very earnest, though, it may be, an irregular student, no one can doubt: the numerous felicitous allusions, throughout his dramas, to the history and mythology of the ancients, prove that, if not a critical scholar, he was deeply imbued with the true spirit of classical literature, and possessed a most discriminating taste to seize upon their beauties, and make them his own.1 In 1582, when but eighteen years of age, he married Anne Hathaway, a farmer's daughter, who was seven years older than himself, and who resided near Stratford. In this place he continued for a few years, probably engaged in the business of his father, that of a woolstapler; but an increasing family and pressing wants2 obliged him to move beyond the limits of Stratford for subsistence and for fame; and, accordingly, in 1586 or 1587 he removed to London.3 On his arrival at London, his first employment was that of an actor, a profession which he continued to exercise more or less for at least seventeen years. He soon, however, began to write for the stage, his first effort, "Pericles, Prince of Tyre," being written about 1590;4 and such was the unexampled success of his unequalled dramas, that he soon became proprietor of several theatres, 1 "If it were asked from what sources Shakspeare drew his abundant streams of wisdom, carrying with their current the fairest and most unfading flowers of poetry, I should be tempted to say, that he had what would now be considered a very reasonable portion of Latin; he was not wholly ignorant of Greek; he had a knowledge of French so as to read it with ease, and I believe not less of the Italian. He was habitually conversant in the chronicles of his country. He lived with wise and highly cultivated men; with Jonson, Essex, and Southampton, in familiar friendship. HE HAD DEEPLY IMBIBED THE SCRIPTURES: and his own most acute, profound, active, and original genius must take the lead in the solution." Croft's Preface to his "Aphorisms from Shakspeare.' 2 I have said nothing of the traditional story of his deer-stealing, because there is not a particle of historical evidence of its truth. 3 "It is impossible to contemplate Shakspeare's removal from his native town, without pausing to reflect upon the consequences that followed that event. Had he not left his humble occupation in Warwickshire, how many matchless lessons of wisdom and morality, how many unparalleled displays of wit and imagination, of pathos and sublimity, had been buried in oblivion; pictures o emotion, of character, of passion, more profound than mere philosophy had ever conceived, more impressive than poetry had ever yet embodied." Drake's "Shakspeare and his Times," i. 412. 4 The following is a chronological list of his plays, taken from Drake's "Shakspeare and his Times," omitting of course Titus Andronicus: 1. Pericles, 2. Comedy of Errors, 3. Love's Labor's Lost, 1590. 19. Much Ado about Nothing, • 30. Antony and Cleopatra, 1608. Though Titus Andronicus is bound up in all the editions of Shakspeare, yet there is no probability that he wrote it. Drake says it should be expunged from every edition of the great bard. from which he received a very ample income-estimated as equivalent tu about five thousand dollars of our money now. Though he lived in familiar intercourse with the nobles, the wits, and the poets of his day, he looked forward to the time when he should retire to his native town, and with this view he purchased New Place, the principal house in Stratford, with more than a hundred acres of ground attached. "The year 1612 has been assigned as the date of his final retirement to the country. In the fulness of his fame, with a handsome competency, and before age had chilled the enjoyment of life, the poet returned to his native town to spend the remainder of his days among the quiet scenes and the friends of his youth. Four years were spent by Shakspeare in this dignified retirement, and the history of literature scarcely presents another such picture of calm felicity and satisfied ambition. He died on the 23d of April, 1616, having just completed his fifty-second year. His widow survived him seven years. He had three children, one son and two daughters. The former died in 1596. Both the latter were married, and one had three sons, but all these died without issue, and there now remains no lineal representative of the great poet." So many authors having written upon Shakspeare and his dramas, some of whom are referred to in the note, it is deemed unnecessary here to go into a critical examination of his character. Indeed it would be hardly possible to say any thing new. The subject seems to be exhausted. And to write in eulogy would be somewhat presumptuous, when he has so exquisitely pronounced his own: To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. One of his contemporaries, Ben Jonson, thus characterizes him :-" I loved the man, and do honor to his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He was, indeed, honest, and of an open and free nature: had an excellent fancy, brave notions, and gentle expressions; wherein he flowed with that facility that sometimes it was necessary it should be stopped. His wit was in his own power; would the rule of it had been so too! But he redeemed his vices with his virtues; there was even more in him to be praised than pardoned." But Dryden has portrayed his genius in the following nervous and masterly lines, which have been served up to us in a diluted state by many a modern critic:-"To begin, then, with Shakspeare. He was the man who, of all modern and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of nature were still present to him, and he drew them, not laboriously, but luckily: when he describes any thing, you more than see it-you feel it too. Those who accuse him to have wanted learning, give him the greater commendation: he was naturally learned; he needed not the spectacles of books to read nature; he looked inwards and found her there. I cannot say he is everywhere alike; were he so, I should do him injury to com. pare him with the greatest of mankind. He is many times flat and insipid; his comic wit degenerating into clenches, his serious swelling into bombast. But he is always great when some great occasion is presented to him; no man can say he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets, Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi. 1 The consideration of this, made Mr. Hales of Eaton say, 'that there was no subject of which any poet ever wrote, but he would produce it much better done in Shakspeare," " The difficulty of making selections from Shakspeare must be obvious to every one. So numerous and diversified are his characters, so varied his style, suited to every description of poetry and of fiction, and so many gems of wit, humor, satire, and pathos, everywhere present themselves, that the mind is perplexed what to choose. But we must begin. THE THREE CASKETS. Portia, a beautiful and accomplished heiress, is sought in marriage by a large number of suitors, whose fate is to be determined by the choice they make of one of three caskets, "gold, silver, and base lead." The following are the comments of three of the suitors: Enter Portia, with the Prince of Morocco. Por. Now make your choice. Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears;~ Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince: Mor. Some god direct my judgment! Let me see, What says this leaden casket? Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath. Do it in hope of fair advantages: A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross; If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, As much as I deserve!-Why, that's the lady; 1 As the cypresses are wont to do among the slender shrubs. 2 That is, as gross as the dull metal. What if I stray'd no further, but chose here?- Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may! Por. There, take it, prince, and if my form lie there, Mor. What have we here? [Unlocking the golden casket. A carrion death, within whose empty eye There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing Often have you heard that told: Cold, indeed; and labor lost: Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost.- To take a tedious leave: thus losers part. [Exit. Enter Prince of Arragon. Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince: Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things: Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fail Of the right casket, never in my life To woo a maid in way of marriage; lastly, Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear, Ar. And so have I address'd' me: Fortune now Builds in the weather, on the outward wall, Even in the force2 and road of casualty. 1 Address'd me-prepared me; that is, I have prepared myself by the same ceremonies. The power. I will not choose what many men desire, Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume O, that estates, degrees, and offices Were not derived corruptly! and that clear honor And instantly unlock my fortunes here. Por. Too long a pause for that which you find there. How much unlike art thou to Portia ! How much unlike my hopes, and my deservings! Ar. What is here? The fire seven times tried this Seven times tried that judgment is, There be fools alive, I wis,2 Still more fool I shall appear By the time I linger here: With one fool's head I came to woo, But I go away with two. Sweet, adieu! I'll keep my oath, Patiently to bear my wroth.3 Enter Bassanio. Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselves; The world is still deceived with ornament. In law what plea so tainted and corrupt, 1 The meaning is, how much meanness would be found among the great, and how much greatness among the mean. 2 I know. 8 My misfortune. |