Blackwood's Magazine/Volume 74/Issue 455/New Readings in Shakespeare (No. 2)
NEW READINGS IN SHAKESPEARE
NO. II.[1]
If the glory of Shakespeare is a theme for national congratulation, the purity of his text ought to be an object of national concern. It is not enough that the general effect of his writings should impress itself clearly on the hearts and minds of all classes of readers; that the grander and broader features of his genius should commend themselves to the admiration of all mankind. This they can never fail to do. The danger to which Shakespeare is exposed is not such as can ever materially affect the soul and substance of his compositions. Here he stands pre-eminent and secure. But he is exposed to a danger of another kind. As time wears on, his text runs periodically the risk of being extensively tampered with; whether by the introduction of new readings, properly so called, or by the insertion of glosses of a comparatively ancient date. The carelessness with which it is alleged the earlier editions were printed, is pleaded as an apology for these conjectural corrections;—one man's ingenuity sets to work the wits of another; and thus, unless the cacoethes emendandi be checked betimes, a distant posterity, instead of receiving our great poet's works in an authentic form, may succeed to a very adulterated inheritance.
This consideration induces us to exert such small power as we may possess to check the growing evil, and in particular to repress that deluge of innovations which Mr Collier has lately let loose upon the gardens of Shakespeare, from the margins of his corrected folio of 1632, and which, if they do not shake the everlasting landmarks, at any rate threaten with destruction many a flower of choicest fragrance and most celestial hue. We believe that when Mr Collier's volume was first published, the periodical press was generally very loud in its praises. "Here we have the genuine Shakespeare at last," said the journals, with singular unanimity. But when the new readings have been dispassionately discussed, and when the excitement of their novelty has subsided, we believe that Mr Collier's "Shakespeare restitutus," so far from being an acceptable present to the community, will be perceived to be such a book as very few readers would like to live in the same house with.
In order, then, to carry out what we conceive to be a good work—the task, namely, of defending the text of Shakespeare from the impurities with which Mr Collier wishes to inoculate it—we return to the discussion (which must necessarily be of a minute and chiefly verbal character) of the new readings. We shall endeavour to do justice to the old corrector, by bringing forward every alteration which looks like a real emendation. Two or three small matters may perhaps escape us, but the reader may be assured that they are very small matters indeed. It will be seen that the unwise substitutions constitute—overwhelming majority. The play that stands next in order is "King John."
King John—Act II. Scene 1.—In this play the new readings are of no great importance. A few of them may equal the original text—one or two may excel it—but certainly the larger portion fall considerably below it in point of merit. The best emendation occurs in the lines in which young Arthur expresses his acknowledgments to Austria—
"I give you welcome with a powerless hand,
But with a heart full of unstained love,"
The MS. corrector proposes "unstrained love," which perhaps is the better word of the two, though the change is by no means necessary. The same commendation cannot be extended to the alteration which is proposed in the lines where Constance is endeavouring to dissuade the French king from engaging precipitately in battle. She says—
"My lord Chatillon may trust England bring
That right in peace, which here we urge in war;
And then we shall repent each drop of blood,
The hot rash haste so indirectly shed."
"Indirectly" is Shakespeare's word. The MS. corrector suggests "Indiscreetly"—a most unhappy substitution, which we are surprised that the generally judicious Mr Singer should approve of. "Indiscreetly" means imprudently, inconsiderately. "Indirectly" means wrongfully, iniquitously, as may be learnt from these lines in King Henry V., where the French king is denounced as a usurper, and is told that Henry
"bids you, then, resign
Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held
From him the native and true challenger."
It was certainly the purpose of Constance to condemn the rash shedding of blood as something worse than in-discreet—as criminal and unjust—and this she did by employing the term "indirectly" in the Shakesperian sense of that word.
In this same Act, Scene 2, a new reading—also approved of by Mr Singer, and pronounced "unquestionably right" by Mr Collier—As proposed in the lines where the citizen says—
"That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch
Is near to England."
For "near" the MS. correction is niece. But the Lady Blanch is repeatedly, throughout the play, spoke of as niece to King John ad the Queen-mother. Therefore, if for no other reason than that of varying the expression, we must give our suffrage most decidedly in favour of the original reading. "Near to England" of course means nearly related to England; and seems much more natural, as well as more poetical, that the citizen should speak in this general way of Lady Blanch, than that he should condescend on her particular degree of relationship, and style in the "niece to England." At the end of this Act, in the soliloquy of Faulconbridge, a very strange perversion on the part or the MS. corrector comes before us. Faulconbridge is railing against what he calls "commodity"—that is, the morality of' self-interest. He then goes on to represent himself as no better than his neighbor, in these words—
"And why rail I on this commodity?
But for because he hath not woo'd me yet;
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand,
When his fair angels would salute my palm."
The meaning of these lines is certainly sufficiently obvious. Yet Mr Collier's corrector is not satisfied with them. He reads—
"Not that I have no power to clutch my hand," &c.
But unless Mr Collier can prove—what will be difficult—that "power" here means inclination, it is evident that this reading directly reverses Shakespeare's meaning. If "power" means inclination, the sense would be this—I rail on this commodity, not because I have no inclination to clutch my hand on the fair angels that would salute my palm, but because I have not yet been tempted; when temptation comes, I shall doubtless yield like my neighbours. But power never means, and cannot mean inclination; and Mr Collier has not attempted to show that it does; and therefore the new reading must be to this effect—"I rail on this commodity, not because I am unable to close my hand against a bribe," &c. But Faulconbridge says the very reverse. He says—"I rail on this commodity, not because I have the power to resist temptation, or am able to shut my hand against the fair angels that would salute my palm; for I have no such power: in this respect I am just like other people, and am as easily bribed as they are." The new reading, therefore, must be dismissed as a wanton reversal of the plain meaning of Shakespeare.
Act III. Scene 3.—We approve of the corrector's change of the word "race," the ordinary reading, into ear, in the following line about the midnight bell—
"Sound one unto the drowsy ear of night."
The old copies read on instead of one, which was supplied—rightly, as we think—by Warburton. The MS. corrector makes no change in regard to on.
Act III. Scene 4.—The passionate vehemence of Constance's speech is much flattened by the corrector's ill-judged interference. Bewailing the loss of her son, she says—
"O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth;
Then with a passion would I shake the world:
And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy,
Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice,
Which scorns a modern invocation."
For "modern" the MS. corrector would read "widow's"! And Mr Collier, defending the new reading, observes that Johnson remarks, "that it is hard to say what Shakespeare means by modern." Johnson does make this remark. Nevertheless the meaning of the word "modern" is perfectly plain. It signifies moderate—not sufficiently impassioned; and we are called upon to give up this fine expression for the inanity of a "widow's invocation"! In the same lines this reckless tamperer with the language of Shakespeare would change
"Then with a passion would I shake the world,"
into
"Then with what passion would I shake the world."
Act IV. Scene 2.—In the following lines a difficulty occurs which seems insuperable, and which the MS. corrector has certainly not explained, although Mr Collier says that his reading makes "the meaning apparent." King John, in reply to some of his lords, who have tried to dissuade him from having a double coronation, says—
"Some reasons of this double coronation
I have possessed you with, and think them strong:
And more, more strong (when lesser is my fear)
I shall endue you with."
This is the common reading; but why the king should give them more and stronger reasons for his double coronation, when his fears were diminished, is not at all apparent. The strength of his fears should rather have led him at once to state his reasons explicitly. The MS. correction is—
"And more, more strong, thus lessening my fear,
I shall endue you with."
But how the communication of his stronger reasons should have the effect of lessening the king's fear, is a riddle still darker than the other. The possession of these reasons might lessen the usurper's fears; but surely the mere utterance of them could make no difference, if the MS. corrector had written, "thus lessening your fears," there would have been some sense in the emendation; and, if a new reading be required, this is the one which we venture to suggest.
Act IV. Scene 3.—We confess that we prefer the MS. corrector's line,
"Whose private missive of the Dauphin's love,"
to the ordinary reading,
"Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love."
But we are not prepared to say that the latter is unintelligible, or that it is not in accordance with the diplomatic phraseology of the time.
The following new reading has something to recommend it; but much also may be said in defence of the old text. Salisbury, indignant with the king, says, as the ordinary copies give it,
"The King hath dispossessed himself of us;
We will not line his thin bestained cloak
With our pure honours."
The margins propose "sin-bestained," which is plausible. But there is also a propriety in the use of the word "thin." The king's cloak (that is, his authority) was thin, because not lined and strengthened with the power and honours of his nobles. The text ought not to be altered.
We conclude our obiter dicta on this play with the remark, that Pope's change of "hand" into "head," which is also proposed by the MS. corrector in the following lines, (Act IV. Scene III.) seems to us to be an improvement, and entitled to admission into the text. Salisbury vows
"Never to taste the pleasures of the world,
Never to be infected with delight,
Nor conversant with ease and idleness,
'Till I have set a glory to this head,
By giving it the worship of revenge,"
—that is, the head of young Arthur, whose dead body had just been discovered on the ground.
