The Works of Samuel Johnson in Nine Volumes by Samuel Johnson

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The events, of which the principal are described according to history,
are produced without any art of connexion or care of disposition.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

The play of Timon is a domestick tragedy, and, therefore, strongly
fastens on the attention of the reader. In the plan there is not much
art, but the incidents are natural, and the characters various and
exact. The catastrophe affords a very powerful warning against that
ostentatious liberality, which scatters bounty, but confers no benefits,
and buys flattery, but not friendship.

In this tragedy are many passages perplexed, obscure, and probably
corrupt, which I have endeavoured to rectify or explain, with due
diligence; but having only one copy, cannot promise myself that my
endeavours will be much applauded.

TITUS ANDRONICUS.

All the editors and criticks agree with Mr. Theobald in supposing this
play spurious. I see no reason for differing from them; for the colour
of the style is wholly different from that of the other plays, and there
is an attempt at regular versification and artificial closes, not always
inelegant, yet seldom pleasing. The barbarity of the spectacles, and the
general massacre, which are here exhibited, can scarcely be conceived
tolerable to any audience; yet we are told by Jonson, that they were not
only borne, but praised. That Shakespeare wrote any part, though
Theobald declares it incontestable, I see no reason for believing.

The testimony produced at the beginning of this play, by which it is
ascribed to Shakespeare, is by no means equal to the argument against
its authenticity, arising from the total difference of conduct, language
and sentiments, by which it stands apart from all the rest. Meres had
probably no other evidence than that of a title-page, which, though in
our time it be sufficient, was then of no great authority; for all the
plays which were rejected by the first collectors of Shakespeare's
works, and admitted in later editions, and again rejected by the
critical editors, had Shakespeare's name on the title[14], as we must
suppose, by the fraudulence of the printers, who, while there were yet
no gazettes, nor advertisements, nor any means of circulating literary
intelligence, could usurp at pleasure any celebrated name. Nor had
Shakespeare any interest in detecting the imposture, as none of his fame
or profit was produced by the press.

The chronology of this play does not prove it not to be Shakespeare's.
If it had been written twenty-five years in 1614, it might have been
written when Shakespeare was twenty-five years old. When he left
Warwickshire I know not; but at the age of twenty-five it was rather too
late to fly for deer-stealing.

Ravenscroft, who in the reign of Charles II. revised this play, and
restored it to the stage, tells us, in his preface, from a theatrical
tradition, I suppose, which in his time might be of sufficient
authority, that this play was touched, in different parts, by
Shakespeare, but written by some other poet. I do not find Shakespeare's
touches very discernible.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

This play is more correctly written than most of Shakespeare's
compositions, but it is not one of those in which either the extent of
his views or elevation of his fancy is fully displayed. As the story
abounded with materials, he has exerted little invention; but he has
diversified his characters with great variety, and preserved them with
great exactness. His vicious characters sometimes disgust, but cannot
corrupt, for both Cressida and Pandarus are detested and contemned. The
comick characters seem to have been the favourites of the writer; they
are of the superficial kind, and exhibit more of manners than nature;
but they are copiously filled, and powerfully impressed.

Shakespeare has in his story followed, for the greater part, the old
book of Caxton, which was then very popular; but the character of
Thersites, of which it makes no mention, is a proof that this play was
written after Chapman had published his version of Homer[15].

CYMBELINE.

This play has many just sentiments, some natural dialogues, and some
pleasing scenes, but they are obtained at the expense of much
incongruity. To remark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the
conduct, the confusion of the names and manners of different times, and
the impossibility of the events in any system of life, were to waste
criticism upon unresisting imbecility, upon faults too evident for
detection, and too gross for aggravation.

KING LEAR.

The tragedy of Lear is deservedly celebrated among the dramas of
Shakespeare. There is, perhaps, no play which keeps the attention so
strongly fixed; which so much agitates our passions, and interests our
curiosity. The artful involutions of distinct interests, the striking
oppositions of contrary characters, the sudden changes of fortune, and
the quick succession of events, fill the mind with a perpetual tumult of
indignation, pity and hope. There is no scene which does not contribute
to the aggravation of the distress or conduct of the action, and scarce
a line which does not conduce to the progress of the scene. So powerful
is the current of the poet's imagination, that the mind, which once
ventures within it, is hurried irresistibly along.

