SHAKSPEARE CORRESPONDENCE.
The old Corrector on "The Winter's Tale."—I am glad to find that you have another correspondent, and a very able one too, under the signature of A. E. B., who takes the same view of "Aristotle's checks" as I have done; though I think he might have paid me the compliment of just noticing my prior remonstrance on this subject. It is to be lamented, that Mr. Collier should have hurried out his new edition of Shakspeare, adopting all the sweeping emendations of his newly-found commentator, without paying the slightest heed to any of the suggestions which have been offered to him in a friendly spirit, or affording time for the farther objections which are continually pouring in. At the risk of probably wearying some of your readers, I cannot forbear submitting to you a few more remarks; but I shall confine them on this occasion to one play, The Winter's Tale: which contains, perhaps, as many poetical beauties as any single work of our great dramatic bard. With reference to the passage quoted in p. 437., I can hardly believe that Shakspeare ever wrote such a poor unmeaning line as—
" . . . they are false as dead blacks."
nor can I perceive any possible objection to the original words "o'er dyed blacks." They may either mean false mourners, putting an over dark semblance of grief; or they may allude figuratively to the material of mourning, the colours of which if over-dyed will not stand. In either of these senses, the passage is poetical; but there is nothing like poetry in "our dead blacks."
In p. 450. the alteration of the word "and" to "heaven" may be right, though it is difficult to conceive how the one can have been mistaken for the other. At all events, the sense is improved by the change; but I do not see that anything is gained by the substitution in the next line of "dream" for "theme." Whatever the king said in his ravings about Hermione, might as aptly be called part of his "theme" as part of his "dream." The subject of his dream was in fact his theme!
Neither can I discover any good reason for changing, in p. 452.,
" . . . and one may drink, depart,
And yet partake no venom,"
into "drink a part." The context clearly shows the author's meaning to have been, that if any one departed at once after tasting of the beverage, he would have no knowledge of what he had drunk;
but if he remained, some one present might point out to him the spider in the cup, and then "he cracks his gorge," &c.
In p. 460. Mr. Collier says that the passage, "dangerous, unsafe lunes i' the king," is mere tautology, and therefore he follows the old corrector in substituting "unsane lunes." Now it strikes me that there is quite as much tautology in "unsane lunes" as in the double epithet, "dangerous, unsafe." It is, in fact, equivalent to "insane madness;" and, moreover, drags in quite needlessly a very unusual and uncouth word.
In p. 481. we have the last word of the following passage—
"I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,
So fill'd and so becoming,"—
converted into "o'er-running." This may possibly be the correct reading; but, seeing that it is immediately followed by the words—
" . . . in pure white robes,
Like very sanctity,"
I question whether "becoming" is not the more natural expression.
"There weep—and leave it crying,"
is made—
"There wend—and leave it crying,"
which I submit is decidedly wrong. I will not be hypercritical, or I might suggest that in that case the words would have been "thither wend;" but I maintain that the change is contrary to the sense. The spirit of Hermione never could have been intended to say that the child should be left crying. She would rather wish that it might not cry! The meaning, as it seems to me, is, that Antigonus should weep over the babe, and leave it while so weeping.
In p. 487. the words "missingly noted" are altered to "musingly noted," which is a very questionable improvement. Camillo, missing Florigel from court, would naturally note his absence; and he may have mused over the causes of it, but there could be no necessity for musing to note the fact of his absence: and I cannot help thinking that the word missingly is more in Shakspeare's style.
I cannot subscribe at all to the alteration in p. 492. of the word "unrolled" to "enrolled." To be enrolled and placed in the book of virtue is very like tautology; but I conceive Shakspeare meant Autolycus to wish that his name might be unrolled from the company of thieves and gypsies with whom he was associated, and transferred to the book of virtue.
I am entirely at issue with the old corrector upon his emendation in p. 498.:
" . . . Nothing she does or seems,
But smacks of something greater than herself;"
he says, ought to be: "Nothing she does or says." And how does Mr. Collier explain this misprint? Why, by stating that formerly "says" was often written "saies." Now, I cannot for the life of me discover why the word "saies" should have been mistaken for "seems," any more than the word "says." But surely the phrase, "nothing she does or seems," is far more poetical and elegant than the other. It says in effect: there is nothing either in her acts or her carriage, "but smacks of something greater than herself." We have positive evidence, however, that the passage could not have been "nothing she does or says," viz. that this speech of Polixenes immediately follows a long dialogue between Florizel and Perdita, which could not have been overheard, because Camillo directly afterwards says to the king:
" . . . He tells her something,
That makes her blood look out."
