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amine for themselves the question of the order of Shakspere's Sonnets (and it really is a question of great interest and rational curiosity), the results of the two opposite theories of their exhibiting almost perfect continuity, on the one hand; and of their being a mere collection of fragments, on the other. The one theory is illustrated with much ingenuity by Mr. Brown; the other was capriciously adopted by the editor of the collection of 1640.

MR. BROWN'S DIVISION INTO SIX POEMS. First Poem.-Stanzas i. to xxvi. To his Friend, persuading him to marry. Second Poem.-Stanzas xxvii. to lv. To his Friend, who had robbed him of his Mistress-forgiving him.

Third Poem.-Stanzas lvi. to lxxvii. To his Friend, complaining of his Coldness, and warning him of Life's Decay. Fourth Poem.-Stanzas lxxviii. to ci. To his Friend, complaining that he prefers another Poet's Praises, and reproving him for faults that may injure his character.

Fifth Poem.-Stanzas cii. to cxxvi. To his

Friend, excusing himself for having been sometimes silent, and disclaiming the charge of Inconstancy.

Sixth Poem.-Stanzas cxxvii. to clii. To his Mistress, on her Infidelity.

*

ARRANGEMENT OF THE EDITION OF 1640.

* In this arrangement the greater part of the Poems of 'The Passionate Pilgrim' are blended, and are here marked P. P. In this collection the following Sonnets are not found: -18, 19, 43, 56, 75, 76, 96, 126. The Glory of Beauty. [67, 68, 69.] Injurious Time. [60, 63, 64, 65, 66.] True Admiration. [53, 54.] The Force of Love. [57, 58.] The Beauty of Nature. [59.] Love's Cruelty. [1, 2, 3.] Youthful Glory. [13, 14, 15.] Good Admonition. [16, 17.] Quick Prevention. [7.] Magazine of Beauty. [4, 5, 6.]

An Invitation to Marriage. [8, 9, 10,

11, 12.]

False Belief. [138.]

A Temptation. [144.]
Fast and Loose. [P. P. 1.]
True Content. [21.]
A bashful Lover. [23.]
Strong Conceit. [22.]

A sweet Provocation. [P. P. 11.]
A constant Vow. [P. P. 3.]
The Exchange. [20.]

A Disconsolation. [27, 28, 29.]
Cruel Deceit. [P. P. 4.]

The Unconstant Lover. [P. P. 5.]
The Benefit of Friendship. [30, 31, 32.]
Friendly Concord. [P. P. 6.]
Inhumanity. [P. P. 7.]

A Congratulation. [38, 39, 40.]
Loss and Gain. [41, 42.]
Foolish Disdain. [P. P. 9.]
Ancient Antipathy. [P. P. 10.]
Beauty's Valuation. [P. P. 11.]
Melancholy Thoughts. [44, 45.]
Love's Loss. [P. P. 8.]
Love's Relief. [33, 34, 35.]
Unanimity. [36, 37.]

Loth to Depart. [P. P. 12, 13.]
A Masterpiece. [24.]
Happiness in Content. [25.]
A Dutiful Message. [26.]
Go and come quickly. [50, 51.]}
Two Faithful Friends. [46, 47.]
Careless Neglect. [48.]
Stout Resolution. [49.]
A Duel. [P. P. 14.]
Love-sick. [P. P. 15.]
Love's Labour Lost. [P. P. 16.]
Wholesome Counsel. [P. P. 17.]
Sat fuisse. [62.]

A living Monument. [55.]
Familiarity breeds Contempt. [52.]
Patiens Armatus. [61.]
A Valediction. [71, 72, 74.]
Nil magnis Invidia. [70.]

Love-sick. [80, 81.]

The Picture of true Love. [116.]
In Praise of his Love. [82, 83, 84, 85.]
A Resignation. [86, 87.]

Sympathizing Love. [P. P. 18.]

A Request to his Scornful Love. [88, 89, 90, 91.]

A Lover's Affection, though his Love
prove Unconstant. [92, 93, 94, 95.]
Complaint for his Lover's Absence.
98, 99.]

[97,

An Invocation to his Muse. [100, 101.]
Constant Affection. [104, 105, 106.]
Amazement. [102, 103.]

"There is extant a small volume of miscellaneous poems in which Shakspere expresses his feelings in his own person. It is not difficult to conceive that the editor, George Steevens, should have been insensible to the beauties of one portion of that volume, the Sonnets; though there is not a part

A Lover's Excuse for his long Absence. of the writings of this poet where is found, [109, 110.]

in an equal compass, a greater number of exquisite feelings felicitously expressed.

A Complaint. [111, 112.] Self-flattery of her Beauty. [113, 114, But, from regard to the critic's own credit, 115.] he would not have ventured to talk of an

A Trial of Love's Constancy. [117, 118, act of parliament not being strong enough 119.] to compel the perusal of these, or any pro

A good Construction of his Love's Un- duction of Shakspere, if he had not known kindness. [120.]