On the seeming improbability of Lear's conduct, it may be observed, that
he is represented according to histories at that time vulgarly received
as true. And, perhaps, if we turn our thoughts upon the barbarity and
ignorance of the age to which this story is referred, it will appear not
so unlikely as while we estimate Lear's manners by our own. Such
preference of one daughter to another, or resignation of dominion on
such conditions, would be yet credible, if told of a petty prince of
Guinea or Madagascar. Shakespeare, indeed, by the mention of his earls
and dukes, has given us the idea of times more civilized, and of life
regulated by softer manners; and the truth is, that though he so nicely
discriminates, and so minutely describes the characters of men, he
commonly neglects and confounds the characters of ages, by mingling
customs ancient and modern, English and foreign.

My learned friend Mr. Warton, who has, in the Adventurer, very minutely
criticised this play, remarks, that the instances of cruelty are too
savage and shocking, and that the intervention of Edmund destroys the
simplicity of the story. These objections may, I think, be answered, by
repeating, that the cruelty of the daughters is an historical fact, to
which the poet has added little, having only drawn it into a series by
dialogue and action. But I am not able to apologize with equal
plausibility for the extrusion of Gloster's eyes, which seems an act too
horrid to be endured in dramatick exhibition, and such as must always
compel the mind to relieve its distress by incredulity. Yet let it be
remembered that our author well knew what would please the audience for
which he wrote.

The injury done by Edmund to the simplicity of the action is abundantly
recompensed by the addition of variety, by the art with which he is made
to co-operate with the chief design, and the opportunity which he gives
the poet of combining perfidy with perfidy, and connecting the wicked
son with the wicked daughters, to impress this important moral, that
villany is never at a stop, that crimes lead to crimes, and at last
terminate in ruin.

But though this moral be incidentally enforced, Shakespeare has suffered
the virtue of Cordelia to perish in a just cause, contrary to the
natural ideas of justice, to the hope of the reader, and, what is yet
more strange, to the faith of chronicles. Yet this conduct is justified
by the Spectator, who blames Tate for giving Cordelia success and
happiness in his alteration, and declares, that, in his opinion, "the
tragedy has lost half its beauty." Dennis has remarked, whether justly
or not, that, to secure the favourable reception of Cato, "the town was
poisoned with much false and abominable criticism," and that endeavours
had been used to discredit and decry poetical justice. A play in which
the wicked prosper, and the virtuous miscarry, may doubtless be good,
because it is a just representation of the common events of human life:
but since all reasonable beings naturally love justice, I cannot easily
be persuaded, that the observation of justice makes a play worse; or
that, if other excellencies are equal, the audience will not always rise
better pleased from the final triumph of persecuted virtue.

In the present case the publick has decided[16]. Cordelia, from the time
of Tate, has always retired with victory and felicity. And, if my
sensations could add any thing to the general suffrage, I might relate,
I was many years ago so shocked by Cordelia's death, that I know not
whether I ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till I
undertook to revise them as an editor.

There is another controversy among the criticks concerning this play. It
is disputed whether the predominant image in Lear's disordered mind be
the loss of his kingdom or the cruelty of his daughters. Mr. Murphy, a
very judicious critick, has evinced by induction of particular passages,
that the cruelty of his daughters is the primary source of his distress,
and that the loss of royalty affects him only as a secondary and
subordinate evil. He observes, with great justness, that Lear would move
our compassion but little, did we not rather consider the injured father
than the degraded king.

The story of this play, except the episode of Edmund, which is derived,
I think, from Sidney, is taken originally from Geoffry of Monmouth, whom
Holinshed generally copied; but, perhaps, immediately from an old
historical ballad. My reason for believing that the play was posterior
to the ballad, rather than the ballad to the play, is, that the ballad
has nothing of Shakespeare's nocturnal tempest, which is too striking to
have been omitted, and that it follows the chronicle; it has the
rudiments of the play, but none of its amplifications: it first hinted
Lear's madness, but did not array it in circumstances. The writer of the
ballad added something to the history, which is a proof that he would
have added more, if more had occurred to his mind, and more must have
occurred if he had seen Shakespeare.

ROMEO AND JULIET.