King Richard II.— Act. II. Scene 1.—Ritson's emendation, as pointed out by Mr Singer, is unquestionably to be preferred to the MS. corrector's in these lines—
"The King is come; deal mildly with his youth,
For young, hot colts, being rag'd, do rage the more."
"Raged," the common reading, can scarcely be right. Ritson proposed "being reined." The margins suggest "being urg'd."
We differ from the MS. corrector, Mr Collier, and Mr Singer, in thinking that there is no good reason for disturbing the received text in the lines where the conspirators, Willoughby, Ross, and Northumberland, are consulting together; but, on the contrary, very good reasons for leaving it alone. Willoughby says to his brother-conspirator, Northumberland,
"Nay, let us share thy thoughts as thou dost ours."
Ross also presses him to speak:
"Be confident to speak, Northumberland;
We three are but thyself; and speaking so,
Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold."
The change proposed is our for "as." "Thy words are but our thoughts." The difference of meaning in the two readings is but slight; but the old text seems to us to have the advantage in depth and fineness. Ross's argument with Northumberland to speak was not merely because his words were as their thoughts. That was no doubt true; but the point of his persuasion lay in the consideration that Northumberland's words would be as good as not spoken. "We three are but yourself, and, in these circumstances, your words are but as thoughts—that is, you are as safe in uttering them as if you uttered them not, inasmuch as you will be merely speaking to yourself." The substitution of "our" for "as" seems to bring out this meaning less clearly.
Act II. Scene 2.—The following lines (part of which, for the sake of perspicuity, we print within a parenthesis, contrary, we believe, to the common arrangement) require no emendation. The queen, labouring under "the involuntary and unaccountable depression of mind which, says Johnson, every one has some time felt," remarks—
"Howe'er it be,
I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad,
As (though, in thinking, on no thought I think)
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink."
The Ms. corrector reads "unthinking" for "in thinking;" but this is by no means necessary. The old text is quite as good, indeed rather better than the new.
Scene 3.—Much dissatisfaction has been expressed with the word despised in the lines in which York severely rates his traitorous nephew Bolingbroke:
"Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs
Dared once to touch a dust of English ground?
But more than why,—why have they dared to march
So many miles upon her peaceful bosom,
Frighting her pale-faced villages with war,
And ostentation of despised arms?"
"But sure," says Warburton, "the ostentation of despised arms would not fright any one. We should read 'disposed arms'—i.e., forces in battle array." "Despoiling arms" is the reading recommended by the margins. "Displayed arms" is the right expression, according to Mr Singer. But surely no emendation is required. The ostentation of despised arms was quite sufficient to frighten the harmless villagers; and this is all that Shakespeare says it did. And then it is in the highest degree appropriate and consistent that York should give his nephew to understand that his arms or forces were utterly despicable in the estimation of all loyal subjects, of all honourable and right-thinking men. Hence his words,
"Frighting her pale-faced villages with war,
And ostentation of despised arms,"
mean—alarming with war only pale-faced villagers, who never smelt the sulphurous breeze of battle, and making a vain parade of arms which all true soldiers must despise.
Act III. Scene 3.—The substitution of storm for "harm," in the following lines, is an exceedingly doubtful emendation. York says of Richard—
"Yet looks he like a king; behold, his eye,
As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth
Controlling majesty. Alack, alack for woe,
That any harm should stain so fair a show!"
It is true that, in a previous part of the speech, the king is likened to the setting sun, whose glory "the envious clouds are bent to dim;" and therefore the word storm has some show of reason to recommend it, and "hum" may possibly have been a misprint. But we rather think that it is the right word, and that it is more natural and pathetic than the word storm. Nothing else worthy of note or comment presents itself in the MS. corrections of King Richard II.
The First Part of King Henry IV.— Act I. Scene 1.—"No new light," says Mr Collier, "is thrown upon the two lines which have produced so many conjectures:
'No more the thirsty entrance of this soil
Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood."'
The MS. corrector has in this instance shown his sense by not meddling with these lines; for how any light beyond their own inherent lustre should ever have been thought necessary to render them luminous, it is not easy to understand. As a specimen of the way in which the old commentators occasionally darkened the very simplest matters, their treatment of these two lines may be adduced. The old quartos, and the folio 1623, supply the text as given above. By an error of the press, the folio 1632 reads damb instead of daub. This damb the earlier commentators converted into damp. Warburton changed "damp" into trempe—i.e., moisten. Dr Johnson, although very properly dissatisfied with this Frenchified reading, is as much at fault as the bishop. With the authentic text of the older editions before him, he says, "the old reading helps the editor no better than the new" (in other words, daub is no better than damb, and damp, and trempe); "nor can I satisfactorily re-form the passage. I think that 'thirsty entrance' must be wrong, yet know not what to offer. We may read, but not very elegantly—
'No more the thirsty entrails of this soil
Shall daubed be with her own children's blood.' "
Truly this reading is by no means elegant; it is nothing less than monstrous. To say nothing of the physical impossibility of the blood penetrating to the "entrails" of the earth, the expression violates the first principles of poetical word-painting. The interior parts of the earth are not seen, and therefore to talk of them as daubed with blood, is to attempt to place before the eye of the mind a picture which cannot be placed before it. In science, or as a matter of fact, this may be admissible; but in poetry, where the imagination is addressed, it is simply an absurdity. Steevens, with some hesitation, proposes—
"No more the thirsty entrants of this soil
Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood."
"Entrants," that is, "invaders." This says Steevens, "may be far-fetched." It is worse than far-fetched—itis ludicrously despicable. Conceive Shakespeare saying that "a parcel of drouthy Frenchmen shall no more daub the lips of England with the blood of her own children"! What renders this reading all the more inexcusable is, that Steevens perceived what the true and obvious meaning was, although he had not the steadiness to stand to it. He adds—"or Shakespeare may mean the thirsty entrance of the soil for the porous surface of the earth through which all moisture enters, and is thirstily drunk or soaked up." Shakespeare's words cannot by any possibility mean anything except this. "Porous surface," as must be obvious to all mankind, is the exact literal prose of the more poetical phrase, "thirsty entrance." Yet obvious as this interpretation is, Malone remained blind to it, even after Steevens had pointed it out. He prefers Steevens' first emendation. He says, "Mr Steevens' conjecture (that is, his suggestion of entrants for entrance) is so likely to be true, that I have no doubt about the propriety of admitting it into the text." In spite, however, of these vagaries, we believe that the right reading, as given above, has kept its place in the ordinary editions of Shakespeare. This instance may show that our MS. corrector is not the only person whose wits have gone a-woolgathering when attempting to mend the language of Shakespeare.
Before returning to Mr Collier's corrector, we wish to make another digression, in order to propose a new reading—one, at least, which is new to ourselves, and not to be found in the variorum edition 1785. The king says, in reference to the rising in the north, which has been triumphantly put down—
"Ten thousand bold Scots,—two-and-twenty knights,
Balked in their own blood, did Sir Walter see
On Holmedon's plains."
For "balked" Stevens conjectured either "bathed" or "baked." War-ton says that balk is a ridge, and that therefore "balked in their own blood" means "piled up in a ridge, and in their own blood." Tollet says, "'balked in their own blood,' I believe, means, lay in heaps; or hillocks in their own blood. We propose—
"Ten thousand bold Scots,—two-and-twenty knights,
Bark'd in their own blood, did Sir Walter see
On Holmedon's plains."
"Barked," that is, coated with dry and hardened blood, as a tree is coated with bark. This is picturesque. To bark or barken is undoubtedly an old English word; and in Scotland, even at this day, it is not uncommon to hear the country people talk of blood barkening, that is, hardening, upon a wound.
Act I. Scene 3.—The following line present a difficulty which the commentators—and among them our anonymous scholiast—have not been very successful in clearing up. The king, speaking in reference to the revolted Mortimer and his accomplices, says—
"Shall we buy treason, and indent with fears,
When they have lost and forfeited them-selves?
No, on the barren mountains let him starve."