Error in Opinion. [121.]

that the people of England were ignorant of the treasures contained in those little

Upon the Receipt of a Table-Book from pieces.” his Mistress. [122.]

A Vow. [123.]

Love's Safety. [124.]

An Entreaty for her Acceptance. [125.] Upon her playing upon the Virginals. [128.]

Immoderate Lust. [129.]

In praise of her Beauty, though Black. [127, 130, 131, 132.]

Unkind Abuse. [133, 134.]

Love-suit. [135, 136.]

That ignorance has been removed; and no one has contributed more to its removal, by creating a school of poetry founded upon Truth and Nature, than Wordsworth himself. The critics of the last century have passed away :

"Peor and Baälim

Forsake their temples dim."

By the operation of what great sustaining principle is it that we have come back to

His Heart wounded by her Eye. [137, the just appreciation of "the treasures con

139, 140.]

A Protestation. [141, 142.]

An Allusion. [143.]

Life and Death. [145.]

A Consideration of Death. [146.]

Immoderate Passion. [147.]

tained in those little pieces"? The poet critic will answer :

"There never has been a period, and perhaps never will be, in which vicious poetry, of some kind or other, has not excited more zealous admiration, and been far more

Love's powerful Subtilty [148, 149, 150.] generally read, than good; but this advan

Retaliation. [78, 79.]

Sunset. [73, 77.]

A Monument to Fame. [107, 108.]
Perjury. [151, 152.]

Cupid's Treachery. [153, 154.]

Of the estimation in which Shakspere's 'Sonnets' were held some half century ago, the greatest of our Sonnet writers, Wordsworth, thus speaks :

tage attends the good, that the individual, as well as the species, survives from age to age: whereas, of the depraved, though the species be immortal, the individual quickly perishes; the object of present admiration vanishes, being supplanted by some other as easily produced, which, though no better, brings with it at least the irritation of novelty, with adaptation, more or less skilful, to the changing humours of the majority of those who are most at leisure to regard poetical works when they first solicit their attention. Is it the result of the whole, that, in the opinion of the writer, the judg

ment of the people is not to be respected?
The thought is most injurious; and, could
the charge be brought against him, he would
repel it with indignation. The people have
already been justified, and their eulogium
pronounced by implication, when it is said
above—that, of good poetry, the individual,
as well as the species, survives. And how
does it survive but through the people?
what preserves it but their intellect and
their wisdom ?-

'Past and future are the wings
On whose support, harmoniously conjoin'd,
Moves the great spirit of human knowledge.'
-MS.

It is the perpetual mistake of the public for the people that has led to the belief that there was a period when Shakspere was neglected. He was always in the heart of the people. There, in that deep rich soil, have the Sonnets rested during two centuries; and here and there in remote places have the seeds put forth leaves and flowers. All young imaginative minds now rejoice in their hues and their fragrance. But this preference of the fresh and beautiful of poetical life to the pot-pourri of the last age must be a regulated love. Those who, seeing the admiration which now prevails for these outpourings of "exquisite feelings felicitously expressed," talk of the 'Sonnets' as equal, if not superior, to the greatest of the poet's mighty dramas, compare things that admit of no comparison. Who would speak in the same breath of the gem of Cupid and Psyche, and of the Parthenon? In the 'Sonnets,' exquisite as they are, the

The voice that issues from this spirit is that vox populi which the Deity inspires. Foolish must he be who can mistake for this a local acclamation, or a transitory outcry-transitory, though it be for years; local, though from a nation! Still more lamentable is his error who can believe that there is any-poet goes not out of himself (at least in the thing of divine infallibility in the clamour of that small though loud portion of the community, ever governed by factitious influence, which, under the name of the PUBLIC, passes itself, upon the unthinking, for the PEOPLE."

form of the composition), and he walks, therefore, in a narrow circle of art. In the 'Venus and Adonis,' and the 'Lucrece,' the circle widens. But in the Dramas, the centre is the Human Soul, the circumference the Universe.

BOOK XI.

SHAKSPERE'S CRITICS.

CHAPTER I.

MILTON. EDWARD PHILLIPS.

"SHAKSPERE was not so much esteemed, even during his life, as we commonly suppose; and after his retirement from the stage he was all but forgotten." ""* So we read in an authority too mighty to enter upon evidence. The oblivion after his retirement and death is the true pendant to the alleged neglect during his lifet. When did the oblivion begin? It could scarcely have existed when, in 1623, an expensive folio volume of many hundred pages was published, without regard to the risk of such an undertaking—and it was a risk, indeed, if the author had been neglected and was forgotten. But the editors of the volume do not ask timidly for support of these neglected and forgotten works. They say to the reader, "Though you be a magistrate of wit, and sit on the stage at Blackfriars or the Cockpit, to arraign plays daily, know these plays have had their trial already, and stood out all appeals." Did the oblivion continue when, in 1632, a second edition of this large work was brought out? There was one man, certainly—a young and ardent scholar-who was not amongst the oblivious. JOHN MILTON was twenty-four years of age when these verses were published:

"AN EPITAPH ON THE ADMIRABLE DRAMATIC POET, W. SHAKESPEARE.