This play is one of the most pleasing of our author's performances. The
scenes are busy and various, the incidents numerous and important, the
catastrophe irresistibly affecting, and the process of the action
carried on with such probability, at least with such congruity to
popular opinions, as tragedy requires.

Here is one of the few attempts of Shakespeare to exhibit the
conversation of gentlemen, to represent the airy sprightliness of
juvenile elegance. Mr. Dryden mentions a tradition, which might easily
reach his time, of a declaration made by Shakespeare, that "he was
obliged to kill Mercutio in the third act, lest he should have been
killed by him." Yet he thinks him "no such formidable person, but that
he might have lived through the play, and died in his bed," without
danger to the poet. Dryden well knew, had he been in quest of truth,
that, in a pointed sentence, more regard is commonly had to the words
than the thought, and that it is very seldom to be rigorously
understood. Mercutio's wit, gaiety and courage, will always procure him
friends that wish him a longer life; but his death is not precipitated,
he has lived out the time allotted him in the construction of the play;
nor do I doubt the ability of Shakespeare to have continued his
existence, though some of his sallies are, perhaps, out of the reach of
Dryden; whose genius was not very fertile of merriment, nor ductile to
humour, but acute, argumentative, comprehensive and sublime.

The nurse is one of the characters in which the author delighted; he
has, with great subtilty of distinction, drawn her at once loquacious
and secret, obsequious and insolent, trusty and dishonest.

His comick scenes are happily wrought, but his pathetick strains are
always polluted with some unexpected depravations. His persons, however
distressed, have a conceit left them in their misery, a miserable
conceit.

HAMLET.

If the dramas of Shakespeare were to be characterized, each by the
particular excellence which distinguishes it from the rest, we must
allow to the tragedy of Hamlet the praise of variety. The incidents are
so numerous, that the argument of the play would make a long tale. The
scenes are interchangeably diversified with merriment and solemnity;
with merriment, that includes judicious and instructive observations;
and solemnity, not strained by poetical violence above the natural
sentiments of man. New characters appear from time to time in continual
succession, exhibiting various forms of life and particular modes of
conversation. The pretended madness of Hamlet causes much mirth, the
mournful distraction of Ophelia fills the heart with tenderness, and
every personage produces the effect intended, from the apparition that,
in the first act, chills the blood with horrour, to the fop, in the
last, that exposes affectation to just contempt.

The conduct is, perhaps, not wholly secure against objections. The
action is, indeed, for the most part, in continual progression, but
there are some scenes which neither forward nor retard it. Of the
feigned madness of Hamlet there appears no adequate cause[17], for he
does nothing which he might not have done with the reputation of sanity.
He plays the madman most, when he treats Ophelia with so much rudeness,
which seems to be useless and wanton cruelty.

Hamlet is, through the whole piece, rather an instrument than an agent.
After he has, by the stratagem of the play, convicted the king, he makes
no attempt to punish him; and his death is at last effected by an
incident which Hamlet had no part in producing.

The catastrophe is not very happily produced; the exchange of weapons
is rather an expedient of necessity, than a stroke of art. A scheme
might easily have been formed to kill Hamlet with the dagger, and
Laertes with the bowl.

The poet is accused of having shown little regard to poetical justice,
and may be charged with equal neglect of poetical probability. The
apparition left the regions of the dead to little purpose; the revenge
which he demands is not obtained, but by the death of him that was
required to take it; and the gratification, which would arise from the
destruction of an usurper and a murderer, is abated by the untimely
death of Ophelia, the young, the beautiful, the harmless, and the pious.

OTHELLO.

The beauties of this play impress themselves so strongly upon the
attention of the reader, that they can draw no aid from critical
illustration. The fiery openness of Othello, magnanimous, artless, and
credulous, boundless in his confidence, ardent in his affection,
inflexible in his resolution, and obdurate in his revenge; the cool
malignity of Iago, silent in his resentment, subtle in his designs, and
studious at once of his interest and his vengeance; the soft simplicity
of Desdemona, confident of merit, and conscious of innocence, her
artless perseverance in her suit, and her slowness to suspect that she
can be suspected, are such proofs of Shakespeare's skill in human
nature, as, I suppose, it is vain to seek in any modern writer. The
gradual progress which Iago makes in the Moor's conviction, and the
circumstances which he employs to inflame him, are so artfully natural,
that, though it will, perhaps, not be said of him as he says of himself,
that he is "a man not easily jealous," yet we cannot but pity him, when
at last we find him "perplexed in the extreme."