There is no difficulty in regard to the word "indent;" it means, to enter into a compact—to descend, as Johnson says, to a composition. But what is the meaning of" to indent, or enter into a compact, with fears"? Johnson suggests "with peers"—that is, with the noblemen who have lost and forfeited themselves. But this is a very unsatisfactory and improbable reading. The MS. corrector proposes "with foes;" and Mr Collier remarks, "it seems strange that, in the course of two hundred and fifty years, nobody should ever have even guessed at foes for fears." It is much more strange that Mr Collier should be ignorant that "foes" is the reading of the Oxford editor, Sir Thomas Hanmer—a reading which was long ago condemned. Mr Singer adheres rightly to the received text; but he is wrong in his explanation of the word "fears." He says that it means "objects of fear." But surely the king can never have regarded Mortimer and his associates as objects of fear. He had a spirit above that. He had no dread of them. Steevens is very nearly right when he says that the word "fears" here means terrors: he would have been quite right had he said that it signifies cowardice, or rather, by a poetical licence, "cowards"—(fearers, if there were such a word.) The meaning is, shall we buy treason, and enter into a composition with cowardice, when they (the traitors and cowards) have lost and forfeited themselves? Treason and cowardice are undoubtedly the two offences which the king intends to brand with his indignation. "Foes" is quite inadmissible.
In Act II. Scene 1—Gadshill, talking in a lofty vein of his high acquaintances, says, "I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff, six-penny strikers; none of these mad, mustachio, purple-hued maltworms; but with nobility and tranquillity; burgomasters and great oneyers; such as can hold in; such as can strike sooner than speak," &c. The change of "tranquillity" into sanguinity, as proposed by the MS. corrector, we dismiss at once as unworthy of any consideration. "Oneyers" is the only word about which there is any difficulty; and it has puzzled the bigwigs. Theobald reads "moneyers"—that is, officers of the mint—bankers. Sir T. Hanmer reads "peat owners." Malone reads "onyers," which, he says, means public accountants; "To settle accounts is still called at the exchequer to ony, and hence Shakespeare seems to have formed the word onyers. Johnson has hit upon the. right explanation, although he advances it with considerable hesitation. "I know not," says he, "whether any change is necessary; Gadshill tells the chamberlain that he is joined with no mean wretches, but with burgomasters and great ones, or, as he terms them in merriment, by a cant termination, great oneyers, or, great one-eers—as we say privateer, auctioneer, circuiteer. This is, I fancy, the whole of the matter." That this is the true explanation, or very near it, and that no change in the text is necessary, is proved beyond a doubt by the following extract from the writings of one whose genius, while it elevates the noblest subjects, can also illustrate the most small. "Do they often go where glory waits them, and leave you here?" says Mr Swiveller, alluding to Brass and his charming sister, in Dickens' Old Curiosity Shop. " 'O, yes, I believe they do,' returned the marchioness, alias the small servant; 'Miss Sally's such a one-er for that.' 'Such a what?' said Dick, as much puzzled as a Shakespearean commentator. 'Such a one-er,' returned the marchioness. After a moment's reflection, Mr Swiveller determined to forego his responsible duty of setting her right—[why should he have wished to set her right? she was right; she was speaking the language and illustrating the meaning of Shakespeare]—and to suffer her to talk on; as it was evident that her tongue was loosened by the purl, and her opportunities for conversation were not so frequent as to render a momentary check of little consequence. 'They sometimes go to see Mr Quilp,' said the small servant, with a shrewd look: 'they go to a many places, bless you.' 'Is Mr Brass a wunner?' said Dick. 'Not half what Miss Sally is, he isn't,' replied the small servant." Here is the very word we want. Shakespeare's "oneyer" is Dickens' one-er or wunner—that is, a one par excellence, a one with an emphasis—a top-sawyer—and the difficulty is resolved. Set a thief to catch a. thief; and leave one peat intellectual luminary to throw light upon another. After Mr Dickens' lucid commentary, "oneyer" becomes quite a household word, and we suspect that the MS. corrector's emendation will scarcely go down. He reads, "burgomasters and great ones,— yes such as can hold in." "This will never do," to quote a favourite aphorism, and literary canon of the late Lord Jeffrey, when speaking of the Lake School of poetry.
Act II. Scene 4.—The complacency with which Mr Collier sets the authority of his MS. corrector above that of the other commentators on Shakespeare, is one of the most curious features in his literary character. The following is an instance of his margin-olatry. "Rowe," says Mr Collier, "seems to have been right (indeed, the emendation hardly admits of doubt) in reading tristful for 'trustful' in Falstaff's speech, as we learn from the alteration introduced in the folio 1632. 'For Heaven's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen.'" As if the authority of Rowe, or of any other person, was not, to say the least of it, just as good as that of the anonymous corrector, who, by the blunders into which he has fallen, has proved himself signally disqualified for the task of rectifying Shakespeare where his text may happen to be corrupted.
Act III. Scene 1.—Now and then, however, as we have all along admitted, the old corrector makes a good hit. A very excellent emendation, about the best which he has proposed, occurs in the scene where Mortimer says—
"My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh."
The lady then speaks to him in Welsh, being at the same time in tears; whereupon her husband says—
"I understood thy looks, that pretty Welsh
Which thou pourest down from the swelling heavens."
"The swelling heavens"—her eyes might no doubt be swollen; but that is not a pretty picture. The correction, which is a manifest improvement, and worthy of a place in the text, is "from these welling heavens." This correction is taken from Mr Collier's appendix, or "notes," where it might be easily overlooked.
Act V. Scene 1.—The MS. corrector is very fond of eking out imperfect lines with conjectural interpolations, and of curtailing others which present a superfluity of syllables. This is a practice which cannot be permitted even in cases where the alteration improves the verses, as sometimes happens; much less can it be tolerated in cases, which are still more frequent, where the verses are manifestly enfeebled by the change. A conspicuous instance of the latter occurs in these lines. The rebellious Worcester says to the king,
——"I do protest
I have not sought the day of this dislike.
K. Henry.—You have not sought it—How comes it then?"
Here the words, "How comes it then?" are vehement and abrupt, and the verse is purposely defective. Its impetuosity is destroyed by the corrector's stilted and unnatural interpolation—
"You have not sought it—say, how comes it then?"
That word say takes off the sharp edge of the king's wrathful interrogative, and converts him from a flesh and blood monarch into a mouthing ranter, a mere tragedy-king.
The Second Part of Henry IV.— Act I. Scene 2.—We agree with Mr Collier and Mr Singer that the substitution of diseases for "degrees" in Falstaff's speech is a good and legitimate emendation, and we willingly place it to the credit of the MS. corrector.
Act I. Scene 3.—The MS. corrector attempts to amend the following passage in several places—not very successfully, as we shall endeavour to show. The rebellious lords are talking about their prospects and resources. Bardolph counsels delay, and warns his friends against being over-sanguine.
"Hastings.—But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt,
To lay down likelihoods, and forms of hope.
Bardolph—Yes, in this present quality of war;
Indeed, of instant action. A cause on foot
Lives so in hope, as in an early spring
We see the appearing buds; which, to prove fruit,
Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair,
That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build,
We first survey the plot, then draw the model;
And when we see the figure of the house,
Then must we rate the cost of the erection;
Which if we find outweighs ability,
What do we then, but draw anew the model
In fewer offices; or, at least., desist
To build at all? Much more in this great work
(Which is, almost, to pluck a kingdom down
And set another up), should we survey
The plot of situation and the model
Consent upon a sure foundation;
Question surveyors; know our own estate,
How able such a work to undergo,
To weigh against his opposite; or else
We fortify in paper and in figures,
Using the names of men, instead of men."
In this speech of Bardolph's we shall confine our attention to the two main points on which the corrector has tried his hand. These are the two first lines, and the verse printed in italics. The two first lines are somewhat obscure; but we are of opinion that a much better sense may be obtained from them than is afforded by the corrector's emendation, which we shall advert to. "Hope," says Hastings "never yet did harm."
"Yes," says Bardolph, "in a state of affairs like the present, where action seems imminent, it has done harm to entertain (unfounded) hopes." He then proceeds to press on his friends, as their only chance of safety, the necessity of making the war not imminent—of postponing it until they have pondered well their resources, and received further supplies. All this is intelligible enough, and may be elicited with perfect ease from the ordinary text which was adjusted by Dr Johnson—the original reading of the two lines in question being obviously disfigured by typographical errors. There is therefore no call whatever for the MS. corrector's amendment, which seems to us infinitely more obscure and perplexing than the received reading. He writes—
"Yes, in this present quality of war;
Indeed the instant act and cause on foot
Lives so in hope," &c.
Mr Collier says that this emendation "clears the sense" of the passage. We should have thanked him had he shown us how; for, if the old reading be obscure, the only merit of the new one seems to be that it lends an additional gloom to darkness. In regard to the other point—the line printed in italics—the MS. corrector breaks the back of the difficulty by means of the following interpolated forgery—
"A careful leader sums what force he brings
To weigh against his opposite."
This, and the other similar delinquencies of which the MS. corrector is frequently guilty, are neither more nor less than swindling—and swindling, too, without an object. Nothing is gained by the rascality; for the sense of the passage may be opened without resorting to the use of such a clumsy crowbar, such a burglarious implement as
"A careful leader sums what force he brings."