Thereby clearly proving, that the king could not have been remarking on what she said.
The transformation of the last-mentioned line into—
"That wakes her blood—look out!"
cannot, I think, be justified on any ground. He tells her something which "makes her blood look out." That is, something which makes her blush rush to the surface to look out upon it! What can be more natural? The proposed alteration is not only unnecessary, but awkward!
In p. 499., if the words "unbraided wares" must be altered, I see no reason for the change to "embroided" wares. It seems to me that embraided would be the most proper word.
What possible reason can there be for converting "force and knowledge," in p. 506., to "sense and knowledge?" If I may be excused a play upon the words, I should say the sense of the passage is not at all improved, and the force is entirely lost.
I must protest most decidedly against the correction of the following lines, p. 507.:
" . . . Can he speak? hear?
Know man from man? dispute his own estate?"
Dispute his own estate means, defend his property, dispute with any one who questions his rights. The original passage expresses the sense quite perfectly, while "dispose his own estate" appears to me poor and insipid in comparison.
Mr. Collier's objection to the speech of Camillo, in p. 514.,
" . . . it shall be so my care
To have you royally appointed, as if
The scene you play were mine;"
is, that to make the scene appear as if it were Camillo's, could be of no service to the young prince. Now Camillo says nothing about the scene appearing as his. He says he will have the prince royally appointed, as if the scene he played were really his own: that is, as if he were the party interested in it, instead of the prince.
The reading of the old corrector—
" . . . . As if
The scene you play were true,"
would be nonsense; because, so far as the prince appearing to be Bohemia's son (which was what he was most anxious about), the scene to be played was really true!
The last correction I have now to notice is in the soliloquy of Autolycus in p. 522.: where Mr. Collier proposes to read, "who knows how that may turn luck to my advantage," instead of "may turn back to my advantage." I see no advantage in the change, but the very reverse. "Who knows but my availing myself of the means to do the prince my master a service, may come back to me in the shape of some advancement?" This seems to me to be the author's meaning, and it is legitimately expressed. How frequently it has been said that an evil deed recoils upon the head of the perpetrator! Then why not a good deed turn back to reward the doer?
Cecil Harbottle.
P. S.—It is rather singular that A. E. B., who, as I have already shown, has so completely shelved me in his remarks upon "Aristotle's checks," should now complain of the very same thing himself, and say that his "humble auxilia have been coolly appropriated, without the slightest acknowledgment." However, as our opinions coincide upon the passage in question, I am not disposed to pick a quarrel with him. I cannot, however, at all concur in his alteration of the passage in King Lear: "Our means secure us," to "Our means recuse us." I will certainly leave him "in the quiet possession of whatever merit is due to this restoration," or rather this invention! Can A. E. B. show any other instance in which Shakspeare has used the verb recuse; or will he point out any other author who has adopted it in the sense referred to? Johnson calls it a "juridical word:" and I certainly have no recollection of having met with it, except in judicial proceedings.
I can neither subscribe to the emendation of A. E. B., nor to that of the old commentator, but infinitely prefer the original words, which appear to me perfectly intelligible. The sense, as it strikes me, is, that however we may desire things which we have not, the means we already possess are sufficient for our security; and even our defects prove serviceable. Blindness, for instance, will make a man more careful of himself; and then the other faculties he enjoys will secure him from harm.
"King Lear," Act IV. Sc. 1.—
"Our means secure us, and our mere defects
Prove our commodities."
I should not object to your correspondent A. E. B.'s conjectural emendation, "recuse" for "secure," but that, unless my memory and Ayscough are both deceptive, the word "recuse" is nowhere to be found in Shakspeare; nor, as far as I know, in any dramatist of the age. If it be used by any of the latter, it is probably only in the strict legal meaning, which is quite different from that which A. E. B. would attach to it. This is conclusive with me; for I hold that there is no sounder canon in Shakspearian criticism than never to introduce by conjecture a word of which the poet does not himself elsewhere make use, or which is not at least strongly sanctioned by contemporary employment.