There is always danger, lest wickedness, conjoined with abilities,
should steal upon esteem, though it misses of approbation; but the
character of Iago is so conducted, that he is, from the first scene to
the last, hated and despised.

Even the inferiour characters of this play would be very conspicuous in
any other piece, not only for their justness, but their strength. Cassio
is brave, benevolent and honest, ruined only by his want of stubbornness
to resist an insidious invitation. Roderigo's suspicious credulity, and
impatient submission to the cheats which he sees practised upon him, and
which, by persuasion, he suffers to be repeated, exhibit a strong
picture of a weak mind betrayed by unlawful desires to a false friend;
and the virtue of Aemilia is such as we often find, worn loosely, but
not cast off, easy to commit small crimes, but quickened and alarmed at
atrocious villanies.

The scenes, from the beginning to the end, are busy, varied by happy
interchanges, and regularly promoting the progression of the story; and
the narrative, in the end, though it tells but what is known already,
yet is necessary to produce the death of Othello.

Had the scene opened in Cyprus, and the preceding incidents been
occasionally related, there had been little wanting to a drama of the
most exact and scrupulous regularity.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Mr. Heath, who wrote a Revisal of Shakespeare's text, published in
8vo. circa 1760.

[2] This is not a blunder of Shakespeare's, but a mistake of Johnson's,
who considers the passage alluded to in a more literal sense than
the author intended it. Sir Proteus, it is true, had seen Silvia for
a few moments; but though he could form from thence some idea of her
person, he was still unacquainted with her temper, manners, and the
qualities of her mind. He, therefore, considers himself as having
seen her picture only. The thought is just and elegantly expressed.
So in the Scornful Lady, the elder Loveless says to her, "I was mad
once when I loved pictures. For what are _shape_ and _colours_ else
but _pictures?_"--Mason in Malone's Shak. iv. 137.--Ed.

[3] In the Three Ladies of London, 1584, is the character of an Italian
merchant, very strongly marked by foreign pronunciation. Dr.
Dodypoll, in the Comedy which bears his name, is, like Caius, a
French physician. This piece appeared, at least, a year before The
Merry Wives of Windsor. The hero of it speaks such another jargon as
the antagonist of Sir Hugh, and, like him, is cheated of his
mistress. In several other pieces, more ancient than the earliest of
Shakespeare's, provincial characters are introduced--Steevens.

In the old play of Henry V. French soldiers are introduced speaking
broken English.--Boswell.

[4] See, however, Dr. Drake's Essays on Rambler &c. ii. 392.--Ed.

[5] Johnson's concluding observation on this play, is not conceived with
his usual judgment. There is no analogy or resemblance whatever
between the fairies of Spenser, and those of Shakespeare. The
fairies of Spenser, as appears from his description of them in the
second book of the Faerie Queene, Canto 10. were a race of mortals
created by Prometheus, of the human size, shape, and affections, and
subject to death. But those of Shakespeare, and of common tradition,
as Johnson calls them, were a diminutive race of sportful beings,
endowed with immortality and supernatural power, totally different
from those of Spenser.--M. MASON.

[6] The first novel of the fourth day. An epitome of the novels, from
which the story of this play is supposed to be taken, is appended to
it in Malone's edition, v. 154.

[7] This opinion of the character of Bertram is examined at considerable
length in the New Monthly Magazine, iv. 481.--Ed.

[8] The notion that Shakespeare revised this play, though it has long
prevailed, appears to me extremely doubtful; or to speak more
plainly, I do not believe it. MALONE. See too the Essay on the
Chronological order of Shakespeare's plays, Malone's edition, ii.

[9] For a full discussion of this point, see the Dissertation on the
three parts of King Henry VI. tending to show that those plays were
not written originally by Shakespeare. The dissertation was written
by Malone, and pronounced by Porson to be one of the most convincing
pieces of criticism he had ever met with. Malone's Shakespeare,
xviii. 557.

[10] See this opinion controverted. Malone's Shakespeare, xviii. 550.
--Ed.

