The Estate had now been sold out of the Clopton Family for above a Century, at the Time when Shakespeare became the Purchaser: who, having repair’d and modell’d it to his own Mind, chang’d the Name to New-place; which the Mansion-house, since erected upon the same Spot, at this day retains. The House and Lands, which attended it, continued in Shakespeare’s Descendants to the Time of the Restoration: when they were repurchased by the Clopton Family, and the Mansion now belongs to Sir Hugh Clopton, Knt. To the Favour of this worthy Gentleman I owe the Knowledge of one Particular, in Honour of our Poet’s once Dwelling-house, of which, I presume, Mr. Rowe never was appriz’d. When the Civil War raged in England, and K. Charles the First’s Queen was driven by the Necessity of Affairs to make a Recess in Warwickshire, She kept her Court for three Weeks in New-place. We may reasonably suppose it then the best private House in the Town; and her Majesty preferr’d it to the College, which was in the Possession of the Combe-Family, who did not so strongly favour the King’s Party.
How much our Author employ’d himself in Poetry, after his Retirement from the Stage, does not so evidently appear: Very few posthumous Sketches of his Pen have been recover’d to ascertain that Point. We have been told, indeed, in Print, but not till very lately, That two large Chests full of this Great Man’s loose Papers and Manuscripts, in the Hands of an ignorant Baker of Warwick, (who married one of the Descendants from our Shakespeare) were carelesly scatter’d and thrown about, as Garret-Lumber, and Litter, to the particular Knowledge of the late Sir William Bishop, till they were all consumed in the general Fire and Destruction, of that Town. I cannot help being a little apt to distrust the Authority of this Tradition; because as his Wife surviv’d him seven Years, and as his Favourite Daughter Susanna surviv’d her twenty six Years, ’tis very improbable, they should suffer such a Treasure to be remov’d, and translated into a remoter Branch of the Family, without a Scrutiny first made into the Value of it. This, I say, inclines me to distrust the Authority of the Relation: but, notwithstanding such an apparent Improbability, if we really lost such a Treasure, by whatever Fatality or Caprice of Fortune they came into such ignorant and neglectful Hands, I agree with the Relater, the Misfortune is wholly irreparable.
To these Particulars, which regard his Person and private Life, some few more are to be glean’d from Mr. Rowe’s Account of his Life and Writings: His Character as a Writer. Let us now take a short View of him in his publick Capacity, as a Writer: and, from thence, the Transition will be easy to the State in which his Writings have been handed down to us.
No Age, perhaps, can produce an Author more various from himself, than Shakespeare has been universally acknowledg’d to be. The Diversity in Stile, and other Parts of Composition, so obvious in him, is as variously to be accounted for. His Education, we find, was at best but begun: and he started early into a Science from the Force of Genius, unequally assisted by acquir’d Improvements. His Fire, Spirit, and Exuberance of Imagination gave an Impetuosity to his Pen: His Ideas flow’d from him in a Stream rapid, but not turbulent; copious, but not ever overbearing its Shores. The Ease and Sweetness of his Temper might not a little contribute to his Facility in Writing; as his Employment, as a Player, gave him an Advantage and Habit of fancying himself the very Character he meant to delineate. He used the Helps of his Function in forming himself to create and express that Sublime, which other Actors can only copy, and throw out, in Action and graceful Attitude. But Nullum fine Veniâ placuit Ingenium, says Seneca. The Genius, that gives us the greatest Pleasure, sometimes stands in Need of our Indulgence. Whenever this happens with regard to Shakespeare, I would willingly impute it to a Vice of his Times. We see Complaisance enough, in our own Days, paid to a bad Taste. His Clinches, false Wit, and descending beneath himself, seem to be a Deference paid to reigning Barbarism. He was a Sampson in Strength, but he suffer’d some such Dalilah to give him up to the Philistines.
As I have mention’d the Sweetness of his Disposition, I am tempted to make a Reflexion or two on a Sentiment of his, which, I am persuaded, came from the Heart.
