Part 13 (2/2)
Mr. Greenwood, after rejecting a theory of some one, says, ”Far more likely does it appear that there was a great man of the time whose genius was capable of 'transforming dross into gold,' who took these plays, and, in great part, rewrote and revised them, leaving sometimes more, and sometimes less of the original work; and that so rewritten, revised, and transformed they appeared as the plays of 'Shake-speare.'” {229b}
This statement is made {229c} about ”these plays,” including t.i.tus Andronicus and Henry VI, while {229d} ”t.i.tus and the Trilogy of Henry VI are not the work of Shakespeare . . . his hand is probably not to be found at all in t.i.tus, and only once or twice in Henry VI, Part I,” though he probably made Parts II and III out of older plays.
I do not know where to have the critic. If Henry VI, Part I, and t.i.tus are in no sense by ”Shakespeare,” then neither ”Shakespeare nor Ben for him edited or had anything to do with the editing of the Folio. If either or both had to do with the editing, as the critic suggests, then he is wrong in denying Shakespearean origin to t.i.tus and Henry VI, Part I.
Of course one sees a way out of the dilemma for the great auto- Shakespeare himself, who, by one hypothesis, handed over the editing of his plays to Ben (HE, by Mr. Greenwood's ”supposing,” was deviling at literary jobs for Bacon). The auto-Shakespeare merely tells Ben to edit his plays, and never even gives him a list of them. Then Ben brings him the Folio, and the author looks at the list of Plays.
”Mr. Jonson,” he says, ”I have hitherto held thee for an honest scholar and a deserving man in the quality thou dost profess. But thou hast brought me a maimed and deformed printed copy of that which I did write for my own recreation, not wishful to be known for so light a thing as a poet. Moreover, thou hast placed among these my trifles, four plays to which I never put a finger, and others in which I had no more than a thumb. The Seneschal, Mr. Jonson, will pay thee what is due to thee; thy fardels shall be sent whithersoever thou wilt, and, Mary! Mr. Jonson, I bid thee never more be officer of mine.”
This painful discourse must have been held at Gorhambury,--if Ben edited the Folio--for Francis.
It is manifest, I hope, that about the Folio Mr. Greenwood speaks with two voices, and these very discordant. It is also manifest that, whoever wrote the plays left his materials in deep neglect, and that, when they were collected, some one gathered them up in extreme disorder. It is extraordinary that the Baconians and Mr. Greenwood do not see the fallacy of their own reasoning in this matter of the Folio. They constantly ridicule the old view that the actor, Will Shakspere (if, by miracle, he were the author of the plays), could have left them to take their fortunes. They are asked, what did other playwrights do in that age? They often parted with their whole copyright to the actors of this or that company, or to Henslowe. The new owners could alter the plays at will, and were notoriously anxious to keep them out of print, lest other companies should act them. As Mr. Greenwood writes, {231a} ”Such, we are told, was the universal custom with dramatists of the day; they 'kept no copies' of their plays, and thought no more about them. It will, I suppose, be set down to fanaticism that I should doubt the truth of this proposition, that I doubt if it be consonant with the known facts of human nature.” But whom, except Jonson, does Mr. Greenwood find editing and publis.h.i.+ng his plays? Beaumont, Fletcher, Heywood? No!
If the Great Unknown were dead in 1623, his negligence was as bad as Will's. If he were alive and revised his own work for publication, {231b} he did it as the office cat might have done it in hours of play. If, on the other side, he handed the editorial task over to Ben, {232a} then he did not even give Ben a list of his genuine works. Mr. Greenwood cites the case of Ben Jonson, a notorious and, I think, solitary exception. Ben was and often proclaimed himself to be essentially a scholar. He took as much pains in prefacing, editing, and annotating his plays, as he would have taken had the texts been those of Greek tragedians.
Finally, all Baconians cry out against the sottish behaviour of the actor, Will, if being really the author of the plays, he did not bestir himself, and bring them out in a collected edition. Yet no English dramatist ventured on doing such a thing, till Ben thus collected his ”works” (and was laughed at) in 1616. The example might have encouraged Will to be up and doing, but he died early in 1616. If Will were NOT the author, what care was Bacon, or the Unknown, taking of his many ma.n.u.script plays, and for the proper editing of those which had appeared separately in pamphlets? As indolent and casual as Will, the great Author, Bacon or another, left the plays to take their chances. Mr. Greenwood says that ”IF THE AUTHOR” (Bacon or somebody very like him) ”HAD BEEN CARELESS ABOUT KEEPING COPIES OF HIS Ma.n.u.sCRIPTS . . . ” {232b} What an ”if” in the case of the great Author! This gross neglect, infamous in Will, may thus have been practised by the Great Unknown himself.
In 1911 Mr. Greenwood writes, ”There is overwhelming authority for the view that t.i.tus Andronicus is not SHAKESPEAREAN at all.” {233a} In that case, neither Bacon, nor the Unknown, nor Ben, acting for either, can have been the person who put t.i.tus into the Folio.
