, or to avoid fome pain or unea- fmefs, that we indulge the violence of defire, and enter eagerly into the hurry of thoughts and of action. But if we are languid and dcfponding, if melancholy difFufes itfelf though the foul, we no longer cherifh the gay illufions of hope; no pleafure feems worthy of our attention; we rejed: confo- lation, and brood over the images of our diftrefs. In this ftate of mind, we are ani- mated by no vigorous or lively paffion; our thoughts are quickened by no violent im- pulfe: they refemble one another: we frequently return to the fame images: our tone of mind continues the fame, unlefs a defire or wifh intervenes, that our condition were fomehow different; and as this fug- gefts to us a ftate of circumftances and events very different from what we fuffer, our af- fliction is aggravated by the contraft, and wc fnik into deeper forrow. Precifely agree- able to this dcfcription, is the character of melancholy mufic. The founds, that is, the objedls it conveys to the mind, move
OP JAQUES. 167
flowly; they partake of little variety, or, if they are confiderably varied, it is by a con- traft that heightens the exprefTion. Slow founds, gentle zephyrs and murmuring ftreams, are agreeable to the afflicfled lover. And the dreary w^hiftling of the midnight wind through the crevices ofadarkfome cloif- ter, cherifhes the melancholy of the trem- bling nun, and difpofes her to a gloomy and auftere devotion. Thus, the defire of Jaques feems perfectly fuited to his charac- ter; for the mufic he requires is agreeable to his prefent temper.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind. Thou art not fo unkind
As man's ingratitude j Thy tooth is not fo keen Becaufe thou art not feen.
Although thy breath be rude. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter Iky, Thou doft not bite fo nigh
As benefits forgot ; Though thou the waters warp. Thy fting is not fo fliarp
As friend remember'd not.
Thus we have endeavoured to illuftrate, how focial difpofitions, by being exceffivc.
l68 THE CHARACTER
and by fuffering painful repulfe, may render us unfocial and morofe; how
Goodnefs wounds itfelf, And fweet affedion proves the fpring of woe.
If thefe reafonings have any foundation in nature, they lead us to fomc conclufions that deferve attention. To judge concern- ins: the condud: of others, and to indulge obfervations on the inflability of human enjoyments, may affift us in the difcipline of our own minds, and in correcting our pride and cxceflive appetites. But to allow reflections of this kind to become habitual, and to prefide in our fouls, is to countera<51: the good intentions of nature. In order, therefore, to anticipate a difpofition fo very painful to ourfelves, and fo difagreeable to others, we ought to learn, before we engage in the commerce of the world, what we may expect from fociety in general, and from every individual*. But if, previous to experience, we are unable to form juft judgments of ourfelves and others, we muft
* Bruyere.
OP JAQUES. 169
beware of defpondency, and of opinions inju- rious to human nature. Let us ever remem- ber, that all men have peculiar interefts to purfue; that every man ought to exert him- felf vigorouily in his own employment; and that, if we are ufeful and blamelefs, we Ihall have the favour of our fellow- citizens. Let us love mankind; but let our affediions be duly chaftened. Be independent, if poffible; but not infenfiblc.
170 THE CHARACTER
ESSAY V.
ON THE
CHARACTER of IMOGEN.
Crowded theatres have applauded Imo- gen. There is a pleafmg foftneis and deli- cacy in this agreeable character, that render it peculiarly interefting. Love is the ruling paffion; but it is love ratified by w^edlock, gentle, conftant, and refined.
The ftrength and peculiar features of a ruling pafTion, and the powder of other prin- ciples to influence its motions and moderate its impetuofity, are principally manifeft, when it is rendered violent by fear, hope, c;rief, and other emotions of a like nature.
OF IMOGEN. 171
excited by the concurrence of external cir- cumilances. When love is the governing pallion, thefe concomitant and fecondary emotions are called forth by feparation, the apprehenfion of inconftancy, and the abfo- lute belief of difafFedion. On feparation, they difpofe us to forrow and regret; on the apprehenfion of inconftancy, they excite jealoufy or folicitude: and the certainty of difaffediion begets defpondency. Thefe three fituations fhall dired: the order and arrangement of the following difcourfe.
I. Cymbeline/mftigated againft his daugh- ter, by the infmuations of her malicious ftep-dame, and incenfed againft Pofthumus Leonatus, who was fecretly married to Imogen, banilhes him from his court and kingdom. The lovers are overwhelmed with forrow: and the princefs, informed by Pifanio of the particular circumftances of her hufband's departure, expreiTes her- felf in the following manner:
I would have broke mine eye-ftrings ; crack'd 'era, but To look upon him, till the diminution Of fpace had pointed him fharp as my needle :
iy2 THE CHARACTER
Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from The fmalhiefs of a gnat to air ; and then Have turn'd mine eye, and wept *.
Thcfe lines exprefs the reluclance of the heart to part with the objed: of its affec- tions, and the efforts of paffion ftrugghng with difappointment. That the fentiments they convey are natural, and agreeable to the condu6l of the paflions, may very eafily be illultrated.
The fecret willies and defires of Imo- gen's heart recalled Leonatus to her re- membrance. But though objects fuggeft- ed by memory may be exceedingly lively, though they entertain the mind with vari-
•* There is a paflage very fimilar to this in Ovid's flory of Ceyx and Halcyone.
Suftulit ilia Humentes oculos, ftantemque in puppe recun-a, ConculTaquc manu dantem fibi figna, maritum Prima videt ; redditque notas : Ubi terra receffit Longius, atque ociili neqneunt cognofcere vultus, Dum licet, infequitur fugientem lumine pinum. Haec quoque, ut hand poterat, fpatio fubmota, videri 3 Vela tamen fpeftat fummo fluitantia malo : Ut nee vela videt, vacuum petit anxia le(5tum; Seque toro ponit. Rcnovat IciStufquc locufquc Halcyoncs lacrymas.
OF IMOGEN. 173
ous and unufual images, and are capable of cherifliing and inflaming the moft vehement paffions, yield little enjoyment, compared with actual fenfation. The conviftion of prefent exillence diftinguifhes, in an emi- nent manner, thofe things that ftrike im- mediately on our fenfes, from the operations of memory, and the illufions of fancy. Fancy may dazzle and amufe: but reflection, and the confcioufnefs of our prefent fituation, are forever intruding; and the vifion vaniilies at their approach. In the prefent inftance, however, the figure of Leonatus can hardly be diftinguifhed: and the fenfation receiv- ed by Imogen is imperfed:, and confe- quently painful. This leads us to a fecond obfervation. A thought never flu(fluates in the mind folitary and independent, but is conneded with an afl^emblage, formed of thoughts depending upon one another. In every group or aflemblage, fome objects are pre-emment, and fome lubordinate. The principal figure makes the ftrongefi: impref- fion; and the reft are only attended to, om account of their relation to the leading image. The mention of fun-rifmg, not only fuggefts
1^4 '^^^ CHARACTER
a luminous body afcending the eaftern {ky, but the view alfo of party-coloured clouds, meadows fpangled with dew, and mills hovering on the mountains. Writers, whofe works are addreffed to the imagination, ftudying to imitate the various appearances of nature, and, at the fame time, fenfible that a complete enumeration of every cir- cumftance and quality of an objec^t would be no Icfs tircfome than impoffible, are dili- gent to fclc(5l thofc leading circumilances to which the greateft number of inferior parti- culars maybe faid to adhere. The choice of circumftances, and fkill in their arrange- ment, arc, according to Longinus, the prin- ciples of true defcription. Now, wc ob- ferved above, that the reality of an objed; enhances the plcafure of the perception : and therefore that the perceptions wc receive by the fcnfcs are preferred to reprefentations merely fancied. But fuppofe we receive a fmgle perception from an objedl exceedingly interefting; this fmgle, and even impcrfed: perception, makes a lively imprcffion, and becomes the leadlnci; circumftancc of an af- fcmblaffc. Thousrh all the lubordinatc and
OF IMOGEN. 175;
adventitious images are the mere coinage of fancy; yet, on account of their intimate union with the primary objed;, they operate on the mind as if their archetype really exifted. They receive the ftamp of reality from the primary perception upon which they depend; they are deemed legitimate, and are preferred to the mere illufions of fancy. In this manner, the diftant, and even imperfed; view of Leonatus fuggefts a train of objects more agreeable than a mere ima- ginary picture: and it is not till this tran- sient confolation is removed, that Imogen would have " turned her eye and wept."
The propriety of the following fentiments depends on the fame principles with the former : for the belief that Leonatus, at cer- tain fixed periods, was employed in difcharg- mg the tender offices of affection, would give the ideal the authority of ad:ual per- ception, and its concomitant images would be cherifhed with romantic fondnefs.
I did not take my leave of him, but had Moil pretty things to lay : ere I could tell him, How I would think of him at certain hours, Such thoughts, and fuch ; — or have charg'd him,
7
iy6 THE CHARACTER
At the fixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight. To encounter me with orifons, for then I am in heaven for him.
But why, fays the critic, confume time and attention on actions fo frivolous and unimportant? Can they difclofc to us any of the arcana of nature? Can they reveal any of her hidden myfteries? Can they explain the wonderful mechanifm of the undcrftanding? Or difcover the labyrinths of the heart ?
To attend to familiar and common ob- jects is not unworthy even of a philofopher. By obferving the accidental fall of an apple, New^ton explained the motions of the ce- leftial bodies: and a principle illuftrated by the eafy experiment of bringing two drops of water within their fphere of attraction has been employed in accounting for the progrefs of vegetation. The aifociation, wx have now endeavoured to explain, accounts for many ftrangc appearances in the hiftory and manners of mankind. It explains that amazing attachment to reliques, which forms an eifcntial part of many modern religions, which fills the convents of Eu-
OF IMOGEN". 177
rope with more fragments of the crofs than would cover mount Lebanon, and with more tears of the bleifed vira;in than would water the Holy Land. Thefc objects con- firm particular fa6ls to the zealous votaries, and realize a train of thought iuited to en- thufiaftic ardour. It is not merely the hand- kerchief ftained with the blood of the can- onized martyr that moves, fliakes, and con- vulfes the pale and penfive nun, who at her midnight orifons, bathes it with her tears: her emotions are occafioned by the belief of par- ticular fufferings enforced on her imagination, by the view of that melancholy objed;. From the fame aflbciatjon we may deduce the paf-- fion for pilgrimage, the rage of crufadcs, and all the confequences of that fatal diftemper. Moved by a propenfity depending on the fame principles, men of ingenuity, enamour- ed of the Mufcs, traverfe the regions they frequented, explore every hill, and feek their footfteps in every valley. The groves of Mantua, and the cafcades of Anio, are not lovelier than other groves and cafcades; yet we view them with peculiar rapture. We tread as on confecrated ground, we regard
N
178 THE CHARACTER
thofc objects with veneration which excited invention in the minds of Virgil and Horace; and we feem to enjoy a certain ineffable in- tercourfe with thofe elegant and enlightened fpirits.
Trivial, therefore, as the fentiments and expreffions of Imogen may appear, by at- tending to the principles upon which they depend, they open the mind to the con- templation of extenfive objects. Confider- ing them in regard to charaAer, they ex- hibit to us uncommon affection, fenfibility, and mildnefs of difpofition. They are not embittered with inveftive : flie complains of the feverity of Cymbeline ; but does not accufe : flie exprefles forrow ; but not re- fcntment: and fhe rcflc(5ls on the injuftice of the Queen as the caufe of her fuffcrings, rather than the objed: of her anger. Exceed- ingly injured, and exceedingly affli(5led, fhe ncgled:s the injury, and dwells on the dif- trcfs.
Ere I could Give him that parting kils, which I had let Betwixt two charming words ; comes in my father j And, hke the tyrannous breathing of the North,
OF IMOGEN. 179
Shakes all our buds from growing. •
A father cruel, and a ftep-dame fall'c ;
A foolifli fuiter to a wedded lady.
That hath her hulband banifli'd ; — O that husband 1
My fupreme crown of grief! and thole repeated
Vexations of it.
Mod miferable
Is the defire that's glorious.
11. We proceed, in the fecond place, to confider the ftate of Imogen's mind, labour- ing with doubts, and pained with the ap- prehenfion of a change in the affed:ions of Pofthumus.
Nothing, in the ftrudiure of the human mind, appears more inexplicable than the feeming inconfiflency of paffion. Averfe from believing the perfon we love or efteem capable of ingratitude, w^e are often prone to fufpicion, and are alarmed with the flight- ed fymptoms of difaffedlion. Whoever warns you of the treachery of a profeffing friend, or of the inconftancy of a fmiling miftrefs, is treated with fcorn or refentment: yet, with a fcrupulous and critical accuracy, you inveftigate the meaning of an accidental expreffion; you employ more fagacity and N 3
l8o TFIK CIIARArTER
difcernment than might govern a nation, to weigh the importance of a nod; and a trivial overfight or inattention will caft you into dcfpair. The heart of Imogen, attached to Leonatus by tender and fmcere affection, is yet capable of apprehenfion, and liable to folicitudc.
lachimo, with an intention of betraying her, fenfible, at the fame time, that infide- lity and neglcd: are the only crimes unpar- donable in the fi2:ht of a lover, and well aware of the addrefs neceflary to infufe fuf- picion into an ingenuous mind, difguifes his inhuman intention with the affediation of a violent and fudden emotion. He fcems rapt in admiration of Imogen, and exprefles fentiments of deep aftonifliment:
la. What! are men mad? hath nature given them eyes To fee this vaulted arch, and the rich crop Of fea and land? which can diftinguifli 'twixt The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd ftones Upon the number'd beech ? and can we not Partition make with fpetStacles fo precious 'Twixt fair and foul ?
Inio. What makes your admiration ?
la. It cannot be i' th' eye ; for apes and monkeys, 'Twixt two fuch (he's, would chatter this way, and Contemn with mowes the other: nor i' the judgment;
OF IMOGEN. l8l
For idiots, in this cafe of favour, would Be wifely definite. —
hiio. What, dear iir. Thus raps you ? are you well ?
We never feel any pafTion or violent emotion without a caufe, either real or imagined. We are never confcious of an- ger, but when we apprehend ourfelves in- jured; and never feel efteem w^ithout the conviction of excellence in the object. Sen- fible, as it were by intuition, of this invari- able law in the condud; of our paffions, we never fee others very violently agitated without a convi6lion of their having fuffi- cent caufe, or that they are themfelves convinced of it. If we fee a man deeply afRid;ed, we are perfuaded that he has fuf- fered fome dreadful calamity, or that he believes it to be fo. Upon this principle, which operates infl:ind;ively, and almoft without being obferved, is founded that capital rule in oratorial compofition, '^ That ** he who would afFech and convince his au- " dience, ought to have his own mind con- " vinced and affeCled." Accordingly, the crafty Italian, availing himfelf of this pro-
l85 THE CHARACTER
penfity, counterfeits admiration and af- tonifliment: and, Imogen, deceived by the fpecious artifice, is inclined to believe him. Moved with fearful curiofity, fhe inquires about Leonatus; receives an anfvver vs^ell calculated to alarm her; and, of confequence, betrays uneafmefs.
Lno. Continues well my Lord his health, 'befeech you ?
la. Well, madam.
Irno, Is he difpos'd to mirth ? I hope he is.
Ja. Exceeding pleafant ; none a ftranger there So merry, and fo gamefome ; he is called The Britain reveller.
Lno. When he was here, He did incline to fadnefs, and oft-times Not knowing why.
By reprefenting the fentiments of Leona- tus as unfavourable to marriage and the fair fex, he endeavours to ftimulate her difquie- tude.
la. The jolly Briton cries, O ! Can my fides hold, to think, that man, who knows By hiftory, report, or his own proof, What woman is, yea, what flie cannot chufe But rauft be, — will his free hours languifli For affur'd bondage .'
Imo. Will my Lord fay fo ?
OP IMOGEN. 183
la. Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter.
But heavens know.
Some men are much to blame.
Lno. Not he, I hope.
This expreffion of hope is an evident fymp- tom of her anxiety. If we are certain of any future good, we are confident and expert : we only hope when the event is doubtful.
lachimo pra6lifes every art; and, by ex- preffing pity for her condition, he makes farther progrefs in her good opinion. Pity fuppofes calamity; and the imagination of Imos!;en, thus irritated and alarmed, con- ceives no other caufe of compaffion than the infidelity of Leonatus. The myfterious conduct of lachimo heightens her uneafmefs ; for the nature and extent of her misfortune not being precifely afcertained, her appre- henfions render it excefTive. The reluctance he difcovers, and his feeming unwillingnefs to accufe her hufband, are evidences of his being attached to him, and give his furmifes credit. Imogen, thus agitated and afflicted, is in no condition to deliberate coolly: and, as her anxiety grows vehement, Ihe be-
184 THE CHARACTER
comes credulous and unwary. Her fenfe of propriety however, and the deUcacy of her affed:ions, preferve their influence, and flie conceals her impatience by indired; in- quiries.
la. Whilft I am bound to wonder, I am bound To pity too.
Jmo. What do you pit}'-, fir ?
Ja. Two creatures, heartily.
hno. Am I one, fir ? You look on me ^ what wreck difcern you In me Defen'es your pity ?
la. Lamentable I what ! To hide me from the radiant fun, and folace 1' the dungeon by a fnufl' 1
Into. I pray you, lir, Deliver with more opennefs your anfwers To my demands. Why do you pity me ?
lachimo's abrupt and impaffioncd de- meanour, his feemingly undoubted friend- fhip for Leonatus, the apparent intereft he takes in the concerns of Imogen, and his pretended relu(^hincc to unfold the nature of her misfortune, adding impatience to her anxiety, and thus augmenting the violence of her emotions, deftroy every doubt ot his iincerity, and difpofe her implicitly to be-
OF IMOGEN. 185
lieve hirq. He, accordingly, proceeds with greater boldnefs, and, under the appearance of forrow and indignation, hazards a more dired: impeachment. To have bewailed her unhappy fate, and to have accufed Leonatus in terms of bitternefs and reproach, would have fuitcd the injuries flie had received, and the violence of difappointed paffion. But Shakefpear, fuperior to all mankind in the invention of characters, hath fafliioned the temper of Imogen with lineaments no lefs peculiar than lovely. Sentiments amiably refined, and a fenfe of propriety uncom- monly exquifite, fupprefs the utterance of her forrow, and reftrain her refentment. Knowing that fufpicion is allied to weak- nefs, and unwilling to afperfe the fame of her hufband, fhe replies with a fpirit of meeknefs and refignation.
My Lord, I fear. Has forgot Britain.
Formerly ihe expreiTed hope, when the emotion Ihe felt was fear: here ihe expreffes fear, though fully fatisfied of her misfortune.
There is a certain ftate of mind full of
l86 THE CHARACTER
forrow, when the approach of evil is ma- nifcft and unavoidable. Our reafon is then darkened, and the foul, finking under the apprehenfion of mifcry, fufFers direful eclipfe, and trembles, as at the dilTolution of nature. Unable to endure the painful impreffion, we almoft wilh for annihilation; and, inca- pable of averting the threatened danger, we endeavour, though abfurdly, to be ig- norant of its approach. *•' Let me hear no more," cries the Princefs, convinced of her misfortune, and overwhelmed with anguifli. lachimo, confident of fuccefs, and, per- fuaded that the wrongs of Imogen would naturally excite refentment, urges her to revenge. Skilful to infufe fufpicion, he knew not the purity of refined affedion. Imo<ren, fhocked and aflioniflied at his in- famous ofier, is immediately prejudiced againfl his evidence: her mind recovers vigour by the renovated hope of her huf- band's conflancy, and by indignation againft the infidious informer. She therefore vents her difpleafure with fuddcn and unexpcdled vehemence.
OF IMOGEN. 18/
Into. What ho, Pifanio! — la. Let me my fervice tender on your lips. Imo. Away ! I do condemn mine ears, tliat have So long attended thee.
This immediate tranfition from a deject- ed and defponding tone of mind, to a vi- gorous and animated exertion, effectuated by the infufion of hope and juft indigna- tion, is very natural and ftriking.
The inquietude of Imogen, foftened by affed:ion, and governed by a fenfe of pro- priety, exhibits a pattern of the moft ami- able and exemplary meekncfs. The emo- tions fhe difcovers belong to folicitude rather thanto jealoufy. The features of folicitude are forrowful and tender: jealoufy is fierce, wrathful, and vindicflive. Solicitude is the obje6l of compaffion mixed with affection; jealoufy excites compaffion, combined with terror.
III. The fame meeknefs and tender de- jection that engage our fympathy in the interefls of Imogen, and render even her fufpicions amiable, preferve their character
l88 THE CHARACTER
and influence, when fhe fufFers adlual cala- mity. Leonatus, deceived by the calumnies of lachimo, fufFers the pangs of a jealous emotion, and, in the heat of his refentment, commiffions Pifanio to take away her life. But the fagacious attendant, convinced of the malignity of the accufation, difobeys his mailer; and, actuated by companion, reveals his inhuman purpofe. The ftroke that in- flidls the deepeft wound on a virtuous and ingenuous nature, is the accufation of guilt. Thofe who are incapable of criminal a(5ls and intentions, inftigatcd by a ftronger ab- horrence of a guilty condud: than others lefs virtuous than themfelves, imagine, if, by any unhappy mifchance, they are falfcly and malicioufly accufed, that they are the objed:s of ftrong abhorrence. Such minds, very cafily affcded, and fufccptible of every feel- ing, perfecuted by malice, or overwhelmed with infamy and the reproach of mankind (which they feel more fevcrely than thofe who have lefs integrity, and, confcquently, a worfe opinion of others than they have), are expofed, for a time, to all the torment of confcious turpitude. The blulli of guilty
7
OF i]\roGEj>r. 189
confufion often inflames the complexion of innocence, and difordcrs her lovely features. To be refcued from undeferved affliction, Imogen flies for relief to the review of her former condud; and, furprized at the ac- cufation, and indignant of the charge, fhc triumphs in confcious virtue.
Falfe to his bed ! what is to be falfe ^ To lie in watch there, and to think on him ? To weep 'twixt clock and clock ? if fleep charge nature To break it with a fearful dream of him. And cry my felf awake ? That's falfe to his bed?
Yet refentment is fo natural in cafes of heinous injury, that it arifes even in minds of the mildeft temper. It arifes, however, without any exceffive or unfeemly agitation: its duration is exceedingly tranfient. It is governed in its utterance by the memory of former friendfhip : and, if the blame can be transferred to any infidious or fly feducer, who may have prompted the evil we com- plain of, we wreak upon them the violence of our difpleafure.
I falfe ! thy confcience witnefs lachimo— Thou didft accufe him of incontinency :
IC)0 THE CHARACTER
Thou then look'dfl. like a villain : Now, methinks. Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy *, Whofe mother was her painting, hath betrayed him.
The rcfcntment of Imogen is of fliort continuance: it is a fudden folitary flafh, extinguiflied inflantly in her forrow.
* Commentators have been of different opinions concern- ing the meaning of this palfage. The ditficulty however, as it appears to me, may eafily be removed, if we attend to fome particulars connefted with the ftate of mind of the fpeaker. Imogen is moved by indignation, and even re- fentment. Thefe feelings incline her to aggravate obnoxi- ous qualities in the obje6l of her difpleafure. The jay of Italy is not only very unworthy in herfelf, but is fo by tranfmitted, hereditary, and therefore by inherent wicked- nefs. She derived it from her parents : viatri turpi flia turpior: her mother was fuch as Ihe is; her picture, her portrait; for the word painting, in old Englilh, was ufed for portrait. Shakefpear hirafelf fo ufes it.
Laertes, was your father dear to you ? Or, are you like the painting of a forrow, A face without a heart ?
Perhaps, too, the poet ufes that fort of figure which, ac- cording to rhetoricians, prefents as exprelfing fome ftrong emotion, the confequent in place of the antecedent; or the ctfc6t for the caufe. So that, inftead of faying the jay of Italy was the pifture of her mother, Imogen fays, more in- dignantly and more refentfully, that her mother was fuch another, was her very pifture. So that fhe was inherently and hereditarily wortlalcfs, and capable of fedudion.
OF IMOGEIi. 191
Poor I am ftale, a garment out of faftiion.
It is not the malice of a crafty ftep-damc that moves the heart of Imogen to com- plain; nor the wrath of her incenfed and deluded parent; nor that fhe, bred up in foftnefs, and little accuftomed to fuffer hardships and forrow, fliould wander amid foiitary rocks and defarts, expofed to perils, famine, and death: it is, that flie is forfa- ken, betrayed, and perfecuted by him, on whofe conftancy fhe relied for protection, and to whofe tendernefs fhe entrufted her repofe. Of other evils fiie is not infenfible; but this is the " fupreme crown of her grief." Cruelty and ingratitude are abhorred by the fpe(ftator, and refented by the fuf- ferer. But, when the temper of the perfon injured is peculiarly gentle, and the author of the injury the obje6l of confirmed affec- tion, the mind, after the firft emotion, is more apt to languifh in defpondency than continue inflamed with refentment. The fenfe of misfortune, rather than the fenfe of injury, rules the difpofition of Imogen,
igZ THE CHARACTER
and, inftead of venting invecftive, Ihe laments the mifery of her condition.
Poor I am ftale, a garment out of fafhion ; And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls, I muft be ript. — To pieces with me !
If a crime is committed by a perfon with •whom we arc unconnected, or who has no pretenfions to pre-eminent virtue, we feel indignation againft the individual; but form no conclufions againft the fpecies. The cafe is different, if we are connected w^ith him by any tender affection, and re- gard him as of fuperior merit. Love and friendfliip, according to the immutable con- dud: of every paffion, lead us to magnify, in our imaginations, the diftinguifhcd qua- lities of thofe we love. The reft of mankind are ranked in a lower order, and are valued no otherwife than as they refemble this illuflrious model. But, perceiving depravity where we expelled perfed:ion, mortified and difappointed that appearances of red:itude, believed by us moft fmccre and unchange- able, were merely fpecious and exterior, we become fufpicious of every pretenfion to
OF IMOGEN. 193
merit, and regard the rell of mankind, of whofe integrity we have had lefs pofitive evidence, with cautious and unkind referve.
True honeft men being heard, like falle JEneas, Were, in his time, thought falfe : and Sinon's weeping t)id fcandal many a holy tearj took pity From moft true wretchednefs. So thou, Pofthumus, Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men : Goodly, and gallant, ihall be falfe and perjur'd. From thy great fail.
Imogen, confcious of her innocence, con- vinced of Leonatus's perfidy, and over- whelmed with forrow, becomes carelefs of life, and offers herfelf a wilUng facrifice to her hufband's cruelty.
Be thou honeft : Do thou thy mafter s bidding : when thou feeft him, A little witnefs my obedience. Look 1 I draw the fword myfelf : take it, and hit The innocent manfion of my love, my heart: Pr'ythee difpatch :
The lamb intreats the butcher. Where's thy knife ? Thou art too flow to do thy matter's bidding, When I defire it too.
I fliall conclude thefe obfervations, by explaining more particularly, how the re-
o
194 THE CHAllACTER
pulfc of a ruling and habituated pafTion could difpofc Imogen to dcfpondency, and render her carelefs of life: in other words, what is the origin of defpair; or, by what lamentable perverfion thofe, who arc fuf- ceptible of the pleafures of life, and in fi- tuations capable of enjoying them, become diiTatisfied, and rife from the feaft prema- turely.
Happinefs depends upon the gratification of our defires and paffions. The happinefs of Titus arofe from the indulgence of a be- neficent temper: Epaminondas reaped en- joyment from the love of his country: the love of fame was the fource of Csefar's feli- city: and the gratification of grovelling ap- petites gave delight to Vitellius. It has alfo been obferved, that fome one paflion generally aflumes a preeminence in the mind, and not only predominates over other appetites and defires; but contends with realbn, and is often viftorious. In propor- tion as one paffion gains ftrength, the rcfi: languilh and are enfeebled. They are fel- dom exercifed; their gratifications yield tranfient pleafurc; they become of flight
OF IMOGEN. 195
importance, are difpiritcd, and decay. Thus our happlnefs is attached to one ruling and ardent paffion. But our reafonings, con- cerning future events, are weak and fhort- flghted. We form fchemes of felicity that can never be realized, and cheriili affections that can never be gratified. If, therefore, the difappointed paffion has been long en- couraged, if the gay viflons of hope and imagination have long adminiftered to its violence, if it is confirmed by habit in the temper and conftitution, if it has fuperfeded the operations of other active principles, and fo enervated their ftrength, its difap- pointment will be embittered; and forrow, prevented by no other paffion, will prey, forever, on the defolate abandoned fpirit. We may alfo obfcrve, that none are more liable to afflictions of this fort, than thofe to whom nature has given extreme fenfibi- lity. Alive to every impreffion, their feel- ings are exquifite: they are eager in every purfuit: their imaginations are vigorous, and well adapted to fire them. They live, for a time, in a flate of anarchy, ex- pofed to the inroads of every paffion; and, o 2.
