E'er shall it in safety rest, Meet me all by break of day. 497 [Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and Train. PUCK. If we shadows have offended, Think but this, (and all is mended,) kind of benediction occurs in Chaucer's Miller's Tale, v. 3479, Tyrwhitt's edition: "I crouche thee from elves, and from wightes. "And on the threswold of the dore withoute. "Blisse this hous from every wicked wight, "Fro the nightes mare, the wite Paternoster," &c. STEEVENS. - an honest Puck,] See Mr. Tyrwhitt's note, &c. Act II. sc. i. on the words" sweet Puck." STEevens. 1 - unearned luck-] i. e. if we have better fortune than we have deserved. STEEVENS. Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,] That is, if we be dismissed without hisses. JOHNSON. So, in J. Markham's English Arcadia, 1607: "But the nymph, after the custom of distrest tragedians, whose first act is entertained with a snaky salutation," &c. STEEVENS. VOL. IV. K K Else the Puck a liar call. So, good night unto you you all. Give me your hands,3 if we be friends, [Exit.' Give me your hands,] That is, Clap your hands. Give us your applause. JOHNSON. 4 Wild and fantastical as this play is, all the parts in their various modes are well written, and give the kind of pleasure which the author designed. Fairies in his time were much in fashion; common tradition had made them familiar, and Spen ser's poem had made them great. JOHNSON. Johnson's concluding observation on this play, is not conceived with his usual judgment. There is no analogy or re semblance whatever between the Fairies of Spenser, and those of Shakspeare. The Fairies of Spenser, as appears from his description of them in the second book of the Fairy Queen, canto x. were a race of mortals created by Prometheus, of the human size, shape, and affections, and subject to death. But those of Shakspeare, 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, See pp. 369, 370, 371. And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, &c. &c. &c.] Dr. Warburton, whose ingenuity and acuteness have been long admired, is now, I believe, pretty generally thought to have sometimes seen not only what no other person would ever have been able to discover, but what, in reality, unless in his own playful imagination, did not exist. Criticism is a talisman, which has, on more than one occasion, dispelled the illusion of this mighty magician. I shall not dispute, that, by the fair vestal, Shakspeare intended a compliment to Queen Elizabeth, who, I am willing to believe, at the age of sixty-eight, was no less chaste than beautiful; but whether any other part of Oberon's speech have an allegorical meaning or not, I presume, in direct opposition to Dr. Warburton, to contend that it agrees with any other rather than with Mary Queen of Scots. The "mixture of satire and panegyrick" I shall examine anon: I only wish to know, for the present, why it would have been "inconvenient for the author to speak openly" in "dispraise" of the Scotish Queen. If he meant to please "the imperial votress," no incense could have been half so grateful as the blackest calumny. But, it seems, "her successor would not forgive her satirist." Who then was her "successor" when this play was written? Mary's son, James? I am persuaded that, had Dr. Warburton been better read in the history of those times, he would not have found this monarch's succession quite so certain, at that period, as to have prevented Shakspeare, who was by no means the refined speculatist he would induce one to suppose, from gratifying the "fair vestal" with sentiments so agreeable to her. However, if "the poet has so well marked out every distinguishing circumstance of her life and character, in this beautiful allegory, as will leave no room to doubt about his secret meaning," there is an end of all controversy. For, though the satire would be cowardly, false, and infamous, yet, since it was couched under an allegory, which, while perspicuous as glass to Elizabeth, would have become opake as a mill-stone to her successor, Shakspeare, lying as snug as his own Ariel in a cowslip's bell, would have had no reason to apprehend any ill consequences from it. Now, though our speculative bard might not be able to foresee the sagacity of the Scotish king in smelling out a plot, as I believe it was some years after that he gave any proof of his excellence that way, he could not but have heard of his being an admirable witch-finder; and, surely, the skill requisite to detect a witch must be sufficient to develope an allegory; so that I must needs question the propriety of the compliment here paid to the poet's prudence. Queen Mary "is called a Mermaid, 1. to denote her reign over a kingdom situate in the sea." In that respect at least Elizabeth was as much a mermaid as herself. "And 2. her beauty and intemperate lust; for as Elizabeth for her chastity is called a Vestal, this unfortunate lady, on a contrary account, is called a mermaid." All this is as