[11] This paragraph, apparently so unconnected with the preceding,
refers to some critical dissertations on the character of Vice.
They may be found in Malone's Shakespeare, xix. 244. See likewise
Pursuits of Literature, Dialogue the First.--Ed.

[12] Chetwood says, that during one season it was exhibited 75 times.
See his History of the Stage, p. 68.--Ed.

[13] Dr. Johnson told Mrs. Siddons that he admired her most in this
character.--Mrs. Piozzi.

[14] This statement is not quite accurate concerning the seven spurious
plays, which the printer of the folio in 1664 improperly admitted
into his volume. The name of Shakespeare appears only in the
title-pages of four of them: Pericles, Sir John Oldcastle, the
London Prodigal, and the Yorkshire Tragedy. Malone's Shak. xxi. 382.

[15] The first seven books of Chapman's Homer were published in the year
1596, and again in 1598. The whole twenty-four of the Iliad
appeared in 1611.--STEEVENS.

[16] Dr. Johnson should rather have said that the managers of the
theatres-royal have decided, and that the public has been obliged
to acquiesce in their decision. The altered play has the upper
gallery on its side; the original drama was patronized by Addison:
Victrix causa _Diis_ placuit, sed victa _Catomi_. LUCAN. Malone's
Shak. x. 290.

[17] See, however, Mr. Boswell's long and erudite note in his
Shakespeare, vii. 536. "Il me semble," says Madame De Stael, "cu'en
lisant cette tragedie, on distingue parfaitement dans Hamlet
l'egarement reel a travers l'egarement affecte."--Mme. De Stael de
la Litterature, c. xiii. See also Schlegel in his Dramatic
literature, ii.--Ed.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE
HARLEIAN LIBRARY.

To solicit a subscription for a catalogue of books exposed to sale, is
an attempt for which some apology cannot but be necessary; for few would
willingly contribute to the expense of volumes, by which neither
instruction nor entertainment could be afforded, from which only the
bookseller could expect advantage, and of which the only use must cease,
at the dispersion of the library[1].

Nor could the reasonableness of an universal rejection of our proposal
be denied, if this catalogue were to be compiled with no other view,
than that of promoting the sale of the books which it enumerates, and
drawn up with that inaccuracy and confusion which may be found in those
that are daily published.

But our design, like our proposal, is uncommon, and to be prosecuted at
a very uncommon expense: it being intended, that the books shall be
distributed into their distinct classes, and every class ranged with
some regard to the age of the writers; that every book shall be
accurately described; that the peculiarities of editions shall be
remarked, and observations from the authors of literary history
occasionally interspersed; that, by this catalogue, we may inform
posterity of the excellence and value of this great collection, and
promote the knowledge of scarce books, and elegant editions. For this
purpose, men of letters are engaged, who cannot even be supplied with
amanuenses, but at an expense above that of a common catalogue.

To show that this collection deserves a particular degree of regard from
the learned and the studious, that it excels any library that was ever
yet offered to publick sale, in the value, as well as number, of the
volumes, which it contains; and that, therefore, this catalogue will not
be of less use to men of letters, than those of the Thuaniau, Heinsian,
or Barberinian libraries, it may not be improper to exhibit a general
account of the different classes, as they are naturally divided by the
several sciences.

By this method we can, indeed, exhibit only a general idea, at once
magnificent and confused; an idea of the writings of many nations,
collected from distant parts of the world, discovered sometimes by
chance, and sometimes by curiosity, amidst the rubbish of forsaken
monasteries, and the repositories of ancient families, and brought
hither from every part, as to the universal receptacle of learning.

It will be no unpleasing effect of this account, if those that shall
happen to peruse it, should be inclined by it to reflect on the
character of the late proprietors, and to pay some tribute of veneration
to their ardour for literature, to that generous and exalted curiosity
which they gratified with incessant searches and immense expense, and to
which they dedicated that time, and that superfluity of fortune, which
many others of their rank employ in the pursuit of contemptible
amusements, or the gratification of guilty passions. And, surely, every
man, who considers learning as ornamental and advantageous to the
community, must allow them the honour of publick benefactors, who have
introduced amongst us authors, not hitherto well known, and added to the
literary treasures of their native country.

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