I
196 THE CHARACTER, &C.
though pofTefTcd of fingular abilities, their Condud: will be capricious. Glowing with the warmeft afFed:ions, open, generous, and candid; yet, prone to inconftancy, they arc incapable of lafling friendfliip. At length, by force of repeated indulgence, fome one paffion becomes habitual, occupies the heart, feizes the underftanding, and, impatient of refiftance or controul, weakens or extirpates every oppofmg principle: difappointment enfues: no paffion remains to adminifter Comfort: and the original fenfibility which promoted this difpofition, will render the mind more fufceptible of anguifli, and yield it a prey to defpondcncy. We ought, therefore, to beware of limiting our felicity to the gratification of any particular paffion. Nature, ever wife and provident, has en- dowed us with capacities for various plea- fures, and has opened to us many foun- tains of happinefs: ' let no tyrannous paffion,
* let no rigid doctrine deter thee; drink of
* the ilrcams, be moderate, and be grateful.'
( 197 )
ESSAY VI.
ON THE
DRAMATIC CHARACTER OP
KING RICHARD THE THIRD.
The " Life and Death of King Richard f^ the Third" is a popular tragedy: yet the poet, in his principal chara<5ler, has con- nected deformity of body with every vice that can pollute human nature. Nor are thofe vices difguifed or foftened. The hues and lineaments are as dark and as deeply impreiled as we are capable of conceiving. Neither do they receive any confiderable jnitigation from the virtues of any other
198 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
perfons reprefented in the poem. The vices of Richard are not to ferve as a foil or a teft to their virtues; for the virtues and innocence of others ferve no other purpofe than to aggravate his hideous guilt. In reality, we are not much attached by affec- tion, admiration, or efteem, to any charac- ter in the tragedy. The merit of Edward, Clarence, and fome others, is fo undecided, and has fuch a mixture of weaknefs, as hin- ders us from entering deeply into their in- terefts. Richmond is fo little feen, his s^oodnefs is fo general or unfeatured, and the difficulties he has to encounter are fo remote from view, are thrown, if I may ufe the exprcffion, fo far into the bacl^ ground, and are fo much lefTened by con- curring events, that he cannot, with any propriety, be deemed the hero of the per^ formance. Neither does the plcafure we yeceive proceed entirely from the gratifica- tion of our rcfentment, or the due difplay of poetical juftice. To be plcafed w'ith fuch a difplay, it is ncccfTar)^ that wc enter deeply into the intcrcfts of thofc that fuffcr. But fo ftrangc is the ftiTidurc of this traged}'.
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. I99
that we are lefs interefted in the mlferics of thofc that are oppreffcd, than we are moved with indignation againfl: the oppref- for. The fuffcrers, no doubt, excite fome degree of compaffion; but, as we have now obferved, they have fo Uttle claim to efteem, ^re fo numerous ^and difunited, that no particular intereft of this fort takes hold of us during the whole exhibition. Thus were the pleafure we receive to depend folely on the fulfilment of poetical juftice, that half of it would be loft which arifes from great regard for the fuffcrers, and efteem for the hero who performed the exploit. We may alfo add, that if the punifliment of Richard were to conflitute our chief enjoyment, that event is put off for too long a period. The poet might have exhibited his cruelties iij fhorter fpace, fufficient, however, to excite our refentment; and fo might have brought us fooner to the cataftrophe, if that alone was to have yielded us pleafure. In truth, the cataftrophe of a good tragedy is only the completion of our pleafure, and not the chief caufe of it. The iable, and the view
fe
cob DRAMATIC CHARACTER
which the poet exhibits of human nature, conducted through a whole performance, muft produce our enjoyment. But in the work now before us there is fcarcely any fable; and there is no character of eminent importance, but that of Richard. He is the principal agent: and the whole tragedy is an exhibition of guilt, where abhorrence for the criminal is much ftron2;er than our in- tereft in the fuffcrers, or cfteem for thofe, who, by accident rather than great exertion, promote his downfal. We are pleafed, no doubt, w^ith his punifhment; but the difplay of his enormities, and their progrefs to this corhpletion, are the chief objects of our at- tention. Thus Shakcfpear, in order to ren- der the fhocking vices of Richard an amufmg fpeftacle, muft have recourfe to other ex- pedients than thofe ufually prad:ifed in fi- milar fituations. Here, then, we are led to enquire into the nature of thefe rcfources and expedients: for why do we not turn from the Richard of Shakcfpear, as we turn from his Titus Andronicus.^ Has he invefted him with any charm, or fccurcd him by
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 501
"feme fecret talifman from difguil: and aver- fion? The iubjecl is curious, and deferves our attention.
We may obfcrvc in general, tliat the intcreft is produced, not by veiling or contrafting ofFenfive features and colours, but by fo connecting them with agree- able qualities refiding in the charaCler itfelf, that the difagrceable effect is either en- tirely fupprefTed, or by its union with coa- lefcing qualities, is converted into a plca- furable feeling*. In particular, though Richard has no fenfe of jufticc, nor indeed of any moral obligation, he has an abundant fliare of thofe qualities which are termed intelleclual. Deftitute of virtue, he polTeiTes ability. He fliews difcernment of charac- ter; artful contrivance in forming projecfts; great addrefs in the management of man- kind; fertility of refource; a prudent com- mand of temper; much verfatility of deport- ment; and fmgular dexterity in concealing his intentions. He poflelTes along with thefe, fuch perfect confcioufnefs of the fu- perior powxrs of his own underllanding
* See Hume's Eflay on Tragedy.
202 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
above thofe of other men, as leads him not oftentatioully to treat them with contempt, but to employ them, while he really con- temns their w^eaknefs, as engines of his ambition. Now, though thefe properties are not the objects of moral approbation, and may be employed as the inftruments of fraud no lefs than of juftice, yet the native and unminglcd effed: which moft of them produce on the fped:ator, independent of the principle that employs them, is an emo- tion of pleafure. The perfon poffeffing them is regarded with deference, with re- fpe<5t, and with admiration. Thus, then, the fatisfa^lion we receive in contemplating the characfter of Richard, in the various fi- tuations in which the poet has fhewn him, arifes from a mixed feeling: a feeling, com- pounded of horror, on account of his guilt; and of admiration, on account of his talents. By the concurrence of thefe two emotions the mind is thrown into a itate of unufual agitation; neither painful nor pleafant, in the extremes of pain or of pleafure, but ftrangely * delightful. Surprife and amazc-
* Lastatur turbidum. Hor.
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 203
ment, excited by the flriking conjundiures which he himfelf very often occafioiis, and which give exercife to his talents, together with aftoniiliment at the determined bold- nefs and fuccefs of his guilt, give uncommon force to the general impreffion.
It may be apprehended, that the mixed feelings now mentioned may be termed in- dignation; nor have I any obje6lion to the ufe of the terra. Indignation feems to arife from a comparative view of two ob- je(5ls: the one worthy, and the other un- w^orthy; which are, neverthelefs, united; but which, on account of the wrong or impropriety occafioned by this incongruous union, we conceive fliould be difunited and independent. The man of merit fuf- fering neglect or contempt, and the unv/or- thy m.an raifed to diftindtion, provoke in- dignation. In hke manner, indignation may be provoked, by feeing illuftrious ta- lents perverted to inhuman and perfidious purpofes. Nor is the feeling, for it arifes from elevation of foul and confcioufnefs of virtue, by any means difagreeable. Indeed, the plcafurc it yields us is different from
204 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
that arifing from other emotions of a more placid and fofter character; different, for example, in a very remarkable manner, from our fympathy with fuccefsful merit. Wc may alfo obferve, that fufpence, wonder, and furprife, occafioned by the adlual exer- tion of great abilities, under the guidance of uncontrouled inhumanity, by their aw- ful cffcd:s, and the poftures they affume, together with folicitude to fee an union fo unworthy diffolved, give poignancy to our indignation, and annex to it, if I may ufe the exprcffion, a certain wild and alarming deliofht.
o
But, by what term fbever we recognife the feeling, I proceed to illuftrate, by a par- ticular analyfis of fome ftriking fcenes in the tragedy, " that the pleafure we receive " from the Character of Richard, is pro- " duced by thofe emotions which arife in " the mind, on beholding great intellecflual *' ability employed for inhuman and perfi- " dious purpofes."
I. In the firft fcene of the tragedy we have the loathfome deformity of Richard
OF RICHARD THE THIRt). 20^
difplayed, with fuch indications of mind as altogether fupprefs our averfion. Indeed the poet, in the beginning of Richard's foHJoquy, keeps that deformity to which he would reconcile us, out of view; nor men- tions it till he throws difcredit upon its op- pofite : this he does indiredly. He poffefles the imagination with diflike at thofe em- ployments which are the ufual concomitants of grace and beauty. The means ufed for this purpofe are fuited to the artifice of the defign. Richard does not inveigh with grave and with folemn declamation againft the fports and paftime of a peaceful Court: they are unworthy of fuch ferious affault. He treats them with irony: he fcofFs at them; does not blame, but defpife them.
Now are our brows bound with vidorious wreaths j Our bruifed arms hung up for monuments j Our llern alarums chang'd to merry meetings ; Our dreadful marches to delightful meafures. Grim-vifaged war hath fmooth'd his wrinkled front: And now, inftead of mounting barbed Iteeds, To fright the fouls of fearful adverfaries. He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, To the lafcivious pleating of a lute.
By thus throwing difcredit on the ufual
Z06 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
attendants of grace and beauty, he leffens our clleem for thofe qualities; and proceeds with lefs reluc^lance to mention his own hideous appearance. Here, too, w ith great judgment on the part of the poet, the fpeech b ironicaL To have juftified or apologized for deformity with ferious argument, would have been no lefs ineffectual than a ferious charge againft beauty. The intention of Shakefpeare is not to make us admire the monftrous deformity of Richard, but to make us endure it.
But I, that am not fliap'd for fportive tricks. Nor made to court an am'rous looking-g lafs ; I that am rudely ftampt, and want Love's majefty To ftrut before a wanton ambling nymph ; I tlwit am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dilfembling naturr, Dcf()rm"d, unfinidi d, fent before my time Into this breathing world, fcarce half made up. And that fo lamely and unfalluonably. That dogs bark at me as I halt by them : Why 1 (in this weak piping time of peace) Have no delight to pafs away the time, Unlcfs to fpy my lliadow in the fun, And defcant on mine own deformity : And, therefore, lince I cannot prove a lover. To entertain thefe fair well-fpoken days, 1 am dctcnuined to prove a villain, And bate the idle pleafures of thefc days.
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. ZOJ
His contempt of external appearance, and the eafy manner in w hich he confiders his own defects, imprefs us llrongly with the apprehenfion of his fuperior underftand- ing. His refolution, too, of not acquiefcing tamely in the misfortune of his form, but of making it a motive for him to exert his other abiUties, gives us an idea of his pofleff- ing great vigour and ftrength of mind. Not difpirited with his deformity, it moves him to high exertion. Add to this, that our wonder and aflonifhment are excited at the declaration he makes of an atrocious cha- racter; of his total infenfibility ; and refolu- tion to perpetrate the blackefl: crimes.
Plots have I laid, indudllons dangerous. By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams. To fet my brother Clarence and the king In deadly hate, the one againft the otfier: And if King Edward be as true and jull, As I am fubtle, falfe, and treacherous, This day ihould Clarence clofely be mew'd up.
It may be faid, perhaps, that the colour- ing here is by far too ftrong, and that we cannot fuppofe characflers to exift fo full of deliberate guilt, as thus to contemplate a 6
2o8 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
criminal conduct -without fubterfuge, sLnd without impofing upon themfelves. It may be thought, that even the Ncros and the Domitians, who difgraced human nature, did not confidcr themfelves fo atrocioufly wicked as they really were : but, tranfported by lawlefs paffions, deceived themfelves, and were barbarous w^ithout perceiving their ciiilt. It is difficult to afcertain what the real ftate of fuch perverted characters may be; nor is it a pleafmg tafk. to analyfe their conceptions*. Yet the view which Shake- ipeare has given us of Pvichard's fcdate and deliberate guilt, knowing that his conduct was really guilty, is not inconfiftent. He only gives a deeper fhade to the darknefs of his charad:er. With his other enormities and defeats, he reprefents him incapable of feeling, though he may perceive the dif- ference between virtue and vice. Moved by unbounded ambition; vain of his intel- leclual and political talents ; conceiving himfelf, by reafon of his deformity, as of a different fpccies from the reft of mankind ; and inured from his infancy to the barbari-
* Butler.
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 509
ties perpetrated during a defperate civil war; furely it is not incompatible with his gha- rad:er, to reprefent him incapable of feeling thofe pleafant or unpleafant fcnfations that ufually, in other men, accompany the dif- cernment of right and of wrong. I will in- deed allow, that the effed: would have been as powerful, and the reprefentation would have been better fuited to our ideas of hu- man nature, had Richard, both here and in other fcenes, given indication of his guilt rather by obfcure hints and furmifes, than by an open declaration.
II. In the fcene between Richard and Lady Anne, the attempt feems as bold, and the fituation as difficult, as any in the tra- gedy.
It feems, indeed, altogether wild and unnatural, that Richard, deformed and hide- ous as the poet reprefents him, fhould offer himfelf a fuitor to the widow of an excel- lent young prince whom he had flain, at the very time fhe is attending the funeral of her hufband, and while ihe is expreffing the moft bitter hatred againft the author of
5IO DRAMATIC CHARACTER
her misfortune. But, in attending to the progrefs of the dialogue, we fhall find ourfelves more interefted in the event, and more aftoniftied at the boldnefs and abiUty of Richard, than moved w ith abhorrence at his fhamelefs effrontery, or offended with the improbabiUty of the fituation.
In confidering this fcene, it is neceffary that we keep in view the character of Lady Anne. The outlines of this charadler are given us in her own convcrfation ; but we fee it more completely finiihed and filled up, indirectly indeed, but not lefs diftin^ly, in the conduct of Richard. She is repre- fented by the poet, of a mind altogether frivolous; incapable of deep affed:ion; guid- ed by no fteady principles of virtue, pro- duced or ftrengthened by reafon and reflec- tion; the prey of vanity, which is her rul- ing paffion; fufceptible of every feeling and emotion; fmcere in their exprcflion while they laff; but hardly capable of diftinguifli- ing the propriety ol one more than another; and fo expofed alike to the influence of good and of bad impreffions. There are fuch characters: perfons of great fcnfibility.
OF RICHARD THfi THIRD. 211
of great fincerity, of no rational or ftcady virtue, and confequcntly of no confiftcncy of condud:. They now amaze us with their amiable virtues ; and now confound ud with apparent vices.
Richard, in his management of Lady Anne, having in view the accompUfhment of his ambitious defigns, addreifes hef with the moft perfe6l knowledge of het character. He knows that her feelings are violent ; that they have no foundation in fteady determined principles of condu6t; that violent feelings are foon exhaufted : and that the undecided mind, without choice or fenfe of propriety, is equally acceffible to the next that occur. All that he has to do, then, is to fuffer the violence of one emotion to pafs away, and then, as fkilfully as pof- fible, to bring another, more fuited to his defigns, into its place. Thus he not only difcovers much difcernment of human na*- ture, but alfo great command of temper, and great dexterity of condu6l.
In order, as foon as poffible, to exhauft her temporary grief and refentment, it is ne- ceflary that they be fwoUen and exafperated
P 2,
212 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
to their utmoft meafure. In truth, it is rcfcntment, rather than grief, which llie ex- prcfTes in her lamentation for Henry. Ac- cordingly Richard, inflaming her diforder to its fierceft extreme, breaks in abruptly upon the funeral proceffion. This ftimu- lates her refentment ; it becomes more vio- lent, by his appearing altogether cool and unconcerned at her abufe; and thus fhe vents her emotion in fierce inveftives and imprecations :
O God, which this blood mad'ft, revenge his death ! O earth, which this blood drink'ft, revenge his death ! Or heav'n, with lightning ftrike the murderer dead ! Or earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick !
This inventive is general. But before the vehemence of this angry mood can be entirely abated, flie mull bring home to her fancy every aggravating circumftance, and muft afcertain every particular wrong ihe has fuffered. When fhe has done this, and exprefled the confequent feelings, fhe has no longer any topics or food for anger, and the pallion will of courfe fubfide. Richard, for this purpofe, pretends to juftify
OP RICHARD THE THIRD. 2I3
or to extenuate his feeming offences; and thus, inftead of conccahng his crimes, he overcomes the refentment of Lady Anne, by bringing his cruelties into view. This has alfo the effe(ft of impreffing her with the behef of his candour.
Vouchfafe, divine perfedion of a woman. Of thefe fuppofed crimes, to give me leave. By circumftance but to acquit myfelf, &c.
Anne. Didft thou not kill this king ?
Glo. I grant ye.
Anne. Doft grant me, hedge-hog ? then God grant me too, Thou may'ft be damned for that wicked deed.
Here alfo we may obferve the application of thofe flatteries and apparent obfequiouf- nefs, which, if they cannot take effed: at prefent, otherwife than to give higher pro- vocation ; yet, when her wrath fubfides, will operate in a different direction, and tend to excite that vanity which is the predominant difpofition of her mind, and by means of which he will accomplilli his purpofe.
It was not alone fufficient to provoke her anger and her refentment to the utmoft, in order that they might immediately fubfide; but by alledging apparent reafons for change
214 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
of fentiment, to aflift them in their dechne. Though Lady Anne poflciTes no decided, determined virtue, yet her moral nature, uncultivated as it appears, would difcern impropriety in her conduct; would fuggeft fcruples, and fo produce hefitation. Now, in order to prevent the effed: of thefe, it was neceflary to aid the mind in finding fubterfuge or excufe, and thus affift her in the pleafmg bufmefs of impofnig upon her- felf. Her feducer accordingly endeavours to glofs his condud:, and reprefents himfelf as lefs criminal than Ihe at firft apprehended.
To leave this keen encounter of our wits, And fall fomewhat into a flower method : Is not the caufer of the timelefs deaths Of thefe Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, As blameful as the executioner ?
u4nne. Thou waft thecaule, and moflaccurft effeft.
G/o. Your beauty was the caufe of that efFeft : Your beauty, which did haunt me in my fleep, &c.
In thefe lines, befides a confirmation of the foregoing remark, and an illuftration of Richard's perfevering flattery, there are two circumftances that mark great delicacy and finenefs of pencil in Shakefpear's execu- tion of this ftriking fcene. The invedive
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. Zl^
and refcntment are now fo mitigated and brought down, that the converfation, af- fuming the more patient form of dialogue, is not fo much the expreilion of violent paflion, as a conteft for victory in a fmart difpute, and becomes a '* keen encounter of " wits." The other circumftance to be obferv^ed is, that Richard, inftead of fpeak- ing of her hufband and father-in-law, in the relation in which they ftood to her, falls in with the fubfiding ftate of her affection towards them, and ufmg terms of great in- difference, fpeaks of " thefe Plantagenets, Henry and Edward."
Lady Anne having liftened to the conver- fation of Richard, after the firft tranfport of her wrath on the fubjed: of Edward's death, iliewed that the real force of the paflfion was abating; and it feems to be perfectly fubdued, by her having liflened to his exculpation. In all this the art of the poet is wonderful; and the fkill he af- cribes to Richard, profound. Though the crafty feducer attempts to juflify his condu(fl to Lady Anne, he does not feek to convince her reafon ; for Ihe had no reafon worth th^
2l6 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
pains of convincing; but to afford her fomc means and opportunity to vent her emotion. When this effe6l is produced, he proceeds to iubftitute ibme regard for himfelf in its place. As we have already obferved, he has been taking meafures for this purpofe in every thing he has faid ; and by foothing expreffions of adulation during the courfe of her anger, he w^as gradually preparing her mind for the more pleafmg, but not lefs pow^erful, dominion of vanity. In the fore- going lines, and in what follows, he ventures a declaration of the paffion he entertains for her. Yet he does this indirectly, as fug- gelled by the tendency of their argument, and as a reafon for thofe parts of his con- duct that feem fo heinous.
Your beauty was the caufe, &c.
Richard was well aware, that a declara- tion of love from him would of courfe re- new her indignation. He accordingly ma- nages her mind in fuch a manner as to foften its violence, by mentioning his paffion, in the part of the dialogue containing, in his language, the " keen encounter of their
OP RICHARD THE THIRD. 217
*' wits," as a matter not altogether fcrious; and afterwards when he announces it more ferioufly, by mentioning it as it were by chance, and indiredly. Yet, notwithftand- ing all thefe precautions to introduce the thought with an eafy and familiar appear- ance, it muft excite violent indignation. Here, therefore, as in the former part of the fcene, he muft have recourfe to the fame command of temper, and to the fame means of artfully irritating her emotion, till it entirely fubfides. Accordingly, he ad- heres without deviation to his plan; he per- fifts in his adulation; provokes her anger to its utmoft excefs; and finally, by varying the attitudes of his flatteries, by afluming an humble and fuppliant addrefs, he fub- dues and reftores her foul to the ruling paf- fion. In the clofe of the dialogue, the de- cline of her emotion appears diflinAly traced. It follows the fame courfe as the paffion flie exprefles in the beginning of the fcene. She is at firffc violent; becomes more violent; her paffion fubfides: yet, fome notions of propriety wandering acrofs her mind, Ihe makes an elFort to recal her refentment.
2lS DRAMATIC CHARACTER
The effort is feeble; it only enables her to exprefs contempt in her afpedt; and at laft fhe becomes the prey of her vanity. In the concluding part of the dialogue, Ihe does not, indeed, direftly comply with the fuit of Richard, but indicates plainly that total change in her difpofition which it was his purpofe to produce*.
III. We fhall now confider the manner in which Richard manages his accomplices, and thofc from whom he derives his aflift- ance in the fulfilment of his defigns.
We difcern in his condud: towards them, as much at leaft as in their own deportment, the true colour of their characters: we dis- cover the full extent of their faculties, and the real value of their virtues. According as they are varioufly conftituted, his treat- ment of them varies. He ufes them all as the tools of his ambition; but aflumes an appearance of greater friendlliip and confi- dence towards fomc than towards others.
* Thefe preceding remarks on the charader of Lady Anne were firft publilhed in the Mirror, No, 66.
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 219
He is well acquainted with the engines he would employ : he knows the compafs of their powers, and difcovers great dexterity in his manner of moving and applying them. To the Mayor and his followers he affects an appearance of uncommon devotion and piety; great zeal for the public welfare; a fcrupulous regard for the forms of law and ofjuftice; retirementfrom the world; aver- sion to the toils of ftate; much truft in the good intentions of a magiftrate fo con- fpicuous; ftill more in his underftanding; and by means of both, perfect confidence in his power with the people. — Now, in this manner of conducting himfelf, who is not more ftruck with the addrcfs and ability difplayed by Richard, and more moved with curiofity to know their effeds, than fhocked at his hypocrify and bafe deceit? Who does not diftinClly, though indirectly, indeed, difcern the character of the Mayor? The deportment of Richard is a glafs that reflects every limb, every lineament, and every colour, with the moft perfeCl truth and propriety.
What, think you we are Turks or Infidels,
220 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
Or that we would, againft the form of law, Proceed thus raftily in the villain's death ? &c.
Alas I why would you heap thofe cares on me ? I am unfit for ftate or Majefty, &c.
The behaviour of Richard towards Buck- ingham is ftill more ftriking and peculiar. The fituation was more difficult, and his condud: appears more mafterly. Yet, as in former inftances, the outlines and fketch of Buckingham's character are filled up in the deportment of his feducer.
This accomplice pofTefles fome talents, and confiderable difcernment of human nature: his pafTions arc ardent; he has little zeal for the public welfare, or the interefts of virtue or religion ; yet, to a certain degree, he poiTeflcs humanity and a fenfe of duty. He is moved with the love of power and of wealth. He is fufceptible, perhaps, of envy againft thofe who arifc to fuch pre-eminence as he thinks might have fuited his own ta- lents and condition. Poffeffing fome poli- tical abilities, or, at leaft, pofTeffmg that cun- ning, that power of fubtile contrivance, and that habit of activity, which fometimes pafs
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 2Zl
for political abilities, and which, impofing upon thofe who polTefs them, make them fancy themfelves endowed with the powers of diftinguifhed ftatefmen; he values him- felf for his talents, and is defirous of dif- playing them. Indeed, this feems to be the moft ftriking feature in his chara(5ler; and the defire of exhibiting his ikill and dexterity, appears to be the foremoft of his active principles. Such a perfon is Buck- ingham; and the coadud: of Richard is perfe(5lly confonant. Having too much pe- netration, or too little regard to the public weal, to be blindfolded or impofed upon like the Mayor, Richard treats him with apparent confidence. Moved, perhaps, with envy againfl the kindred of the Queen, or the hope of pre-eminence in confequence of their ruin, he concurs in the accomplilh- ment of their deftrudlion, and in affifting the Ufurper to attain his unlawful prefer- ment. But above all, exceffivcly vain of his talents, Richard borrows aid from his counfels, and not only ufes him as the tool of his defigns, but feems to fhare with him in the glory of their fuccefs. Knowing,
222, DRAMATIC CHARACTER
too, that his fcnfe of virtue is faint, or of lit- tle power, and that the fccrct exultation and triumph for over-reaching their adverfaries, will afford him pleafure fufficicnt to coun- terbalance the pain that may arifc in his brcall from the perpetration of guilt, he makes him, in a certain degree, the confi- dent of his crimes. It is alfo to be remarked, that Buckingham, ftimulated with the hope of reward, and elated ftill more with va- nity in the difplay of his talents, appears more active than the CJfurper himfclf ; more inventive in the contrivance of expedients, and more alert in their execution. There are many fuch perfons, the inftruments of defigning men: perfons of fomc ability, of lefs virtue, who derive confequence to thcm- felves, by fancying they are pri^y to the vices or defigns of men whom they rc- fpeft, and who triumph in the fulfilment of crafty projects. Richard, however, fees the feeblenefs of Buckingham's mind, and reveals no more of his projects and vices than he reckons expedient for the accom- plilhment of his purpofe: for, as fome men, when at variance, fo rcftrain their re-
4
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. ^2^
fentments as to leave room for future recon- ciliation and friendfhip; Richard fo manages his feeming friendfhips, as to leave room, without the hazard of material injury to himfelf, for future hatred and animofity. A rupture of courfe enfues, and in a manner perfed:ly compatible w^ith both of their cha- racters. Richard wifhes for the death of his brother Edw^ard's children; and that his friend fhould on this, as on former occaiions, partake of the fhame or the glory. But here the ambition or envy of Buckingham had no particular concern; nor w^as there any great ability requisite for the affaffi- nation of tw^o helplefs infants. Thus his humanity and fcnfe of duty, feeble as they were, w^hen expofed to ftronger principles, not altogether extinguifhed, were left to work uncontrouled; and confequently would fuggeft hefitation. They might be aided in their operation by the infatiate defire of reward for former fervices, not gratified according to promife or exped:ation; and, by the fame invidious difpofition, transferred from the ruined kindred of the Queen to the fuccefsful Ufurper. Richard, fomewhat
554 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
aware that this project was more likely to encounter fcruples than any of the former, hints his defign with caution : he infmuates it with acknowledgment of obligation; and endeavours to anticipate the alarms of con- fcience, byfuggeflingto him, along with this acknowledgment, the recolle6lion of former guilt. Not aware, however, of the force con- tained in the refifting principles, and appre- hending that the mind of his aflifliant was now as depraved as he defired, he hazards too abruptly the mention of his defign. The confequence, in perfecfl confiftency with both their natures, is coldnefs and irre- concileable hatred.
SJcA. Stand all apart. — Coufin of Buckingham —
Buck. My gracious Sovereign !
Ric/t. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice And thy affil^ance, is King Richard feated: But (hall we wear thele glories for a day ? Or fliall they lalt, and we rejoice in them ?
Bud. Still live they, and for ever let them laft.
Bic/i. Ah, Buckingham ! now do I play the touch, To try if thou be current gold indeed : Young Edward lives ! think now what I would fpeak.
Buck. Say on, my loving Lord.
BicA. Why. Buckingham, I fay I would be King.
Buck. Why, fo you are, my thrice renowned Liege.
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 22.^
tlich. Ha ! am I a King ? — 'Tis fo — but Edward lives —
Buck. True, noble Prince.
Rich. O bitter confequence ! That Edward ftill fliould live— True, noble Prince— Coufin, thou waft not wont to be fo dull. Shall I be plain ? I wifh the baftards dead, And I would have it fuddenly perform'd. What fay'ft thou now ? Speak fuddenly — be brief.
Buck. Your Grace may do your pleafure.
Rick. Tut, tut, thou art all ice ; thy kindnefs freezes : Say, have I thy confent that they ihall die ?