false as it is foolish: The mermaid was never the emblem of lust; nor was the " gentle Shakspeare" of a character or disposition to have insulted the memory of a murdered princess by so infamous a charge. The most abandoned libeler, even Buchanan himself, never accused her of " intemperate lust;" and it is pretty well understood at present that, if either of these ladies were remarkable for her purity, it was not Queen Elizabeth. "3. An ancient story may be supposed to be here alluded to: the Emperor Julian tells us that the Sirens (which with all the modern poets are mermaids) contended for precedency with the Muses, who overcoming them took away their wings." Can any thing be more ridiculous? Mermaids are half women and half fishes: where then are their wings? or what possible use could they make of them if they had any? The Sirens which Julian speaks of were partly women and partly birds: so that "the pollusion," as good-man Dull hath it, by no means "holds in the exchange." "The quarrels between Mary and Elizabeth had the same cause and the same issue." That is, they contended for precedency, and Elizabeth overcoming took away the others wings. The secret of their contest for precedency should seem to have been confined to Dr. Warburton: It would be in vain to enquire after it in the history of the time. The Queen of Scots, indeed, flew for refuge to her treacherous rival, (who is here again the mermaid of the allegory, alluring to destruction, by her songs or fair speeches,) and wearing, it should seem, like a cherubim, her wings on her neck, Elizabeth, who was deter mined she should fly no more, in her eagerness to tear them away, happened inadvertently to take off her head. The situa tion of the poet's mermaid, on a dolphin's back, "evidently marks out that distinguishing circumstance in Mary's fortune, her marriage with the dauphin of France." A mermaid would seem to have but a strangely aukward seat on the back of a dolphin; but that, to be sure, is the poet's affair, and not the commentators: the latter, however, is certainly answerable for placing a Queen on the back of her husband: a very extraor dinary situation one would think, for a married lady; and of which I only recollect a single instance, in the common print of 66 a poor man loaded with mischief." Mermaids are supposed to sing, but their dulcet and harmonious breath must in this in stance to suit the allegory, allude to "those great abilities of genius and learning," which rendered Queen Mary "the most accomplished princess of her age." This compliment could not fail of being highly agreeable to the "fair Vestal." "By the rude sea is meant Scotland incircled with the ocean, which rose up in arms against the regent, while she [Mary] was in France. But her return home quieted these disorders: and had not her strange ill conduct afterwards more violently inflamed them, she might have passed her whole life in peace." Dr. Warburton, whose skill in geography seems to match his knowledge of his tory and acuteness in allegory, must be allowed the sole merit of discovering Scotland to be an island. But, as to the disorders of that country being quieted by the Queen's return, it appears from history to be full as peaceable before as it is at any time after that event. Whether, in the revival or continuance of these disorders, she, or her ideot husband, or fanatical subjecta were most to blame, is a point upon which doctors still differ; but, it is evident, that, if the enchanting song of the commentator's mermaid civilized the rude sea for a time, it was only to render it, in an instant, more boisterous than ever: those great abilities of genius and learning, which rendered her the most accomplished princess of her age, not availing her among a parcel of ferocious and enthusiastic barbarians, whom even the lyre of Orpheus had in vain warbled to humanize. Brantome, who accompanied her, says she was welcomed home by a mob of five or six hundred ragamuffins, who, in discord with the most execrable instruments, sung psalms (which she was supposed to dislike) under her chamber window: He! adds he, quelle musique & quelle repos pour sa nuit !" However, it seems "there is great justness and beauty in this image, as the vulgar opinion is, that the mermaid always sings in storms." "The vulgar opinion," I am persuaded, is peculiar to the ingenious commentator; as, if the mermaid is ever supposed to sing, it is in calms, which presage storms. I can perceive no propriety in calling the insurrection of the Northern earls the quarrel of Queen Mary, unless in so far as it was that of the religion she professed. But this perhaps is the least objectionable part of a chimerical allegory of which the poet himself had no idea, and which the commentator, to whose creative fancy it owes its existence, seems to have very justly characterized, in telling us it is "out of nature;" that is, as I conceive, perfectly groundless and unnatural. RITSON. END OF VOL. IV. |