It means, before we engage in any great and perilous undertaking, we should know how able we are to undergo such a work—how able we are to weigh against the opposite of such a work; that is, to contend successfully against the forces of the enemy. Mr Singer says that, if any change is necessary, we should read "this opposite," instead of "his opposite." With submission we beg to say, that, if any change is necessary, "its" and not "this" is the word which must be substituted for "his." But no change is necessary; "his opposite" means the work's opposite; and it is no unfrequent idiom with Shakespeare to use "his" for "its."
Act II. Scene 1.—Hostess Quickly says, according to the old copies—
"A hundred marks is a long one for a poor lone woman to bear."
"One" being obviously a misprint, Theobald substituted "loan;" and this is the usual reading. The MS. corrector proposes "score;" and this, we think, ought to go into the text. But it will be long before the MS. corrector, by means of such small instalments, clears his "score" with the ghost of Shakespeare. As a help, however, towards that consummation, we are rather inclined to place to his credit the substitution of high for the in the line—
"Under the canopies of costly state."
—Act III Scene 1.
Perhaps, also, he ought to get credit for "shrouds" instead of" clouds "—although the former is now no novelty, having been started long ago by some of the early commentators. The original reading is "clouds;" but the epithet "slippery" renders it highly probable that this is a misprint for shrouds.—that is, the ship's upper tackling; and that "slippery shrouds" is the genuine reading. It seems probable also that rags, the MS. correction, and not rage, the ordinary reading, is the right word in the lines where rebellion is spoken of (Act IV. Scene 1) as
"Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rags,
And countenanced by boys and beggary."
The MS. corrector seems to be retrieving his character. We are also willing to accept at his hands "seal" instead of" zeal" in the line—
"Under the counterfeited seal of heaven."
We cannot, however, admit that there is any ground for emendation in the following passage (Act IV. Scene 1) where the king is spoken of, and where it is said that he will find much difficulty in punishing his enemies without compromising his friends:—
"His foes are so enrooted with his friends,
That, plucking to unfix an enemy,
He doth unfasten so, and shake a friend,
So that this land, like an offensive wife,
That bath enraged him on to offer strokes;
As he is striking, holds his infant up,
And hangs resolved correction in the arm
That was uprear'd to execution."
The question is, who is the "him" referred to in the fifth of these lines? It can be no other than the king. He, the husband, being excited to chastise his wife—that is, the rebellious country—she, as he is striking, holds his infant (that is, certain of his friends) up, and thus stays his arm, and suspends the execution of his vengeance. The MS. corrector substitutes "her man" for the words "him on." Mr Collier approves, and even Mr Singer says that this "is a very plausible correction, and is evidently called for." If these gentlemen will reconsider the passage, they will find that it cannot construed with the new reading, unless several additional words are inserted; thus, "So that this land (is), like an offensive wife who hath enraged her man to offer strokes, (and who) as he is striking, holds his infant up, and hangs resolved correction in the arm that was upreared to execution." This is as intelligible as the ordinary text, though not more so; but the introduction of so many new words—which are absolutely necessary to complete the grammar and the sense—is quite inadmissible; and therefore the MS. correction must be abandoned.
King Henry V.—In this play none of the MS. corrector's emendations are entitled to go into the text. First, we shall call attention for a moment to a very small correction of our own, which perhaps may have been made in some of the editions, but not in that which we use, the variorum of 1785. In Act I. Scene 2, the Bishop of Ely says—
"For government, though high, and low, and lower
Put into parts, doth keep in one consent
Congruing to a full and natural close
Like music."
Surely "though" ought to be through. "For government, put into parts, like a piece of music, doth keep in one consent or harmony, through high, and low, and lower," &c. In the same Act, same scene, an emendation is proposed by the MS. corrector, which, though specious, we cannot bring ourselves to endorse. King henry, in reply to the dauphin's taunting message, says—
"But tell the Dauphin, I will keep my state,
Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness,
When I do rouse me in my throne of France."
The corrector proposes soul for "sail." But Shakespeare's is a grand expression—"I will show my sail of greatness,"—will set all my canvass—will shine,
"Like a proud ship with all her bravery on."
It is a pity that he did not write hoist or spread, which would have removed all doubt as to the word "sail." "Show," however, is, on some accounts, better than hoist or spread. Neither do we perceive any necessity for adopting the MS. correction "seasonable swiftness" instead of "reasonable swiftness." Nor is it by any means necessary to change "now thrive the armourers" into "now strive the armourers." In Act II. Scene 2, the king says, in reference to a drunkard who had railed on him—
"It was excess of wine that set him on,
And on his more advice, we pardon him."
The margins read, "on our more advice," overturning the authentic language of Shakespeare, who by the words "on his more advice," means on his having returned to a more reasonable state of mind, and shown some sorrow for his offence.
Act II. Scene 3.—We now come to one of the most memorable corrections—we might say to the most memorable correction ever made on the text of our great dramatist. In Dame Quickly's description of the death of Falstaff she says, as the old copies give it, "for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a table of green fields." There is evidently something very wrong here. Theobald gave out as a new reading. "and a' (he) babbled of green fields," the history and character of which emendation he explained as follows: "I have an edition of Shakespeare by me with some marginal conjectures by a gentleman some time deceased, and he is of the mind to correct this passage thus: 'for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a' talked of green fields.' It is certainly observable of people near death, when they are delirious by a fever, that they talk of moving, as it is of those in a calenture that their heads run on green fields. The variation from table to talked is not of very great latitude; though we may come still nearer to the traces of the letters by restoring it thus—'for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a' babbled of green fields.' "—(Vide Singer's Shakespeare Vindicated, p. 127.)
This, then, is now the received reading; and there can be no doubt that it is highly ingenious—indeed, singularly felicitous. But the MS. corrector's emendation is also entitled to a hearing. He reads: 'for his nose was as sharp as a pen on a table of green frieze." This, it must be admitted, is a lamentable falling off, in point of sentiment, from the other conjectural amendment. We sympathise most feelingly with the distress of those who protest vehemently against the new reading, and who cling almost with tears to the text to which they have been accustomed. We admit that his babbling of green fields is a touch of poetry, if not of nature, which fills up the measure of our love for Falstaff, and affords the finest atonement that can be imagined for the mixed career—which is now drawing to a close—of the hoary debauchee. It is with the utmost reluctance that we throw a shade of suspicion over Theobald's delightful emendation. Nevertheless, we are possessed with the persuasion that the MS. corrector's variation is more likely to have been what Dame Quickly uttered, and what Shakespeare wrote. Our reasons are—first, the calenture, which causes people to rave about green fields, is a distemper peculiar to sailors in hot climates; secondly, Falstaff's mind seems to have been running more on sack than on green fields, as Dame Quickly admits further on in the dialogue; thirdly, however pleasing the supposition about his babbling of green fields may be, it is still more natural that Dame Quickly, whose attention was fixed on the sharpness of his nose set off against a countenance already darkening with the discoloration of death, should have likened it to the sharpness of a pen relieved against a table, or background, of green frieze. These reasons may be very insufficient: we are not quite satisfied with them ourselves. But, be they good or bad, we cannot divest ourselves of the impression (as we most willingly would) that the marginal correction, in this instance, comes nearer to the genuine language of Shakespeare than does the ordinary text.
Should, then, the MS. corrector's emendation be admitted into the text of the poet? That is a very different question; and we answer decidedly—No. its claim is not so absolutely undoubted as to entitle it to this elevation. It is more probable, we think, than Theobald's. But Theobald's has by this time acquired a prescriptive right to the place which it enjoys. Although originally it may have been a usurpation, it is now strong with inveterate occupancy: it is consecrated to the hearts of all mankind, and it ought on no account to be displaced. It is part and parcel of our earliest associations with Falstaff, and its removal would do violence to the feelings of universal Christendom. This consideration, which shows how difficult, indeed how injudicious, it is to eradicate anything which has once fairly taken root in the text of Shakespeare, ought to make us all the more scrupulous in guarding his writings against such innovations as the MS. corrector usually proposes; for, however little these may have to recommend them, succeeding generations may become habituated to their presence, and, on the plea of prescription, may be indisposed to give them up.
"Principiis obsta, sero medicina paratur."
Act III, chorus.
"Behold the threaden sails,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea."
"Borne" is here a far finer and more expressive word than "blown," the MS. corrector's prosaic substitution.
Act IV. Scene 1.—In the fine lines on ceremony, the MS. corrector proposes a new reading, which at first sight looks specious, but which a moderate degree of reflection compels us to reject. The common text is as follows
"And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?
What kind of god art thou, that sufferest more
Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents?—what are thy comings in?
O ceremony, show me but thy worth!
What is thy soul, O, adoration?
Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?
Wherein thou art less happy, being feared,
Than they in fearing."
The MS. corrector gives us—
"O, ceremony, show me but thy worth!
What is thy soul but adulation?"