The Man, that hath no Musick in himself,
Nor is not mov’d with Concord of sweet Sounds,
Is fit for Treasons, Stratagems, and Spoils:
The Motions of his Spirit are dull as Night,
And his Affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such Man be trusted.——
A Lover of Musick. Shakespeare was all Openness, Candour, and Complacence; and had such a Share of Harmony in his Frame and Temperature, that we have no Reason to doubt, from a Number of fine Passages, Allusions, Similies, &c. fetch’d from Musick, but that He was a passionate Lover of it. And to this, perhaps, we may owe that great Number of Sonnets, which are sprinkled thro’ his Plays. I have found, that the Stanza’s sung by the Gravedigger in Hamlet, are not of Shakespeare’s own Composition, but owe their Original to the old Earl of Surrey’s Poems. Many other of his Occasional little Songs, I doubt not, but he purposely copied from his Contemporary Writers; sometimes, out of Banter; sometimes, to do them Honour. The Manner of their Introduction, and the Uses to which he has assigned them, will easily determine for which of the Reasons they are respectively employ’d. In As you like it, there are several little Copies of Verses on Rosalind, which are said to be the right Butter-woman’s Rank to Market, and the very false Gallop of Verses. Dr. Thomas Lodge, a Physician who flourish’d early in Queen Elizabeth’s Reign, and was a great Writer of the Pastoral Songs and Madrigals, which were so much the Strain of those Times, composed a whole Volume of Poems in Praise of his Mistress, whom he calls Rosalinde. I never yet could meet with this Collection; but whenever I do, I am persuaded, I shall find many of our Author’s Canzonets on this Subject to be Scraps of the Doctor’s amorous Muse: as, perhaps, those by Biron too, and the other Lovers in Love’s Labour’s lost, may prove to be.
It has been remark’d in the Course of my Notes, that Musick in our Author’s time had a very different Use from what it has now. At this Time, it is only employ’d to raise and inflame the Passions; it, then, was apply’d to calm and allay all kinds of Perturbations. And, agreeable to this Observation, throughout all Shakespeare’s Plays, where Musick is either actually used, or its Powers describ’d, it is chiefly said to be for these Ends. His Twelfth-Night, particularly, begins with a fine Reflexion that admirably marks its soothing Properties.
That Strain again;—It had a dying Fall.
Oh, it came o’er my Ear like the sweet South,
That breathes upon a Bank of Violets,
Stealing and giving Odour!
This Similitude is remarkable not only for the Beauty of the Image that it presents, but likewise for the Exactness to the Thing compared. This is a way of Teaching peculiar to the Poets; that, when they would describe the Nature of any thing, they do it not by a direct Enumeration of its Attributes or Qualities, but by bringing something into Comparison, and describing those Qualities of it that are of the Kind with those in the Thing compared. So, here for instance, the Poet willing to instruct in the Properties of Musick, in which the same Strains have a Power to excite Pleasure, or Pain, according to that State of Mind the Hearer is then in, does it by presenting the Image of a sweet South Wind blowing o’er a Violet-bank; which wafts away the Odour of the Violets, and at the same time communicates to it its own Sweetness: by This insinuating, that affecting Musick, tho’ it takes away the natural sweet Tranquillity of the Mind, yet, at the same time, communicates a Pleasure the Mind felt not before. This Knowledge, of the same Objects being capable of raising two contrary Affections, is a Proof of no ordinary Progress in the Study of human Nature. Milton an Imitator of him. The general Beauties of those two Poems of Milton, intitled, L’Allegro and Il Pensoroso, are obvious to all Readers, because the Descriptions are the most poetical in the World; yet there is a peculiar Beauty in those two excellent Pieces, that will much enhance the Value of them to the more capable Readers; which has never, I think, been observ’d. The Images, in each Poem, which he raises to excite Mirth and Melancholy, are exactly the same, only shewn in different Attitudes. Had a Writer, less acquainted with Nature, given us two Poems on these Subjects, he would have been sure to have sought out the most contrary Images to raise these contrary Passions. And, particularly, as Shakespeare, in the Passage I am now commenting, speaks of these different Effects in Musick; so Milton has brought it into each Poem as the Exciter of each Affection: and lest we should mistake him, as meaning that different Airs had this different Power, (which every Fidler is proud to have you understand,) He gives the Image of those self-same Strains that Orpheus used to regain Eurydice, as proper both to excite Mirth and Melancholy. But Milton most industriously copied the Conduct of our Shakespeare, in Passages that shew’d an intimate Acquaintance with Nature and Science.