Buck. Give me fome breath, fome little paufe, dear Lord, Before I pofitively fpeak in this : I will refolve your Grace immediately.
Cates. The King is angry 3 fee, he gnaws his lip.
The condu(5l of Richard to Catefby is different from his deportment towards the Mayor or Buckingham. Regarding him as totally unprincipled, fervile, and inhuman, he treats him hke the meaneft inflrument of his guilt. He treats him without relped: for his chara6ler, without management of his temper, and without the leaft apprehen- fion that he has any feelings that will fhud- der at his commands.
IV. We fliall now confider the decline of Richard's profperity, and the effed of his condud on the fall of his foftunes.
Q
\
226 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
By diirimulation, perfidy, and bloodflied, he paves his way to the throne : by the fame bafc and inhuman means he endeavours to fecure his pre-eminence; and has added to the hft of his crimes, the affaiTination of his wife and his nephews. Meanwhile he is laying a fnare for himfelf. Not Rich- mond, but his own enormous vices, proved the caufe of his ruin. The cruelties he perpetrates, excite in the minds of men hatred, indignation, and the defire of re- venge. But fuch is the deluding nature of vice, that of this confequence he is little aware. Men who lofe the fenfe of virtue, transfer their own depravity to the reft of mankind, and believe that others are as little lliocked with their crimes as they are them- felves. Richard having trampled upon every fentiment of juftice, had no concep- tion of the general abhorrence that had arifen againft him. He thought refentment might belong to the fufferers, and their immediate adherents; but, having no faith in the exiftence of a difnitercfted fenfe of virtue, he appears to have felt no apprehen- fion left other perfons iliould be offended with 4
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 5^7
his injuftice, or inclined to punifh his in- human guilt. Add to this, that fuccefs ad- minifters to his boldnefs; and that he is daily more and more inured to the pra^lice of violent outrage. Before he obtained the diadem, he proceeded with caution ; he en- deavoured to impofe upon mankind the be- lief of his fandlified manners; he treated his aflbciates with fuitable deference; and feemed as dexterous in his conducT;, as he was barbarous in difpofition. But caution and diffimulation required an effort; the exertion was laborious ; and naturally ceafed when imagined to be no longer needful. Thus rendered familiar with perfidious cru- elty; flulhed with fuccefs; more elate with confidence in his own ability, than attentive to the fuggeftions of his fufpicion ; and from his incapacity of feeling moral obligation, more ignorant of the general abhorrence he had incurred, than averfe to revenge; as h.e becomes, if poffible, more inhuman, he cer- tainly becomes more incautious. This ap- pears in the wanton difplay of his real cha- ratfler, and of thofe vices which drew upon him even the curfes of a parent. Q 2
2ZS DRAMATIC CHARACTER
Dutch. Either thou'lt die by God's juft ordinance. Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror; Or I with grief and extreme age ihall perifli. And never look upon thy face again : Therefore, take with thee my moft heavy curfe. Which in the day of battle tire thee more Than all the complete armour that thou wear'ft.
His incautious behaviour after he has arifen to fuprcme authority, appears very ftriking in his condud: to his accomphces. Thofe whom he formerly feduced, or de- ceived, or flattered, he treats w^ith indif- ference or difrefped:. He conceives him- felf no longer in need of their aid: he has no occafion, as he apprehends, to ailume difguife. Men of high rank, who fhall feem to give him advice or affiftance, and fo by their influence with the multitude, reconcile them to his crimes, or bear a part of his infamy, ccafe to be reckoned necef- fary; and he has employment for none, but the defpcratc aiTaflTin, or implicit menial. All this is illuftratcd in his treatment of Buckingham. Blinded by his own barba- rity, he requires his affiftance in the death of his nephews. Buckingham, having lefs
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 2Zg
incitement than formerly to participate in his guilt, hefitates, and feems to refufe. Richard is offended; does not govern his temper as on former occafions; expreffes his difpleafure; refiifes to ratify the pro- mifes he had given him; behaves to him, in the refufal, with fupercilious infult, and fo provokes his refentment.
Buck. My Lord, I claim the gift, my due by promife. For which your honour and your faith are pawn'd ; Th' Earldom of Hereford, and the moveables. Which you have promifed I Ihall poffefs. Sec.
Bich. Thou troubleft me : I am not in the vein.
{Exit,
Buck. Is it even fo ? — Repays he my deep fervice "With fuch contempt ? — Made I him king for this ? O, let me think on Haftings, and be gone To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on.
Thus the conduct of Richard involves him in danger. The minds of men are alienated from his interefts. Thofe of his former affociates, who were in public efteem, are difmiffed with indignity, and incenfed to refentment. Even fuch of his adherents as are interefted in his fortunes, on their own account, regard him with utter aver- fion. A flroke aimed at him in his peril-
Z^O DRAMATIC CHARACTER
ous fituation, muft prove efFedrual. He arrives at the brink of ruin, and the flighteft impulie will piifh him down. He refem- bles the misfliapen rock defcribed in a fairy- tale. " This aftonifhing rock," fays the whimfical novelift, " was endowed, by in- '* fernal forcery, with the power of impetu- " ous motion. It rolled through a flouriili- " ing kingdom; it crufhcd down its oppo- *^ nents; it laid the land dcfolatc; and was ** followed by a ftream of blood. It arrived " unwittingly at an awful precipice; it had " no power of returning; for the bloody " ftream that purfued it was fo ftrong, that *' it never rolled back. It was pulhed from " the precipice; was fhivered into frag- '* mcnts; and the roar of its downfall arofc '' unto heaven."
The pleafure we receive from the ruin of Richard, though intimately connected with that arifmg from the various difplays of his charad;er, is, neverthelefs, different. Wc arc not amazed, as formerly, with his talents and his addrefs, but fhocked at his cruelty ; our abhorrence is foftencd, or con- verted inta an agreeable feeling, by the
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 23I
fatisfa^lion we receive from his punifliment. Befides, it is a punifliment inflicHied, not by the agency of an external caufe, but in- curred by the natural progrefs of his vices. We are more gratified in feeing him racked with fufpicion before the battle of Bofworth; liftening from tent to tent, left his foldiers ihould meditate treafon; overwhelmed on the eve of the battle with prefages of cala- mity, arifmg from inaufpicious remem- brance; and driven, by the dread of danger, to contemplate and be Ihocked at his own heinous tranfgreffions. We are more affedled, and more gratified with thefe, than with the death he fo defervedly fuffers. Richard and his confcience had long been ftrangers. That importunate monitor had been dif- mifted, at a very early period, from his fer- vice; nor had given him the leaft interrup- tion in the career of his vices. Yet they were not entirely parted. Confcience w^as to vifit him before he died, and chofe for the hour of her vifitation, the eve of his, death. She comes introduced by Danger; fpreads before him, in hues of infernal im- preffion, the picture of his enormities;.
2^Z DRAMATIC CHARACTER
Ihakcs him with deep difmay; pierces his foul with a poifoned arrow; unnerves and forfakes him.
O coward Confcience, how doft thou afflift me ! The light burns blue — is it not dead midnight ? Cold, fearful drops, ftand on my trembling flefli. What do I fear ? myfelf ? There's none elfe by. — • Is there a murth'rer here ? No : — Yes — I am. — My confcience hath a thoufand feveral tongues. And ev'ry tongue brings in a feveral tale. And ev'ry tale condemns me for a villain.
Upon the whole, certain objects, whe- ther they aftually operate on our fenfes, or be prefented to the mind by imitation, are difagreeable. Yet many difagreeable ob- jects may be fo imitated, by having their deformities veiled, or by having any agree- able qualities they may poiTefs, improved or judicioufly brought forward, that fo far from continuing ofFenfive, they af- ford us pleafure. Many actions of man- kind are in their own nature horrible and difgufting. Mere deceit, mere grovelling appetite, cruelty and meannefs, both in the imitation and the original, occafion pain and averfion. Yet thefe vices may be fo repre-
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 233
fentcd by the fkill of an ingenious artift, as to afford us pleafure. The moft ufual me- thod of rendering their reprefentation agree- able is, by fetting the chara(5lcrs in whom they predominate, in oppofition to fuch charad:ers as are eminent for their oppofite virtues. The diffimulation; ingratitude, and inhumanity of Goneril, fet in oppofi- tion to the native fimpHcity, the fihal affec- tion, and fenfibihty of CordeHa, though in tliemfelves hateful, become an interefting fped;acle. The pleafure we receive is, by having the agreeable feelings and fentiments that virtue excites, improved and rendered exquifite by contrafl, by alternate hopes and fears, and even by our fubdued and coinciding abhorrence of vice. For the painful feeling, overcome by delightfiil emotions, lofes its direction and peculiar chara(fler; but re- taining its force, communicates additional energy to the prevailing fenfation, and fo augments its efficacy. Another more dif- ficult, though no lefs interefling method of producing the fame effe^ is when with fcarce any attention to oppofite virtues in other perfons, very aggravated and heinous vices are
234 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
blended and united in the fame perfon, with agreeable intelled;ual qualities. Boldnefs,^ command ot temper, a fpirit of enterprile, united with the intcllediual endowments of difcernment, penetration, dexterity, and addrefs, give us pleafure. Yet thefc may be employed as inftrumcnts of cruelty and oppreffion, no lefs than of j uftice and hu- manity. When the reprefentation is fuch, that the pleafure arifmg from thefe quali- ties is ftronger than the painful averfion and abhorrence excited by concomitant vices, the general efFed: is agreeable. Even the painful emotion, as in the former cafe, lofmg its charad:er, but retaining its vigour, im- parts additional force to our agreeable feel- ings. Thus, though there is no approbation of the vicious character, we are, neverthelefs, pleafcd with the reprefentation. The foul is overfliadowed w ith an agreeable gloom^ and her powers are fufpended with delight- ful horror. The pleafure is varied and in- , creafed, when the criminal propenfities, gaining ftrength by indulgence, occafion the ncgledt of intellectual endowments, and difregard of their affillancc; fo that by
OF RICHARD TlIE THIRD. 2^^
natural confequence, and without the hi- terpofition of uncommon agency from without, the vicious perfon, becoming as incautious as he is wicked, is rendered the prey of his own corruptions: foflers thofe fnakes in his bofom that Ihall devour his vitals ; and luffers the moft condign of all punifliment, the miferies intailed by guilt.
Shakefpeare, in his Richard the Third, has chofen that his principal character fliould be conftrud:ed according to the laft of thefe methods; and this I have endeavoured to illuftrate, by confidering the manner in which Richard is afFed:ed by the confciouf- nefs of his own deformity; by confidering the dexterity of his condutfl in feducing the Lady Anne; by obferving his various de- portment towards his feeming friends or accomplices; and finally, by tracing the progrefs of his vices to his downfal and ut- ter ruin.
The other excellencies of this tragedy be- fides the charad:er of Richard, are, indeed, of an inferior nature, but not unworthy of Shakefpeare. The characters of Bucking- ham, Anne, Hafi:ings, and Queen Margaret,
2^6 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
are executed with lively colouring and ftrik- ing features; but, excepting Margaret, they arc exhibited indirectly; and are more fully known by the condudl of Richard towards them, than by their own demeanour. They give the fkctch and outlines in their own alliens; but the pi<5lure appears finifhed in the deportment of Richard. This, how- ever, of itfelf, is a proof of very fmgular fkill. The condud; of the ftory is not in- ferior to that in Shakefpeare's other hif- torical tragedies. It exhibits a natural progrefs of events, terminated by one in- tcrciling and complete cataftrophe. Many of the epifodes have uncommon excellence. Of this kind are, in general, all the fpeeches of Margaret. Their efFed; is awful; they coincide with the ftyle of the tragedy; and by wearing the fame gloomy complexion, her prophecies and imprecations fuit and in- crcale its horror. There was never in any poem a dream fuperior to that of Clarence. It pleafes, like the prophecies of Margaret, by a folcmn anticipation of future events, and by its confonance with the general tone of the tragedy. It pleafes, by being fo fmiple,
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 5J7
fo natural, and fo pathetic, that every read- * er fcems to have felt the fame or fmiilar horrors; and is inclined to fay with Braken- bury.
No marvel. Lord, that it affrighted you ; I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.
This tragedy, how^ever, like every work of Shakefpeare, has many faults; and, in particular, it feems to have been too haftily written. Some incidents are introduced with- out any apparent reafon, or without appa- rent neceffity. We are not, for inftance, fuf- ficiently informed of the motive that prompt- ed Richard to marry the widow of Prince Edward. In other refped:s, as was obferv- ed, this fcene poflefles very fmgular merit. The fcene towards the clofe of the tragedy, between the Queen and Richard, when he folicits her confent to marry her daughter Elizabeth, feems no other than a copy of that now mentioned. As fuch, it is faulty; and ftill more fo, by being executed with lefs ability. Yet this incident is not liable to the objection made to the former. We fee a good, prudential reafon, for the mar- 8
538 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
riage of Richard with Elizabeth; but none for his marriage with Lady Anne. We almoll wifh that the firft courtfliip had been omitted, and that the dialogue between Richard and Anne had been fuited and ap- propriated to Richard and the Queen. Nei- ther are we fufficiently informed of the motives, that, on fome occafions, influenced the condu6l of Buckingham. We are not enough prepared for his animofity againft the Queen and her kindred; nor can we pronounce, without hazarding conjecture, that it proceeded from envy of their fudden greatnefs, or from having his vanity flat- tered by the feeming deference of Richard. Yet thefe motives fccm highly probable. The young Princes bear too great a fliarc in the drama. It would feem the poet intended to intereft us very much in their misfortunes. The reprcfentation, however, is not agreeable. The Princes have more fmartnefs than fmiplicity; and we are more afi^eded with Tyrrel's defcription of their death, than pleafed with any thing in their own converfation. Nor does the fcene of the ghofts, in the lafl: ad, feem equal in exc-
OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 239
cutlon to the defign of Shakcfpcarc. There is more deHghtful horror in the fpeech of Richard awakening from his dream, than, in any of the predictions denounced againft him. There feems, indeed, fome impro- priety in reprefenting thofe fpedtres as ac- tually appearing, which were only feen in a vifion. Befides, Richard might have de- fcribed them in the fucceeding fcene, to Ratcliff, fo as to have produced, at leaft in the perufal of the work, a much ftronger effed:. The reprefentation of ghofts in this paiTage, is by no means fo afFedling, nor fo awful, as the dream related by Clarence. Laftly, there is in this performance too much deviation in the dialogue from the dignity of the bulkin; and deviations ftill more blameable, from the language of de- cent manners. Yet, with thefe imperfec- tions, this tragedy is a ftriking monument of human genius ; and the fuccefs of the poet, in delineating the charader of Richard, has been as great as the fmgular boldnefs ot the defiscn.
( 240 )
ESSAY VII.
ON THE
DRAMATIC CHARACTER OF
SIR JOHN FALSTAFF.
Mt intention in the following Eflay is to explain and account for the pleafure we receive from the reprcfcntation of Shake- fpeare's dramatic charad:er of Sir John Fal- ftaff. In treating this fubjed;, I fhall with as much brevity as poffible mention the caufe on which our pleafure depends; and then by a particular analyfis of the charac- ter endeavour to eftablifli my theory.
PART I.
No external objedl affe6ls us in a more
OF SIR JOUN FALSTAFF. 24I
difagrceable manner, than the view of fuf- fering occafioned by cruelty ; our uneafinefs arifes not only from the difplay of cala- mity, but from the difplay of an inhuman mind. For how much foever human na- ture may exhibit interefting appearances, there are difpofitions in mankind, which cannot otherwifc be regarded than with abhorrence. Of this fort are cruelty, ma- lice, and revenge. They affe<5t us in the re- prefentation in the fame manner as in real life. Neither the poet nor hiftorian, if they reprefent them unmixed and unconneded wdth other ingredients, can ever render them agreeable. Who can without pain perufe the tragedy of Titus Andronicus, or the ac- count given by Suetonius, of the butcheries and enormities perpetrated by fome of the Ccefars ?
Yet with cruelty, malice, and revenge, many ufeful and even excellent qualities may be blended; of this kind are courage, independence of fpirit, difcernment of cha- rader, fagacity in the contrivance, and dex- terity in the execution, of arduous enter- prifes. Thefc, confidered apart, and uncon-
R
54^ DRAMATIC CHARACTER
ne^lcd with moral or immoral afFe^lions, are viewed with confidcrablc pleafure, and regarded with fome refpeft. United with good difpofitions, they produce the higheft merit, and form the moft exalted chara(5ler. United with evil affed:ions, though they do not lelTen, yet perhaps they counteraft, at leaft they alter the nature and tendency of our abhorrence. We do not indeed, on their account, regard the inhuman character with lefs difapprobation ; on the contrary, our diiiipprobation is, if poffiblc, more de- termined. Yet, by the mixture of different ingredients, our fenfations are changed, they are not very painful; nay, if the pro- portion of refpectablc qualities be confider- able, they become agreeable. The charac- ter, though highly blameable, attracts our notice, excites curiofity, and yields delight. The character of Satan in Paradife Loft, one of the moft finifhed in the whole range of epic poetry, fully illuftrates our obferva- tion: it difplays inhumanity, malice, and revenge, united with fagacity, intrepidity, dexterity, and perfeverance. Of a fimilar kind, though with fome different lineaments.
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 243
is Shakefpear's King Richard the Third; it excites indignation : indignation, however, is not a painful, but rather an agreeable feeling; a feeling too, which, if duly go- verned, we do not blame ourfelves for in- dulging.
We are led imperceptibly, almoft by every bond, even by oppofite bonds of afl'oci- ation, by thofe of contrafh and refcmblance, to extend thefe remarks. There are quali- ties in human nature that excite abhorrence; and qualities alfo that excite difguft. We fee fome difpofitions that are enormoufly, and fome that are meanly fliocking. Some give us pain by their atrocity, and fome by their bafenefs. As virtuous anions may be divided into thofe that are refpe6lable, and thofe that are amiable ; fo of vicious ad;ions, fome are hateful, and affedl us with horror; others are vile, and produce averfion. By one clafs, we have an imaginary, fympathe- tic, and tranfient apprehenfion of being hurt; by the other, we have a iimilar ap- prehenfion of being polluted. We would chaftife the one with painful, and the other with fhameful punifliment. Of the latter R 2,
24-4 ORAMATtC CHARACTER
fort are the grofs excciTes and pervcrfion of inferior appetites. They hardly bear to be named ; and fcarcely, by any reprefentation, without judicious circumlocution, and hap- py adjuncts, can be rendered agreeable. Who can mention, w ithout reludance, the mere glutton, the mere epicure, and the fot? And to thefe may be added the coward, the liar, the felfilh and affenting parafite.
Yet the conftituent parts of fuch characlers may be fo blended with other qualities of an agreeable, but neutral kind, as not only to lofe their difguftful, but to gain an en- gaging afpect. They may be united with a complaifance that has no afperity, but that falls in readily, or without apparent con- ftraint, with every opinion or inclination. They may be united \Nith goodhumour, as oppofed to morofenefs, and harllinefs of oppofition: with ingenuity and verfatility, in the arts of deceit: and with faculties for genuine or even fpurious wit; for the fpu- rious requires fome ability, and may, to fomc minds, afford amufement. Add to this, tlmt in fully explaining the appearance, in elucidating how the mixture of different
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. ^45
mental qualities, in the fame character, affords delight; we muft recoiled;, as on fimilar occafions, that when different and even oppolite feelings encounter one ano- ther, and affed us at the fame time; thofe that prevail, under the guidance of fome vigorous paffion, carry the reft along with them; dired them Co as to receive the fame tendency with themfelves, and impelhng the mind in the fame manner, receive from their coincidence additional power*. They reicmble the fwell and progrefs of a Tartar army. One horde meets with another; they fight; the van- quillied unite with the \iclors: incorporat- ed with them, under the direction of a Timour or a Zingis, they augment their force, and enable them to conquer others.
Characters of the kind above mentioned, confifting of mean and at the fame time of agreeable qualities, though they meet with difapprobation, are yet regarded with fome attention: they procure to themfelves fome attachment; they excite neither fear, envy, nor fufpicion: as they are not reckoned
^ Hume's ElFay on Tragedy.
54^ dra:matic character
noxious, the difapprobation they produce is Ihght; and they yield, or promote amufe- ment. What elfe are the race of parafites both of ancient and modern times? — the gnathontd* of diiFcrent forts, the dire^ and indire(ft, the fmooth and the blunt? — thofe who by affentation, buffoonery, and even wit or fome appearance of wit, varied agreea- bly to the iliifting manners of mankind, relieve the fatigue of floth ; fill up the va- cuity of minds that m.uft, but cannot think; and are a fuitablc fubftitute, when the gorged appetite loathes the banquet, and the downy couch can allure no flumbers?
As perfons who difplay cruel difpofitions, united with force of mind and fuperior in- tellectual abilities, arc regarded with indig- nation; fo thofe whofe ruling delires aim at the gratification of grofs appetite, united with good-humour, and fuch intelleftual endowments as may be fitted to gain favor, are regarded with fcorn. " Scorn f, like " indignation, feems to arife from a com- *' parative view of two objed:s, the one
* Terence. f Effay on Richard the Third.
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 547
'^ worthy, and the other unworthy, which *' are neverthelefs united; but which, on ^^ account of the wrong or impropriety oc- *' cafioned by this incongruous union, we *' conceive lliould be difunited and uncon- " neded." The difference between them feems to be, that the objeds of indignation are great and important, thofe of fcorn Uttle and unimportant. Indignation, of confe- quence, leads us to expreffions of anger* but fcorn, as it denotes the feeUng or dif- cernment of inferiority, with fuch mixture of pretenfions as to produce contrail and incongruity, is often expreffed by laughter; and is, in a ferious mood, connected with pity. Difdain is akin to indignation, and implies confcioufnefs of inherent worth You difdain to a(5l an unworthy part:
Difdain, which fprung from confcious merit, flufli'd The cheek of Dithyrambus. — Glover.
Contempt does not fo much arife from fuch confcioufnefs, as from the perception of bafenefs in the objed: To defpife, de-
::4B dramatic character
notes a fentiment between difdain and con- tempt, which implies fome opinion of our own fuperiority, and fome opinion of in- feriority in the objecl; but neither in their extremes*. Difdain, hke indignation, is alhed to anger; contempt, Hke fcorn, or more fo, is connedlcd with pity: but we often dcfpife, without either pitying or be- ing angry. When the meannefs, which is the objed; of contempt, afpires by preten- fions to a connection with merit, and the defign appearing productive of no great harm, wx are inchncd to laugh: we are moved with fcorn.
But in what manner foevcr we under- ftand the terms, for they are often con- founded, and may not perhaps, in their ufual acceptation, be thought to convey the complete meaning here annexed to them; the diflinClions themfclves have a real foun- dation: and that which we have chiefly in ■\ iew at prefent, is fully illuftratcd in the cha-
* Perhaps it denotes a kind of which difdain and con- tempt are fpecies : we contemn a threat, we difdain a« offer ) we dclpifc them both,
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. ^49
lacker of Sir John FalftafF. In him the cfFed:s arifmg from the " mixture of mean, *' grovclhng, and bafe difpofitions with thofc '' quaUtics and difpofitions of a neutral kind, " which afford pleafure; and though not in *' themfelves objects of approbation, yet lead " to attachment; are diftindlly felt and *' perceived." In what follows of this Ef- faj, therefore, I Ihall firft exemplify fome of the bafer, and then fome of thofe agree- able parts of the chara<51:er that reconcile our feelings, but not our reafon, to its defor- mity.
PART IL
I. '^The defire of gratifying the grower *' and lower appetites, is the ruling and " ftrongeft principle in the mind of Fal- '' ffaff." Such indulgence is the aim of his projects : upon this his condud very uni- formly hinges : and to this his other paffions are not only fubordinate, but fubfervient. His gluttony and love of dainty fare are ad- mirably delineated in many paffagcs: but
250 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
with peculiar felicity in tlie following; where the poet difplaying FalftafFs fenfu- ality, in a method that is humorous and in- direct, and placing him in a ludicrous fituation, reconciles us by his exquiiite plea- fantry to a mean object.
Poms. FalftafF! — fall afleep behind the arras : and fnort- ing like a horfe.
P. H. Hark, how hard he fetches breath ! Search his pocket. What haft thou found ?
Poins. Nothing but papers, my Lord.
P.H. Let's fee what they be. Read them.
Poms. Item, a capon, 2s. Id. Item, Sauce, Ad. Item, Sack, two gallons. 5s. Sd. Item, Anchoves and Sack after fupper, 2s. 6d. Item. Bread, a halfpenny.
P. H. O monftrous ! but one halfpenny worth of bread to this intolerable deal of fack !
Who but Shakefpeare could have made a tavern-bill the fubjed: of fo much mirth; and fo happily inftrumental in the difplay of charad;er ?
The fenfuality of the character is alio held forth in the humorous and ludicrous viei^'s that are given of his pcrfon. 8
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 2^1
Fjljlaff. The rafcal hath removed my horfe, and tied him, I know not where. If I travel but four feet by the fquare further a-foot, I (hall break my wind. Eight yards of un- even ground, is threefcore and ten miles a-foot with me : and the ftony-hearted villains know it well enough.
P. H. Peace, ye fat-guts ! lie down, lay thine ear clofe to the ground, and lilt if thou canft hear the tread of tra- vellers.
Faljlaff. Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down ? S'blood, I'll not bear mine own fle(h fo far a-foot again for all the coin in thy father's exchequer.
%, Purfuing no other object than the gratification of bodily pleafure, it is not wonderful that in fituations of danger, the care of the body fhould be his chief concern. He avoids fituations of danger: he does not wifh to be valiant; and without ftruggle or reluctance, adheres to his refolution. Thus his cowardice feems to be the refult of deli- beration, rather than the effed; of conftitu- tion: and is a deternciined purpofe of not exposing to injury or deftrud:ion that cor- poreal ftrudiure, foul and unwieldy tho' it be, on which his fupreme enjoyment io completely depends. His well known fo- liloquy on honor difplays a mind, that having
2^2 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
neither enthufiafm for fame, nor fcnfe of re- putation, is influenced in the hour of danger by no principle but the fear of bodily pain: and if man were a mere fentient and mortal animal, governed by no higher principle than fcnfual appetite, \vc might accede to
his rcafonincr. —
<_■
Can honour fet a leg ? No : or an arm ? No : or take away the grief of a wound ? No : honour hath no fkill in
furgery then r No.
Thus while the fpeakcr, in expreffnig his real fentiments, affeds a playful manner, he affords a curious example of _felf-|mpofi- tion, of an attempt to difguife confcious de- merit, and cfcapc from confcious difappro- bation.
3. As perfons whofe ftrongeft principle is the love of fame, are neverthelcfs moved by inferior appetites, and feek occafionally their gratification; fo the fenfualift, con- fl:ru(ftcd originally like the refl of mankind, may be fomctimes moved by the defire of praifc or diftinftion. Or, connecting this defire, and the circumftance we have to mention, more intimately with the ruling
Of sir JOHN FALSTAFP. 253
power, wc may fuppofc that he finds the good-will, and confcquently the good opi- nion, of his aiTociates, requifite or favorable to his enjoyments, and may wifh therefore to gain their regard. The diftin(ftion, how- ever, or efteem, to which he afpires, is not for the reality, but the appearance, of merit: about the reality, provided he appear mere- torious, he is quite unconcerned.
4. Now this difpofition leads to prefump- tion, to boaftful afFe(5tation.and vain-sjlory. — Falftaff is boaftful and vain-glorious. He wiflies, on many occafions, and manifeftly for felfifli purpofcs, to be reckoned a perfon of confummate and undaunted courage. He fpeaks of cowardice with contempt, and affeds the firmnefs of confcious valour:
A plague of all cowards, I faj, and a vengeance too, marry and amen.
He would alfo pafs for a man whofe affifh- ance is of confequence, or whofc f^.vor .^r feryes to be courted; andjn_^t]i thefe at- tempts_hejs fometinies, though not always fuccefsful. His hoftefs and Shallow may be jiK impofed upon; but he is better known to
254 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
Prince Henry. — Confidently with, or in con- fcqucnce of this vain-glorious difpofition, whenever he finds himfelf refpeded, and that he is reckoned a perfon of fomc im- portance, he affeds pride, becomes infolent, arrogant, and overbearing. It is in this manner he treats his hoflefs, Bardolph, and other inferior aflbciates.
P. H. They take it already upon their falvntion, that though I be but Prince of Wales,, yet I am king of courtefy} and tell me flatly, I am no proud Jack, like FalftafF.