The objection to this reading is that Shakespeare's lines are equivalent to—
O, ceremony, thou hast no worth;
O, adoration, thou hast no soul—
absolutely none. This reading, which denies to ceremony and adoration all soul and substance—all worth and reality—is more emphatic than the corrector's, which declares that adulation is the soul of ceremony; and we therefore vote for allowing the text to remain as we found it.
Act IV. Scene 3.—In the following lines Shakespeare pays a compliment—not of the most elegant kind we admit—to the English, whose valour, he says, is such that even their dead bodies putrefying in the fields of France will carry death into the ranks of the enemy.
"Mark, then, abounding valour in the English;
That being dead, like to a bullet's grazing,
Break out into a second course of mischief,
Killing in relapse of mortality."
The similitude of "the bullet's grazing" has led the MS. corrector into two execrable errors. By way of carrying out the metaphor, he proposes to read "rebounding valour," and "killing in reflex of mortality." But Shakespeare knew full well what he was about. He has kept his similitude within becoming bounds, while the corrector has driven it over the verge of all propriety. Both of his corrections are wretched, and the latter of them is outrageous. We are surprised that he did not propose "killing in reflex off mortality," for this would bring out his meaning much better than the expression which he has suggested. But we may rest assured that "killing in relapse of mortality" merely means, killing in their return to the dust from whence they were taken; and that this is the right reading.
The First Part of King Henry VI.—A difficulty occurs in the last line of Act II. Scene 5, where Plantagenet says—
"And therefore haste I to the Parliament,
Either to be restored to my blood,
Or make my ill the advantage of my good."
This is the common reading, and it means, "or make my ill the occasion of my good." The earlier copies have "will" for "ill," The MS. correction is—
"Or make my will th' advancer of my good."
But this is no improvement upon the common reading, which ought to remain unaltered.
Act IV. Scene 1.—A small but very significant instance, illustrative of what we are convinced is the true theory of these new readings, namely, that they are attempts, not to restore, but to modernise Shakespeare, comes before us in the following lines, where the knights of the garter are spoken of as
"Not fearing death, nor shrinking from distress,
But always resolute in most extremes."
"Most extremes" does not mean (as one ignorant of Shakespeare's language might be apt to suppose) "in the greater number of extremes:" it means, in extremest cases, or dangers. The same idiom occurs in the "Tempest," where it is said—
"Some kinds of baseness
Are nobly undergone and most poor matters
Point to rich ends;"
which certainly does not mean that the greater number of poor matters point to rich ends, but that the poorest matters often do so. It would be well if the two words were always printed as one—most-extremes, and most-poor. Now, surely Mr Collier either cannot know that this phraseology is peculiarly Shakespearean, or he must be desirous of blotting out from the English language our great poet's favourite forms of speech, when he says, "there is an injurious error of the printer in the second line;" and when he recommends us to accept the MS. marginal correction, by which Shakespeare's archaism is exchanged for this modernism—
"But always resolute in worst extremes."
Act V. Scene 1.—How much more forcible are Shakespeare's lines—
"See where he lies inhersed in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms,"
than the MS. substitution—
"Of the still bleeding nurser of his harms."
Scene 4.—Four competing readings of the following lines present themselves for adjudication—
"Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such,
Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough."
This is the text of the earlier editions, and it evidently requires amendment. Sir T. Hanmer reads—
"Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such,
Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses crouch."
Our MS. corrector proposes—
"Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such,
Confounds the tongue, and mocks the sense of touch."
Mr Singer, who also, it seems, has a folio with MS. corrections, gives us, as a gleaning from its margins,
"Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such,
Confounds the tongue, and wakes the sense's touch,"
It may assist us in coming to a decision, if we view this sentiment through the medium of prose. First, according to Sir T. Hanmer, the presence of beauty is so commanding that it confounds the tongue, and overawes the senses. Secondly, "The princely majesty of beauty," says Mr Collier, expounding his protégé's version, "confounds the power of speech, and mocks all who would attempt to touch it. Thirdly, "Beauty," says Mr Singer, taking up the cause of his MS. corrector," although it confounds the tongue, awakes desire. This must have been the meaning of the poet." How peremptory a man becomes in behalf of MS. readings of which he happens to be the sole depositary. We confess that we prefer Sir T. Hanmer's to either of the other emendations, as the most intelligible and dignified of the three.
The Second Part of King Henry VI—Act I. Scene 3. (Enter three or four petitioners.)
"First Petitioner.—My masters, let us stand close, my Lord Protector will come this way by and by, and then we may deliver our supplications in the quill."
"In the quill"—what does that mean? Nobody can tell us. The margins furnish "in sequel." Mr Singer advances, "in the quoil, or coil"—"that is," says he, "in the bustle or tumult which would arise at the time the Protector passed." And this we prefer.
Act II. Scene 3.—Anything viler than the following italicised interpolation, or more out of keeping with the character of the speaker and the dignity of the scene, it is impossible to conceive. Queen Mary says to the Duke of Glo'ster—
"Give up your staff, sir, and the King his realm.
Glo'ster. My staff?—here, noble Henry, is my staff!
To think I fain would keep it makes me laugh;
As willingly I do the same resign
As e'er thy father, Henry, made it mine."
Yet Mr Collier has the hardihood to place this abominable forgery in the front of his battle, by introducing it into his preface, where he says, "Ought we not to welcome it with thanks as a fortunate recovery and a valuable restoration?" No, indeed, we ought to send it to the right about instanter, and order the apartment to be fumigated from which it had been expelled.
Act III. Scene 2.—The MS. corrector seems to be right in his amendment of these lines. Suffolk says to the Queen,
"Live thou to joy in life,
Myself to joy in nought but that thou liv'st."
The ordinary reading is "no" for "to." This ought to go into the text; and the same honour ought to be extended to "rebel" for "rabble" in Clifford's speech, Act IV. Scene 8.
The Third Part of King Henry VI.—In this play two creditable marginal emendations come before us, one of which it might be safe to admit into the text. The safe emendation is ev'n, in the lines where the father is lamenting over his slain son, (Act II. Scene 5)—
"And so obsequious will thy father be,
Ev'n for the loss of thee, having no more,
As Priam was for all his valiant sons."
The ancient copies have "men," and the modern ones "sad." Ev'n was also proposed by Mr Dyce some little time ago. The other specious correction is "bitter-flowing" for "water-flowing," in the lines where the king says (Act IV. Scene 8),
"My mildness hath allayed their swelling griefs,
My mercy dried their water-flowing tears."
But "water-flowing" may simply mean flowing as plentifully as water, and therefore our opinion is, that the corrector's substitution ought not to be accepted. "Soft carriage" (Act II. Scene 2), recommended by the margins, instead of "soft courage," is not by any means so plausible. "Soft courage" may be a Shakespeareanism for soft spirit. The Germans have a word, sanftmuth—literally soft courage—i. e., gentleness; and therefore Shakespeare's expression is not what Mr Collier calls it, "a contradiction in terms."
Act V. Scene 5.—The young prince having been stabbed by Edward, Clarence, and Glo'ster, Margaret exclaims—
"O, traitors! murderers!
They that stabb'd Cæsar shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by to equal it"—
which, of course, means that Cæsar's murderers would be pronounced comparatively innocent, if this foul deed were set alongside their act. The margins propose,
"If this foul deed were by to sequel it"—
than which nothing can be more inept.
King Richard III.— Act I. Scene 3.—Richard is thus agreeably depicted:
"Thou elvish-marked, abortive, rooting hog,
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity,
The slave of nature, and the son of hell!"
The correction here proposed is—
"The stain of nature, and the scorn of hell."
But the allusion, as Steevens says, is to the ancient custom of masters branding their profligate slaves; and, therefore, "slave" is unquestionably the right word. As for the "scorn of hell," that, in certain cases, might be a compliment, and is no more than what a good man would desire to be.
Act III. Scene 1.—Buckingham is endeavouring to persuade the Cardinal to refuse the privilege of sanctuary to the Duke of York. The Cardinal says—
"God in heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land
Would I be guilty of so deep a crime,
Buckingham. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord,
Too ceremonious and traditional:
Weigh it but with the grossness of this age,
You break not sanctuary in seizing him."
That is, do not go to your traditions, but take into account the unrefining character and somewhat licentious practice of this age, and you will perceive that you break not sanctuary in seizing him; for common sense declares that a youth of his years cannot claim this privilege. This interpretation renders the MS. corrector's inept substitution, "the goodness of his age," quite unnecessary. Strict and abstinent for "senseless-obstinate" is still worse.
Act III. Scene 7.—To change "his resemblance" into disresemblance, is to substitute a very forced and unnatural reading for a very plain and obvious one. Glo'ster asks Buckingham,
"Touched you the bastardy of Edward's children?"
