The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753) Volume I Part 10

Dutch Courtezan, a comedy frequently played at Black Fryars, by the children of the Queen's Revels, printed in London 1633. It is taken from a French book called Les Contes du Mende. See the same story in English, in a book of Novels, called the Palace of Pleasure in the last Novel.

Insatiate Countess, a Tragedy, acted at White-Fryars, printed in Quarto 1603, under the t.i.tle of Isabella the insatiable countess of Suevia. It is said that he meant Joan the first queen of Jerusalem, Naples, and Sicily. The life of this queen has employed many pens, both on poetry and novels. Bandello has related her story under the t.i.tle of the Inordinate Life of the Countess of Celant. The like story is related in G.o.d's Revenge against Adultery, under the name of Anne of Werdenberg, d.u.c.h.ess of Ulme.

Male Content, a Tragi Comedy, dedicated to old Ben, as I have already taken notice, in which he heaps many fine epithets upon him. The first design of this play was laid by Mr. Webster.

Parasitaster; or the Fawn, a comedy, often presented at the Black Fryars, by the children of the queen's Revels, printed in Octavo 1633.

This play was formerly printed in quarto, 1606. The Plot of Dulcimers cozening the Duke by a pretended discovery of Tiberco's love to her, is taken from Boccace's Novels.

What you will, a comedy, printed Octavo, London, 1653. This is said to be one of our author's best plays. The design taken from Plautus's Amphitrion.

Wonder of Women, or Sophonisba, a tragedy, acted at Black Fryars, printed in Octavo, 1633. The English reader will find this story described by Sir Walter Raleigh, in his history of the world. B. 5.

Besides his dramatic poetry he writ three books of Satires, ent.i.tled, The Scourge of Villany, printed in Octavo, London 1598. We have no account in what year our author died, but we find that his works were published after his death by the great Shakespear, and it may perhaps be reasonably concluded that it was about the year 1614.

[Footnote 1: The late Mr. C. Bullock, a comedian, and some time manager of Lincoln's-Inn-Fields theatre, _made_ a play from that piece.]

WILLIAM SHAKESPEAR.

There have been some ages in which providence seemed pleased in a most remarkable manner to display it self, in giving to the world the finest genius's to illuminate a people formerly barbarous. After a long night of Gothic ignorance, after many ages of priestcraft and superst.i.tion, learning and genius visited our Island in the days of the renowned Queen Elizabeth. It was then that liberty began to dawn, and the people having shook off the restraints of priestly austerity, presumed to think for themselves. At an aera so remarkable as this, so famous in history, it seems no wonder that the nation would be blessed with those immortal ornaments of wit and learning, who all conspired at once to make it famous.----This astonis.h.i.+ng genius, seemed to be commissioned from above, to deliver us not only from the ignorance under which we laboured as to poetry, but to carry poetry almost to its perfection. But to write a panegyric on Shakespear appears as unnecessary, as the attempt would be vain; for whoever has any taste for what is great, terrible, or tender, may meet with the amplest gratification in Shakespear; as may those also have a taste for drollery and true humour. His genius was almost boundless, and he succeeded alike in every part of writing. I cannot forbear giving the character of Shakespear in the words of a great genius, in a prologue spoken by Mr. Garrick when he first opened Drury-lane house as Manager.

When learning's triumph o'er her barb'rous foes, First rear'd the stage;----immortal Shakespear rose, Each change of many-coloured life he drew, Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new, Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, And panting time toiled after him, in vain.

All men have discovered a curiosity to know the little stories and particularities of a great genius; for it often happens, that when we attend a man to his closet, and watch his moments of solitude, we shall find such expressions drop from him, or we may observe such instances of peculiar conduct, as will let us more into his real character, than ever we can discover while we converse with him in public, and when perhaps he appears under a kind of mask. There are but few things known of this great man; few incidents of his life have descended to posterity, and tho' no doubt the fame of his abilities made a great noise in the age in which he flourished; yet his station was not such as to produce many incidents, as it was subject to but few vicissitudes. Mr. Rowe, who well understood, and greatly admired Shakespear, has been at pains to collect what incidents were known, or were to be found concerning him, and it is chiefly upon Mr. Rowe's authority we build the account now given.

