The Literary Remains of Samuel Taylor Coleridge - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel The Literary Remains of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Volume Ii Part 9 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
Act. ii. sc. 1. (Warburton's note.)
'King'. --let _higher_ Italy (Those _'bated_, that inherit but the fall Of the last monarchy) see, that you come Not to woo honor, but to wed it.
It would be, I own, an audacious and unjustifiable change of the text; but yet, as a mere conjecture, I venture to suggest 'b.a.s.t.a.r.ds,' for ''bated.' As it stands, in spite of Warburton's note I can make little or nothing of it. Why should the king except the then most ill.u.s.trious states, which, as being republics, were the more truly inheritors of the Roman grandeur?--With my conjecture, the sense would be;--'let higher, or the more northern part of Italy--(unless 'higher' be a corruption for 'hir'd,'--the metre seeming to demand a monosyllable) (those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds that inherit the infamy only of their fathers) see, &c.' The following 'woo' and 'wed' are so far confirmative as they indicate Shakspeare's manner of connexion by unmarked influences of a.s.sociation from some preceding metaphor. This it is which makes his style so peculiarly vital and organic. Likewise 'those girls of Italy' strengthen the guess. The absurdity of Warburton's gloss, which represents the king calling Italy superior, and then excepting the only part the lords were going to visit, must strike every one.
Ib. sc. 3.
'Laf'. They say, miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons to make modern and familiar, things supernatural and _causeless_.
Shakspeare, inspired, as it might seem, with all knowledge, here uses the word 'causeless' in its strict philosophical sense;--cause being truly predicable only of 'phenomena', that is, things natural, and not of 'noumena', or things supernatural.
Act iii. sc. 5.
'Dia'. The Count Rousillon:--know you such a one?
'Hel'. But by the ear that hears most n.o.bly of him; His face I know not.
Shall we say here, that Shakspeare has unnecessarily made his loveliest character utter a lie?--Or shall we dare think that, where to deceive was necessary, he thought a pretended verbal verity a double crime, equally with the other a lie to the hearer, and at the same time an attempt to lie to one's own conscience?
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
Act I. sc. 1.
'Shal'. The luce is the fresh fish, the salt fish is an old coat.
I cannot understand this. Perhaps there is a corruption both of words and speakers. Shallow no sooner corrects one mistake of Sir Hugh's, namely, 'louse' for 'luce,' a pike, but the honest Welchman falls into another, namely, 'cod' ('baccala') 'Cambrice' 'cot' for coat.
'Shal'. The luce is the fresh fish--
'Evans'. The salt fish is an old cot.
'Luce is a fresh fish, and not a louse;' says Shallow. 'Aye, aye,' quoth Sir Hugh; 'the _fresh_ fish is the luce; it is an old cod that is the salt fish.' At all events, as the text stands, there is no sense at all in the words.
'Ib.' sc. 3.
'Fal'. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of her husband's purse; she hath a legion of angels.
'Pist'. As many devils entertain; and 'To her, boy', say I.
Perhaps it is--
As many devils enter (or enter'd) swine; and _to her, boy_, say I:--
a somewhat profane, but not un-Shakspearian, allusion to the 'legion' in St. Luke's 'gospel.'
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
This play, which is Shakspeare's throughout, is to me the most painful--say rather, the only painful--part of his genuine works. The comic and tragic parts equally border on the [Greek (transliterated): misaeteon],--the one being disgusting, the other horrible; and the pardon and marriage of Angelo not merely baffles the strong indignant claim of justice--(for cruelty, with l.u.s.t and d.a.m.nable baseness, cannot be forgiven, because we cannot conceive them as being morally repented of;) but it is likewise degrading to the character of woman. Beaumont and Fletcher, who can follow Shakspeare in his errors only, have presented a still worse, because more loathsome and contradictory, instance of the same kind in the Night-Walker, in the marriage of Alathe to Algripe. Of the counterbalancing beauties of Measure for Measure, I need say nothing; for I have already remarked that the play is Shakspeare's throughout.
Act iii. sc. 1.
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where, &c.
This natural fear of Claudio, from the antipathy we have to death, seems very little varied from that infamous wish of Maecenas, recorded in the 101st epistle of Seneca:
_Debilem facito manu, Debilem pede, c.o.xa, &c._
Warburton's note.
I cannot but think this rather an heroic resolve, than an infamous wish.
It appears to me to be the grandest symptom of an immortal spirit, when even that bedimmed and overwhelmed spirit recked not of its own immortality, still to seek to be,--to be a mind, a will.
As fame is to reputation, so heaven is to an estate, or immediate advantage. The difference is, that the self-love of the former cannot exist but by a complete suppression and habitual supplantation of immediate selfishness. In one point of view, the miser is more estimable than the spendthrift;--only that the miser's present feelings are as much of the present as the spendthrift's. But 'caeteris paribus', that is, upon the supposition that whatever is good or lovely in the one coexists equally in the other, then, doubtless, the master of the present is less a selfish being, an animal, than he who lives for the moment with no inheritance in the future. Whatever can degrade man, is supposed in the latter case, whatever can elevate him, in the former.
And as to self;--strange and generous self! that can only be such a self by a complete divestment of all that men call self,--of all that can make it either practically to others, or consciously to the individual himself, different from the human race in its ideal. Such self is but a perpetual religion, an inalienable acknowledgment of G.o.d, the sole basis and ground of being. In this sense, how can I love G.o.d, and not love myself, as far as it is of G.o.d?
'Ib.' sc. 2.
Pattern in himself to know, Grace to stand, and virtue go.
Worse metre, indeed, but better English would be,--