Essays on some of Shakespeare'd dramatic characters; to which is added, An essay on the faults of Shakespeare

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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

]0

■ 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.
£

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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2989 Essays

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