Our author was the son of John Shakespear, and was born at Stratford upon Avon in Warwicks.h.i.+re, April 1564, at it appears by public records relating to that town. The family from which he is descended was of good figure and fas.h.i.+on there, and are mentioned as gentlemen. His father, who was a considerable dealer in wool, being inc.u.mbred with a large family of ten children, could afford to give his eldest son but a slender education. He had bred him at a free school, where he acquired what Latin he was master of, but how well he understood that language, or whether after his leaving the school he made greater proficiency in it, has been disputed and is a point very difficult to settle. However it is certain, that Mr. John Shakespear, our author's father, was obliged to withdraw him early from school, in order to have his a.s.sistance in his own employment, towards supporting the rest of the family. "It is without controversy, says Rowe, that in his works we scarce find any traces that look like an imitation of the ancients. The delicacy of his taste, and the natural bent of his own great genius, equal, if not superior to some of the best of theirs, would certainly have led him to read and study them with so much pleasure, that some of their fine images would naturally have insinuated themselves into, and been mixed with his own writings; so that his not copying at least something from them, may be an argument of his never having read them. Whether his ignorance of the ancients was disadvantageous to him or no, may admit of dispute; for tho' the knowledge of them might have made him more correct, yet it is not improbable, but that the regularity and deference for them which would have attended that correctness, might have restrained some of that fire, impetuosity, and even beautiful extravagance, which we cannot help admiring in Shakespear."

As to his want of learning, Mr. Pope makes the following just observation: That there is certainly a vast difference between learning and languages. How far he was ignorant of the latter, I cannot (says he) determine; but it is plain he had much reading, at least, if they will not call it learning; nor is it any great matter if a man has knowledge, whether he has it from one language or from another. Nothing is more evident, than that he had a taste for natural philosophy, mechanics, ancient and modern history, poetical learning, and mythology. We find him very knowing in the customs, rites, and manners of the Romans. In Coriola.n.u.s, and Julius Caesar, not only the spirit but manners of the Romans are exactly drawn; and still a nicer distinction is shewn between the manners of the Romans in the time of the former and the latter. His reading in the ancient historians is no less conspicuous, in many references to particular pa.s.sages; and the speeches copied from Plutarch in Coriola.n.u.s may as well be made instances of his learning as those copied from Cicero in the Cataline of Ben Johnson. The manners of other nations in general, the aegyptians, Venetians, French, &c. are drawn with equal propriety.

Whatever object of nature, or branch of science, he either speaks or describes, it is always with competent, if not extensive, knowledge.

His descriptions are still exact, and his metaphors appropriated, and remarkably drawn from the nature and inherent qualities of each subject.----We have translations from Ovid published in his name, among those poems which pa.s.s for his, and for some of which we have undoubted authority, being published by himself, and dedicated to the Earl of Southampton. He appears also to have been conversant with Plautus, from whence he has taken the plot of one of his plays; he follows the Greek authors, and particularly Dares Phrygius in another, although I will not pretend, continues Mr. Pope, to say in what language he read them.

Mr. Warburton has strongly contended for Shakespear's learning, and has produced many imitations and parallel pa.s.sages with ancient authors, in which I am inclined to think him right, and beg leave to produce few instances of it. He always, says Mr. Warbur-ton, makes an ancient speak the language of an ancient. So Julius Caesar, Act I.

Scene II.

----Ye G.o.ds, it doth amazs me, A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world, And bear the palm alone.

This n.o.ble image is taken from the Olympic games. This majestic world is a fine periphrasis of the Roman Empire; majestic, because the Romans ranked themselves on a footing with kings, and a world, because they called their empire Orbis Roma.n.u.s; but the whole story seems to allude to Caesar's great exemplar, Alexander, who, when he was asked whether he would run the course of the Olympic games, replied, 'Yes, if the racers were kings.'--So again in Anthony and Cleopatra, Act I.