I therefore, as the passage is flat nonsense, return to the well-abused "corrector's" much modester emendation, "wants" for "means."
And now permit one word in defence of this deceased and untoward personage.
I think much of the unpopularity into which he has fallen with a certain class of critics, is owing to their not allowing him fair play.
Suppose a MS. placed in our hands, containing, beyond all doubt, what Mr. Collier's corrected second folio is alleged to contain, authoritative emendations of the text: what should we, à priori, expect to find in it?
That text is abominably corrupt beyond a doubt; it contains many impossible readings, which must be misprints or otherwise erroneous; it contains also many improbable readings, harsh, strained, mean, inadequate, and the like.
Now it is excessively unlikely that a truly corrected copy, could we find one, would remove all the impossible readings, and leave all the improbable ones.
It is still more unlikely that, in correcting the improbable passages, it would leave those to which Mr. A., or Mr. B., or Mr. C., ay, or all of us together, have formed an attachment from habit, predilection, or prejudice of some kind. Such phrases as "the blanket of the dark," "a man that hath had losses," "unthread the rude eye of rebellion," and many more, have become consecrated in our eyes by habit; they have assumed, as it were, the character of additions to our ordinary vocabulary; and yet I think sound reason itself, and that kind of secondary reason or instinct which long familiarity with critical pursuits gives us, combine to suggest that, occurring in a corrupt text, they are probably corruptions; and corruptions in lieu of some very common and even prosaic phrases, such as the corrector substitutes for them, and such as no conjectural critic would venture on.
In short, the kind of disappointment which many of these corrections unavoidably give to the reader, is with me an argument in favour of their genuineness, not against it.
And, lastly, in so very corrupt a text, it is à priori probable that many phrases which appear to need no correction at all, are misprints or
mistakes nevertheless. It is probably that the true text of the poet contained many variations utterly unimportant, as well as others of importance, from the printed one. Now here it is precisely, that we find in the corrector what we should anticipate, and what it is difficult to account for on any theory disparaging his authority. What could have induced him to make such substitutions as swift for "sweet," then for "there," all arose for "are arose," solemn for "sorry," fortune for "nature," to quote from a single play, the Comedy of Errors, which happens to lie before me,—none of them necessary emendations, most of them trivial, unless he had under his eye some original containing those variations, to which he wished his own copy to conform? It is surely wild guessing to attribute corrections like these to a mere wanton itch for altering the text; and yet no other alternative is suggested by the corrector's enemies.
I am myself as yet a sceptic in the matter, being very little disposed to hasty credulity on such occasions, especially where there is a possibility of deceit. But I must say that the doctrine of probabilities seems to me to furnish strong arguments in the corrector's favour; and that the attacks of professed Shakspearian critics on him, both in and out of "N. & Q.," have hitherto rather tended to raise him in my estimation.
H. M.
Aristotle's Checks v. Aristotle's Ethics.—
"Only, good master, while we do admire
This virtue, and this moral discipline,
Let's be no stoicks, nor no stocks, I pray;
Or so devote to Aristotle's checks,
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd."
Taming of the Shrew, Act I. Sc. 1.
The following are instances of the use of the substantive check by Shakspeare:
"Orlando. A man that had a wife with such a wit, might say,—'Wit whither wilt?'
"Rosalind. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed."
"Falstaff. I never knew yet, but rebuke and check was the reward of valour."
"Antony. This is a soldier's kiss; rebukable,
And worthy shameful check it were to stand
On more mechanic compliment."
"Belarius. . . . O, this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check."
"Iago. However, this may gall him with some check.
"Desdemona. And yet his trespass, in our common reason
. . . . is not almost a fault
To incur a private check."
These instances may show that the word in question was a favourite expression of the poet. It is true there was a translation of the Ethics of Aristotle in his time, The Ethiques of Aristotle. If he spelt it ethiques, no printer would have blundered and substituted checks.
Judge Blackstone suggested ethicks, but Johnson and Steevens kept to checks. And Johnson, in his Dictionary, sub voce Devote, quotes the passage, but which, by a strange printer's misreading, is referred to "Tim. of Ath." instead of Tam. of Sh. in Todd's edit. of Johnson's Dictionary (1818).
W. N.
Pall Mall.