5. FalftafF is alfo deceitful: for the con- ned:ion between vain-glorious affectation, and unembarrafTed, unrelud:ant deceit, is natural and intimate. He is deceitful in every form of falfehood. He is a flatterer: he is even hypocritical; and tells the chief juffice that he has " lofl his voice fmging anthems." f 6. Shakefpeare intending to difplay the magic of his fkill by rendering a mean cha- rad:er highly interefling, has added to it as many bad qualities, as, confiflcntly with one another and with his main defign, can be united in one afTcmblagc. He accordingly
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 255
rcprefents him, not only as a voluptuary, cowardly, vain-glorious, with all the arro- gance connected with vain-glory, and de- ceitful in every fliape of deceit; but injuri- ous, incapable of gratitude or of friendfliip, and vindidliver The chief obje(5l of his life being the indulgence of low appetite, he has no regard for right or wrong; and in order to compafs his unworthy defigns, he pra^tifes fraud and injuftice. His attach- ments are mercenary: he fpeaks difrefped:- fully of Prince Heniy, to whofe friendfliip he is indebted; and values his friendfliip for | convenience rather than from regard. He is | alfo vindictive: but as he expreiTes his re- vengeful intention, without any opportunity of difplaying it in a6lion, his refentment becomes ridiculous. His menace againft the chief Juftice, though illiberal and mali- cious, is not regarded with indignation. One mode of his vengeance is to defame thole that offend him by unwarrantable publica- tions. " He w411 print them," lays Page, fpeaking about fome of his ill-intentioned letters, " for he cares not what he puts into " the prefs."
2^6 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
From the foregoing enumeration, it ap- pears abundantly manifcft, that our poet intended to reprefent Falftaff as very mean and worthlefs; but agreeably to an ingeni- ous and peculiar method of unfolding the real chara61:er, and which he prad;ifes on fome other occafions when he would ob- viate mifapprehenfion, he embraces a good opportunity of making one of the molt dif- cerning pcrfonages connefted with him, give the real delineation. Prince Henry has all alons; a clear and decided view of Fal- Itaff; and in the admirable fcene where the king is perfonatcd as reproving his fon, he thus defcribes him :
Thou art violently carried awny from grace : there is a devil haunts thee in the likenefs of an old fat man: a liui of man is thy companion. Why doft thou converfe with that trunk of humours, &:c. that llufTd cloak-hag of guts, that roalled IManningtrec ox with the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey inquity, that vanity in years ? Wherein is he good, but to tafte fack and drink it ? Wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it ? Wherein cunning but in craft ? Whereing crafty but in villany ? Wherein villanous, but in all things ? W^hcrein worthy, but in nothing ?
We have here the real moral charav5lcr;
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 557
we have an enumeration of difguftful and bafc qualities, without a fingle circum- ftance to palHate or reUevc. The fpeaker enlarges on his fenfuaVity as the leading feature in the character, and the principle on which every thing elfe in his enumera- tion depends. How then comes Falftaff to be a favorite? a favorite with Prince Henry ? and a favorite on the Englifh ftage ? For he not only makes us laugh, but, it mull be acknowledged, is regarded with fome affection. The anfwer to thefe enquiries leads us to our laft and chief divifion : it leads to illuftrate the aflbciated and blended qua- lities which not only reconcile us to the reprefentation, but, by their mixture, give us lingular pleafure.
PART III.
Thofe qualities in the characfler of Sir John FalftafF which may be accounted ef- timable are of two different kinds, the focial, and mtellecflual.
25^ DRAMATIC CHARACfEH
I. His focial qualities arc joviality and good- humour. Thcfe difpofitions, though they are generally agreeable, and may in one fenfe of the word be termed moral, as influencing the manners and deportment of mankind, are not on all occafions, as wc fliall fee exemplified in the prefcnt inftance, to be accounted virtuous. They may be agreeable without being objeds of appro- bation. Pcrfons who have never £!;iven much exercife to their minds, whofe powers of intclleft and imagination languifli through inexertion, can feldom have much enjoy- ment in beins: alone. He who cannot think, muft fly from himfelf ; and, without having much regard for others, will feck relief in fociety. But as the bulk of man- kind arc not very inquifitive about the mo- tives or caufcs of thofe actions that do not intcrcfl: them very much, they arc pleafcd with fuch appearances of a rclifli for focial intercourfc; they are prcpolTefled in favor of thofe who court their fellowfliip, or who in their company difcovcr checrfulnefs and complacency.
OF SIR JOHN PALSTAFF. 259
FalllafFs lore of fociety needs no illuf^ tration; and that it is unconnected with fricndfhip or afFcdion is no lefs apparent. Yet the quality renders him acceptable. — • It receives great additional recommendation from his good-humour. As, amongfl thofe whom he wifhes to pleafe, he is not full en nor referred ; neither is he morofe, nor apt to contradid or be offended. Pcrfons of acflive minds are moft liable to fuch excefles. Whether they engage in the purfuits of fame, fortune, or even of amufement, they form fchemes, indulge expectation, are dif- quieted with folicitude, elated with joy, or vexed with difappointment. The activity of their fpirits expofes them to more occa- fions of difcompofure; and their fenfibility, natural or acquired, renders them more fuf- ceptible of impreffions than other men. Hence, without careful difcipline or fteady refolution, they are apt to become uncom- plying, violent, or impetuous. But the mere voluptuary is expofed to no fuch per- verfion. He who never engages in ferious argument, who maintains no opinion, who s 2
56o DRAMATIC CHARACTER
contrives no intricate or extenfive projcd:s'r who is connected with no party, or con- cerned in no fpeculation, who has no in- tercft in any thing or any perfon beyond the gratification of mere appetite, has no objed; to contend for, nothing that can make him fo eager, fo tenacious, fo obftinate, or un- yielding, as perfons of a different chara6ler. In fuch men, fo flight a defire as that of being acceptable to fome particular perfons, will, in their company, counterbalance every tendency to fretfulnefs, infolence, or ill-hu- mour. Such feems to be the ^rood-humour of Falflaff ; for our poet difcriminates w ith exquifitc judgment, and delineates his con- ception w ith power. He does not attribute to Falftafithe good temper flowing from inherent goodnefs and genuine mildnefs of difpofition; for in company with thofe about w hofc good opinion he has little con- cern, though his \ acuity of mind obliges him to have recourl'e to their company, he is often infolent and overbearing. It is chiefly with Prince Henry, and thofe whom he wilhes, from ^anity, or fome felfifh pur-
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAPF. 261
pofe, to think well of him, that he is moft facetious. — ^The degree or real force of any- quality is never fo diftindly marked, as when it is put to the teft by fuch trying cir- cumftances as tend to deftroy its exiftence. Shakefpeare fcems aware of this ; and, in the firft fcene between the Prince and FalftafF, this part of the character is fully tried and difplayed. The prince attacks FalftafF in a conteft of banter and raillery. The Knight for fome time defends himfelf with dexterity and fuccefs. But the Prince's jefts are more fevere than witty; they fug- geft fome harfli truths, and fome well found- ed terrors,
P. H. The fortune of us that are the moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the fea, being governed as the fea is by
the moon: now, in as low an ebb as the foot of the
ladder ; and, by and by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.
Such retorts are too ferious. The Knis^ht endeavours to reply; but he is overcome; he feels himfelf vanquifhed.
faljiaff. S'blood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugg'd bear.
262 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
But he is not fullen, nor morofe. His melancholy, as he terms it, does not appear in ill-humour, but in a laboured and not very fuccefsful attempt to be witty. He is defu'ous of feeming in good fpirits, and em- braces the firft opportunity given him by the Prince, of recovering them.
FaJJiaff. Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat or a lugg'd bear.
P. H. Or an old lion, or a lover's lute.
Faljiaff. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnfbire bagpipe.
P. H. What fayeft thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch ?
FaiJlaff. Thou haft the moft unfavory fixpilies, &c. But, Hal, I pray thee, trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou and I knew where a conmiodity of good names were to be bought, &:c. Thou haft done much harm upon me, Hal ; God forgive thee for it ! Be- fore I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing ; and now am I, if a man ihould fpeak truly, little better than one of the wicked, &c.
P. H. Where fliall we take a purfe to morrow^. Jack ?
Faljiaff. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an' I do not, call me villain, and bafllc me.
ir. Having Ihewn that FalftafF poilefles as much love of fociety, and as much good'
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 563
temper as arc confiftent with the defpica- blc paffions of the fcnfuahft; and which, though agreeable, are not in him ta be ac- counted virtuous; I proceed to exemphfy his intellectual endowments: and of thefe his talents for wit and humour are the mofl peculiar.
1. His wit is of various kinds. It is fometimes a play upon words.
Faljiaff'. r call thee coward ! fll fee thee damn'd, ere I calithee coward. But I would give a thoufand pounds f could run as faft as thou canlt. You are ftraight enough in the flioulders. You care not who fees your back. Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon fuch bseking ! Give me them that will face me.
It Sometimes depends on felicity of allufion.
l^aiftiijf. \To Barchlp/i.'] Thou art our admiral, thou beareft the lanthorn in the poop ; but 'tis in the nofe of thee. Thou art the knight of the burning lamp, &c. I never fee thy face, but I think on hell- fire, and Dives that liv'd in purple, &:c. O thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlafting bonfire light • When thou ran'ft up Gads-hill, lA the night, to catch, my hbrfe j if I did not think, thou hadft been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wild-fire, there is ao purchafe in money.
564 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
One of the moft agreeable fpecics of wit, and which FalftatF ufes with great fuccefs, is the ridiculous comparifon. It confifts in claffing or uniting together, by fimilitude, obje^ls that excite feelings fo oppofitc as that fome may be accounted great, and others little, fome noble, and others mean: and this is done, when in their ftrucfture, appearance, or effe<fls, they have circum- flances of rcfemblance abundantly obvious when pointed out, though on account of the great difference in their general impref- fion, not ufually attended to; but which be] xg felcd:ed by the man of w itty inven- tion, as bonds of intimate union, enable him, by an unexpected connection, to pro- duce furprife. Of this fome of the preced- ing allufions, which are united with, or involve in them comparifons, are inftances: but the following paffage affords a more dired: illuftration.
Faljliiff. (fpeahng ofShaUoiv). I do remember him at Cle- ment's-inn, like a man made after fnpper with a cheefe- paring. When he was naked, he was for all the world like a forked radifli, with a head fantaftically carved upon it vvitli a knife. C.l-VWv^l ;ti7v4^A>KV>^'V
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 26^
Another very exquifite fpecies of wit confifts in explaining great, ferious, or im- portant appearances, by inadequate and tri- fling caufes*. This, if one may fay fo, is a grave and folemn fpecies; and produces its effed; by the afFed:ation of formal and deep
refearch. FalftafF gives the folio vv^ing ex- ample :
A good fherris fack hath a two-fold operation : it afcends me into the brain : dries me there all the foolifli, and dull, and crudy vapours, which environ it : makes it apprehen- live, quick, forgetive : full of nimble, fiery, and delegable Ihapes; which delivered over to the voice (the tongue) which is the birth, becomes excellent wit.
But Falftaff is not more diftinguifhed for wit than humour : and affords fome ffood illuftrations of the difference between them. Wit confifls in the thought; and produces its effed:, namely laughter, or a tendency to laughter, in whatfoever way, and by whomfoevcr it maybe fpoken. Hu- mour again depends on a6lion: it exhibits
* Elements of Criticifra.
266 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
fomething done; or fomcthing faid in a pe- culiar manner. The a(6tion or the thing faid may be in themfelves indifferent; but derive their power of exciting laughter from the intention and mode of doing or of fayins; them. Wit is permanent; it remains in the witty faying, by whomfocver it is faid, and independent not only of pcrfons, but of cir- cumftances or fituation. But in humour the a<5Hon or faying is ineffediual, unlefs connedled with the chara(5ler, the intention, manner, orfituation,of fomefpeaker or agent. The one feems to depend on conncd:ion, invented or difplayed unexpectedly, between incongruous and diffonant objc(fts, or parts of objeAs: the otlier in the invention or difplay of fuch connexion between a<Sions and. manners incongruous to an occafion. The one prcfents combinations that may be termed ridiculous; the other fuch as are ludicrous. The incongruity and diffonance in both cafes feem chiefly to refpct^, notfo much the greatnefs or littlenefs, as the dig- nity and mcannefs, of the connected obje<5l:s. The amufement is moft complete, when 8
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. :i6y
the witty thought Is exprefled with humour. When this is not the cafe, though we dif- cern the witty combination, we do not feel its entire effcd:. Among many others, the firft fcene between FalftafF and the Chief Juftice is highly humorous. It contains no wit in the beginning, which is indeed the moil amufmg part of the dialogue : and the witticifms introduced in the conclufion, excepting the firft or fecond puns, are nei- ther of a fuperior kind, nor executed with great lliccefs. The Juftice comes to reprove Falftaff: and the amufement confifts irj FalftaiTs pretending, firft of all, not to fee him ; and then, in pretending deafnefs, fo as neither to underftand his meftage, nor the purport of his converfation.
C/5. ^uj. Sir John FalftafF, a word with you.
Faljiaff. My good lord ! God give your lordlliip good time of day. I am glad to fee your lordfliip abroad : I heard fay your lordihip was lick : I hope your lordfliip goes abroad by advice.
Qh, Juf. Sir John, I fent for you, before your expedition to Shrewlbury.
Falfiaff. If it pleafe your lordfhip, I hear his raajefty is returned with fome difcomfort from Wales,
\268 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
Ch. Juf. I tnlk not of his niajefiy. You would not come when I fcnt for you.
Fal. And I hear, moreover, his highnefs is fallen into this fame whorefbn apoplexy.
Ch.JuJ. Well heaven mend him. I pray, let me fpcak with you.
Tal, This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy, an't pleafe your lordfliipj a kind of fleeping in the bloody a whorefon tingling.
Ch, Juf. What tell you me of it ! be it as it is.
Fal. It hath its original in much grief j from iludy, and perturbation of the brain, &c.
The Chief Jufticc becomes at length impatient, and compels Falftaff to hear and give him a dired: anfwer. But the Knight is not without his refources. Driven out of theftrong hold of humour, he betakes him- felf to the weapons of wit.
Ch. Juf. The truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy.
Fal. He that buckles him in my belt cannot live in lefs.
Ch. 'Juf. Your means are very flendcr, and your wafte great.
Tal. I would it were otherwife. I would my means were greater, and my waift Uenderer.
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 569
Falftaff is not unacquainted with the nature and value of his talents. He em- ploys them not merely for the fake of mer- riment, but to promote fomc defign. He wifhes, by his drollery in this fcene, to ca- jole the Chief Juftice. In one of the fol- lowing ad:s, he pradlifes the fame artifice with the Prince of Lancafter. He fails, however, in his attempt: and that it was a ftudied attempt appears from his fubfe- quent reflections.
Good faith, this fame young fober-blooded hoy doth not \y' love me J nor a man cannot make him laugh.
That his pleafantry, whether witty or hu- morous, is often ftudied and premeditated, appears alfo from other paiTages.
I will devife matter enough out of this Shallow to keep Prince Henry in continual laughter. O you fliall fee hini laugh, till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up.'
It may alfo be remarked, that the guife or raiment w ith which Falftaff invefts thofe different fpecies of wit and humour, is univcrfally the fame. It is grave, and even folcmn. He vNould always appear in e^rneft.
2yo DRAMATIC CHARACTER
He does not laugh himfelf, unlefs com- pelled by a fympathetic emotion with the laughter of others. He may fometimes in- deed indulge a fmile of feeming contempt or indignation: but it is perhaps on no oc- cafion when he w^ould be witty or humor- ous. Shakefpeare feems to have thought this particular of importance, and has there- fore put it out of all doubt by making FalftafF himfelf inform us:
O it is much that a lie with a flight oath, and a jeft with Tifad brcnv, will do with a fellow that never had the ache in Jiis flioulders.
As the wit of FalftafF is variou?., and finely blended with humour, it is alfo eafy and genuine. It difplays no quaint con- ceits, ftudied antithefcs, or elaborate con- trails. Excepting in two or three inflances, we have no far-fetched or unfucccfslul puns. Neither has the poet recourfe, for ludicrous iituation, to frequent and difgufting difplays of drunkennefs. Wc have little or no fwear- ing, and lefs obfcenity than from the rudc- nefs of the times, and the condition of fomc of the other fpeakcrs wc might have ex-
Of SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. ZJ\
pe^ed. — Much tidicule is excited by fome of the other charadlcrs : but their wit, when they attempt to be witty, is different from that of Falftaff. Prince Henry's wit confifts chiefly in banter and raillery. In his fatiri- cal allufions, he is often more fevere than pleafant. The wit of Piftol, if it be intend- ed for wit, is altogether affeded, and is of a kind which Falftaff never difplays. It is an affectation of pompous language ; an at- tempt at the mock-heroic : and confifts in employing inflated di6lion on common oc- cafions. The fpeaker does not poffefs, but aim at wit ; and, for want of other refources, endeavours to procure a laugh by odd ex- preffions, and an abfurd application of learn- ed and lofty phrafes.
Doll thou thirfi, bafe Trojan, To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?.
Falftaff's page being only a novice, attempts to be witty after the inflated manner of Pilt tol : but being fuppofed to have profited by his maftcr's example, he is more fuccefsful.
272 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
and his pompous phrafes have a witty mean-* ing.
Page [to Bardolpli], Away, thou rafcally Althea's dream! away!
P. H. Inflruft us, boy ; what dream, boy ?
Page. Marry, my lord, Althea dreamed fhe was delivered of a firebrand 3 and therefore I call him her dream.
The laughter excited by the reft of Fal- ftaff's aflbciates is not by the wit or iiumour of the fpeaker, but by ludicrous fituation, ridiculous views of peculiar manners, and the abfurd mifapplication of language. Thus in the admirable and inflru^live account given by the hofiiefs of FalltafTs death:
Nay, fure he's not in hell ; he's in Arthur's bofom, if ever man went to Arthur's bofom. A' made a liner end, and went away an' it had been any chriftora child; a' parted even juft b<'tween twelve and one, e'en at turning o' the tide : for after I finv him fumble with the flieets, and play with flowers, and fmile upon his finger's ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nofe was as fharp as a pen, and a' babbled of green fields. How now. Sir John ? quoth I : what, man ! be of good cheer : fo a' cried out, God, God, God, three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him a' fliould not think of God ; I hoped there was no need to trouble himfelf with any fuch thoughts yet : fo a' bade me lay more deaths on his feet. I put my hand into the bed, and felt them; and
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. %'J'^
they were as cold as any ftone j then I felt to his knees, and fo upward, and upward j and all was as cold as any
llone.
Z. The other IntelleAual talents attri- buted by our poet to Sir John Falftaff, are difcernment of chara<fter, verfatility, and dexterity in the management of mankind; a difcernment, however, and a dexterity of a pecuhar and Umited fpecies ; Hmited to the power of difcerning whether or not merk may be rendered fit for his purpofes ; and to the power of managing them as the inflru- ments of his enjoyment.
We may remark his difcernment of man- kind, and his dexterity in employing them, in his conduct towards the Prince, to Shal- low, and his inferior aflbciates. — He flatters the Prince, but he ufes fuch flattery as is intended to impofe on a perfon of under- flanding. He flatters him indiredly. He feems to treat him with familiarity: he af- fed:s to be difpleafed with him: he rallies him ; and contends with him in the field of wit. When he gives praife, it is infmuated ; or it feems relu(5tant, accidental, and ex-
T
274 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
torted by the power of truth. In hke man- ner, when he would imprefs him with a be- hef of his affeAionatc and firm attachment, he proceeds by infuiuation; he would have it appear involuntary, the effe6l of ftrong irrcfiftible impulfc; fo ftrong as to appear preternatural.
If the rafcal hath not given rae medicines to make me love him, I'll be hang'd.
Yet his aim is not merely to pleafe the Prince : it is to corrupt and govern him ; and to make him bend to his purpofes, and be- come the inftrument of his pleafures. He makes the attempt: he feizes, what he thinks a good opportunity, by charging him with cowardice at the encounter of Gads-hill : he is defirous of finding him a coward: pulhes his attack as far as poffible ; fuffers a fudden repulfe : but with great verfatility and ad- drefs retires to his former faftnefs.
Valjiaff. Are you not a coward ? anfwer me that : and Poins there ?
P. jf. Ye fat paunch, an' ye call mc coward, I'll ftab thee.
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 2y ^
Paljlaff. I call thee coward ! I'll fee thee damned ere I call thee coward. But I would give a thoufand pounds I could run as fa ft as thou canft, &c.
His behaviour to Shallow and Slender is different, becaufe their characters are dif- ferent. He fathoms them, and fteers a correfponding courfe. He treats them at firil with fuch deference as he would ren- der to men of fenfe and condition. He tries whether or no it be poffible to allure them by his ufual artifice; he is good- humoured, focial, and witty. But the wit he tries upon them is of his loweft kind: and he has no occaflon for any other. They are delighted, and exprefs admiration.
Faljiaff. Is thy name Mouldy ?
Mouldy. Yea, an't pleafe you.
Faljiaff. It is the more time thou wert ufed.
Shalhiu. Ha ! ha ! ha ! moft excellent, I'faith : things that are mouldy lack ufe. Well faid. Sir John, ytry well iaid,
He thus penetrates into their character,
and conducts himfelf in a fuitable manner.
He no longer gives himfelf the trouble of
amufmg them. He is no longer witty : he
T 2,
2/6 CRAM.STTC CttARACTEIt
affects the dignity of a great man, and is fparing of his convcrfation. " I do fee the ** bottom," fays lie, " of Juftlce Shallow." Meanwhile Shallow and Slender become in their turns folicitoiis of pleafnig /I'lm : they believe him a man of great confequence : they think even of making him f/ieir dupe, and of employing him as the engine of their petty ambition. He indulges their folly, lets them entangle themfelves in the fnare ; endures their converfation, and does them the fignal honour of borrowing a thoufand pounds. — His treatment of his hoftefs and Bardolph is no lefs dexterous ; but from the afcendant he has obtained, it is not fo dif- ficult, and xS managed by the poet in the moll: inoffenfive manner.
3. Another kind of ability difplayed by our hero, is the addrefs with which he de- fies detecflion and extricates himfelf out of difficulty. He is never at a lofs. His pre- fence of mind never forfakes him. Having no fenfc of character, he is never troubled with fliame. Though frequently dcteded,
3
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF, 2/7
or In danger of dctedion, his inventive faculty never fleeps ; it is never totally overwhelm- ed : or, if it be furprifed into a momentary intermiflion of its power, it forthwith re- covers, and fupplies him with frcfli refourccs. He is furniihed with palliatives and cxcufcs for every emergency. Bcfidcs other effects produced by this difplay of ability, it tends to amufe, and to excite laughter : for we are amufcd by the application of inadequate and ridiculous caufes. Of the talent now mentioned we have many inftances. Thus, when detcded by prince Henry in his boaftful pretenfions to courage, he tells him that he knew him. '' Was it for me," fays he, "to kill the heir-apparent?" So alfo in another fcene, when he is deteded in his abufe of the Prince, and overheard even by the Prince himfelf.
No abufe, Ned, in the world ; honeil Ned, none. [ dKpraifed him before the wicked, that the wielded aiigat not fall in love with him.
In the admirable fcene where he is detect^ cd in falfely and injurioufly charging his hof-
278 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
tefs with having picked his pocket of fome very valuable articles, whereas the theft was chief- ly of the ludicrous tavern-bill formerly men-t tioned, his efcape is fmgularly remarkable. He does not juftify himfelf by any plea of innocence. He does not colour nor palliate his offence. He cares not what bafenefs may be imputed to himfelf: all that he defires is, that others may not be fpotlefs. If he can make them appear bafe, fo much the better. For how can they blame him, if they themfelvcs are blameable ? On the prefent occafion he has fome opportunity. He fees and employs it. The Prince, in rifling his pocket, had defcended to an un- dignified a(5lion. The trefpafs indeed was flight, and Falllaff could not reckon it other- wife. But Prince Hcnry^ _p.oiIeiJing the delicacies of honj^^uXt felt it with peculiar acutenefs. Falllaff, aware of this, employs the Prince's feelings as a counterpart to his own bafenefs, ^nd is fucccfsful. It is on this particular point, though not ufually at- tended to, becaufe managed with much ad- drefs, that his prefent refourcc depends.
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 379
P. H. Thou faycft true, Hoftefs, and he flanders thee moft grofsly.
Hojl. So doth he you, my lord ; and faid this other day you ought him a tluuland pound.
P. H. Sirrah, do I owe you a thoufand pound ?
Falftaff. A thoufand pound, Hal ? a million : thy love is wprth a million : thou owed me thy love.
Hoji. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and faid he would cudgel you,
Falftaff. Did I, Bardolph ?
BarJoIph. Indeed, Sir John, you faid fo.
Falftaff. Yea, if he faid my ring was copper.
P. H. I fay 'tis copper. Dar'ft thou be as good as thy word now }
Falftaff. Why, Hal, thou knoweft, as thou art but man, I dare : but as thou art Prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.
p. H. And why not as the lion ?
Falftaff. The King himfelf is to be fear'd as the lion ; doll thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father ? Nay, an' I do, let my girdle break !
P. H. O, if it Ihould, how would thy guts fall about thy knees ! But, Sirrah, there's no room for faith, trxith, nor honelly in this bofom of thine j it is all filled up with o-uts and midriff. Charge an honell woman wilh picking thv pocket! why, thou whorefon, impudent, imbofled rafcal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houfes, and one poor pennyworth of fugarcandy to make thee long-winded ; if ^hy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but
580 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
thefe, I am a villain 3 and yet you will ftand to it, you will not pocket up wrongs. Art thou not afham'd ?
Falfaff. Doll thou hear, Hal ? thou knoweft in the flate of innocency Adam fell; and what lliould poor Jack Falftaff ^.o in the days of villany ? Thou feeft I have more flefli than another man, and therefore more frailty.
Then he adds, after an emphatic paufe, and no doubt with a pointed appUcation in the manner :
You confefs then that joa picked my pocket ?
Prince Henry's reply is very remarkable. It is not direct : it contains no longer any raillery or reproach ; it is almoft a fliut- fling anfwer, and may be fuppofed to have been fpoken after, or with fome con- fcious confufion : *' It appears fo," fays he, " from the ftory." Falftaff puilics him no further ; but expreffes his triumph, under the fhew of moderation and indifference, in his addrefs to the hoftefs.
Hoftefs, I forgive thee 5 go, niaki- ready breakfall} love thy hufband ; look to thy fcrvants ; and cherilh thy gucfts: thou flialt find mc tradable to any honeft rcafou: thou feeft I am pacified.
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 821
I ihall illuftrate this particular clrcum- llance in one other inftance, not only be- caufe it is in itfclf curious ; but as it tends to elucidate what may, without impropriety, be termed the cataftrophe. FalftafF hav- ing impofed upon Shallow, borrows from him a thoufand pounds. He has impofed upon him, by making him believe that his influence with the prince, now King Henry, was all-powerful. Here the poet's good fenfe, his fenfc of propriety, his judg- ment, and invention, are indeed remark- able. It w^as not for a perfon fo fenfual, fo cowardly, fo arrogant, and fo felfifli, as FalftaiF, to triumph in his deceitful arts. But his punifliment muft be fuitable. He is not a criminal like Richard; and his re- compence muft be different. Detection, difappointment in his fraudulent purpofes, and the downfall of aflumcd importance, will fatisfy poetical juftice : and for fuch retribution, even from his earlieft appear- ance, we fee due preparation. The punifli- ment is to be the refult of his conduct, and to be accompliflied by a regular progrefs*.
* Butler's Analog/.
283 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
— FalftafF, who was ftudious of impofing on others, impofes upon himfelf. He becomes the dupe of his o^jn^xtifice. Confident in his verfatility, command of temper, prefence of mind, and unabaflied invention ; encou- raged too by the notice of the Prince, and thus flattering himfelf that he iliall have fome fway in his counfels, he lays the foun- dation of his own difappointment. Though the flatterer and parafite of Prince Henry, he does not deceive him. The Prince is thoroughly acquainted with his charad:er, and is aware of his vie>vs. Yet in his wit, humour, and invention, he finds amufement. — Parafites, in the works of otlicr poetSj arc the flatterers of weak men, and imprefs them with a belief of their merit or attach- ment. But Falftaff is the parafite of a per- fon diftinguiflied for ability or underfland- ina:. The Prince fees him in his real co- lours \ yet, for the fake of prefent paftime, he fufFers himfelf to feem deceived; and al- lows the parafite to flatter himfelf that his arts are not unfucccfsful. The real ftate of his fentiments and feelings is finely dcfcrib- cd, when at the battle of Shrewfl3ury, feeing
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 283
FalltafF lying among fome dead bodies, he fuppofes him dead.
What ! old acquaintance I could not all this flefli keep in a little life ? Poor Jack, farewell. I could have better fpared a better man : O I fhould have a heavy mifs of thee, if I were much in love with vanity.