Scene I. Anthony says with an astonis.h.i.+ng sublimity,

Let Rome in Tyber melt, and the wide arch Of the razed Empire fall.

Taken from the Roman custom of raising triumphal arches to perpetuate their victories.

And again, Act III. Scene IV. Octavia says to Anthony, of the difference between him and her brother,

"Wars 'twixt you twain would be As if the world should cleave, and that slain men Should solder up the reft"----

This thought seems taken from the story of Curtius leaping into the Chasm in the Forum, in order to close it, so that, as that was closed by one Roman, if the whole world were to cleave, Romans only could solder it up. The metaphor of soldering is extreamly exact, according to Mr. Warburton; for, says he, as metal is soldered up by metal that is more refined than that which it solders, so the earth was to be soldered by men, who are only a more refined earth.

The manners of other nations in general, the Egyptians, Venetians, French, etc. are drawn with equal propriety. An instance of this shall be produced with regard to the Venetians. In the Merchant of Venice, Act IV. Scene I.

----His losses That have of late so huddled on his back, Enough to press a royal merchant down.

We are not to imagine the word royal to be a random sounding epithet.

It is used with great propriety by the poet, and designed to shew him well acquainted with the history of the people, whom he here brings upon the stage. For when the French and Venetians in the beginning of the thirteenth century, had won Constantinople, the French under the Emperor Henry endeavoured to extend their conquests, in the provinces of the Grecian empire on the Terra firma, while the Venetians being masters of the sea, gave liberty to any subject of the Republic, who would fit out vessels to make themselves masters of the isles of the Archipelago and other maritime places, to enjoy their conquests in sovereignty, only doing homage to the Republic for their several princ.i.p.alities. In pursuance of this licence the Sanudo's, the Justiniani, the Grimaldi, the Summaripa's, and others, all Venetian merchants, erected princ.i.p.alities in the several places of the Archipelago, and thereby became truly, and properly Royal Merchants.

But there are several places which one cannot forbear thinking a translation from cla.s.sic writers.

In the Tempest Act V. Scene II. Prospero says,

--------I have------ Called forth the mutinous winds And 'twixt the green sea, and the azured vault Set roaring war; to the dread ratling thunder, Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak, With his own bolt; the strong bas'd promontory, Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluckt up The pine and cedar; graves at my command Have waked their sleepers, op'd and let them forth By my so potent art.

So Medea in Ovid's Metamorphoses,

Stantia concutio cantu freta; nubila pello, Nubilaque induco, ventos abigoque, vocoque; Vivaque faxa sua convulsaque robora terra Et sylvas moveo; jubeoque tremiscere montes, Et mugire solum, manesque exire sepulchris.

But to return to the incidents of his life: Upon his quitting the grammar school, he seems, to have entirely devoted himself to that way of living which his father proposed, and in order to settle in the world after a family manner, thought fit to marry while he was yet very young. His wife was the daughter of one Hatchway, said to have been a substantial Yeoman in the neighbourhood of Stratford. In this kind of domestic obscurity he continued for some time, till by an unhappy instance of misconduct, he was obliged to quit the place of his nativity, and take shelter in London, which luckily proved the occasion of displaying one of the greatest genius's that ever was known in dramatic poetry. He had the misfortune to fall into ill company: Among these were some who made a frequent practice of Deer-stealing, and who engaged him more than once in robbing a park that belonged to Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecot near Stratford; for which he was prosecuted by that gentleman, as he thought somewhat too severely; and in order to revenge himself of this supposed ill usage, he made a ballad upon him; and tho' this, probably the first essay of his poetry, be lost, yet it is said to have been so very bitter, that it redoubled the prosecution against him to that degree, that he was obliged to leave his business and family for some time, and shelter himself in London. This Sir Thomas Lucy, was, it is said, afterwards ridiculed by Shakespear, under the well known character of Justice Shallow.