Or that his hallow'd relics should be hid
Under a star-ypointing pyramid?

Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,
What need'st thou such dull witness of thy
name?

Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Hast built thyself a lasting monument.
For whilst to th' shame of slow endeavouring
art

Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book
Those Delphic lines with deep impression
took,

Then thou, our fancy of herself bereaving, Dost make us marble with too much conceiving,

And so sepulchred in such pomp doth lie, That kings for such a tomb would wish to die." The author of these lines could not have known the works of the "admirable dramatic poet," while that poet was in life; but sixteen years after his death he was the dear son of memory, the great heir of fame; his bones were honoured, his relics were hallowed, his works were a lasting monument, his book was priceless, his lines were oracular, Delphic.. Is this oblivion? But it may be said that Milton was a young enthusiast, one who saw farther than the million; that the public opinion of a writer (and we are not talking of his positive excellence, apart

"What need my Shakespeare for his honour'd from opinion) must be sought for in the bones

The labour of an age in piled stones,

*Life of Shakspere, in Lardner's Cyclopædia' † See Book ix. chap. iv.

voice of the people, or at any rate in that of the leaders of the people. How are we to arrive at the knowledge of this expression? We can only know, incidentally, that an

author was a favourite, either of a king or of a cobbler. We know that Shakspere was the favourite of a king, in these times of his oblivion. A distinguished writer says, "The Prince of Wales had learned to appreciate Shakspere, not originally from reading him, but from witnessing the court representations of his plays at Whitehall. Afterwards we know that he made Shakspere his closet companion, for he was reproached with doing so by Milton."* The concluding words are founded upon a mistake of the passage in Milton. Charles is not reproached with reading Shakspere. The great republican does not condemn the king for having made the dramatic poet the closet companion of his solitudes; but, speaking of the dramatic poet as a well-known author with whom the king was familiar, he cites out of him a passage to show that pious words might be found in the mouth of a tyrant. The passage not only proves the familiarity of Charles with Shakspere, but evidences also Milton's familiarity; and, what is of more importance, the familiarity even of those

stern and ascetic men to whom Milton was

peculiarly addressing his opinions. The

passage of the 'Iconoclastes' is as follows: "Andronicus Comnenus, the Byzantine emperor, though a most cruel tyrant, is reported

by Nicetas to have been a constant reader of Saint Paul's epistles; and by continual study had so incorporated the phrase and style of that transcendant apostle into all his familiar letters, that the imitation seemed to vie with the original. Yet this availed not to deceive the people of that empire, who, notwithstanding his saint's vizard, tore him to pieces for his tyranny. From stories of this nature, both ancient and modern, which abound, the poets also, and some English, have been in this point so mindful of decorum as to put never more pious words in the mouth of any person than of a tyrant. I shall not instance an abstruse author, wherein the king might be less conversant, but one whom we well know was the closet companion of these his solitudes, William Shakespeare, who introduces the person of

* Mr. De Quincey's Life of Shakespeare' in the 'Encyclopædia Britannica.'

Richard the Third, speaking in as high a strain of piety and mortification as is uttered in any passage of this book*, and sometimes to the same sense and purpose with some words in this place: 'I intended,' saith he, 'not only to oblige my friends, but my enemies. The like saith Richard, Act II., Scene I.

'I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds, More than the infant that is born to-night; I thank my God for my humility.' Other stuff of this sort may be read throughout the whole tragedy, wherein the poet used not much licence in departing from the truth of history, which delivers him a deep dissembler, not of his affections only but of religion." It was a traditionary blunder, which Warton received and transmitted to his successors; that Milton reproached Charles with reading Shakspere, and thus inferred that Shakspere was no proper closet companion. The passage has wholly the contrary tendency; and he who thinks otherwise may just as well think that the phrase "other stuff of this sort" is also used disparagingly.

A few years before-that is in 1645Milton had offered another testimony to Shakspere in his "L'Allegro," then pub

lished:

"Then to the well-trod stage anon,
If Jonson's learned sock be on,
Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild."

Milton was not afraid to publish these lines, even after the suppression of the theatres by his own political party. That he went along with them in their extreme polemical opinions it is impossible to believe; but he would nevertheless be careful not to mention, in connexion with the stage, names of any doubtful eminence. He was not ashamed to say that the learning of Jonson, the nature of Shakspere, had for him attractions, though the stage was proscribed. This contrast of the distinguishing qualities of the two men is held to be one amongst the many proofs of Shakspere's want of learning; as if it was

*Milton here refers to the first section of the Eikon Basilike.'

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