But Prince Henry is not much in love with vanity. By his acceffion to the throne he feels himfelf under nevs^ obligations ; and under the neceffity of relinquifliing impro- per purfuits. As he forms his refolution confiderately, he adheres to it ftridly. He does not hefitate, nor tamper with inclina- tion. He does not gradually loofen, but burfts his fetters. " He cafts no longing " lingering look behind." He forfakes every mean purfuit, and difcards every worthlefs dependent. But he difcards them with humanity: it is to avoid their influence, for all wife men avoid temptation ; it is not to punilh, but to corred their vices.
I banlfli thee, on pain of death
Not to come near our pe.rfon by ten miles For competence of life 1 will allow yon.
284 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
That lack of means enforce you not to evil : And as we hear you do reform yourfelves, "We will, according to your flrength, and qualities. Give you advancement.
Thus in the fclf-dcceit of Falftaff, and in the difcernmcnt of Henry, held out to us on all occafions, we have a natural foun- dation for the cataftrophe. The incidents too, by which it is accompliflied, are judi- cioufly managed. None of them are foreign or external, but grow, as it were, out of the charaders.
Falftaff brings Shallow to London to fee and profit by his influence at court. He places himfelf in King Henry's way, as he returns from the coronation. He addrefTes him with familiarity ; is neglected ; perfifts, and is rcpulfcd with fternncfs. His hopes are unexpc(!:lcdly baffled : his vanity blafled : he fees his importance with thofe whom he had deceived completely ruined : he is for a moment unmafked : he views himfelf as he believes he appears to them : he fees himfelf in the mirror of their conception : he runs over the confequenccs of his humi-
OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 285
iiation: he tranflates their thoughts and their opinions concerning him : he fpeaks to them in the tone of the fentiments which he attributes to them ; and in the language ■which he thinks they would hold. " Mafter Shallow, I owe you a thoufand pounds." It is not that in his abafement he feels a tranfient return of virtue : it is rather that he fees himfelf for a moment helplcfs : he fees his aflumed importance deftroyed ; and, among other confequences, that reftitution of the fum he had borrowed will be required. This alarms him ; and Shallow's anfwer g;ives him fmall confolation. He is roufed from his fudden amazement : looks about for refources : and immediately finds them. His ingenuity comes inftantly to his aid ; and he tells Shallow, with great readinefs and plaufibility of invention.
.\
Do not you grieve at this. I fliall be fent tor iu private to s ^*J^ him : look you, he mull feem thus to the world. Fear '^ '>,> not your advancement. I will be the man yet that fliall jj^' . make you great, &c. This that you heard was but a co- ^ "^ '' lour, &c. Go with me to dinner. Come, lieutenant Pif- '''"'
tol j come Bardolph ; I fliall be Icuit for ibon at nii^ht.
ZSG DRAMATIC CHARACTER
Thus Shakcfpeare, whofe morality is n6 lefs fublime than his fkill in the difplay of characfler is mafterly and unrivalled, repre- fents FalftafF. not only as a voluptuous and bafe fycophant, but totally incorrigible. He difplays no quality or difpofition which can ferve as a bafis for reformation. Even his abilities and agreeable qualities contribute to his depravity. Had he been lefs facetious, lefs witty, lefs dexterous, and lefs inventive, he might have been urged to felf-condem- nation, and fo inclined to amendment. But mortification leads him to no conviction of folly, nor determines him to any change of life. He turns, as foon as pofTible, from the view given him of his bafenefs ; and rattles, as it were in triumph, the fetters of habituated and willing bondage, — Lear, violent and impetuous, but yet affedlionate, from his misfortunes derives improvement. Macbeth, originally a man of feeling, is ca- pable of remorfe. And the underftanding of Richard, rugged and infenfible though he be, betrays his heart to the aflault of con- fcicncc. But the mean fenfualift, incapa-
bF SIPw JOHN FALSTAFF. 58/
ble of honorable and worthy thoughts, is irretrievably loft ; totally, and for ever de- praved. An important and aw^ful leflbn !
I may be thought perhaps to have treated FalftafF with too much Severity. I am aware of his being a favourite. Perfons of eminent worth feel for him fome attach- ment, and think him hardly ufed by the King. But if they will allow themfelves to examine the chara<5ler in all its parts, they will perhaps agree with me, that fuch feel- ing is delufive> and arifes from partial views. They will not take it amifs, if I fay that they are deluded in the fame manner with Prince Henry. They are amufed, and con- ceive an improper attachment to the means of their pleafure and amufement. I appeal to every candid reader, whether the fenti- ment expreffed by Prince Henry be not that which every judicious fpedtator and reader is inclined to feel.
I could have better fpar'd a better man.
Upon the whole, the charad:cr of Sir John Falftaff, confifting of various parts,
588 DRAMATIC CHARACTER, &C.
produces various feelings. Some of thcfe arc agreeable 'and fomc difagreeable : but, being blended together, the general and united effe6l is much ftronger than if their impulfc had been difunited : not only lb, but as the agreeable qualities are brought more into view, for in this fenfe alone they can be faid to prevail in the character, and as the deformity of other qualities is often veiled by the pleafantry employed by the poet in their difplay, the general effecfl is in the highcil degree delightful.
( 289 )
ESSAY VIII.
ON THE
DRAMATIC CHARACTER OF
KING LEAR.
Disinterested principles are of different kinds : of confequence, the alliens tliat flow from them are more or lefs beneficial, and more or lefs entitled to praife. We are moved by inconfiderate impulfe to the per- formance of beneficent ad:ions ; as we are moved by inconfiderate impulfe to the per- petration of guilt. You fee an unhappy- perfon ; you difcern the vifitation of grief in his features; you hear it in the plaintive tones of voice ; you are warmed with fud- den and rcfiftlefs emotion : you never en-*
u
1:90 DI'.AMATTC CHARACTER
quire concerning the propriety of your feel- ings, or the merits of the fufterer ; and you haftcn to relieve him. Your condud: pro- ceeds from inconfiderate impulfe. It enti- tles you to the praife of fenfibility, but not of refle(5lion. You are again in the fame fituation ; but the fymptoms of diftrefs do not produce in you the fame ardent effed:s : you are moved with no violent agitation, and you feel little fympathy ; but you perceive diftrefs ; you are convinced that the fufferer fuffers unjuftly ; you know you are bound to relieve him ; and in confequence of thefe convictions, you offer him relief. Your condud: proceeds from fenfe of duty; and though it entitles you to the credit of ra- tional humanity, it docs not entitle you, in this inftance, to the praife of fine fenfibihty. Thofe who perform beneficent adions, from immediate feeling or impetuous im- pulfe, have a great deal of pleafure. — Their condud:, too, by the influence of fym pathe- tic affection, imparts pleafure to the behold- er. The joy felt both by the agent and the beholder is ardent, and approaches to rapture. There is alfo an energy in the principle.
OP KING LEAR. ^gi
which produces great and uncommon ex- ertions; yet both the principle of action, and the pleafure it produces, are fliifting. " Beauteous as the morning cloud or the " early dew ;" like them, too, they pais away. The pleafure arifing from know- ledge of duty is lefs impetuous : it has no approaches to rapture ; it feldom makes the heart throb, or the tear defcend ; and as it produces no tranfporting enjoyment, it fel- dom leads to uncommon exertion ; but the joy it affords is uniform, ileady, and lafting. As the coudu6l is moil: perfect, fo our hap- pinefs is moft complete, when both princi- ples are united : when our convictions of duty are animated with fenfibility ; and fenfibility guided by convictions of duty.
It is, indeed, to be regretted, that feeling and the knowledge of duty are not always united. It is deeply to be regretted, that unlefs fenfibility be regulated by that know- ledge of duty which arifes from reflection on our own condition, and acquaintance with human nature, it may produce un- happinefs both to ourfelves and others ; but chiefly to ourfelves. To illuftrate thefe
U 2
ZgZ DRAMATIC CHARACTER
eonfequences may be ot femce. It is of- ten no lefs important to point out the nature and evil effects of feeming excellence, than of acknowledged depravity ; befides, it will exhibit the human mind in a ftriking fi- tuation.
The fubjed:, perhaps, is unpopular. — It is the fafhion of the times to celebrate feeling; and the condudl flowing from fedater prin- ciples is pronounced cold or ungenial. It is the conduct, we are told of thofe difpaflion- ate minds who never deviate to the right hand or the left ; who travel through life unnoticed : and as they are never vifited by the ecftafies of fenfibiUty, they enjoy unen- vied immunity from its delicate forrows. What pretenfions have they to the diftinc- tion of weak nerves or exquifitc feeling ? They know fo little of the melancholy and of the refined impatience, fo often the por- tion of fcnti mental fpirits, that they arc abfurd enough to term them chagrin and ill humour. In tmth, fentiment and fen- fibility have been the fubje(^l of fo many tales and fermons, that the wTiter who would propofe the union of feeling with re-
OF KING LEAR. 2^^
fle^llon, may perhaps incur much faftidi- ous difdain : we fliall, therefore, go forth upon this adventure under the banner of a powerful and refpc(5lable leader. Shake- fpeare was no lefs intimately acquainted with the principles of human conduct, than excellent in delineation ; and has exhibited in his Dramatic Charadler of King Lear the man of mere fenfibility.
I. Thofe who are guided in their con- duct by impetuous impulfe, arifmg from fenfibility, and undirected by reflection, are liable to extravagant or outrageous excefs. Tranfported by their own emotions, they mifapprehend the condition of others : they are prone to exaggeration ; and even the good actions they perform, excite amaze- ment rather than approbation. Lear, an utter ftranger to adverfe fortune, and under the power of exceflive affe(5tion, believed that his children were in every refpeCt defcrving. During this ardent and inconfiderate mood, he afcribed to them iiich correfponding fentiments as juftified his extravagant fond- nefs. He faw his children as the gentlefl
294 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
and moft affecflionate of the human race. What condefcenfion, on his part, could be a fuitable reward for their fiUal piety ? He divides his kingdom among them ; they will relieve him from the cares of royalty ; and to his old age will afford confolation.
'tis our faft intent
To flinke all cares and bufinefs from our age, Conferring them on younger llrengths.
But he is not only extravagant in his love ; he is no lefs outrageous in his difplea- fure. Kent, moved with zeal for his in- tereft, remonftrates, with the freedom of confcious integrity, againft his conduct to Cordelia; and Lear, impatient of good counfcl, not only rebukes him with un- becoming afpcrity, but inflicts unmerited punifliment.
Five days we do allot thee for provifion, To ftiield thee from difeafes of the world ; And on the fixth to turn thy hated back Upon our kingdom : if on the tenth day following Thy banifli'd trunk be found in our dominions, The moment is thy death.
II. The condutfl proceeding from un-
I
OF KING LEAR. 2^^
sculdcd feeling will be capricious. In minds where principles of regular and permanent influence have no authority, every feeling has a right to command ; and every im- pulfe, how fudden foever, is regarded, dur- ing the fcafon of its power, with entire ap- probation.
All fuch feelings and impulfes are not only admitted, but obeyed ; and lead us, without hefitation or reflection, to a corre- fponding deportment. But the objects with w^hich we are converfant, often vary their afpedls, and are feen by us in different atti- tudes. This may be owing to accidental connection or comparifon with other things, of a fimilar, or of a different nature ; or it may be owing, and this is moft frequently the cafe, to fome accidental mood or hu- mour of our own. A fine landfcape, viewed in different lights, may appear more or lefs beautiful ; yet the landfcape in itfelf may remain unaltered ; nor will the perfon who views it pronounce it in reality lefs beautiful than it was, though he fees it with a fet- tincr rather than with a rifms fun. The ca- pricious inconftancy of perfons governed by
2g6 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
no regular and permanent principles is apt to dilplay itfelf, when unfortunately they form expectations, and fuftain difappointment. Moved by an ardent mood, they regard the objedis of their affedion with extravagant tranfport ; they transfer to them their own difpofitions ; they make no allowance for differences of condition or ftate of mind ; and exped: returns fuitable to their own unrcafonable ardours. They are difappoint- ed ; they feel pain : in proportion to the violence of the difappointcd paffion, is the pang of rcpulfe. This roufes a fenfe of wrong, and excites their refcntment. The new feelings operate with as much force as the former. No enquiry is made concerning the rcafonablenefs of the conduct they would produce. Refentmcnt and indigna- tion are felt ; and merely becaufe they are felt, they are deemed jufl and becoming.
Cordelia was the favourite daughter of Lear. Her fifters had replied to him, with an extravagance fuited to the extravagance of his affedion. He expeded much more from Cordelia. Yet her reply was better fuited to the relation that fubfiiled between
OF KING LEAT?. 0,^"]
them, than to the fondnefs of his prcfcnt humour. He is difappointed, pained, and provoked. No gentle advocate refides in his bofom to mitigate the rigour of his dif- pleafure. He follows the blind impulfe of his refentment; reproaches and abandons Cordelia.
Let it be fo ; thy truth then be thy dower :
For, by the facred radiance of the fun
Here I difclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity and property of blood ; And, as a ftranger to my heart and me. Hold thee from this for ever.
Unhappy are they who have eftabliflied no fyftem concerning the character of their friends ; and who have afcertained, by the aid of reafon or obfervation, no meafure of their virtues or infirmities. No afFeAionate inmate pofifeflcs their bofoms, the vicegerent of indulgent afFedion, to plead in youi" be- half, if from inadvertency, or the influence of a wayward, but tranfient mood, affeding either you or themfelves, you ad; differently from your wonted condu(5l, or differently from their expedations. Thus their appear- ances are as variable as that of the came-
298 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
lion : they now fhine with the fairell co- lours ; and in an inilant they are changed into fable. In vain would you afk. for a reafon. You may enquire of the winds ; or queftion their morning dreams. Yet they are ardent in proteftations ; they give aiTur- anccs of lading attachment ; but they are not to be trufted. Not that they intend to deceive you. They have no fuch intention. They are vcflels without rudder or anchor, driven by every blall that blows. Their affurances are the colours imprclTcd by a fun- beam on the breaft of a watery cloud ; they are formed into a beautiful figure : they fliine for a moment with every exquifite tint ; in a moment they vanilh, and leave nothing but a drizly fliower in their ftcad.
III. Thofe who are guided by inconfi- derate feeling, will often appear variable in their condud;, and of courfe irrefolute. There is no variety of feeling to which perfons of great fenfibility arc more liable, than that of great elevation or depreffion of fpirits. The fuddcn and unaccountable tranfitions from the one to the other, arc not Icfs ftrik-
OF KING LEAR. 299
ing, than the vaft difference of which we are confcious in the one mood or in the other. In an elevated ftate of fpirits, wc form projects, entertain hopes, conceive our- felves capable of great exertion, think high- ly of ourfelves, and in this hour of tranfport, undervalue obftaclcs or oppofition. In a moment of depreffion, the fcene is altered : the fky lowers ; nature ceafes to fmile ; or if flie fmile, it is not to us ; we feel ourfelves feeble, forfaken,and hopelefs ; all things, hu- man and divine, have confpired againft us. Having no adequate opinion of ourfelves, or no juft apprehenfion of the ftate of opinions concerning us, we think that no great exer- tion or difplay of merit is expected from us, and of courfe we grow indifferent about our conduct. Thus the mind, at one inftant, af- pires to heaven, is bold, enterprifmg, difdain- ful, and fupercilious : the wind changes — we arc baffled or fatigued ; and the fpirit formerly fo full of ardour, becomes humble and paffive.
Lear had fuffered infult and ingratitude from his eldeft daughter. He boils with refentment ; he exprelTes it with impreca-
6
300 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
tions, and leaves her : but his mind, haraffed and teafed, fufFers fore agitation, and is en- feebled. He looks of courfe for relief; in- dulges confidence in his fecond daughter ; from her he experts confolation ; anticipates a kindly reception ; yields to that depreffion of mind, which is conned:ed with the wifh and cxped:ation of pity ; he longs to com- plain ; and to mingle his tears with the fympathctic forrows of Regan. Thus en- tirely reduced, he difcerns, even in llegan, fymptoms of difaifed:ion. Yet, in his pre- fentftate, he will not believe them. They are forced upon his obfervation ; and Kent, who was exiled for wifhing to moderate his wrath againft Cordelia, is obliged to ftimu- latc his difpleafure at Regan. Yet, in the weaknefs of his prefcnt depreffion, and ' ongings for affecflionate pity, he would rc- pofe on her tcndernefs, and addrcflcs her with full confidence in her love :
No, Regan, thou flialt never have my curfis. — — 'Tis not in thee
To bandy hafty words, to fcant my fizes, &c.
. ^Tliou better know'ft
The offices of nature.
OF KING LEAR. 30T
In the whole intercourfe between Lear and Regan, we fee a contefh between Lear's indignant and refentful emotions, excited by the indications of Regan's difaffedlion, and thofe fond expectations and deiires of fympathetic tendernefs, which proceed from, and in their turn contribute to depreflion of fpirit. Thus he condefcends to entreat and remonflrate :
I gave you all !
At length, repulfed and infulted by Re- gan, totally caft down and enfeebled, he forgets his determined hatred of Goneril ; and in the mifery of his depreffion, irrefo- lute and inconfiftent, he addrefles her as his laft refource :
• ' ■ Not being the worft,
Stands in ibme need of praife ; I'll go with thee ', Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty, And thou art twice her love.
Here he is again difappointed. He has no other refource. His mind, originally of a keen and impetuous nature, is now un- occupied by any tender fentiment. Ac-
305 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
cordingly, at the clofe of this interefting fcene, we fee him forcing himfelf, as it were, from his deprelTion, and expreffing his un- diminifhed refentment.
You Heavens, give me that patience which I need 5
You fee me here, you Gods, a poor old man.
As full of grief as age ; wretched in both !
If it be you that ttlr thefe daughters' hearts
Againft their father, fool me not lo much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger :
0 let not womens' weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks : no, you unnatural bags,
1 will have fuch revenges on you both.
That all the world flial! — 1 will do fuch things —
What they are, yet I know not j but they Ihall be.
The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep —
No, III not weep.
I have full caufe of weeping ; but this heart
Shall break into an hundred thoufand flaws.
Or e'er I'll weep — O Fool, I ihall go mad.
Inconfiftency of condu6l, and of confc- qucnce, irrefolution, occafioncd by irregular and undircdicd fccUngs, proceed from other ftates of mind than dcprcffion of fpirits. Of this, fomc examples different from the pre- fent now occur to me. They illuftrate the general pofition, and may therefore be men- tioned.
OF KING LEAR. 303
Lorenzo dc Medicis * had a lively fancy; he was a courtier — ambitious — and had his imagination filled with ideas of pageantry. He wifhed to enjoy pre-eminence ; but his brother Alexander, the reigning Prince, was an obftacle to be removed ; and this could only be done by dcfpoiling him of life. The difficulty no doubt was great ; yet, it figured lefs to his heated imagination, than the dig- nity and enjoyment he had in view. Elegant in his manners ; accompliflied with every pleafmg endowment ; of foft and infinuating addrefs ; he had, neverthelefs, no fecret counfellor in his breaft to plead in behalf of juftice. Thus prompted, and thus unguard- ed, he perpetrates the death of his brother. He fees his blood ftreaming ; hears him groaning in the agonies of death ; beholds him convulfed in the pangs of departing life : a new fet of feelings arife ; the delicate ac- compliflied courtier, who could meditate atrocious injury, cannot, without being aftoniflied, witnefs the bloody objed: ; he remains motionlefs, irrefolute, appalled at the deed : and in this flate of amazement,
* See Eobertfon's Hiftory of the Reiga of Charles V.
304 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
neither profecutes his defign, nor thinks of efcaping. Thus, without ftruggle or oppo- fition, he is feized and punifhed as he de- fcrves.
Voltaire gives a fimilar account of his hero, Lewis. After defcribing in Hvely co- lours the defolation perpetrated by his au- thority in the Palatinate ; the conflagration of cities, and the utter ruin of the inhabitants, he fubjoins, that thefe orders were iifued from Verfaillcs, from the midft of pleafurcs ; and that, on a nearer view, the calamities he thus occafioned would have filled him with horror. That is, Lewis, like all men of irregular fenfibility, was governed by the influences of objects operating immediately on his fenfes ; and fo according to fuch accidental mood as depended on prefent images, he was humane or inhuman. Lewis and Lorenzo, in thofe inflances, wxre men of feeling, but not of virtue.
IV. The man of ungoverned fenfibility,
is in danger of becoming morofe or tnhnman.
He entertains fanguine hopes ; he allows
every feeling to reign in his brcafl uncon-
8
OF KING LE4R. 305
trouled ; his judgment is dazzled ; and his imagination riots in rapturous dreams of enjoyment. Every objc6t of his wilhes is arrayed in feduciiig colours, and brought immediately within his reach. He engages in the purfuit ; encounters difficulties of which he was not aware ; his ravifliing ex- pedlations fubfide ; he had made no provi- fion for arduous adventure ; his imagination becomes a traitor; the dangers and diffi- culties appear more formidable than they really are ; and he abandons his undertak- ing. His temper is of confequence altered. No longer elated with hope, he becomes the prey of chagrin, of envy, or of refent- ment. Even fuppofe him fuccefsful, his enjoyments are not equal to his hopes. His defires were exceffive, and no gratification whatever can allay the vehemence of their ardour. He is difcontentcd, reftlefs, and unhappy. In a word, irregular feelings, and great fenfibility, produce extravagant defires ; thefe lead to difappointment ; and in minds that are undifciplined, difappointment begets morofencfs, and anger. Thefe dii- pofitions again, will difplay themfelves, ac-
306 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
cording to the condition or character of him who feels them. Men of feeble conflitu- tions, and without power over the fortunes of other men, under fuch malign influences, become fretful, invidious, and mifanthropi- cal. Perfons of firmer ftrud:ure, and im- fortunately poflefled of power, under fuch dirediion, become inhuman. Herod was a man of feeling. Witncfs his conduct to Mariamnc. At one time elegant, courteous, and full of tendernefs ; his fondnefs was as unbounded, as the virtues and cfraccs of Mariamne were unri^ ailed. At other times, offended bccaufe her expreffions of mutual affection were not as exceffive as the ex- travagance of his own emotions, he became fufpicious without caufe. Thus affectionate, fond, fufpicious, refcntful, and powerful, in the phrenzy of irregular feeling, he puts to death his beloved Mariamnc.
Lear, in the reprefentation of Shake- fpcar, poffeffmg great fenfibility, and, full of affe(5lion, feeks a kind of enjoyment fuit- cd to his temper. Afcribing the fame fen- fibility and affcd:ion to his daughters, for thc}' muff have it, no doubt, by hereditary
OF KING LEAR. 307
tight, he forms a plcafing dream of repofmg
his old age under the wings of their kindly
protection. He is difappointed ; he feels
extrem:e pain and refentment ; he vents his
refentment ; but he has no power. Will
he then become morofe and retired ? His
habits and temper will not give him leave.
Impetuous, and accuftomed to authority,
confequently of an unyielding nature, he
would wreak his wrath, if he were able,
in deeds of exceffive violence. He would
do, he knows not what. He who could
pronounce fuch imprecations againft Go-
neril, as, notwithftanding her guilt, appear
iliocking and horrid, would, in the moment
of his refentment, have put her to death.
If, without any ground of offence, he could
abandon Cordelia, and caft off his favourite
child, w^hat w^ould he not have done to the
unnatural and pitilefs Regan ?
Here, then, we have a curious fpedacle: a man accuftomed to bear rule, fuffering fore difappointment, and grievous wrongs ; high minded, impetuous, fufceptible of ex- treme refentment, and incapable of yield- ing to fplenetic filence, or malignant rctire- X 2,
308 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
ment. What change can befal his fpirit ? For his condition is fo altered, that his fpirit alfo mufl fufFer change. What ! but to have his undcrflianding torn up by the hur- ricane of paffion, to fcorn confolation, to lofe his reafon ! Shakcfpeare could not avoid making Lear dillracfled. Other poets ex- hibit madnefs, bccaufe they chufe it, or for the fake of variety, or to deepen the diftrefs: but Shakefpeare has exhibited the madnefs of Lear, as the natural effcd: of fuch futfer- ing on fuch a character. It was an event in the progrefs of Lear's mind, driven by fuch feelings, defires, and pafiions, as the poet afcribes to him, as could not be avoid- ed. No circumftance in Lear's madnefs is more affec^ling than his dreadful anticipation and awful confcioufnefs of its approach.
You think I'll weep ; No 111 not weep ; 1 have full caufe of weeping ; But this heart lliall break into a thoiifand flaws. Or e'er I'll weep : — O fool, I Ihali go mad.
V. Lear, thus extravagant, inconfiftent, inconftant, capricious, variable, irrefolute, and impetuoufly vindidive, is almoft an oh-
OF KINO LEAR. 309
jed: of difapprobation. But our poet, with his uliial Ikill, blends the difagreeable qua- lities with fuch circum-ftances as correal this ctFed:, and form one dcUghtful aiTemblage. Lear, in his good intentions, was without deceit ; his violence is not the cfFe<5t of pre- meditated mahgnity ; his weakneiTes are not crimes, but often the effects of mifruled af- fections. This is not all : he is an old man ; an old king ; an aged father ; and the in- ftruments of his fuffering are undutiful children. He is juftly entitled to our compaffion ; and the incidents lafl men- tioned, though they imply no merit, yet procure fome refped. Add to all this, that he becomes more and more interefting to- wards the clofe of the drama ; not merely becaufe he is more and more unhappy, but becaufe he becomes really more deferving of our efteem. His misfortunes correal his mifconduA ; they roufe refletiion, and lead him to that reformation which we approve. We fee the commencement of this refor- mation, after he has been difmiiTed by Go- neril, and meets with fymptoms of diiafFec- tion in Regan. He who abandoned Cordelia
310 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
with impetuous outrage, and banifhed Kent for offering an apology in her behalf; fee- ing his fervant grofsly maltreated, and his own arrival unwelcomed, has already fuf- tained fome chaftifement : he does not ex- prefs that ungoverned violence which his preceding conduct might lead us to expert. He reftrains his emotion in its firft ebullition, and reafons concerning the probable caufes of what feemed fo inaufpicious.
Lear. The King would fpeak with Cornwall 3 the dear father Would with his daughter fpeak, commands her fervice : Are they inform'd of this ? — My breath and blood ! — Fiery — the fiery Duke ? Tell the hot Duke that — Ko— but not yet — may be he is not well — Infirmity doth ftill negle6t all office, Whereto our health is bound : we're not ourfelves When nature, being opprefs'd, commands tlie mind To fuffer with the body — I'll forbear ; And am fallen out with my more heady will. To take the indifpos'd and fickly fit. For the found man.
As his misfortunes increafe, we find him flill more inclined to reflect on his fitua- tion. He does not, indeed, exprefs blame of himfclf ; yet he expreffes no fcntimcnt
OF KING LEAR. 3II
whatever of overweening conceit. He fcems rational and modcft ; and the apphcation to himfelf is extremely pathetic ;
-Clofe pent up guilts,
Hive your concealing continents, and cry Thefe dreadful fummoners grace. — I am a man More finn'd againft than finning.
Soon after, we find him actually pro- nouncing cenfure upon himfelf. Hitherto he had been the mere creature of fenfibi- lity ; he now begins to refledil ; and grieves that he had not done fo before.
Poor naked wretches, wherefoe'er you are. That bide the pelting of this pitilefs ftorm ! How ftiall your houfelefs heads, and unfed fides. Your loop'd and window'd raggednefs defend you From feafons fuch as thefe ? — O, I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take phyfic, pomp 5 Expofe thyfelf to feel what wretches feel. That thou may'ft fliake the fuperflux to them, And fhew the heavens more juft.
At laft, he is in a ftate of perfeA contri-- tion, and exprefles lefs refentment againfl Goneril and Regan, than felf-condemnation for his treatment of Cordelia, and a per-
3^2 DRAMATIC CHARACTER, &C.
fed:, but not extravagant fcnfe of her af- fe6lion.
Kent. The poor diftrefled Lear is i' the town. Who fometime, in his better tune, remembers What we are come about, and by no means Will yield to lee bis dauj:^hter.
Gent. Why, good Sir ?
Kent. A fovereign fliame fo elbows him, his unkind- nefs. That llript her from his benedidion, tum'd her To foreign cafualties, gave her dear rights To his dog-hearttd daughters : thefe things fling His mind fo venomoufly, that burning (hame Detains him from Cordelia.
I have thus endeavoured to Ihew^, that mere fenfibiUty, undirc6i!ed by refleclion, leads men to an extravagant expreffion both of focial or unfocial feelings ; renders them capricioufly inconftant in their affections ; variable, and of courfe irrefolute, in their condud:. Thefe things, together with the miferies entailed by fuch deportment, feem to me well illuftrated by Shakefpeare, in his Dramatic Charadler of King Lear.
( 313 )
ESSAY IX.
ON THE
DRAMATIC CHARACTER OF
TIMON OF ATHENS.