"I did," answers Buckingham, who then goes on to say, "I also touched upon his own (i.e. Edward the Fourth's) bastardy,"
"As being got, your father then in France,
And his resemblance not being like the Duke,"
—that is, I also touched upon his resemblance (which is no resemblance) to his (reputed) father the Duke. "Disresemblance" has not a shadow of probability in its favour.
Act IV. Scene 3.—Mr Collier seriously advocates the change of "bloody dogs" into "blooded dogs," in the lines about the two ruffians.
"Albeit they were fleshed villains, bloody dogs."
"Blooded dogs" means, if it means anything, dogs that have been let blood, and not dogs that are about to draw blood as these dogs are. There seems to be nothing in the other corrections of this play which calls for further notice.
King Henry VIII.— Act I. Scene 1.—Speaking of Cardinal Wolsey, Buckingham says, "A beggar's book
Outworths a noble's blood."
The margins offer—
"A beggar's brood
Outworths a noble's blood."
This emendation looks plausible; but read Johnson's note, and you will be of a different way of thinking. He says—"that is, the literary qualifications of a bookish beggar are more prized than the high descent of hereditary greatness. This is a contemptuous exclamation very naturally put into the mouth of one of the ancient, unlettered, martial nobility." In scene 2, the change of "trembling contribution" into "trebling contribution," where the increase of the taxes is spoken of, is a proper correction, and we set it down to the credit of the MS. corrector as one which ought to go into the text.
Act II. Scene 3.—What a fine poeticism comes before us in the use of the word salute in the lines where Anne Bullen declares that her advancement gives her no satisfaction.
"Would I had no being,
If this salute my blood a jot,"
—that is, this promotion is not like a peal of bells to my blood; it is not like the firing of cannon; it is not like the huzzaing of a great multitude: it rather weighs me down under a load of anxiety and depression; or, as she herself expresses it—
"It faints me
To think what follows."
The MS. corrector, turning, as is his way, poetry into prose, reads—
"Would I had no being,
If this elate my blood a jot."
This must go to the debit side of the old corrector's account.
In Scene 4 of the same act, the queen, on her trial, adjures the king, if she be proved guilty—
"In God's name
Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt
Shut door upon me, and so give me up
To the sharpest kind of justice."
The MS. corrector writes—"to the sharpest knife of justice." But the queen is here speaking of a kind of justice sharper even than the knife—to wit, the contempt and ignominy which she imprecates on her own head if she be a guilty woman; and therefore "kind of justice" is the proper expression for her to use, and the MS. substitution is unquestionably out of place.
Act III. Scene 2.—Mr Singer says, " 'Now may all joy trace the conjunction,' instead of, 'Now all my joy,' &c. is a good conjecture, and may, I think, be safely adopted." We agree with Mr Singer.
Act III. Scene 2.—The following is one of the cases on which Mr Collier most strongly relies as proving the perspicacity and trustworthiness of his corrector. He brings it forward in his introduction (p. xv.), where he says, "When Henry VIII. tells Wolsey—
'You have scarce time
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span
To keep your earthly audit,'
he cannot mean that the cardinal has scarcely time to steal from 'leisure,' but from 'labour' (the word was misheard by the scribe); and while 'leisure' makes nonsense of the sentence, labour is exactly adapted to the place.
'You scarce have time
To steal from spiritual labour a brief span.'
The substituted word is found in the margin of the folio 1632. This instance seems indisputable." Did Mr Collier, we may here ask, never hear of learned leisure, when he thus brands as nonsensical the expression "spiritual leisure"? Is it nonsense to say that the study of Shakespeare has been the occupation of Mr Collier's "learned leisure" during the last fifty years, and that he has had little time to spare for any other pursuit? And if that be not nonsense, why should it be absurd to talk of the "spiritual leisure" of Cardinal Wolsey, as that which left him little or no time to attend to his temporal concerns? Spiritual leisure means occupation with religious matters, just as learned leisure means occupation with literary matters. Leisure does not necessarily signify idleness, as boys at school (σχολη—leisure) know full well. It is a polite synonym, perhaps slightly tinged with irony, for labour of an unmenial and unprofessional character. It stands opposed, not to every kind of work, but only to the work of "men of business," as they are called. And it is used in this place by Shakespeare with the very finest propriety. In so far, therefore, as this flower of speech is concerned, we must insist on turning "the weeder-clips aside" of Mr Collier's ruthless spoliator, and on rejecting the vulgar weed which he offers to plant in its place.
Act IV. Scene 2.—In the following passage, however, we approve of the spoliator's punctuation, which it seems Mr Singer had adopted in his edition 1826.
"This Cardinal
Though from an humble stock undoubtedly,
Was fashioned to much honour from his cradle.
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one."
All the common copies place a full stop after honour, and represent the cardinal as a scholar "ripe and good from his cradle," as if he had been born with a perfect knowledge of Greek and Latin.
Act V. Scene 2.—It is very difficult to say what should be made of the following:—
"But we all are men,
In our natures frail; and capable
Of our flesh few are angels."
Malone proposed—
"In our natures frail: incapable;
Of our flesh few are angels."
The margins propose "culpable of our flesh," which was also recommended by Mr Monck Mason. We venture to suggest—
"in our natures frail; incapable
Of our flesh."
i.e., Incontinent of our flesh. But whatever may be done with this new reading, the next ought certainly to be rigorously excluded from the text.
Loquitur Cranmer—
"Nor is there living
(I speak it with a single heart, my Lords)
A man that more detests, more stirs against,
Both in his private conscience and his place,
Defacers of a public peace, than I do."
"The substitution of strives for 'stirs,' " as Mr Singer very properly remarks, "would be high treason against a nervous Shakespearean expression."
Scene 3.—The MS. emendation in the speech of the porter's man (queen for "chine," and crown for "cow") is certainly entitled to consideration; but it is quite possible that his language, being that of a clown, may be designedly nonsensical.
Troilus and Cressida.— Act I. Scene 2.—Cressida says,}}
"Achievement is, command—ungained, beseech."
This line is probably misprinted. Mr Harness long ago proposed,
"Achieved, men us command—ungained, beseech,"
—that is, men command us (women) when we are achieved or gained over—they beseech us, so long as we are ungained. The MS. corrector's emendation falls very far short of the perspicuity of this amendment. He gives us—
"Achieved, men still command—ungained, beseech."
Scene 3.—We may notice, in passing, a "new reading" proposed by Mr Singer, which, though ingenious, we cannot be prevailed upon to accept. It occurs in the following lines, where Ulysses says—
"The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre
Observe degree, priority, and place,
Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,
Office, and custom in all line of order;
And therefore is the glorious planet, Sol,
In noble eminence enthroned and sphered
Amidst the other; whose med'cinable eye
Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil,
And posts like the commandment of a king,
Sans check, to good and bad."
Instead of "other, "Mr Singer proposes to read "ether." But "other" is more in harmony with the context, in which the sun is specially described as exercising a dominion over the other celestial luminaries. The parallel passage from Cicero, which Mr Singer quotes, tells just as much against him as for him. "Medium fere regionem sol obtinet, dux, et princeps, et moderater luminum reliquiorum." We therefore protest against the established text being disturbed.
To return to Mr Collier. He must have very extraordinary notions or verbal propriety when he can say that "a fine compound epithet appears to have escaped in the hands of the old printer, and a small manuscript correction in the margin converts a poor expression into one of great force and beauty in these lines—
'What the repining enemy commends
That breath fame blows; that praise, sole pure. transcends;"'
—that is, praise from an enemy is praise of the highest quality, and is the only pure kind of praise. The poor expression here condemned is "sole pure," and the fine compound epithet which is supposed to have escaped the fingers of the old compositor, is soul-pure. We venture to think that Shakespeare used the right words to express his own meaning, and that the MS. corrector's fine compound epithet is one of the most lack-a-daisical of the daisies that peer out upon us from the margins of the folio 1632.
Act III. Scene 1.—The words, "my disposer Cressida," have been satisfactorily shown by Mr Singer to mean, my handmaiden Cressida. Therefore the change of "disposer" into dispraiser, as recommended by the MS. corrector, is quite uncalled for. The speech, however, in which these words occur must be taken from Paris, and given to Helen.
Act III. Scene 2.—In the dialogue between Troilus and Cressida, the lady says, that she must take leave of him:
"Troilus.—What offends you, lady?
Cressida.—Sir, mine own company.
Troilus.—You cannot shun yourself'.
Cressida.—Let me go and try.
I have a kind of self resides with you,
But an unkind self that itself will leave
To be another's fool."
This conversation is not very clear; yet sense may be made of it. The lady says, that she is offended with her own company: the gentleman rejoins, that she cannot get rid of herself. "Let me try," says the lady; "I have a kind of self which resides with you—an unkind self, because it leaves me to be your fool; of that self I can get rid, because it will remain with you when I leave you." The MS. emendation affords no kind of sense whatsoever.
"I have a kind self that resides with you,
But an unkind self that itself will leave
To be another's fool."