It is at this time, and upon this accident, that he is said to have made his first acquaintance in the playhouse. Here I cannot forbear relating a story which Sir William Davenant told Mr. Betterton, who communicated it to Mr. Rowe; Rowe told it Mr. Pope, and Mr. Pope told it to Dr. Newton, the late editor of Milton, and from a gentleman, who heard it from him, 'tis here related.

Concerning Shakespear's first appearance in the playhouse. When he came to London, he was without money and friends, and being a stranger he knew not to whom to apply, nor by what means to support himself.----At that time coaches not being in use, and as gentlemen were accustomed to ride to the playhouse, Shakespear, driven to the last necessity, went to the playhouse door, and pick'd up a little money by taking care of the gentlemens horses who came to the play; he became eminent even in that profession, and was taken notice of for his diligence and skill in it; he had soon more business than he himself could manage, and at last hired boys under him, who were known by the name of Shakespear's boys: Some of the players accidentally conversing with him, found him so acute, and master of so fine a conversation, that struck therewith, they and recommended him to the house, in which he was first admitted in a very low station, but he did not long remain so, for he soon distinguished himself, if not as an extraordinary actor, at least as a fine writer. His name is painted, as the custom was in those times, amongst those of the other players, before some old plays, but without any particular account of what sort of parts he used to play: and Mr. Rowe says, "that tho' he very carefully enquired, he found the top of his performance was the ghost in his own Hamlet." "I should have been much more pleased,"

continues Rowe, "to have learned from some certain authority which was the first play he writ; it would be without doubt, a pleasure to any man curious in things of this kind, to see and know what was the first essay of a fancy like Shakespear's." The highest date which Rowe has been able to trace, is Romeo and Juliet, in 1597, when the author was thirty-three years old; and Richard II and III the next year, viz. the thirty-fourth of his age. Tho' the order of time in which his several pieces were written be generally uncertain, yet there are pa.s.sages in some few of them, that seem to fix their dates. So the chorus at the end of the fourth act of Henry V by a compliment very handsomely turned to the Earl of Ess.e.x, shews the play to have been written when that Lord was general to the queen in Ireland; and his eulogium upon Queen Elizabeth, and her successor King James in the latter end of his Henry VIII is a proof of that play's being written after the accession of the latter of these two princes to the throne of England. Whatever the particular times of his writing were, the people of the age he lived in, who began to grow wonderfully fond of diversions of this kind, could not but be highly pleased to see a genius arise amongst them, of so pleasurable, so rich a vein, and and so plentifully capable of furnis.h.i.+ng their favourite entertainments. Besides the advantage which Shakespear had over all men in the article of wit, he was of a sweet, gentle, amiable disposition, and was a most agreeable companion; so that he became dear to all that knew him, both as a friend and as a poet, and by that means was introduced to the best company, and held conversation with the finest characters of his time.

Queen Elizabeth had several of his plays acted before her, and that princess was too quick a discerner, and rewarder of merit, to suffer that of Shakespear to be neglected. It is that maiden princess plainly whom he intends by

----A fair vestal, throned by the West.

Midsummer night dream.

And in the same play he gives us a poetical and lively representation of the Queen of Scots, and the fate she met with,

----Thou rememb'rest Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a sea-maid on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song, And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music.

Queen Elizabeth was so well pleased with the admirable character of Falstaff in the two parts of Henry IV. that she commanded him to continue it in one play more, and to make him in love. This is said to have been the occasion of his writing the Merry Wives of Windsor. How well she was obeyed, the play itself is a proof; and here I cannot help observing, that a poet seldom succeeds in any subject a.s.signed him, so well as that which is his own choice, and where he has the liberty of selecting: Nothing is more certain than that Shakespear has failed in the Merry Wives of Windsor. And tho' that comedy is not without merit, yet it falls short of his other plays in which Falstaff is introduced, and that Knight is not half so witty in the Merry Wives of Windsor as in Henry IV. The humour is scarcely natural, and does not excite to laughter so much as the other. It appears by the epilogue to Henry IV. that the part of Falstaff was written originally under the name of Oldcastle. Some of that family being then remaining, the Queen was pleased to command him to alter it, upon which he made use of the name of Falstaff. The first offence was indeed avoided, but I am not sure whether the author might not be somewhat to blame in his second choice, since it is certain, that Sir John Falstaff who was a knight of the garter, and a lieutenant-general, was a name of distinguished merit in the wars with France, in Henry V. and Henry VIth's time.