Shakespeare, in his Timon of Athens, illuftrates the confequences of that inconsi- derate profufion which has the appearance of HberaHty, and is fuppoi^jd even by the inconfiderate perfon himfelf to proceed from a generous principle ; but which, in reality, has its chief origin in the love of diftind:ion. Though this is not the view ufually enter- tained of this fingular dramatic character, I perfuade myfelf, if we attend to the defign of the poet in all its parts, we fhall find, that the opinion now advanced is not with- out foundation. 8
314 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
The love of diftindiion is aflerted to be the ruhng principle in the condud; of Timon ; yet it is not affirmed, nor is it nc- ccflary to affirm, that Timon has no good- nefs of heart. He has much goodnefs, gentlenefs, and love of fociety. — Thefe are not inconfiftent with the love of diftindlion : they often refide together ; and in particular, that love of diftincftion which reigned in the conduct of Timon, may cafily be Ihewn to have received its particular bias and direction from original goodnels. For, without this, what could have determined him to choofe one method of making himfelf confpicuous rather than another ? Why did he not feek the diflind:ion conferred by the difplay of a military or of a political charad:er ? Or why did he not afpire after pageantry and parade, the pomp of public buildings, and the often- tation of wealth, unconnected with any kind of beneficence ?
In general, our love of fame or diftinClion is directed and influenced by fome previous caft of temper, or early tendency of difpo- fition. Moved by powers and difpofitions leading us to one kind of exertion rather
OF TIMON OF ATHENS. ^1 ^
than another, we attribute fuperior excel- lence to fuch exertion. We transfer the lame fentimcnt to the reft of mankind. We fancy, that no pre-eminence can be attained but by fuch talents as we poiTefs ; and it requires an effort of cool refled:ion, before we can allow that there may be ex- cellence in thofe things which we cannot relifh, or merit in that conduct to which we are not inclined. Guided by early or inherent predilection, men aftuated by the love of diftind:ion, feck the idol of their de- iires in various fituations ; in the buftle of active life, or in the fliade of retirement. Take the following examples. The fon of Olorus was prefent, while yet a boy, at the Olympic games. All Greece was aifembled; many feats of dexterity, no doubt, were exhibited ; and every honour that affembled Greece could beftow, was conferred on the victors. Moved by a fpedlacle fo interefting and fo infpiriting, the Spartan, Theban, or Athenian youth, who were not yet of vigour fufficient to ftrive for the wreath, longed, we may readily fuppofe, for maturer years; and became, in their ardent imaginations.
3l6 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
Ikllful wrclllers and charioteers. The fon of Olorus, if we may judge by the confe- qucnce, felt little emotion ; no fympathetic longings; and no impatience to drive a chariot. — But hearing Herodotus, on that occafion, reciting his hiflory, he felt other fenfations ; his heart throbbed, and the tears defcended. The venerable hiftorian obferved him M^eeping, and comprehending his cha- racter, " I give thee joy," faid he to his fa- ther, ^' for the happy genius of thy fon." Now, the fon of Olorus became an hiftorian no Icfs renowned than Herodotus : for Hero- dotus and Thucydides are ufually named together. The celebrated Turenne, in his early days, was an admirer, no lefs paffion- ate, of Quintus Curtius, than the fon of Olorus was of Herodotus ; and we are told by Ramfay, from D'Ablancourt, that when not yet twelve years of age, he challenged an officer who called his favourite hiftory a romance. But this admiration was not fo much for the graces of flowery compofi- tion which abound in the Roman hiftorian, as for the fplendid actions of Alexander. Thefe drew his attention, and foon after, his imi-
OF TIMON OF ATHENS. 31/
tatlon. Though his brcail heaved, and his eyes fpaiklcd, in the pcrufal of favourite paflagcs, he was not led to write fine de- fcriptions hke Curtius ; but to break horfes like the fon of PhiUp.
Now, fince thofe who arc a<ftuated by the love of diftincftion, are led, by early or inherent predilection, to one kind of aftion rather than another, wc have no difficulty in allowing principles of goodnefs and hu- manity to have reigned early, or originally, in the breaft of Timon. Nay, after lofing their authority, they continued for fome time to attend him ; and rcfided in that breaft where they formerly reigned. They became like thofe eaftern princes, or thofe early fovereigns of a neighbouring country, who grew fo indolent and paffive, that they lay immured in their apartments, and left the management of the ftate to fome active miniftcr, an ambitious vizier, or mayor of the palace. Some of thefe minifters ad:cd for a while under the banner of the fove- reign's authority; but afterwards, having left him but the fhadow of power, they promot-
3l8 DRAIVIATIC CHARACTER
cd themfclves ; became fuprcme and def- potic.
Here, however, we are led to enquire, how happens it that a principle inherent in the foul, and once an aftive principle, be- comes pafTive, fuffers others to operate in its ftead ; not only fo, but to perform fimilar fund:ions, afTume correfponding appearances, and, in general, to be guided apparently to the fame tenor of condud: ? Did the energy of the inherent affediion fuffer abatement by frequent cxercife ? Or were there no kindred principles in the foul to fupport and confirm its authority ? Could not reafon, or the fenfe of duty fupport, and the power of active habit confirm ? How came the fultan to fubmit to the ^ izier ?
In general, original principles and feelings become pafllve, if they are not, in their firll: operation, confirmed by rcafon and convic- tion of duty ; and if the paffion which fprings up in their place aflumes their appearance, and ad;s apparently as they would have done. Nothing is more im- pofmg than this fpecies of ufurpation.
OF TIMOX OF ATHENS. 3T9
It is not the open afTaiilt of a foe, but the guile of pretended friendlhlp. No- thing contributes more to dangerous felf- deception. Applying this remark to our prefent fubje^l, and following the lights of obfervation, we ihall briefly illuflratc, how early our inherent goodnefs may be fub verted by the love of difi:in(^Hon. A perfon of good difpofitions, inclined by his temper and conftitution to perform acts of beneficence, receives pleafure in the performance. He alfo receives applaufe. He has done good, and is told of it. Thus he receives pleafure, not only from having gratified a native im- pulfe, but from the praife of mankind, and the gratitude of thofe whom he may have ferved. The applaufes he receives are more liberallybeftowed by defigning and undeferv- ing perfons, than by the deferving and un- defigning. The deferving depend too much on the permanency of the original principle, independent of encouragement ; and may therefore be too fparing in their approbation. Guftavus Adolphus ufed to fay, that valour needed encouragement; and was therefore unreferved in his praifes. The flime may be faid of every virtue. But dcligning, or
320 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
undeferving perfons, transferring their own difpofitions to other men, and of courfe ap- prchenfive lell the wheels and fprings of benevolence fhould contract ruft, are oiling them for ever with profufe adulation. Mean- time, our man of liberality begins to be moved by other principles than fine feelings and conftitutional impulfe. The pleafure arifing from fuch actions as thefe produce, is too fine and too delicate, compared with the joys conferred by loud and continued ap- plaufes. Thus his tallc becomes vitiated ; he not only acquires an undue relifh for adulation, but is uneafy without it ; he con- tracfts a falfe appetite ; and folicits diftinc- tion, not fo much for the pleafure it yields him, as to remove a difagreeable craving. Thus, fuch benevolent ad:ions as formerly proceeded from conftitutional goodnefs, have now their origin in the love of praife and diftindtion. Goodnefs may remain in his breaft a paffive gueft ; and having no other power than to give countenance to the pre- vailing principle. It may thus reign in his language and reveries ; but the love of dif- tindiion directs his condud:. The fuperfcd- ed monarch enjoys the parade of ftate, and
OP TIMON OF ATHENS. 3^1
annexes his fignature and fandion to the deeds of his ad:ivc minifter.
Perhaps it may now feem probable, that a man of conftitutlonal goodnefs may per- form beneficent a(n;ions, not from principles of humanity, though thefe may actually refide in his breaft ; but from the defire of being diftinguillied as a generous perfon; and that in the mean while, not difcernino; his real motives, he fhall imagine himfelf acT:uated by pure generofity. That fuch characters may exift, is all that is hitherto aflerted. That Shakefpeare has exhibited an illufbation, accurately defined and ex- quifitely featured, in his Timon of Athens, we fhall now endeavour to fhew. We fliall endeavour to afcertain and trace, in the condud: of Timon, the marks of that bene- ficence which proceeds from the love of diltindion. We fliall, at the fame time, endeavour to trace the caufes of the ftrangc alteration that took place in his temper ; and delineate the operations of thofe cir- cumlliances that chansied him from beins; apparently focial, and full of afFedion, into an abfolute mifanthrope,
y
^Z2 DRAMATIC CHARACTtR
I. Real goodnefs is not oftcntatious. Not fo is the goodnefs of Timon. Obferve him in the firft fcene of the tragedy : trumpets found ; Timon enters ; he is furrounded with fenators^ poets, painters, and attend- ants ; choofes that moment to difplay his beneficence ; and accompanies his benefits with a comment on his own noble nature.
I am not of that feather, to fhake off My friend when he muft need me.
II. He is impatient of admonition. Know- ing that he was formerly influenced by fen- timents of humanity, he fuppofes that their power remains unchanged ; and that, as he continues to do good, his principles of action are iliill the fame. He is expofed to this felf-impolition, not only by the tenden- cy which all men have to deceive themfclves, but by the flatteries and praifes he is fond of receiving. — Of confequence, he would fuffer pain by being undeceived ; he would lofe the pleafure of that diftintftion which he fo earnellly purfues ; the prevailing- paf- fion would be counteracted : thus, there is
OF TIMON OF ATHENS* 323
a difpofltion in his foul, which leads him to be difpleafed with the truth ; and who that is offended with the truth, can en- dure admonition ?
Ap. Tlwu giv'ft fo long, Tlmon, I fear me thou Wilt give away thyfelf in paper fliortly : What need thefe feafts, pomps, and vain glories ?
Ton. Nay, An' you begin to rail on fociety once, I am fvvorn not to give regard to you. Farewell, and come with better mufic, v
Ap. So
Thou wilt not hear me now.
Oh, that men's ears fhould be
To counfel deaf, but not to flattery.
III. The fame felf-deceit which renders him deaf to counfel, renders him folicitous and patient of exceffive applaufe. He en- dures even the groffeft adulation. Notwith- ftanding the covering which hides him from himfelf, he cannot be quite confident that his principles are jufl: what he wifhes and imagines them to be. The applaufes he receives tend to obviate his uncertainty, and reconcile him to himfelf Yet, it is not affirmed, that the man of confcious merit is either infenfiblc of fame, or carelefs
524 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
of reputation. He feels and enjoys them both ; but> having lefs need of external evi- dence to ftrcngthen him in the belief of his own integrity, he is lefs voracious of praifc, and more acute in the difcernment of flat- tery.
IV. The favours beftowed by Timon, are not often of fuch a kind as to do real fervice to the perfons who receive them. Wifliing to be celebrated for his bounty, he is liberal in fuch a manner as fliall be moft likely to draw attention, and particularly to provoke the oftcntation of thofe, on account of his munificence, whom he is inclined to benefit. He is therefore more liberal in gratifying their pafHons, and particularly their vanity, than in relieving their wants ; and more de- firous of contributing to flatter their ima- ginations, than to promote their improve- ment. Though he performs fome actions of real humanity, and even thefe he performs in a public manner, yet his munificence appears chiefly in his banquets and fliewy prefents.
V. He ads in the fame manner, in the
OF TIMON OF ATHENS. ^!2^
choice he makes of thofe whom he ferves, and on whom he confers his favours. He is not fo foUcitous of alleviatins; the diftrefs of obfcure affliction, as of gratifying thofe who enjoy fome degree of diftinClion, or have it in their power to proclaim his praifes. He is not reprefcnted as vifiting the cottage of the fatherlefs and widow ; but is won- derfully generous to men of high rank and charafter. He is defirous of encouraging merit ; but the merit muft be already known and acknowledged. Inftead of drawing bafliful worth from obfcurity, he beftows coftly baubles on thofe eminent or reputable perfons who will be attended to, if they publilli his praifes. Thefe are fuch difplays of beneficence, as a man of genuine good- nefs would be apt to avoid. Yet, the per- fons whom Timon honours and obliges, are loquacious poets, flattering painters, great generals, and mighty elders.
Tim. I take all, and your feveral vifitations. So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give ; Methinks I could deal kingdoms to my friends. And ne'er be weary. Alcibiades, Thou art a foldier; therefore feldom rich j
;^26 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
It comes in charity to thee ; for all thy living
Is mongft the dead ; and all the lands thou haft Lie in a pitched field.
Yet, this fecming want of difcemment in Timon, is not to be confidered as a proof of weak underftanding. Our poet, who has omitted nothing to render the features of this charafter, though perhaps not obvi- ous, yet fo diftind:, confiftent, and perfedly united, that there is fcarcely a Hneament too Uttle or too much, has guarded him from this objed;ion, and reprcfents him as a man of abihty. When the ftate and rulers of Athens, in the hour of extreme urgency and diftrefs, are threatened with an aflault by Alcibiades, whom they had treated with difrcfpedl, they have recourfc for advice and affiftance to no other than Timon. They tell him in terms of humble entreaty:
Therefore, to pleafe thee to return with us, And of our Athens (thine and ours) to take The captainfliip, thou flialt be met with thanks, Allow'd with abfolute power, and thy good name Live with authority ; fo foon fliall we drive back Of Alcibiades the approaches wild. Who, like a boar, too favage, doth root up His country's peace.
OF TIMON OF ATHENS. '^2,']
VI. Timon is not more oftcntatlous, impatient of admonition, defirous of ap- plaufe, injudicious in his gifts, and undiftin- guifliing in the choice of his friends, than he is profufe. Defirous of fuperlativc praifes, he endeavours, by lavifli beneficence, to have unbounded returns.
-He outsroes
The very heart of kindnefs
Plutus, the god of wealth.
Is but his lleward.
The poet, with judicious invention, de- duces the chief incident in the play, namely the reverfe of Timon's fortune, from this circumftance in his condu6l. The vanity of Timon renders him profufe ; and profufion renders him indigent,
VII. The character we are defcribing, fets a greater value on the favours he con- fers than they really deferve. Of a mind undifciplined by reafon, and aduated fole- ly by paffion, he conceives the ftate of things to be exadlly fuch as his prefent mood and defire reprefent them. Wifliing to excite
328 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
a high fcnfc of favour, he believes he has done {(), and that the gratifications he be- ftows are much greater than w^hat they arc. He is the more liable to this felf-impofition, that many of thofe he is inclined to gratify, are no lefs lavifli of their adulation than he IS of his fortune. He does not perceive that the raptures they exprefs are not for the benefit they have received, but for what they expect ; and imagines, while his cham- bers
Blaze with lights, and bray with minflrelfy,
while his cellars weep '' with drunken fpilth '' of wine," while he is giving away horfes, and precious ftoncs, entertaining the rulers and chief men of Athens, that he is kin- dhng in their brcalls a fcnfc of friendfliip and obligation. He fondly fancies, that, in his utmoft need, he will receive from them every fort of aiTillance ; and without rcfcrve or reluctance, lays immediate claim to their bounty.
You to Lord Lucius ;
lb Lord Lucullus; )'ou— You to Semproniua
OF TIMON OF ATHENS. 329
Commend me to their loves — and I am proud, fay That my occafions have found time to ufe them Toward a fupply of money : let the requeft
Be fifty talents.
Go you, Sir, to the fenators, '•
(Of whom, even to the ftate*s beft health, I have Deferved this hearing), bid them fend o' the inftant, A thoufand talents to me.
VIII. Need we be furprifcd that Timon, and men of his character, fliould meet with difappointment ? Howfoever they may im- pofe upon themfelves, though they may believe that they are moved by real friend- ihip, and are conferring real benefits, the reft of mankind difcern, and difapprove of their condud:. Even thofe very perfons, who, by adulation, and a mean acceptance of fa- vours, have contributed to their delufion, feel, or conceive themfelves, under no obli- gation. The benefits they received were unfolicited, or unimportant ; and the friend- fhip of their benefacflor was not fo genuine as he believed. Thus, then, Timon demands a requital of his good deeds ; he meets with refufal ; when he folicits the afFed;ions of his profciling friends, he is anfwered with Coldnefs.
330 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
S/r. Why, this is the world's foul ; And juft of the fame piece is every flatt'rer's fpirit, — Timon has been this Lord's father — He iiccr drinks,
But Timon's filver treads upon his lip j And yet, (O fee the monftroufnefs of man, "When he looks out in an ungrateful fliape). He does deny him, in refped of his. What charitable men afford to beggars.
There is no one paflage in the whole tragedy more happily conceived and exprefled than the condu(;:l of Timon's flatterers. Their various contrivances to avoid giving him af- fiftance, lliew^ diverfity of character ; and their behaviour is well contrafted, by the fmcere forrow and indignation of Timon's fervauts. They arc held out to deferved fcorn, by their eafy belief that the decay of their benefadior's fortunes w^as only pre- tended, and by their confequent renewal of mean affiduities.
IX. It remains to be mentioned, that fuch difappointment, in tempers like that of Timon, begets not only refentmcnt at individuals, but averfion at all mankind.
Timon impofes on himfelf; and while
OF TIMON OF ATHENS. 33I
he is really actuated by a fclfilh paffion, fancies himfelf entirely difmtereftcd. Yet he has no felec^l friends ; and no particular attachments. He receives equally the de- ferving and undeferving ; the ftranger and the familiar acquaintance. Of confequcnce, thofe perfons with whom he fecms intimate, have no concern in his welfare ; yet, vainly believing that he merits their affecflions, he folicits their affiftance, and fuftains difap- pointment. His refentment is roufed ; and he fuffers as much pain, though perhaps of a different kind, as, in a fimilar fituation, a perfon of true affe(5lion would fuffer. But its object is materially different. For againft whom is his anger excited ? Not againll one individual, for he had no individual attach- ment ; but againft all thofe who occafioned his difappointmcnt : that is, againff all thofe who were, or whom he defired fhould be, the obje6ls of his beneficence ; in other words, aofainft all mankind. In fuch cir- cumftances, the violence of refentment will be proportioned to original fenfibility ; and Shakefpeare, accordingly, has rcprefented the wrath of Timon as indulging itfelf iu 6
^^Z DRAMATIC CHARACTER
furious invedive, till it grows into lading averfion.
Th/i. Who dares, who dares. In purity of manhood (land upright, And fay, this man's a flatterer ? If one be. So are they all ; for every greeze of fortmie Is fmother'd by that below : the learned pate Ducks to the golden fool : all is oblique—
m Therefore be abhorr'd.
All feafls, focieties, and throngs of men ! His femblable, yea himfelf, Timon difdains; Deftrudion phang mankind ! Eartli, yield me roots ?
Who feeks for better of thee, fauce his palate With thy moft operant poifon.
Timon, not merely from affcdlion, but from vanity, and confidence in his own dif-^ cernment, believed that thofe perfons whom he diflinguiihed were endowed with fupe- rior merit. He finds he has been miflaken : but the influences of vanity ftill continue : and he concludes, that fmcc thofe whom /le reckoned deferving are really worthlefs, much more fo are all thofe v\ ho never me- rited his attention. If his own feled:ed friends are unworthy, the reft of mankind are worfe ; and are regarded by him as fit objects of hatred or of contempt.
OF TIMON OF ATHENS. ^^^
Therefore be abhorr'd All feafts, focieties, and throngs of men \
The lymptoms already mentioned are numerous, and indicate to the attentive obferver, that the ftate of Timon's mind is more diftempered with a felfifli pailion than he beheves : yet the poet, by a device fuited to his ovs^n mafterly invention, con- trives an additional method of conveying a diftincfl and expUcit view of the real defign. Apemantus, a chara6ter w^ell invented and w ell fupported, has no other bufniefs in the play, than to explain the principles of Ti- mon's condud:. His cynic furlinefs, indeed, forms a ftriking contradl to the fmoothnefs of Timon's flatterers ; but he is chiefly con- fidered as unveiling the principal charadier. His manners are fierce ; but his intentions are friendly : his inveftives are bitter ; but his remarks are true. He tells the flattering poet who had written a panegyric on Timon, that he was worthy of him ; and adds, even in Timon's prefence,
He that loves to be flattered, is worthy of the flatterer.
He tells Timon, inviting him to his banquet.
334 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
I fcorn thy meat ; 'twould choke me, for I fliould ne'er flatter thee.
Elfewhere he gives him admonitions to the very fame purpofc ; and, finding his ad- vice undervalued, he fubjoins — " I will lock " thy heaven from thee ;" meaning, as a commentator has vs-ell explained it, the plea- furc of being flattered. He afterwards tells him, having followed him, neverthelefs, into his folitude, with intentions of rendering him fome affiftance ;
What, thhikeft
That the bleak air, thy boiftcrous chamberlain,
Will put thy ihirt on warm ? Will thefe mofs'd trees.
That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels,
And Ikip when thon polnt'ft out ? Wilt the cold brook.
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning tafte,
To cure tliy oer-night's lurfeit ? Call the creatures
Whole naked natures live in all the fpite ■
Of wreckful heaven, whofe bare unhoufed trunks
To the conflifling elements expofed,
Anfwer mere nature — bid them flatter thee —
O 1 thou Qialt find
There arc few inftances of a dramatic character, executed with fuch flrici regard to unity of defign, as that of Timon. This is not all. It is not enough to fay, that all
OF TIMON OF ATHENS. ^^^
the parts of his conduft arc confillent, or conned:ed with one general principle. They have an union of a more intimate nature. All the qualities in his character, and all the circumilances in his condut^T:, lead to one final event. They all co-operate, di- red;ly or indired;ly, in the accompliihment of one general purpofe. It is as if the poet had propofed to demonftrate, how pcrfons of good temper, and focial difpofitions, may become mifanthropical. He aflumes the focial difpofitions to be conftitutional, and not confirmed by reafon or by reflection. He then employs the love of diftindlion to bring about the conclufion. He lliews its ctfe(5ls, in fuperfeding the influence of better principles, in aflTuming their appearance, and fo, in ellablifliing felf-deceit. He fliews its efl^ed;s, in producing oftcntation, injudi- cious profufion, and difappointment. And lafl:ly, he fhews how its effects contributed to excite and exafperate thofe bitter feelings which eftranged Timon from all mankind. Timon, at the beginning of the drama, feems altogether liumane and affectionate ; at the end he is an abfolute mifanthi^ope. Such
^^6 DRAMATIC CHARACTER
oppofitlon indicates inconfiftency of cha- racflcr; unlcfs the change can be traced through its caufes and progrcfs. If it can be traced, and if the appearance iliall feem natural, this afped; of the human mind af- fords a curious and very interefting fpecHiacle. Obferve, in an inftance or two, the fine lineaments and delicate fliadings of this lin- gular character. The poet refufes admiffion even to thofe circumftances which may be fuitabic, and confiftent enough with the general principle ; but which would rather co'mclde with the main deiign, than contribute to its confummation. Timon is lavifli ; but he is neither diffolute nor intemperate. He is convivial ; but he enjoys the banquet not in his own, but in the pleafure of his guefts. Though he difplays the pomp of a mafque- rade, Phrynia and Timandria are in the train not of Timon, but of Alcibiadcs. He tells us, alluding to the corrct^nefs of his de- portment,
No villainous bounty yet hath pafs'd my heart j Unwifely, not ignobly, have I given.
We mav obferve, too, that he is not fo
OF TIMON OF ATHENS. ^^y
defirous of being diftinguifhcd for mere ex- ternal magnificence, as of being eminent for courteous and beneficent actions. He does fome good, but it is to procure dillinc- tion ; he folicits difti;i(ftion, but it is by doing good.
Upon the whole, " Shakefpeare, in his " Timon of Athens, illuftrates the confe- *' quences of that inconfiderate profufion *^ which has the appearance of liberality, *' and is fuppofed by the inconfiderate per- '^ fon himfclf to proceed from a generous ''^ principle ; but which, in reality, has its " chief origin in the love of diftlnction."
ESSAY X.
$ HAKE S P E A R E'S
IMITATION OF
FEMALE CHARACTERS.
ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND.
I CANNOT agree with you, that Shake- fpeare has exerted more ability in his^ imi- tation of male, than of female characters. Before you form a decided opinion on a fubjcdl fo intcrefting to his reputation, let me requcft your attention to the following particulars. If you confidcr them at all, it will be with candour: and with fo much the more attention, that they are in favour of a Poet whom you admire, and I might add, of a fex whom you adore. If Shake-
FEMALE CHARACTERS. ^^g
fpeare, with thofe embellilhments which we expcd in poetry, has allotted to the females on his theatre fuch ftations as are fuitable to their condition in fociety, and delineated them with fufficicnt difcrimination, he has done all that we have any right to require. According to this meafure, and this meafure alone, we are permitted to judge of him. — I will not, you fee, be indebted to the facile apologifl: you mention, who admits the charge ; but pleads in extenuation of the offence, that Shakefpeare did not bring for- ward his female characters into a full and ftriking light, ^^'becaufe female players were in liis time unknown." His defence muft reft upon critical principles : and if, " with thofe embellifhments which we expecft in poetry, he has allotted to the females on his theatre, fuch ftations as are fuitable to their fituation in fociety ; and if he has de- lineated them with fufficient difcrimination, he has done all that we have any right to require." I will now endeavour to fhew, that he has fulfilled both thefe conditions.
I. Diverfity of chara(5ler depends a good z 2;
340 FEMALE CHARACTERS.
deal on diverfity of fitiiation : and fituations arc diveriificd by variety of employment. Wc meet, for example, with lefs variety in the occupations of mankind in countries governed by dcfpots, and unacquainted with trade and manufac^turcs, than amons: nations that are ^|Blk|M||^imercial. The flavcs of the dcfpotTmplay no greater diverfity than depends upon the difference between poverty and riches : for their modes of edu- cation never affect the mind ; they extend no farther than to fupcrinduce a vamifh of external urbanity ; and confer fome grace or pliancy in the management of the body. It would be a difficult enterprife, in a free country, to raife an illiterate and ignorant peafant from the lowell order to a diftin- guilhed rank in the ftate : but under fome defpotic governments, perfons with no other in{lru6lion than what regulates attitude, geflure, and fome forms of external pro- priety, may be exalted even to gorgeous pre- eminence. If fituation influence the mind, and if uniformity of condud: be frequent- ly occafioned by uniformity of condition ; there mufl be greater diverfity of male than
FEMALE CHARACTERS. 34I
of female chara(5lers. The employments of women, compared with thofe of men, arc few; their condition, and of courfe their manners, admit of lefs variety. The poet, therefore, whether epic or dramatic, who would exhibit his heroines in occupations that did not properly belong to them ; or who endeavoured to diilinguifli them by a greater diverfity of habits, endowments, or difpofitions, than their condition juftiiied, would depart from the truth of nature ; and, inftead of meriting the praife of due decoration, would incur the blame of extra- vagant fid:ion. I fay not that the abilities and difpoHtions in both fexes may not be equal or alike. There arc few attainments in knowledge in which the pride of the male fex may not be alarmed, if fuch alarm be decent, by the progrefs of fair competi- tors : and the hiftory of modern Europe will atteft, that even politics, a fcience of which men are particularly jealous, is not beyond the reach of adventurous females. Difference, however, of condition restrains the exertion of female genius ; and muft
34^ FEMALE CHARACTERS.
limit the difplay both of talents and difpo- fitions.
Add to this, that the condition of women has been more rellirained in fomc periods than in others. In times of great rudenefs, the wives * and daughters of the fierce bar- barian are domeftic flaves. Even in civi- lized nations, if polygamy be permitted, and no reftraint impofed on the licentiouf- nefs of divorce, the fair-fex may be loved, if the paffions of thofe who grant themfelves fuch indulgence may be honoured with the appellation of love ; but can never rife to efteemf. They may contribute to the amufement or rcnveniency, but can never be the companions of men. In all fituations whatever, where the tendency to extreme profligacy becomes very flagrant, the refped due to female virtues, and confidence in fe- male affection, decline and decay. So great arc the obligations of the fair-fex to thofe inftitutions, which, more than any other, by limiting the freedom of divorce, and by
* Millar's Diftin6tion of Ranks.
t Kcci yy.o ymr, siri yjrTrr^ xai Jsao;. Kairoi ya ta-u:: raru:'/, ro acv yjicov, Sec. Arid. Poet.
a
FEMALE CHARACTERS. 343
other proper reftric^ions, have alTertcd the dignity of the female characfter ! Pohflied and even refined as were the manners of Athens and of Rome, the rank allowed to Athenian and Roman women was never fb dignified, nor fo fuitablc, in either of thefe republics, as among the nations of Chriflen- dom. — But as the fubjed:s of dramatic poe- try, and particularly of tragedy, are moft commonly furniflied by rude, remote, or antient ages, the poet mull fubmit to fuch limitation, in his views of human life, as the manners of fuch periods require. And if Shakefpeare, like the great poets of anti- quity, has not given his females fo much to do, or difplayed them as exprcffing all the violence of pafTion, or rendered them of fo much importance in the conducfl of dra- matic events, as may have been done by his brethren of later times ; he and the poets of antiquity have, in this inftance at leaft, eiven a more faithful, and not a lefs inte- refting reprefentation of that nature which they chofe to difplay.