Scene 3.—In the following passage, in which it is said that the eye is unable to see itself except by reflection, these lines occur:
"For speculation turns not to itself
Till it hath travelled, and is married there,
Where it may see itself."
Mirrored, for "married," is certainly a very excellent emendation; but it may reasonably be doubted whether mirror was used as a verb in Shakespeare's time. "To mirror" does not occur even in Johnson's Dictionary. This consideration makes us hesitate to recommend it for the text; for "married," though, perhaps, not so good, still makes sense. On further reflection we are satisfied that "married" was Shakespeare's word. In this Scene Shakespeare says, "that the providence that's in a watchful state" is able to unveil human thoughts "in their dumb cradles," in their very incunabula—a finer expression certainly than the MS. corrector's substitution "in their dumb crudities."
Act IV. Scene 4.—Between Mr Collier and his corrector the following passage would be perverted into nonsense, if they were allowed to have their own way:
"And sometimes we are devils to ourselves
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency ;"
—that is, trusting rashly to their potency, which is better than impotency, and yet falls far short of perfect potency. Mr Collier hazards the opinion, that "unchangeful potency" would be a better reading. We cannot agree with him except to this extent that it would be a better reading than the one which the MS. corrector proposes,
"Presuming on their chainful potency,"
which we leave to the approbation of those who can understand it.
Scene 5.—The lines in which certain ladies of frail virtue, or, in the stronger language of Johnson, "corrupt wenches," are spoken of, have given rise to much comment.
"Oh! these encounterers so glib of tongue,
That give a coasting welcome ere it comes."
This is the ordinary reading. The margins propose,
"That give occasion welcome ere it comes."
We prefer the emendation suggested by Monck Mason and Coleridge,
"That give accosting welcome ere it comes;"
—that is, who take the initiative, and address before they are addressed.
Coriolanus.— Act I. Scene 1.—In his first emendation, the MS. corrector betrays his ignorance of the right meaning of words. The term "object," which nowadays is employed rather loosely in several acceptations, is used by Shakespeare, in the following passage, in its proper and original signification. One of the Roman citizens, referring to the poverty of the plebeians as contrasted with the wealth of the patricians, remarks, "The leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is an inventory to particularise their abundance; our suffering is a gain to them." For "object" we should, nowadays, say spectacle. But the corrector cannot have known that this was the meaning of the word, otherwise he surely never would have been so misguided as to propose the term abjectness in its place. "This substitution," says Mr Collier, "could hardly have proceeded from the mere taste or discretion of the old corrector." No, truly; but it proceeded from his want of taste, his want of discretion, and his want of knowledge.
The ink with which these MS. corrections were made, being, as Mr Collier tells us, of various shades, differing sometimes on the same page, he is of opinion that they "must have been introduced from time to time during, perhaps, the course of several years." We think this a highly probable supposition; only, instead of several years, we would suggest sixty or seventy years. So that, supposing the MS. corrector to have begun his work when he was about thirty, he may have completed it when he was about ninety or a hundred years of age. At any rate, he must have been in the last stage of second childhood when he jotted down the following new reading in the famous fable of the "belly and the members." The belly, speaking of the food it receives, says—
"I send it through the rivers of the blood,
Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain,
And through the cranks and offices of man."
And so on; upon which one of the citizens asks Menenius, the relator of the fable, "How apply you this?"
"Menenius. The senators of Rome are this good belly,
And you the mutinous members."
Yet, with this line staring him in the face, the old corrector proposes to read,
"I send it through the rivers of the blood,
Even to the court, the heart, the senate brain."
The senate brain! when Shakespeare has distinctly told us that the senate is the belly. This indeed is the very point of the fable. Surely nothing except the most extreme degree of dotage can account for such a manifest perversion as that; yet Mr Collier says that "it much improves the sense.
The MS. corrector cannot have been nearly so old when he changed "almost" into all most in the line,
"Nay, these are all most thoroughly persuaded;"
for this is decidedly an improvement, and ought, we think, to get admission into the text.
Scene 3.—Unless we can obtain a better substitute than contemning, we are not disposed to alter the received reading of these lines:
"The breasts of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood
At Grecian words contending."
Scene 6.—In the following passage a small word occasions a great difficulty. Coriolanus, wishing to select a certain number out of a large body of soldiers who have offered him their services, says—
"Please you to march,
And four shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclined."
But why "four?" Surely four men would not be sufficient for the attack which he meditated. The MS. corrector gives us—
"Please you to march before,
And I shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclined."
The second line is unintelligible, and not to be construed on any known principles of grammar. Mr Singer proposes—
"Please you to march,
And some shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclined."
We would suggest—
"Please you to march,
And those shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclined,"
—that is: And my command shall quickly draw out, or select, those men which (men) are best inclined to be of service to me. The construction here is indeed awkward, but less awkward, we think, than that of the other emendations.
Scene 9.—The punctuation of the following passage requires to be put right. Coriolanus is declaring how much disgusted he is with the flatteries, the flourish of trumpets, and other demonstrations of applause with which he is saluted—
"May these same instruments which you profane
Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall
I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
Made all of false-faced soothing. When steel grows
Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made
A coverture for the wars!"
But what is the sense of saying—let courts and cities be made up of hypocrisy, when drums and trumpets in the field shall prove flatterers? This has no meaning. We should punctuate the lines thus—
"May these same instruments which you profane,
Never sound more, when drums and trumpets shall
I' the field prove flatterers. Let courts and cities be
Made all of false-faced soothing," &c.
The meaning is—When drums and trumpets in the field shall prove flatterers (as they are doing at present), may they never sound more! Let courts and cities be as hollow-hearted as they please; but let the camp enjoy an immunity from these fulsome observances. When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk (that is, when the warrior loses his stubborn and unbending character), let silk be made a coverture for the wars, for it will then be quite as useful as steel. The only alteration which the MS. corrector proposes in this passage, is the substitution of coverture for the original reading "overture"—a change which was long ago made.
Act II. Scene 1.—The margins make an uncommonly good hit in the speech of Menenius, who says, "I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't: said to be something imperfect in favouring the first complaint." No sense can be extracted from this by any process of distillation. The old corrector, brightening up for an instant, writes "thirst complaint;" on which Mr Singer remarks, "The alteration of 'first' into thirst is not necessary, for it seems that thirst was sometimes provincially pronounced and spelt first and furst." Come, come, Mr Singer, that is hardly fair. Let us give the devil his due. What one reader of Shakespeare out of every million was to know that "first" was a provincialism for thirst? We ourselves, at least, had not a suspicion of it till the old corrector opened our eyes to the right reading—the meaning of which is, "I am said to have a failing in yielding rather too readily to the thirst complaint." This emendation covers a multitude of sins, and ought, beyond a doubt, to be promoted into the text.
We also willingly accept empirick physic for "empirick qutique," the ordinary, but unintelligible reading.
A difficulty occurs in the admirable verses in which the whole city is described as turning out in order to get a sight of the triumphant Coriolanus.
"All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights
Are spectacled to see him. Your prattling nurse
Into a rapture lets her baby cry
While she chats him. The kitchen malkin pins
Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,
Clambering the walls to eye him."
Cheers instead of "chats" is proposed by the old corrector. Mr Singer says that cheers "savours too much of modern times," and suggests claps; but a woman with an infant in her arms would find some difficulty, we fancy, in clapping her hands; though, perhaps, this very difficulty and her attempt to overcome it may have been the cause of her baby crying himself "into a rapture." We are disposed, however, to adhere to the old lection—"while she chats him"—that is, while she makes Coriolanus the subject of her gabble. For it ought to be borne in mind that Coriolanus has not, as yet, made his appearance: and, therefore, both cheering and clapping would be premature. We observe that, instead of a "rapture"—i.e., a fit—one of the wiseacres of the variorum proposes to read a rupture! The nurse lets the baby cry himself into a rupture! This outflanks even the margins. The annotator subscribes himself " S. W."—which means, we presume, Something Wanting in the upper story.
We accept touch for "reach" in the sentence where it is said, "his soaring insolence shall reach (the oldest reading is "teach") the people. This correction had been already proposed by Mr Knight. But we cannot approve of the following change (prest for "blest," Scene 2) which has obtained the sanction of Mr Singer. Sicinia has just remarked that the senate has assembled to do honour to Coriolanus, on which Brutus says—
"Which the rather
We shall be blest to do, if he remember
A kinder value of the people, than
He hath hereto prized them at."
Does not this mean—which honour we shall be most happy to do to Coriolanus, if &c.? Why then change "blest" into prest? a very unnatural mode of speech.
Scene 3.—In the next instance, however, we side most cordially with the margins and Mr Collier, against Mr Singer and the ordinary text. The haughty Coriolanus, who is a candidate for the consulship, says—
"Why in this wolvish gown should I stand here,
To beg of Hob and Dick?" &c.