Shakespear, besides the Queen's bounty, was patronized by the Earl of Southampton, famous in the history of that time for his friends.h.i.+p to the unfortunate Earl of Ess.e.x. It was to that n.o.bleman he dedicated his poem of Venus and Adonis, and it is reported, that his lords.h.i.+p gave our author a thousand pounds to enable him to go through with a purchase he heard he had a mind to make. A bounty at that time very considerable, as money then was valued: there are few instances of such liberality in our times.

There is no certain account when Shakespear quitted the stage for a private life. Some have thought that Spenser's Thalia in the Tears of the Muses, where she laments the loss of her w.i.l.l.y in the comic scene, relates to our poet's abandoning the stage. But it is well known that Spenser himself died in the year 1598, and five years after this we find Shakespear's name amongst the actors in Ben Johnson's Seja.n.u.s, which first made its appearance in the year 1603, nor could he then have any thoughts of retiring, since that very year, a license by King James the first was granted to him, with Burbage, Philipps, Hemmings, Condel, &c. to exercise the art of playing comedies, tragedies, &c.

as well at their usual house called the Globe on the other side the water, as in any other parts of the kingdom, during his Majesty's pleasure. This license is printed in Rymer's Faedera; besides it is certain, Shakespear did not write Macbeth till after the accession of James I. which he did as a compliment to him, as he there embraces the doctrine of witches, of which his Majesty was so fond that he wrote a book called Daemonalogy, in defence of their existence; and likewise at that time began to touch for the Evil, which Shakespear has taken notice of, and paid him a fine turned compliment. So that what Spenser there says, if it relates at all to Shakespear, must hint at some occasional recess which he made for a time.

What particular friends.h.i.+ps he contracted with private men, we cannot at this time know, more than that every one who had a true taste for merit, and could distinguish men, had generally a just value and esteem for him. His exceeding candour and good nature must certainly have inclined all the gentler part of the world to love him, as the power of his wit obliged the men of the most refined knowledge and polite learning to admire him. His acquaintance with Ben Johnson began with a remarkable piece of humanity and good nature: Mr. Johnson, who was at that time altogether unknown to the world, had offered one of his plays to the stage, in order to have it acted, and the person into whose hands it was put, after having turned it carelessly over, was just upon returning it to him with an ill-natured answer, that it would be of no service to their company, when Shakespeare luckily cast his eye upon it, and found something so well in it, as to engage him first to read it through, and afterwards to recommend Mr. Johnson and his writings to the public.

The latter part of our author's life was spent in ease and retirement, he had the good fortune to gather an estate, equal to his wants, and in that to his wish, and is said to have spent some years before his death in his native Stratford. His pleasant wit and good nature engaged him in the acquaintance, and ent.i.tled him to the friends.h.i.+p, of the gentlemen of the neighbourhood. It is still remembered in that county, that he had a particular intimacy with one Mr. Combe, an old gentleman, noted thereabouts for his wealth and usury. It happened that in a pleasant conversation amongst their common friends, Mr.

Combe merrily told Shakespear, that he fancied he intended to write his epitaph, if he happened to out-live him; and since he could not know what might be said of him when dead, he desired it might be done immediately; upon which Shakespear gave him these lines.

Ten in the hundred lyes here engraved, 'Tis a hundred to ten his soul is not saved: If any man asketh who lies in this tomb?

Oh! oh! quoth the Devil, 'tis my John-a-Combe.