II. I proceed ftili farther, and venture to
3i4 FEMALE CHARACTERS.
aflert, that there is not only as much varie- ty in Shakefpeare's female characters as we have any title to demand ; but that they are diftinguifhed with peculiar and appropriated features. Let lome of them pafs in review before you. If you find in Miranda, Ifabella, Beatrice, Portia, and Cordelia, variety and difcrimination enough, they may anfwer for their numerous fillcrhood : nor need wc, on the prefcnt occafion, evoke the fpirits of Queen Margaret or Dame Quickly, Juliet or Defdemona.
I. In the charadlcr of Miranda, fimpli- city is intended to be the moft ftriking cir- cumftance. Confiftent, however, with fim- plicity, is gcntlcnefs of difpofition, flowing out in compaflionate tendcrnefs, and unrc- flrained by fufpicion. Miranda, feeing the danger of fliipwrecked ftrangers, never , fuppofes that they may be fufFering punifli- ment for heinous guilt, but exprelfes the mofl amiable commiferation :
If by your art, my deareft father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them:
O I have fufter'd With thofe that I faw fufFer.
FEMALE CHARACTERS. 345
Confcious of no guile in herfclf, confcious of native truth, fhe believes that others are equally guilelefs, and repofes confidence in their profeffions. Her eafy belief does not proceed from weaknefs ; but from innate candour, and an ingenuous undifmayed pro- pcnfity, which had never been abufed or infultcd. If her fmiplicity and inexperience had rendered her fhy and timid, the repre- fentation might have been reckoned natu- ral : but Shakefpeare has exhibited a more delicate picture. Miranda, under the care of a wife and affedionate father, an utter -ftranger to the reft of mankind, unacquaint- ed wdth deceit either in others, or in herfelf, is more inclined to in2;enuous confidence than to fhy or referved fufpicion. — Moved in like manner by tender and ingenuous affeflion, fhe never prad;ifes diffmiulation, •never difguifes her intention, either in the view of heightening the love or of trying the veracity of the perfon whom fhe prefers. All thefe particulars are diftindly illuftrated in the exquifite love-fcene between Fer- dinand and Miranda.
Fcr. Admir'd Miranda,
34^ FEMALE CUARACTERS.
Indeed the top of admiration : worth What's dearett to the world I &c.
J//r. I do not know One of my Itx 3 no woman's face remember, &c.
Thus fimple, apt to wonder, guilelefs, and becaufe guilelefs, of eafy belief, com- pafTionate and tender, Miranda exhibits not only a confiftent, but a fingular, and lincly- diftinguilhed character.
2. Ifabella is reprefented equally blame- lefs, amiable, and affectionate : Ihe is parti- cularly diftinguifhed by intelledlual ability. Her underftanding and good-fenfe are con- fpicuous : her arguments are well-applied, and her pleading perfuafive. Yet her abi- lities do not offend by appearing too maf- culine : they arc mitigated and finely blend- ed with female foftnefs. If fhe venture to argue, it is to fave the life of a brother. Even then, it is with fiich relud:ance, hefita- tion, and diffidence, as need to be urged and encouraged.
Luc. To him again, in treat Iiim, Kneel down before him, &c. 2/ul'. O it is excellent
FEMALE CHARACTERS. 347
To have a giant's ftrength : but it is tyrannous To ufe it like a giant. Luc. That's well faid.
The tranfitions in Ifabella's pleadings arc natural and afFeding. Her introdud:ion is timid and irrefolute. Lucio tells her.
If yovi fliould need a ptn, You could not with more tame a tongue defire it. To him, I fay.
Thus prompted, Ihe makes an effort ; flie fpeaks from her immediate feelings : ihe has not acquired boldnefs enough to enter the lifts of argument; and addreftes Angels merely as a fuppliant :
Not the King's crown, nor the deputed fword. The marflial's truncheon, nor the judge's robe. Become them with one half fo good a grace As mercy does.
Animated by her exertion, fhe becomes more aflured, and ventures to refute objec- tions. As ilie is a nun, and confequently acquainted" with religious knowledge, the
348 FEMALE CHARACTERS.
argument Ihe employs is fuited to her pro- feflion.
Jf. "Why, all the fouls that were, were forfeit once, And he that might the 'vantage beft have took, Found out the remedy.
At length, no longer abafhed and irrefolutc, but fully collected, llie rcafons, fo to fay, on the merits of the caufe.
Good, good, my lord, bethink you : Who is it that hath died for this offence ? There's many have committed it.
Nor is her argument unbecoming in the mouth even of a nun. Her fubfequent conduct vindicates her ow^n characfter from afperfion. Befides, fhe had with great de- licacy and propriety, at the beginning of her pleading, expreiTed herfelf in fuch a manner, as to obviate any charge.
There is a vice that 1 do moft abhor. And moft defire fhonld meet the blow of Juftice j For which I would not plead but that I muft.
Emboldened by truth, and the feeling of
FEMALE CHARACTERS. 349
good intention, fhe paiTcs, at the end of her debate, from the merits of the caufe, to a fpirited appeal even to the confcioufncfs of her judge.
Go to your bofoin, Knock there, and alk your heart what it doth know That's like my brother's fault.
Ifabclla is not only fenfiblc and perfua- five, but fagacious, and capable of becoming addrefs. In communicating to her brother the unworthy dcfigns of Angelo, fhe feems aware of his weaknefs ; Ihe is not ralli nor incautious, but gives her intimation by de- grees, and with ftudied dexterity.
It is not inconfiftent with her gentlenefs, modelly, and referve that, endowed as flie is with underftanding,and -ftrongly impreffed w^ith a fenfe of duty, Ihe fhould form refo- lutions refped:ing her own conduct without relud:ance, and adhere to them without wavering. Though tenderly attached to her brother, fhe fpurns, without hefitation, the alternative propofed by Angelo, and never balances in her choice.
Neither is it incongruous, but a fine tint
35<^ FEMALE CHARACTERS.
in the character, that fhe feels indignation, and exprefles it ftrongly. But it is not in- dignation again-ft an adverfary ; it is not on account of injury ; it is a difintcrefted emo- tion : it is againft a brother who docs not refped: himfelf, who expreiTes pufiUanimous fentiments ; and would have her aS: in an unworthy manner. — Such is the amiable, pious, fcnfible, rcfolute, determined, and eloquent Ifabella. She pleads powerfully for her brother ; and no lefs powerfully for her poetical father.
3. But if the gentle, unfufpe<5ling, and artlefs Simplicity of Miranda ; if the good fenfe and affedling eloquence of Ifabella, ihould not induce you to acquit the poet, you will yield, perhaps, to the vivacity and wit of Beatrice. — No Icfs amiable and af- fe(5tionate than Miranda and Ifabella, Ihe cxprefTes rcfcntment, becaufe ihe feels com- miferation for the fuffcrings of her friend.
Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hatU flandered, fcorned, and dilTionoured my kinfwoman ?
Like Ifabella, too, fhcis diftinguiflied h}' intcUedual ability; but df a different kind.
FEMALE CHARACTERS. 35I
She does not defend herfelf, or make her attacks with grave, argumentative, and per- fuafive elocution : but, endowed with the powers of wit, fhe employs them in raillery, banter, and repartee.
Ben. What, my dear Lady Difdain ! are you yet living ?
Beat. Is it poflible Difdain (hould die, while Ihe hath fiich meet food to feed upon, as fignor Benedift ? — The count is neither fad, nor lick, nor merry, nor well ; but civrl count, civil as an orange, and fomething of that jealous complexion.
Her fmartnefs, however, proceeds from Vf'it rather than from humour. She does not attempt, or is not fo fuccefsful in ludi- crous defcription, as in lively fayings.
Beat. My coulin tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart.
Claud. And fo flic does, coufin.
Beat. Good lord for alliance ! thus goes every one to the world, but I, and I am fun-burned j I may fit in a corner, and cry heigh-ho for a hufband.
Pe. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
Beat. I would rather have one of your father's getting.
Another diftindlion, not uncOnne<fled with the preceding, is, that though lively,
8
352 FEMALE CHARACTERS.
file is neverthelefs ferious, and though witty, grave. Poffcfled of talents for wit, flie fccms to employ them for the purpofes of defence, or difguife. She conceals the real and thoughtful ferioufnefs of her difpofition by a fliew of vivacity. Howfoever flie may fpeak of them, flie treats her own concerns, and thofe of her friends, with grave confi- deration. A compliment, and the entice- ment of a playful allufion, almoft betrays her into an actual confeffion.
Fed. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. Beat. Yea, my lord, I thank it, poor fool, it keeps o« the windy fide of care.
She is defirous of being reputed very fprightly and difdainful : but it is not of the qualities which we chiefly poflfefs that we arc ufually moft ofl:entatious. Congreve wifhed to be thought a fine gentleman ; Swift would be a politician ; and Milton a divine. What Beatrice, who is really ami- able, would have herfelf thought to be, ap- pears in the following paflage, w^here Hero, pretending not to know flie was prefent, dcfcribes her in her own hcarinc;.
FEMALE CHARACTERS. ^^^
Nature never form'J a woman's heart Of prouder ftufF than that of Beatrice, Difdain and fcorn ride fparkling in her eyes> Mifprizing what they look on, &c.
Tender, affedlionate, and ingenuous ; yet confcious of more weaknefs than Miranda, or not like her educated in a defert ifland, fhe is aware of mankind, afFeds to be mirth- ful when flie is moft in earneft, and employs her wit when flie is moft afraid. — Nor is fuch diffimulation, if it may be fo termed, to be accounted peculiarly chara6leriftical of female manners. It may be difcovered in men of probity and tendernefs, and who are actuated by ferious principles ; but who are rendered timid, either from feme con- fcious imbecility ; or who become fufpicious by an early, too early an obfervation of de- iigning perfons. If fuch men are endowed with fo much livelinefs of invention, as, in the fociety to which they belong, to be reckoned witty or humorous, they often employ this talent as an engine of defence. Without it, they would perhaps fly from fociety, like the melancholy Jacques, who wifhed to have, but did not poflefs a very A a
^^4. FEMALE CHARACTERS.
diftinguillicd, though fome portion of fucli ability. Thus, while they feem to annoy, they only wifli to prevent : their mock en- counter is a real combat : while they feem for ever in the field, they conceive them- fclves always befieged : though perfectly ferious, they never appear in earnell : and thoueh they affed to fet all men at defiance; and though they are not without undcr- ftanding, yet they tremble for the cenfure, and are tortured with the fneer of a fool. Let them come to the fchool of Shakefpeare. He will give them, as he gives many others, an ufeful leiTon. He will lliew them an exemplary and natural reformation or exer- tion. Beatrice is not to be ridiculed out of an honorable purpofe ; nor to forfeit, for fear of a witlcfs joke, a connection with a perfon who is " of a noble ftrain, of approved " valour, and confirmed honefty."
4. Portia is akin both to Beatrice and IfabcUa. She refembles them both in gen- tlenefs of difpofition. Like Beatrice, Ihc is fpirited, lively, and witty. Her defcrip- tion of fomc of Jicr lovers, is an obvious
TFEMALE CHAltAdTERS. 3^5
illuftration. " Firft, there is the NeapoU- ** tan prince," &c. Her vivacity, how^ever, is not lb brilliant, and approaches rather to fportive ingenuity than to wit. Her fitua- tion renders her lefs grave, when in a ferious mood, than Ifabella : but, like her, file has intelledlual endowment. She is obfervant, penetrating, and acute. Her addrefs is dex- terous, and her apprehenfion extensive. Though expofed to circumftances that might excite indignation, fhe never betrays any vio- lent emotion, or unbecoming expreffion of anger. But Ifabella, on account of her religi- ous feclufion, having had lefs intercourfe with the world, though of a graver, and appa- rently of a more fedate difpofition, expreffes her difpleafure with reproach ; and inveighs with the holy wTath of a cloifter. To the acquaintance which both of them have of theology, Portia fupcradds fome knowledge of law ; and difplays a dexterity of evafion, along with an ingenuity in detecting a latent or unobfervxd meaning, which do her no difcredit as a barriller. We may obferve too, that the principal bufinefs in the Mer- chant of Venice is conduced by Portia. A a 3
^^6 FEMALE CHARACTERS.
Nor is it foreign to remark, that as in the intimacy of Rofahnd and Celia, Shakefpearc has reprefented female friendfliip as no vifi- onary attainment ; fo he has, by the mouth of Portia, exprcfled fome ftriking particulars in the nature of that amiable connection.
In companions That do converfe, and wafte the time together, "Whofe fouls do bear an equal yoke of love. There muft needs be a like proportion Of lineaments, of manners, and of fpirit.
5. Our poet, in his Cordelia, has given us a fine example of exquifite fenfibility, governed by reafon, and guided by a fenfe of propriety. This amiable character, in- deed, is conceived and executed with no lefs fkill and invention than that of her father. Treated with rigour and injuftice by Lear, flic utters no violent refentment ; but ex- prefTes becoming anxiety for reputation.
I yet befeech your majefty, That you make known It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulnefs. No uuchafte aftion or diflionor'd ftep, That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favor.
FEMALE CHARACTERS. ^C^J
She difplays the fame gentlenefs, accom- panied with much dcHcacy of reproof, in her reply to a mercenary lover.
Peace be with Burgundy ! Since that refpedts of fortune are his love, I fhall not be his wife.
Even to her fifters, though ilie has per- fect difcernment of their characters, and though her misfortune was owing to their diffimulation, Ihe fhows nothing virulent nor unbecoming. She expreffes, however, in a fui table manner, and with no improper irony, a fenfe of their deceit, and apprehen- fions of their difaffed:ion to Lear.
Ye jewels of our father, with wafli'd eyes Cordelia leaves you 3 I know what you are. And like a fitter am mofl loth to call Your faults as they are nam'd.
Towards the clofe of the tragedy, when flie receives complete information concern- ing the violent outrages committed againft her father, the fufferings he has undergone, the ruin of his underftanding, and has the fulleft evidence of the guilt and atrocity of 7
^^S FEMALE CHARACTERS.
her fifters, llie preferves the fame confiftency of character : notwithftanding her wrongs, Ihe feels and is affe<fled with the decpeft forrow for the misfortunes of Lear : ftie has the moft entire abhorrence of the temper difplayed by Goneril and Regan : yet her forrows, her rcfentment, and indignation arc guided by that fenfe of propriety, which docs not in the fmalleft degree impair her ten- dernefs and fenfibiUty ; but dircds them to that condu<5l and demeanour, which are fuitable, amiable, and intercfting. Tcnder- nefs, afFc6lion, and fenfibility, melting into grief, and mingled with fentiments of re- luctant difapprobation, w ere never delineat- ed with more delicacy than in the defcrip- tion of Cordelia, when fhe receives intelli- gence of her father's misfortune?.
Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to any de- monflration of grief '
Gint. Ay, Sir J (he took them, read them in my pre- fence ; And now and then an ample tear trill'd down Her delicate cheek : it feem'd the was a queen Over her paifion, who, moft rebel like, Sought to be king o'er her.
Kc72t. O, then it moved her.
Gent, Not to a racre. Patience and foirow drove
FEMALE CHARACTERS. 359
Which fhould cxprefs her goodliefl; : you have feen
Sun-lhine and rain at once. Thole happy fmiles
Tliat played on her ripe Up feem'd not to know What guefts were in her eyes, which parted thence, As pearls from diamonds dropt. — In briel". Sorrow would be a rarity moft bclov'd, If all could fo become it.
Kent. Made (he no verbal queflion ?
Gent. Once or twice She heav'd the name of father Pantingly forth, as if it preft her heart, Cry'd, Sirters ! Sitters ! What ? i'the florm ? i'the night ? Let pity ne'er believe it ! there flie lljook
The holy water from her heav'nly eyes
Xhen away flie ftarted to deal with grief alone.
Minds highly enlightened, contemplating the fame objed;, both reafon, and are af- fected in a fimilar manner. The tone of thought in the following paffage, in The Theory of Moral Sentiments, accords per- fectly with Shakcfpcarc's account of Cor- delia. "What noble propriety and grace do we feel in the conduct of thofe who, in their own cafe, exert that recolleClion and felf-command which conftitute the dignity of every paffion, and which bring it down to what others can enter into ? We are dif- gufted with that clamorous grief, which.
3^0 FEMALE CHARACTERS.
without any delicacy, calls upon our com- paiTion with fighs and importunate lamen- tations. But we reverence that referv^ed, that filent and majeftic forrow, which dif- covcrs itfelf only in the fwelling of the eyes, in the quivering of the lips and cheeks, and in the diftant but afFeding coldnefs of the whole behaviour. It impofes the like fi- lence upon us. We regard it with refpecft- ful attention, and watch with anxious con- cern over our whole behaviour, left by any impropriety we Ihould difturb that concerted tranquillity, which it requires fo great an effort to fupport." — Cordelia, full of affec- tion, is grieved for the diftrefs of her father: her fenfe of propriety impofes reftraint on her expreffions of forrow : the confli<ft is painful: full of fenfibility, and of a delicate ftru6lure ; the conflid: is more than Ihe can endure ; flie muft indulge her emotions : her fenfe of propriety again interpofes ; fhe muft vent them in fecret, and not with loud lamentation : flic fliakes *' The holy *' water from her heavenly eyes," and then retires " to deal w ith grief alone." There are few inftances in any poet.
FEMALE CHARACTERS. 361
where the influences of contending emotions are fo nicely balanced and diftinguifhcd : for while in this amiable picture we difcern the correfted feverity of that behaviour which a fenfe of propriety did:atcs, mitigated and brought down by fine fenfibility, and the foftncfs of the female charadler ; we alfo fee this foftncfs upheld, and this fenfibility ren- dered flill more engaging, by the influence of a fenfe of propriety.
Need I add to thefe illuftrations, the {i{- terly and filial affections of Ophelia, leading her to fiich deference for a father, as to pra6life deceit at his fuggeflion on a generous lover, and flrive to entangle him in the toils of political cunning ?'' Need I add the pride, the violence, the abilities, and the difap- pointed ambition of Margaret ? Need I add Dame Quickly and Lady Anne ? — If, not- withflanding all thefe, you perfifl in faying that Shakefpeare has produced no eminent female characters, becaufe, in the words of the poet whom you quote, ' moft women have no character at all ;' you mufl mean in the fpirit or manner of the fatirifl, and with an eye to the perfonage lafl mentioned.
^6Z FEMALE CHARACTERS.
to pun rather than to refute. But you tell me — *' the gentle Defdemona is hke the gentle Cordelia ; the tender Imogen like the tender Juliet ; the fenfible Ifabella like the fenfible Portia; the violent Margaret like the violent Conftance ; and the cruel Kegan like the cruel Goneril : in fhort, that they are all copies of one another ; that any differences appearing between them are oc- cafioned by difference of external circum- ftances ; that Portia, in Ifabella's fituation, would have been another Ifabella : and fa with the reft." — If this be urged as an ob- jection, it cannot be admitted. Defdemona, in the fame fituation with Margaret, would not have inveighed, nor vented imprecation. Cordelia was fituated in the fame circum- ftances with Regan, but performed a very different part. Notwithfhanding the fimi- larity in th^ inftances above mentioned, there is ftill fg much diverfity as to obviate the objection. — Still further, if you reafoii in this manner, allow me to fay, in the words of the poet, you reafon " too curi- oufly :" and would reduce the fum of dra- matic charad:ers, how different foever their
FEMALE CHARACTERS. ^6^
names and fortunes, to an inconfidcrable number. Does it not ftrike you too, that to difregard fuch difcrimlnaticn as proceeds from external condition, is contrary to the truth of nature, and the juftice of impartial criticifm ? Many pcrfons may have received from nature fimilar talents and difpofitions ; but being differently placed in fociety, they exert the fame powder, or gratify the fame defire, with different degrees of force, and different modes of indulgence. Their cha- radiers are therefore different, and if fo in reality, fo alfo in imitation. Similarity of original flru6lure does not conftitute iimi- larity or famenefs of charad:er, unlefs that fimilarity appear in the fame circumffances, j.n the fame manner, and with equal force. I ftill therefore adhere to my former opinion: and have not ventured, I hope, in vain to affert the merits of Shakefpeare's females.
( 3^4 )
ESSAY XI.
ON THE
FAULTS OF SHAKESPEARE.
The Commentators on Shale efpeare have been accufed of blind admiration. They are charged with over-rating his merits ; and of regarding his faults with exceffive indulgence. Only the lafl part of the charge has a foundation in juftice. His merits have never been over-rated. The ardours of poe- tical fancy, the energies of ftrong expreffion, and unrivalled ikill in delineating human nature, belong to him in a degree fo con- fpicuous, as to juftify the warmeil applaufes, and even to excufe, in fome meafure, the indulgence ihewn him for his tranfgrcffions. Yet his tranfgrcffions are great : nor have
ON THE FAULTS, &C. 3 5^
they paflfcd altogether unnoticed. Foreign critics have aflailed him with virulence, and have loaded his faults with the aggravations of national prejudice. Even in Britain, the praife of Shakefpeare is often mingled with lamentations for his offences. His inatten- tion to the laws of unity, to fay nothing of his deviations from geographical and hifto- rical truth : his rude mixture of tragic and comic fcenes ; together with the vulgarity, and even indecency of language, admitted too often into his dialogue, have expofed him to frequent cenfure. To cenfure him for his faults is proper ; it is even neceffary; it hinders blind admiration from tainting the public tafte ; for offences againft tai1:e are more dangerous in men of genius, than in other perfons ; and the undiftinguifliing praifes fo profufely beffowed on Shakefpeare, have contributed a good deal to retard our improvement in dramatical vv^riting.
Is it then poffible, that a man of genius, eminently confpicuous in one of the higheft departments of elegant compofition, can trefpafs againft tafte ; and contribute, even in fine writing, to pervert the judgment ?
^66 ON THE FAUtTS
Or is it likely that tafte and genius flioulcl depend upon different principles ? They are, no doubt, of the fame family ; yet they are not {o clofely related, as that they may not be found apart. Many men, without poiTeffing a fmgle ray of invention, can dif- cern what is excellent in fine writing, and even feel its effedls. But is it probable, that i men of ardent fancy, of ad:ive invention, en- dowed with talents for various expreffion, I and every power of poetical execution, fhould S be incapable, even in their own department, \ of perceiving, or feeling, what is fairorfub- lime ? Shall the fpc(5lator be raviflied with unfpeakable tranfport ; and fhall the bread of him who communicates rapture be dark or joylefs ? Such affertion is certainly bold ; and though it feems implied in the charge againft Shakefpeare,it muft be heard with reftridtion. As every work that belongs to the ima- gination, all the performances of the poet, the painter, or ftatuary, confift of parts, the pleafure we receive from them is the effc6l of thofe parts ading in proper union. The general delightful influence of fuch combi- nations may be llrongly felt, without our
8
OF SHAKESPEARE. ^6y
being able to dlftinguifli their component members, whether of hirgcr or of lefs di- menfion ; or the nature of the relation fub-^ lifting between them. Many tears have been ihed for the fufFerings of Jane Shore and Califta ; yet the perfons who have flied them may not have known by what art they were moved. We may alfo obferve, that the variety, the arrangement, the pro- portions, and mutual relations of thofe parts, which, united in a fine performance, afford us fupreme delight, may be feen and diflin- guifhed by perfons, who, from infenfibility 1 natural or acquired, are incapable of feeling ' their influence, or of perceiving them with , exquifite pleafure. The accomplifhed critic ■ mufl both feel what is excellent, and dif- cern its nature. Yet, there are critics who difcern, and never feem to have felt. But, "^ befides feeling and difcernment, a certain •C^"-^-****'-^-^ portion of knowledge is indifpenfably requi- ^'/ h^-^-^y" fite : for offences againfl hiftorical, or ob- vious philofophical truths, either in thofe that perform a work, or in thofe that judge of a performance, cannot fail of exciting difgufl. Thus, confummate tafle requires .
p -*/•-•'•*..•
.^'
.:1>-
368 ON THE FAULTS
that we be capable of feeling what is excel- lent ; that we be capable, in Ibme meafure, of difcerning the parts, and correfpondence of parts, which, in works of invention, oc- cafion excellence ; and that we have com- petent knowledge in thofc things which are the fubjed:s of an artift's labour.
Now, every man of poetic invention muft receive exquifite pleafure in contem- plating the great and the beautiful, both of art and of nature. He pofleiTes tafte, fo far as it depends upon feeling ; and fo far as a familiar acquaintance with beauty confers improvement, his tafte will improve. But he may want difcernment : for though the powers of difcernment are beftowed by nature, yet their perfection depends upon culture. He may not perceive proportion or union of parts in thofe things that give him pleafure ; he may be totally ignorant of every fa<5l concerning them, except of their direft or immediate impreffion ; and thus, if tafte depend upon intelleClual im- provement, his tafte is imperfe(5l. He may weep for the death of Laufus, as related by Virgil, without obferving that the fkill of
OF SHAKESPEARE. ^6g
the poet, in feledlng and arranging thofe images that excite kindred emotions, is the magic power that afFec^ts him. He may be moved with an interefting ftory of a Bohe- mian Princefs, though ignorant that no fuch Princefs exifted, or that Bohemia is not, according to Shakefpeare's reprefentation, a maritime country. — ^Thus, with matchlefs pathetic abilities, with uncommon ardour of fancy, and force of expreffion, he may dehneate the fufferings of kings and of princes ; but by miftaking hillorical £a.<Sts, and ftill more, by blending incongruous emo- tions, he may excite fuch difguft as fliall di- minifh the pleafure he would othervv^fe have given us ; and occafion our regret, that his knowledge had not been more extenfive, or his critical difcernment more improved. But will not his feelings prcferve him from error ? Will not their immediate and lively interpofition irradiate his mind, and give him a clearer view of the juftnefs and truth of things, than he can receive from metaphyfical reafoning or dry difquifition r Surely no feelings can communicate the knowledge of fads : and though fcnfibility B b
3/0 ON TflE FAULTS
of foul may dlfpofe tlic mind to a readier difcernment of relation and connecflion, in the objects of our attention, yet it is not by fcnfibility alone that \vc are capable of difcerning. But allowing it to be fo ; al- lowing that there may be fome fpirits {o finely framed, that, with powers of adive invention, they can, independent of cool difquifition, and without enquiring after union and relation of parts, feel by imme- diate impulfe, every effect of the moft ex- quifite arrangement ; and be able, by at- tending to the degrees of pleafure they re- ceive, to afcertaln the precife proportion, the abundance, or dcfed: of excellence, in a w^ork : admitting the poffibility of fuch endowment, he who is thus highly dilHn- guifhed, is not, by means of this conflitution, exempt from error ; he is not placed beyond the rilk of misjudging, nor rendered inca- pable of feeling amifs. He cannot be furc of his feelings. They are of a Ihifting and verfatilc nature. They depend on the pre- font humour, or Hate of mind ; and w ho can fay of the prefent humour, that it will iaft for a moment ? Who can alTure us, cfpe-
OF SHAKESPEARE. 371
cially if we afpirc at the honour of extreme fenfiblHty and exqiiifite nerves, that our pre- fent mood Ihall not be totally different from that which Ihall follow ? If fo, the colours and attitudes of things will feem totally changed : we ihall feel very different emo- tions, and entertain very oppofite fentiments. Could the man of genius depend on his feelings ; could he affure himlelf that no contrary motions would oppofe the natural tendencies of a delicate fpirit ; or, in parti- cular, that the influence of fafhion would ne- ver efface from his heart the true impreffions of beauty ; or that the authority of maxims, fpecious or ill explained, would never per- vert the operations of fancy ; he might pro- ceed with impetuous career ; and, guided by the pleafnig irradiations of feeling, he might fcorn the toil of that minute attention by •which alone he might gain difcernment. Were there no adverfe currents, ffrong, but of filent progrcfs ; no fliifting gales to drive him out of his courfe, or no clouds to obfcure the face of the iky, he might give full fcope to his fails, and, obferving no other direction than the beams of fome bright conftella- tion, he might proceed on a profperous B b^
I
^yZ ON THE FAULTS
voyage, and land at length fafc in port. But he has to encounter oppofing currents, to contend with impetuous tempefts ; his guiding ftar may be obfcured by a cloud, and his burnilhed vcffel may be dafhed upon rocks, or fhipwrecked on dangerous fands.