Now Shakespeare, in a previous part of the play, has described the candidate's toga as "the napless vesture or humility;" and it is well known that this toga was of a different texture from that usually worn. Is it not probable, therefore—nay certain—that Coriolanus should speak of it as woolless, the word wolvish being altogether unintelligible? Accordingly, the MS. corrector reads—
"Why in this woolless gown should I stand here."
Mr Singer, defending the old reading, says, it is sufficient that his investiture in this gown "was simulating humility not in his nature, to bring to mind the fable of the wolf" Oh, Mr Singer! but must not the epithet in that case have been sheepish? Surely, if Coriolanus had felt himself to be a wolf in sheep's clothing, he never would have said that he was a sheep in wolves' clothing! [2]
Act III. Scene 1.—In the following speech of Coriolanus several corrections are proposed, one of which, and perhaps two, might be admitted into the text:—
"O, good but most unwise patricians! why,
You grave but reckless senators, have you thus
Given Hydra here to choose an officer
That with his peremptory 'shall' (being but
The horn and noise of the monsters), wants not spirit
To say he'll turn your current in a ditch,
And make your channel his? If he have power,
Then vail your ignorance: if none, awake
Your dangerous lenity."
Leave for "here" is, we think, a good exchange; and revoke for "awake" an improvement which can scarcely be resisted. Further on, Coriolanus asks—
"Well, what then,
How shall this bosom multiplied digest
The senate's courtesy?"
There is, it seems, an old word bisson, signifying blind; and therefore we see no good reason (although such may exist) against accepting, as entitled to textual advancement, the old corrector's substitution of bisson multitude for "bosom multiplied." The latter, however, is defended, as we learn from Mr Singer, "by one strenuous dissentient voice." Why did he not tell us by whom and where? One excellent emendation by Mr Singer himself we must here notice. Coriolanus speaks of those who wish
"To jump a body with a dangerous physic
That's sure of death without it."
Scene 2.—Here the old corrector is again at his forging tricks upon a large scale. Volumnia says to Coriolanus, her son—
"Pray be counsell'd,
I have a heart as little apt as yours
To brook control without the use of anger;
But yet a brain that leads my use of anger
To better vantage."
The interpolated line is very unlike the diction of Shakespeare, and is not at all called for. "Apt" here means pliant, accommodating. "I have a heart as stubborn and unaccommodating as your own; but yet," &c. Mr Singer proposes soft for "apt ;" but this seems unnecessary.
Act IV. Scene 1.—Although the construction of the latter part of these lines is somewhat involved, it is far more after the manner of Shakespeare than the correction which the margins propose. Coriolanus says to his mother—
"Nay, mother,
Where is your ancient courage? You were used
To say extremity was the trier of spirits;
That common chances common men could bear,
That when the sea was calm, all boats alike
Show'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows,
When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves
A noble cunning."
Gentle-minded is the new reading; but it is quite uncalled for. The meaning is—You were used to say that when fortune's blows were most struck home, to be gentle, though wounded, craves a noble cunning—that is, a high degree of self-command.
Scene 5.—It is curious to remark how cleverly Shakespeare has anticipated old Hobbes' theory of human nature and of society, in the scene where the serving-men are discussing the merits of peace and war. "Peace," says one of them, "makes men hate one another." "The reason?" asks another. Answer—" Because they then less need one another." This, in a very few words, is exactly the doctrine of the old philosopher of Malmesbury.
Scene 6.—" God Marcius" for "good Marcius," is a commendable emendation; and perhaps, also, it may be proper to read—
"You have made fair hands,
You and your handycrafts have crafted fair,"
instead of
"You and your crafts, you have crafted fair."
The following passage (Scene 7) has given a good deal of trouble to the commentators. Aufidius is describing Coriolanus as a man who, with all his merits, had failed, through some unaccountable perversity of judgment, in attaining the position which his genius entitled him to occupy. He then says—
"So our virtues
Lie in the interpretation of the time;
And power, unto itself most commendable,
Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair
To extol what it hath done.
One fire drives out one fire, one nail one nail,
Right's by right fouler, strengths by strength do fail."
Our virtues, says Aufidius, consist in our ability to interpret, and turn to good account, the signs of the times. "And power, unto itself most commendable, hath not a tomb so evident as a chair to extol what it hath done;" that is,—and power, which delights to praise itself, is sure to have a downfall, so soon as it blazons forth its pretensions from the rostrum. The MS. corrector proposes—
"Hath not a tomb so evident as a cheer," &c.
The original text is obscurely enough expressed, but the new reading seems to be utter nonsense. What can Mr Singer mean by his reading—
"Hath not a tomb so evident as a hair"?
The old corrector also reads, unnecessarily, as we think, suffer for "fouler." "Rights by rights suffer." There seems to be no necessity for changing the received text. "Right is fouler by right,"—which Steevens thus explains: "what is already right, and is received as such, becomes less clear when supported by supernumerary proof."
Act V. Scene 3.—An emendation, good so far as it goes, comes before us in the speech of Volumnia, the mother of Coriolanus. She, his wife, and young son, are supplicating the triumphant renegade to spare his native country. She says that, instead of his presence being a comfort to them, it is a sight—
"Making the mother, wife, and child to see
The son, the husband, and the father tearing
His country's bowels out. And to poor we
Thine enmity's most capital."
This is the reading of the ordinary copies, but it is neither sense nor grammar. The old corrector removes the full stop after out, and reads—
"His country's bowels out; and so poor we
Thine enemies most capital."
But if this is the right reading, it must be completed by changing "we" into us. The meaning will then be—making thy mother, wife, &c.; and so (making) poor us (that is, those whom you are bound to love and protect before all others) thy chief enemies.
Scene 5—Aufidius, speaking of Coriolanus, says, I
"Served his designments
In mine own person, holp to reap the fame
Which he did end all his."
The word "end" has been a stumbling-block to the commentators. The old corrector reads—
"Holp to reap the fame Which he did ear all his."
On which Mr Singer remarks, with a good deal of pertinency, "The substitution of ear for 'end' is a good emendation of an evident misprint; but the correctors have only half done their work: ear—i.e. plough—and reap should change places; or Aufidius is made to say that he had a share in the harvest, while Coriolanus had all the labour of ploughing, contrary to what is intended to be said. The passage will then run thus—
'Served his designments
In mine own person; holp to ear the fame
Which he did reap all his.'
This," adds Mr Singer, "is the suggestion of a correspondent of Notes and Queries, vol. vii. p. 378."
Ten plays, as revised by the old corrector, still remain to be overhauled. These shall be disposed of in our next Number, when it will appear that the MS. emendations offer no symptoms of improvement, but come out worse and worse the more fully and attentively they are considered.
- ↑
Curiosities of Modern Shakesperian Criticism. By J. O. Halliwell, Esq. 1853.
Observations on some of the Manuscript Emendations of Shakespeare, and are they Copyright? By J. O. Halliwell, Esq. 1853.
J. Payne Collier's alte handschriftliche Emendationen zum Shakespeare gewurdigt von Dr Nicolaus Delius. Bonn, 1853.
The original text of Shakespeare has obtained two stanch and able defenders in the persons of these two gentlemen. Mr Halliwell's competency to deal with the text of our great poet, and with all that concerns him, is, we believe, all but universally acknowledged—the best proof of which is the confidence reposed in him by the subscribers to the magnificent edition now publishing under his auspices; a confidence which, we are convinced, he will not betray by any ill-judged deviations from the authentic readings. Dr Delius's pamphlet contains a very acute dissection of the pretended evidence by which Mr Collier endeavours to support the pretended emendations of his MS. corrector. It is characterised by great soundness of judgment, and displays a critical knowledge of the English language altogether astonishing in a foreigner. He may be at fault in one or two small matters, but the whole tenor of his observations proves that he is highly competent to execute the task which, as we learn from his announcement, he has undertaken—the publication, namely, of an edition of the English text of Shakespeare with German notes. We look forward with much interest to the publication of this work, as affording further evidence of the strong hold which Shakespeare has taken on the minds of Germany, and as a further tribute of admiration, added to the many which they have already paid to the genius of our immortal countryman.
- ↑ The German translators Tieck and Schlegel adopt the reading of the first folio, tongue, for "gown,” and translate,
“Warum soll hier mit Wolfsgeheul ich stehen.”
Dr Delius concurs with his countrymen, and remarks that the boldness of Shakespeare's constructions readily admits of our connecting the words "in this wolfish tongue" with the words "to beg." Now, admirable as we believe Dr Delius' English scholarship to be, he must permit us to say that this is a point which can be determined only by a native of this country, and that the construction which he proposes is not consistent with the idiom of our language. Even the German idiom requires with (mit), and not in, a wolf's cry. We cannot recommend him to introduce tongue into his text of our poet.