CHAPTER XII: BEN JONSON AND SHAKESPEARE
The evidence of Ben Jonson to the ident.i.ty of Shakespeare the author with Shakspere the actor, is ”the strength of the Stratfordian faith,” says Mr. Greenwood. ”But I think it will be admitted that the various Jonsonian utterances with regard to 'Shakespeare' are by no means easy to reconcile one with the other.” {237a}
It is difficult to reply briefly to Mr. Greenwood's forty-seven pages about the evidence of Jonson. But, first, whenever in written words or in reported conversation, Ben speaks of Shakespeare by name, he speaks of his WORKS: in 1619 to Drummond of Hawthornden; in 1623 in commendatory verses to the Folio; while, about 1630, probably, in his posthumously published Discourses, he writes on Shakespeare as the friend and ”fellow” of the players, on Shakespeare as his own friend, and as a dramatist. On each of these three occasions, Ben's TONE varies. In 1619 he said no more to Drummond of Hawthornden (apparently on two separate occasions) than that Shakespeare ”lacked art,” and made the mistake about a wreck on the sea-coast of Bohemia.
In 1619, Ben spoke gruffly and briefly of Shakespeare, as to Drummond he also spoke disparagingly of Beaumont, whom he had panegyrised in an epigram in his own folio of 1616, and was again to praise in the commendatory verses in the Folio. He spoke still more harshly of Drayton, whom in 1616 he had compared to Homer, Virgil, Theocritus, and Tyraeus! He told an unkind anecdote of Marston, with whom he had first quarrelled and then made friends, collaborating with him in a play; and very generously and to his great peril, sharing his imprisonment. To Drummond, Jonson merely said that he ”beat Marston and took away his pistol.” Of Sir John Beaumont, brother of the dramatist, Ben had written a most hyperbolical eulogy in verse; luckily for Sir John, to Drummond Ben did not speak of him. Such was Ben, in panegyric verse hyperbolical; in conversation ”a despiser of others, and praiser of himself.” Compare Ben's three remarks about Donne, all made to Drummond. Donne deserved hanging for breaking metre; Donne would perish for not being understood: and Donne was in some points the first of living poets.
Mr. Greenwood's effort to disable Jonson's evidence rests on the contradictions in his estimates of Shakespeare's poetry, in notices scattered through some thirty years. Jonson, it is argued, cannot on each occasion mean Will. He must now mean Will, now the Great Unknown, and now--both at once. Yet I have proved that Ben was the least consistent of critics, all depended on the occasion, and on his humour at the moment. This is a commonplace of literary history.
The Baconians do not know it; Mr. Greenwood, if he knows it, ignores it, and bases his argument on facts which may be unknown to his readers. We have noted Ben's words of 1619, and touched on his panegyric of 1623. Thirdly, about 1630 probably, Ben wrote in his ma.n.u.script book Discourses an affectionate but critical page on Shakespeare as a man and an author. Always, in prose, and in verse, and in recorded conversation, Ben explicitly identified Shakspere (William, of Stratford) with the author of the plays usually ascribed to him. But the Baconian Judge Webb (in extreme old age), and the anti-Shakespearean Mr. Greenwood and others, choose to interpret Ben's words on the theory that, in 1623, he ”had his tongue in his cheek”; that, like Odysseus, he ”mingled things false with true,”
that THEY know what is true from what is false, and can undo the many knots which Ben tied in his tongue. How they succeed we shall see.
In addition to his three known mentions of Shakespeare by name (1619, 1623, 1630?), Ben certainly appears to satirise his rival at a much earlier date; especially as Pantalabus, a playwright in The Poetaster (1601), and as actor, poet, and plagiarist in an epigram, Poet-Ape, published in his collected works of 1616; but probably written as early as 1602. It is well known that in 1598 Shakespeare's company acted Ben's Every Man in His Humour. It appears that he conceived some grudge against the actors, and apparently against Shakespeare and other playwrights, for, in 1601, his Poetaster is a satire both on playwrights and on actors, whom he calls ”apes.” The apparent attacks on Shakespeare are just such as Ben, if angry and envious, would direct against him; while we know of no other poet-player of the period to whom they could apply. For example, in The Poetaster, Histrio, the actor, is advised to ingratiate himself with Pantalabus, ”gent'man parcel-poet, his father was a man of wors.h.i.+p, I tell thee.”
This is perhaps unmistakably a blow at Shakespeare, who had recently acquired for his father and himself arms, and the pleasure of writing himself ”gentleman.” This ”parcel-poet gent'man” ”pens lofty, in a new stalking style,”--he is thus an author, he ”pens,” and in a high style. He is called Pantalabus, from the Greek words for ”to TAKE UP ALL,” which means that, as poet, he is a plagiarist. Jonson repeats this charge in his verses called Poet-Ape -
”HE TAKES UP ALL,” makes each man's wit his own, And told of this, he slights it.”
In a scene added to The Poetaster in 1616, the author (Ben) is advised not
”With a sad and serious verse to wound Pantalabus, railing in his saucy jests,”
and obviously slighting the charges of plagiarism. Perhaps Ben is glancing at Shakespeare, who, if accused of plagiary by an angry rival, would merely laugh.
A reply to the Poetaster, namely Satiromastix (by Dekker and Marston?), introduces Jonson himself as babbling darkly about ”Mr.
Justice Shallow,” and ”an Innocent Moor” (Oth.e.l.lo?). Here is question of ”administering strong pills” to Jonson; THEN,
”What lumps of hard and indigested stuff, Of bitter SATIRISM, of ARROGANCE, Of SELF-LOVE, of DETRACTION, of a black And stinking INSOLENCE should we fetch up!”
This ”pill” is a reply to Ben's ”purge” for the poets in his Poetaster. Oh, the sad old stuff!
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