The man of true taile muft not only be \ capable of feeling, but of judging. He muft afcertain his feelings, he muft diftinguifli thofe that are juft and natural, from thofe that are fpurious. He muft have fteady principles of judgment ; and efta- blifh a rule of belief to which his under- ftanding may for ever appeal, and fet at defiance the effedls of fleeting emotion. We are not always in the fame ftate of mind ; we are more fufceptible at one time than another : even the fame appearance Ihall at different moments affecft us differently ; and we Ihall be capable of rclifliing at one time, w^hat, in a lefs happy mood, would have given us no fort of pleafure. Nay, our fenfibility may be, occafionally, not only dull, but fickly ; and we may be apt to find pleafure in thofe things, which, in them- felvcs, arc neither wholefome nor innocent.
OF SHAKESPEARE. ^J^
Add to this, that feelings of refpe(5l for cele-« brated chara(^ers may be as powerful in our minds as thofe of beauty and harmony ; or the authority of a favourite critic may feduce us into erroneous opinions. Thus i it is manifcll, that, trufting to feeling alone, | our judgments may be capricious, unfteady, ; and inconfiftent.
It is in morals as in criticifm. Our . judgments, and our condudl, mufi: be 1 eftabliflied upon thofe maxims that may I have been fuggefted by feeling, but which I muft derive their force and ftability from | reafon and deep refledion. We mufh have 1 certain rules to dire<fl our deportment, in thofe moments of languor and dereliction, when the heart feels not the prefent influ- ence of compaffion, tendernefs, and fuch amiable difpofitions as produce excellent con- dudl. Thofe celeftlal vifitants do not fojourn continually in the human breaft. Reafon, therefore, and refledlion, ought to preferve fuch tokens and memorials of their pleafing intercourfe, as fhall make us, in their ab- fence, a<ft in full confidence that they are congenial with our nature, and will again
374 ^^ '^^^^ FAULTS
return. By this due recolleftion, they will
be induced to return ; and, perhaps, to
dwell in our breafts for ever. But, without
fuch refolutions ; without ailing as if we
felt compaflion and humanity, in the hope
that wc fhall really feel them ; and without
rendering the fenfe of duty an eftabliflied
principle of action, we fliall, in moments of
, feeble coldnefs, be not only feeble, but fel-
hfli ; and not only cold, but inhuman. Our
rcafon will be of no other fervice, than to
affift or juftify the pervcrfe inclination ; and
a habit of callous infenfibility may thus be
contraclcd. It is ncedlefs to purfue the
refemblance. It might eafily be fhewn,
I that in the condu<ft of life, no lefs than in
\ our judgments concerning fine compofition,
] if we have no determined principles, inde-
i pendent of prefent emotion, our deportment
■ will be capricious, unftcady, and inconfift-
ent *.
In particular, the man of mere fenfibility, who has not eftablifhed to himfelf, either in morals or in criticifm, any rule of im- mutable conduct, and who depends on feel-
* See the Effay on Lear.
.V
OF SHAKESPEARE. ^y^
ing alone for the propriety of his judgments, maybe mifled by the appUcation of thofe ge- neral rules that dired: the condud: of others. Hisbofom is not always equally fufceptible of fine emotion ; yet, under the neceffity of adiing or of judging, and ni a moment of dreary derelicftion, forfaken for a time by thofe boafted feelings that are the guides of his life, he will be apt to follow the fafliion ; or, apprehending that he is conducting himfelf accordinii; to thofe well-eftablifhed principles that influence men of worth, he will be apt to fall into error. This will be par ticularly the cafe, fliould any maxim be held forth as a rule of conduA, proceeding upon rational views, and coinciding in general with the prepofleffions of fenfibility; but which, requiring to be attentively lludied, well underftood, and admitted with due extenfion, may, neverthelefs, be exprell- ed in fuch general terms with fo much brevity, and apparently of fuch eafy com- prehenfion, as that it is often adopted without due extenfion, without being ftu- died or underftood, Moreover, the warm- eft advocate for the powers of feeling will
3/6 ON THE FAULTS
allow, that they are often attended with diftrult, hefitation, and fomething like con- scious weaknefs. Hence it is, that perfons of mere fcnfibility are ready to avail them- felves of any thing like a general maxim, which falls in with their own inclinations ; and having no general maxim which is really their own, afcertained and eftablifhed by their own experience and refled:ion, they will be apt to embrace the dic^tates of others. Thus even an excellent rule, ill underftood, will confequently be ill applied, and inflead of guiding men aright, will lead them into the mazes of error.
I am inclined to believe, and Ihall now
^' I endeavour to illuftratc, that the greateft
blemiihes in Shakefpcare have proceeded
from his want of confummate tafhe. Having
no perfed: difcernment, proceeding from
rational inveftigation, of the true caufe of
beauty in poetical compofition, he had never
■| cftablillied in his mind any fylliem of regu-
! lar procefs, or any ftandard of dramatic cx-
i cellence. He felt the powerful effedls of
beauty ; he wrote under the influence of
feeling ; but was apt to be miflcd by thofe
OF SHAKESPEARE. ^"JJ
general maxims, which arc often repeated, but ill undcrftood ; which have a foundation in truth, but mull be followed with cau tion.
No maxim has been more frequently- repeated, and more ftrongly enforced upon ^ poets, than that which requires them to " follow nature." The greateft praife they \ expert is, that their reprefentations are na- ( tural ; and the greateft cenfure they dread \ is, that their conduct is oppofite. It is by ,! this maxim that the errors of Shakefpeare have been defended ; and probably by this maxim he was perverted. " Can we fup- '^ pofe," it may be faid, *' that the ruin of " kings, and the downfall of kingdoms, have " been accomplilhed merely by heroes and " princes ? May not inferior agents, and " even the meaneft of mankind, have con- ^^ tributed to fuch a cataftrophe ? Or can w^e '^ fuppofe, that during the progrefs of great " events, none of the real agents have ever " fmiled, or have ever indulged themfelves " in trifling difcourfe ? Muft they main- *' tain, during the whole performance, the ** moft uniform gravity of afpetl, and folemn.
^yS ON THE FAULTS
* ftatc of demeanour ? Is it not natural, if a
* grave muft be dug for a dead body, that ' the grave-diggers be perfons of the lowefl ^ rank ; and if fo, that their converfation be ' fuited to their condition ? Of confequence,
* the language of Tragedy will not always ' maintain the fame dignity of expreffion.
* Even kings and queens, moved by fome ^ violent paffion, will be inclined to fpeak
* like their fubjcdls, and utter terms, that,
* to very delicate critics, may feem ill fuit- ' cd to their rank. Solemn Itatefmen may
* indulge in trivial garrulity ; and grave ' fenators may ad: or fpeak like the vulgar.
* Now, is not the poet to follow nature ? ' And if he is to reprefent perfons in the ' higheft departments of life, mufl he not ' reprefent them in their real appearance ? ' Or mull they be totally difguifcd, refined, ' and exalted, according to the cnthuliafm ' of a glowing fancy ?" — It is in this man- ner that the mixture of tragic with comic fcenes, and the grofs vulgarity of language to which our poet, notwithftanding his amazing powers of expreffion, too often defccnds, are defended; and, perhaps, as
OF SHAKESPEARE. 379
was already mentioned, fomc confiderations of this fort have been the caufe of his errors. Indeed, the tads in tliis fuppofcd defence are admitted. Perfons of high rank, in the execution of great undertakings, may em- ploy mercenary and vulgar engines; and may adapt their convcrfation to the mean- eft of their aflbciates. Mighty men may- be coarfe and offenfive ; grave fenators may, like fonie of thofc reprefcnted by Otway, be contemptibly fcnfual ; and even an En- glifli Princefs, agreeably to the reprefenta- tion of Shakefpeare, addrcffed by a deformed, and loathfome lover, may fpit in his face, and call him " hedge-hog." A Roman ma- tron, difputing with the tribunes of the people, who were perfecuting her fon to death, might with propriety enough have called them " cats." A fenator of Rome, in the midft of much civil difl'enfion, might have faid of himfelf, that ''he was a *' humorous patrician, and one that loved " a cup of hot wine without a drop of al- " laying Tiber ;" or in a debate with the above-mentioned tribunes, he might tell them, that they " racked Rome to make" fewel " cheap ;" or, with perfedconfiftency
380 ON THE FAULTS
of character, and truth of defcription, while, in a deep tragedy, he is delineating the re- fcrve of a difcontented general, he might fay of him, that " the tartnefs of his face " fours ripe grapes ; that his hum is like a '* battery ; and that he fits in his ftate like '* a thing made for Alexander." All thefe things may have happened, and as they may happen again, they may be termed natural. Yet, I conceive that the folemn, in drama- tical compofition, fhould be kept apart from the ludicrous ; that Shakefpeare, by con- founding, them, has incurred merited cen- fure ; and that he probably fell into error by following the authority of inexplicit, or un- examined decrees.
There is a certain confiftcncy or unity of paffion, emotion, and fentiment, to be ob- fened in fine writing ; not lefs important than unity of adion, and of much greater confequence than the unities either of time or of place. The mind is not only pained by feelings difagreeable in themfelves, but, independent of their particular character and effect, it is pained by being dillradiled and haralfcd. Now, this difcompofure is pro- duced, if oppofite feelings, though in them-
OF SIIAKESPEAHE. 38 1
lelvcs agreeable, are poured in upon us at once, or in immediate fucccflion. As the tendency of thelc diflbnant emotions is to deftroy one another, the mind, during the conteft, is in a ftatc of diftrad:ion. Nor can either of the contending feelings accom- plifh their full effed: ; for the attention is too equally divided between them, or transferred ib rapidly from one obje(^l to another, that the pleafure they would yield is imperfed:. Add to this, that in cafes of fuch diforder, the finer feeling is ^ generally overpowered by the coarfer and \ more tumultuous. A ludicrous chara^er, or incident, introduced into a pathetic fcene, will draw the chief attention to itfelf ; and by ill-timed merriment, banifli the fofter pleafiires. This fubje^t will receive more illullration, if we attend to the fuccefs of thofe authors who have underftood and availed themfelves of the foregoing maxim. From this proceeds the chief merit of Mil-^ v ton's L' Allegro and II Penforofo, Intend- ing in his L' Allegro to excite cheerfulnefs, he deals folcly in cheerful objects : intending in his II Penforofo to promote a melancho- ly mood, he has recourfe to thofe images
^Sz ON THE FAULTS
only that are conned;ed \\ Itli folitude and gloomy filence. If you would make us weep with compaffion, do not ftrivc at the fame inllant to convulfe us with laugh- ter. Or if you mean to exalt your audi- ence with folemn and fublime devotion, you will not addrefs them with fantalHc levity, nor amufe them with a merry tune. The propriety of adhering to one principal objed:, or in other words, of moving the mind by one particular fet of feelings, has . been attended to in other imitative arts. I We find nothing in mufic or painting, fo I inconfiftent as the diifonant mixture of fen- \ timents and emotions fo frequent in Englifli tragedy. The improvers in gardening are attentive to the fame obfervances. They tell us, w^ith great juftice, that in a folemn fcene, every thing light and airy fliould be concealed and rcmo^'cd ; that where fubli- mity conflitutes the chief expreffion, every circumftance fliould be great or terrific ; and, in general, that all fubordinatc inci- dents Ihould be fuited to the reigning cha- racter*. Even Shakefpeare himfclf, in
* See Obfcrvations on Modern Gardening, Sec. 50.
OF SHAKESPEARE. 383
many brilliant paiTagcs, where he follows the guidance of genius alone, or of unpervert- ed fenfibility, and, indeed, In all thofe de- tached paflages that arc ufually mentioned as pofleffing fmgular excellence, ad:s in perfed: confiftency with thcfe obfervations. Every circumftance in his defcription of departed fpirits, in " Meafure for Meafurc," without fuggefting noifome, difgufling objefts, are direc^lly calculated to fill the mind \\ith delightful awe.
Now, if confiftency of feeling and fen- tinient is to be obferved in fine writing, it ] will afFc6l our imitations of nature. It will | lead us to bring more fully into view, than' in the original, thofe things that carry for- j ward, or coincide with our purpofe ; and ; to conceal thofe circumftances which may be of an oppofite or unfuitable tendency. If we would defcribe a cheerful landfcape, we muft avoid mentioning the gloomy forefts, or deep morafTes, which may actually exift in it. In like manner, if we would difpofc our audience to entertain fentiments of ve- ' neration for fome refpc6i:able perfonage, we muft throw into the fliadc thofe levities
384 ON THE FAULTS
•which may have place in the characfler, but
\/\ which Icfl'cn its dignity. In the fi<5lions of the poet it is allowable, not only to veil in- firmities, or to foften and conceal harlh or unbending features, but from the ftore- houfcs of fancy and obfervation to make fuch additions, both to the landfcape and to the charafter, as fliall equally promote our pleafure and our efteem.
Does this nile, then, contradi<5l the great maxim of following nature ? Or is there any neceffity impofed upon us, of adopting the one and rejecting the other ? If fo, to which fliall we yield the preference ? We are not,
f> however, reduced to this difficulty. We } may both follow nature, not indeed as I fervile copyiils, but as free difciples ; and
^' i preferve at the fame time coniiftency of J feeling and expreflion. — When a judicious improver covers a bleak heath with enliven- ing groves, or removes the drearinefs of a noifome fen, by changing it into a lovely lake, interfperfed with illands, can wc accufe
»- ! kim of departing from nature ? Indeed he
varies her appearance, but at the fame time
{ improves them, and renders them more
OF SHAKESPEARE. 385
agreeable to our conceptions of excellence. In like manner, the poet who excludes from tragedy mean perfons and vulgar language, becaufe they are difTonant to the general tone of his work, neither violates nature, nor trefpafles againfl the great obligation he is under of affording us pleafure.
Now, though the fpirit of this important rule has at all times operated on the prac- tice of eminent writers, and has even, on many occafions, influenced the daring, but delicate fancy of Shakefpeare ; yet, fo far as I recoiled;, the rule itfelf has feldom been confidered by the authors or judges of dra matic writing in Britain, as of inviolable obligation. Thus, the maxim of following nature, a maxim moft important in itfelf, and almoft coeval with fine writing, has been received without proper exteniion : for it has commonly been conceived, that by the term Nature, as ufed by the critics, we are to underftand the real appearances of things as they exill originally, and unim- proved by human art. According to this account, a tree with luxuriant branches, and that has never been pruned, is natural. c c
2
385 ON THE FAULTS
Neverthclcfs, wc may colle(ft from the fore- going remarks, that this explanation is by far too limited. The human mind is capa- ble of difcerning and conceiving excellence, fiiperior to any thing we have ever beheld. This excellence, however, does not belong to new objcifls, but to the improved and exalted ftate of thofc things with which wc are already acquainted. We cannot ima- gine a new race of animated beings, differ- ent in every refpedl, except that of anima- tion alone, from the living creatures that we already know ; but we can conceive the prefent inhabitants of our planet exalted to a degree of perfediion far fuperior to any of the human race. This conception of excellence, therefore, is natural to the hu- man mind : the manner in which it is formed may eafily be traced ; and thofe re- \ prefentations of external things, which dif- I fcr from the real appearance, but coincide I with our notions of improvement, arc to be held natural. This may receive ftill farther illuftration. If by nature we are to underftand the original, unimproved ap- pearance of things, the wild American
6
OF SHAKESPEARE. ^Sy
favage is more according to nature than the civilized European. Yet, will any one be bold enough to affirm, that a mind highly improved and adorned with fcience, is in a ftate that is unnatural ? Neither fhall we fay fo of the tree which is pruned and graft- ed, for the purpofe of bearing fruit ; and which, left to its original luxuriancy, would jfhoot away into ufelefs foliage. By the culture of mind, and by the improvement of external objects, that excellence which we conceive, is in part attained, and is held to be according to nature. We can- not, therefore, pronounce of that fuperior excellence which has not yet been attained, and which hitherto exifts only in the high anticipations of the human mind *, that it is unnatural. Now, the rule of following nature having probably been underftood by . ^ Shakefpeare in a fenfe too limited, has be- j ^ .^ f trayed him into thofe enormities that have 1 incurred fo much cenfure. Even his dif- play of charad:er has fometimes been in- jured in its effect, by this undeviating at- tachment to real appearance : and though,
* Cic. de Orat. C C 2
388 ON THE FAULTS
like Polonius, ftatefmen and courtiers friay, on various occafions, be very wife and very foolilli ; yet, whatfoever indulgence may be fliewn to the itatefmcn and courtiers of real life, thofc of the drama muft be of an uni- form and confiflent condu<ft. Indeed, in comedy, there is nothing to hinder them from appearing as ludicrous as in real life, or as the poet pleafes.
The other blemifhes in Shakefpeare are lefs enormous ; and proceed chiefly from ^ j his want of critical and hillorical know- ^ • \ ledge ; or from careleflnefs in correding
^ i his works. Had he been wxll acquainted with the poets and critics of antiquity, he would probably have been more attentive to unity, and ftudied greater fimplicity in the form of his fables. Not that he would have adopted the practice of ancient poets, in its fuUcft extent ; for this would have been too oppofite to the public tafte, and too inconfiltent with his own luxuriant fancy. We may alfo add, that fome de- parture from the ftrid: rules of unity enacted by ancient critics, and fome deviation from --, : the fimplicity of Grecian poets, is no lofs to
OF SHAKESPEARE. 389
the drama. Shakcfpeare, however, by hav- | ing known them, and by having adhered to 1 them in fome degree, would have been lefs irregular and incoherent. In like man- ner, by having been better acquainted with ancient hiftory, he would not have repre- fcnted Alexander the Great as exifting prior to the age of Coriolanus ; nor would he have reprefented the Roman matrons, in the days of Menenius Agrippa, as employing themfelves in fewing cambric ; nor would he have mentioned the tribunes of the Ro- man people as judges in the courts of juf- tice, or even at great pains to lower the price of coals.
Yet, glaring as thefe faults may appear, poets of no fmall reputation have been fo far feduced, by the example of Shakefpeare coinciding with the tafte of the times, that they have imitated, or at leaft not avoided, the very grofleft of his enormities. Otway and Southern are remarkable inftances. It may, therefore, be of fervice to the improve- ment of fine writing, not only to illuftrate the great merits of Shakefpeare, and to Ihew in what manner his delineations of human
39^ ON THE FAULTS
nature afTift the philofopher ; but alfo with candour, and the deference due to his fupe- rlor genius, to point out his dcfed:s, and endeavour to trace their caufcs. In this inveftigation, the train of thought, inde- pendent of digreffion or illuftration, is ac- cording to the following arrangement.
As the works of imagination confift of parts, the plcafure they yield is the effecfl of thofe parts united in one defign. This effect may be felt ; the relations of inferior component parts may be difcerned ; and their nature may be known. Tafte is pcr- fed:, when fenfibility, difcemment, and knowledge are united. Yet, they are not indifpenfably united in the man of poetic invention. He muft poflefs fenfibility; but he may want knowledge and difcem- ment. He will thus be liable to error. Guided folely by feeling, his judgment will be unfteady ; he wall, at periods of languor, become the Have of authority, or be feduced by unexamined maxims. Shakeipeare w^as in this fituation. Endowed with genius, he poffeiTed all the tafte that depended on
OF SHAKESPEARE. 39I
feeling. But, unimproved by the difcern- | ment of the philofophical, or the know- i ledge of the learned critic, his fenfibility | was expofed to perverfion. He was miflcd by the general maxim that required him to '* follow nature." He obferved the rule in a limited fenfe. He copied the reality of external things ; but difregarded that con- i- ception of excellence which fecms inherent | in the human mind. The rule, in its ex- ' tended acceptation, requires that objecfls intended to pleafe, and intereft the heart, fhould produce their effedl by correfponding, or confonant feelings. Now, this cannot be attained by reprefenting objects as they appear. In every interefting reprefentation, features and tints muft be added to the reality ; features and tints which it acflually pofTeiTes, muft be concealed. The greateft blemifhes in Shakcfpcare arofe from his not attending to this important rule ; and not preferving in his tragedies the proper tone of the work. Hence the frequent and un- becoming mixture of meannefs and dignity in his expreffion ; of the ferious and ludi- crous in his reprefentation. His other faults
^gZ ON THE FAULTS, &C.
are of lefs importance ; and are charged to his want of fufficicnt knowledge, or care in correcting. In a word, though his merits far furpafs thofe of every other dramatic writer, and may even apologize for his faults ; yet, fmce the ardour of admiration may lead ingenious men to overlook, or imitate his imperfed;ions, it may be of fome fervice, " to point them out, and endeavour " to trace their caufes."
( 393 )
ESSAY XII.
CONCLUSION:
CONTAINING
OBSERVATIONS ON THE CHIEF OBJECTS OF CRITICISM IN THE WORKS OF
SHAKESPEARE.
N o poetical writer among the moderns has afforded more employment to critics and commentators than Shakefpeare. As he wrote while the manners, no lefs than the language of his countrymen were very different from what they are at prefent ; and as he is reported to have been very carelefs about the fate of his performances after they were given to the public, he is become in many inftances obfcure, and al-
394 OBJECTS OF CRITICISM
mofl unintelligible. Hence feveral learned and difcerning editors have rendered eflen- tial {cTYice to the literature of their country, by explaining his obfoletc phrafes, by free- ing his text from fpurlous paiTages, and by elucidating his frequent allufions to obfcure, or antiquated cuftoms. Labours of this fort are fo much the more valuable, as Shakcfpcare is juftly accounted the great poet of human nature. Even to moralifts and philofophers, his difplay and illuftration of paffions and manners, may afford not only amufement but inftru^tlon.
"The operations of the mind," as has been well obfcrved by an anonymous writer, in his remarks on fomc of the preceding cffays, " are more complex than thofe ot " the body : its motions are progreffive : its ** tranfitions abrupt and inftantaneous : its *' attitudes uncertain and momentary. The *' paffions purfue their courfe w^ith celerity ; *' their direction may be changed, or their *' impctuofity modified by a numbcrof caufcs *' w^hich arc far from being obvious, and *' which frequently efcape our obfcrvation, " It would therefore be of great importance
IN SHAKESPEARE. 395
*' to philofophlcal fcrutiny, if the pofition " of the mind, in any given circumftances, ^' could be fixed till it was deliberately fur- *' veyed; if the caufcs which alter its feel- " ings and operations could be accurately '* Ihewn, and their efFed:s afcertained with " precifion." To accompliili thefe ends, the dramatic writers, and particularly Shake- ipeare, may be of the greateft ufe. An at- tempt has accordingly been made, in the preceding difcourfes, to employ the light which he affords us in illuffrating fome cu- rious and interefting views of human nature. In Macbeth, milled by an overgrown and gradually perverted paffion*, " we trace " the progrefs of that corruption, by which " the virtues of the mind are made to con- " tribute to the completion of its depravity." In Hamlet we have a ftriking reprefentation of the pain, of the dejection, and contention of fpirit, produced in a perfon, not only of ex- quifite, but of moral, and correct fenfibility, by the conviction of extreme enormity of
* Thefe words are extracted from a letter from Mr. Burke to the author, on the fubjeds of the preceding EiTays.
39<5 OBJECTS OF CRITICISM
conducfl in thofe whom he loves, or wiflies to love and eftcem. We obferve in Jac- ques, how
Goodnefs wounds itfelf> And fweet affection proves the fpring of woe.
We fee in Imogen, that perfons of real mild- nefs and gentlenefs of difpofition, fearing or fuffcring evil, by the ingratitude or incon- ftancy of thofe on whofe afFe<5lions they had reafon to depend, are more folicitous than jealous ; exprefs regret rather than refent- ment ; and are more apt to be overwhelmed with forrow than inflamed with revenge. In contemplating the chara^er of Richard the Third, we fee, and are enabled to explain the effe(5l produced upon the mind by the difplay of great intelleftual ability, employ- ed for inhuman and perfidious purpofes. We are led, on the other hand, by an obvious conncdlion, to obferve, in the charader of FalftafF, the efFed: produced on the mind by the difplay of confidcrable ability, direcfled by fcnfual appetites and mean dcfires. King Lear illuflrates, that mere fenfibility, unin- fluenced by a fenfc of propriety, leads men to an extravagant expreflion both of focial
IN SHAKESPEARE. ^gy
and unfocial feelings ; renders them capri- cioufly inconftant in their affections ; vari- able, and of courfe irrefolute in their con- duct. In Timon of Athens, we have an excellent illuftration of felf-deceit, difplayed in the confequenccs of that inconfiderate profufion which affumes the appearance of liberality ; and is fuppofed, even by the in- confiderate perfon himfelf, to proceed from a generous principle ; but which, in reality, has its chief origin in the love of diftind:ion. But while Shakefpeare furniflies excellent illuftrations of many paffions and affections, and of many fmgular combinations of paf- fion, affedlion, and ability, in various cha- radlers, we perceive, in the juftnefs of his imitation, the felicity of his invention. While he ' holds up a mirror,' in which we recognize the features and complexions of many powers and principles in the human mind, we muff admire that fine polifh by w^hich they are received, and refleded. He may be irregular in the ftrud:ure of his fable, incorrect in his geographical or hif- torical knowledge, and too clofe an imita- tor of nature in his mixture of ferious and
398 OBJECTS OF CRITICISM
ludicrous incidents ; for thefe are his prin- cipal errors : but in the faithful difplay of characfler, he has not hitherto been furpafled. Nor can the carelefliiefs imputed to him in fome other refpe<fls, be charged upon him, without injuftice, in his portraits of human life.
The true method of eftimating his merit in this particular, is by fuch an examination as in the preceding difcourfes has been fug- gefted, and in fome meafure attempted. General remarks arc often vague ; and, to perfons of difcernment, afford fmall fatif- fad:ion. But if we confider the fentiments and actions, attributed by the poet to his various characters, as fo many fa6ts ; if we obferve their agreement or difagrecment, their aim, or their origin ; and if we clafs them according to their common qualities, or connedl them by their original principles, we fhall afcertain, with fome accuracy, the truth of the reprefentation. For, without having our judgments founded in this man- ner, they are liable to change, error, and inconfiftency. Thus the moralift becomes ) a critic : and the two fciences of ethics and '
I
IN SHAKESPEARE. 399
critlcifm appear to be intimately and very naturally connefted. In truth, no one who is unacquainted with the human mind, or entertains improper notions of human con- dudl, can difcern excellence in the higher fpecies of poetical compofition.
It may be faid however, in a fuperficial or carelefs manner, * that in matters of this kind, laborious difquifition is unneceffary : and that we can perceive or feel at once, whether delineations of charad:er be well or ill executed.' — Perfons, indeed, of fuch catholic and intuitive talle, require no eru- dition. Confcious of their high illumina- tion, they will fcorn refearch, and rcjed: enquiry. Yet many of thofe who find amufement in fine writing, cannot boaft of fuch exquifite and peculiar endowments. As they need fome inftrudiion before they can determine concerning the merit of thofe delineations that imitate external objed:s ; fo they need no inconfiderable inftruc^lion before they will truft to their own impref- fions concerning the dlfplay of the human mind. Now, if criticifm be ufeful in form- ing, or in rectifying our tafte for what is
400 OBJECTS OF CRITICISM
excellent in language, imagery, and arrange* ment of parts, it is furely no lefs ufeful in regulating our judgment concerning the imitation of human powers and propenfities. Or is it an eafier matter to determine whe- ther an affecflion of the mind be called forth on a fit occafion, exprcfled with no unfuit- able ardor, and combined with proper ad- jun<5ls ; than to judge concerning the apt- nefs of a comparifon, or the fymmetry of a fentence ? Yet, in the prefent ftate of lite- rary improvement, none, without being confcious of having cultivated their pow- ers of tafte, will decide with aflurance concerning the beauties either of imagery or of language : and none, whofe range of obferv'^ation has been extenfive, will pro- nounce the knowledge of human nature, of the paflions and feelings of the heart, a matter of much ealier attainment. If the difplay of character require the high- eft exertion of poetical talents, that fpecies of criticifm which leads us to judge con- cerning the poet's condud: in fo arduous an enterprize, is not inferior, or unimpor- tant.
IN SHAKESPEARE. 4OI
Add to this, that the differences of opi- nion concerning fomc of Shakefpeare's moft diftinsTiiflied charaftcrs, which the author of thcfe imperfect efTays has had occafion to remark, fnice they were firft offered to an indulgent public, are fufficient to fatisfy him, that fuch difquifitions may not only be amufing, but have a dired; tendency to eftablifli, on a folid foundation, the prin- ciples of found criticifm. Any thing fur- ther on this fubjed; would be fuperfluous. Thofe who have a true relilh for genuine and agreeable imitations of human nature, and whofe judgments are not mifled by pre- judice, even though they Ihould receive im- mediate enjoyment from the delineations they contemplate, and be inftantaneoufly inclined to pronounce them juft ; will re- ceive additional fatisfadion, if, by the dif- paffionate award of reafon, their feelings are juftified, and their prepoffeffions confirmed.
THE END.
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