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Page 12
Perhaps it would not be easy to find any authour, except Homer, who
invented so much as Shakespeare, who so much advanced the studies
which he cultivated, or effused so much novelty upon his age
or country. The form, the characters, the language, and the shows
of the English drama are his. "He seems," says Dennis, "to have
been the very original of our English tragical harmony, that is,
the harmony of blank verse, diversified often by dissyllable and
trissyllable terminations. For the diversity distinguishes it from
heroick harmony, and by bringing it nearer to common use makes it
more proper to gain attention, and more fit for action and dialogue.
Such verse we make when we are writing prose; we make such verse
in common conversation."
I know not whether this praise is rigorously just. The dissyllable
termination, which the critick rightly appropriates to the drama,
is to be found, though, I think, not in Gorboduc which is confessedly
before our authour; yet in Hieronnymo, of which the date is not
certain, but which there is reason to believe at least as old as
his earliest plays. This however is certain, that he is the first
who taught either tragedy or comedy to please, there being no
theatrical piece of any older writer, of which the name is known,
except to antiquaries and collectors of books, which are sought
because they are scarce, and would not have been scarce, had they
been much esteemed.
To him we must ascribe the praise, unless Spenser may divide it
with him, of having first discovered to how much smoothness and
harmony the English language could be softened. He has speeches,
perhaps sometimes scenes, which have all the delicacy of Rowe,
without his effeminacy. He endeavours indeed commonly to strike
by the force and vigour of his dialogue, but he never executes his
purpose better, than when he tries to sooth by softness.
Yet it must be at last confessed, that as we owe every thing to
him, he owes something to us; that, if much of his praise is paid
by perception and judgement, much is likewise given by custom and
veneration. We fix our eyes upon his graces, and turn them from his
deformities, and endure in him what we should in another loath or
despise. If we endured without praising, respect for the father
of our drama might excuse us; but I have seen, in the book of some
modern critick, a collection of anomalies which shew that he has
corrupted language by every mode of depravation, but which his
admirer has accumulated as a monument of honour.
He has scenes of undoubted and perpetual excellence, but perhaps
not one play, which, if it were now exhibited as the work of a
contemporary writer, would be heard to the conclusion. I am indeed
far from thinking, that his works were wrought to his own ideas
of perfection; when they were such as would satisfy the audience,
they satisfied the writer. It is seldom that authours, though more
studious of fame than Shakespeare, rise much above the standard
of their own age; to add a little of what is best will always
be sufficient for present praise, and those who find themselves
exalted into fame, are willing to credit their encomiasts, and to
spare the labour of contending with themselves.
It does not appear, that Shakespeare thought his works worthy of
posterity, that he levied any ideal tribute upon future times, or
had any further prospect, than of present popularity and present
profit. When his plays had been acted, his hope was at an end;
he solicited no addition of honour from the reader. He therefore
made no scruple to repeat the same jests in many dialogues, or to
entangle different plots by the same knot of perplexity, which may
be at least forgiven him, by those who recollect, that of Congreve's
four comedies, two are concluded by a marriage in a mask, by a
deception, which perhaps never happened, and which, whether likely
or not, he did not invent.
So careless was this great poet of future fame, that, though he
retired to ease and plenty, while he was yet little "declined into
the vale of years," before he could be disgusted with fatigue,
or disabled by infirmity, he made no collection of his works, nor
desired to rescue those that had been already published from the
depravations that obscured them, or secure to the rest a better
destiny, by giving them to the world in their genuine state.
Of the plays which bear the name of Shakespeare in the late editions,
the greater part were not published till about seven years after
his death, and the few which appeared in his life are apparently
thrust into the world without the care of the authour, and therefore
probably without his knowledge.
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