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to Count Nesselrode, (dated 16th October cal and commercial interests than any new com1825,) that "should foreign injustice and bination which would have compelled us either jealousy resist our just demands, it becomes to extend our dominions too rapidly by conquest, our duty to manifest our firmness, and to or to substitute in place of the Ottoman Empire other states which might soon become our rivals in maintain by force the rights which force power, civilisation, industry, and riches. It is would presume to deny to us. If other powers upon this principle of his Imperial Majesty that are to take up arms against us, we must be our present relations with the Divan are estabresolved to defend ourselves to the last, with- lished. Since we thus do not wish the ruin of the out any fear of what the vicissitudes of war Turkish Government, we seek the means of mainor fortune may bring about; and it is im-taining it in its present dependent state. Since this Government cannot be useful to us except possible to act otherwise without sacrificing the dignity, the rights, and the interests of by its dependence, we must demand from it a strict observance of its engagements and a Russia, which have been endangered." prompt realization of our wishes."-Recueil, Prince Lieven, Russian Ambassador in Eng-p. 60.

land, coincides, in his despatch on the same Here is exactly the state of things presubject, (dated 18th October 1825,) with dicted by Thugut in 1774:-that Russia will the opinion of Pozzo di Borgo, and concludes seek to govern Turkey in the name of the with the following words :-" If next spring Sultan until the favourable moment comes finds Russia in the same position in which for taking formal possession of the Turkish she is now, war alone can cut short her diffi- dominions. Does the Emperor of Russia, culties, and this war must be prompt, and we may ask, consider that this "favourable take Europe by surprise."* Diplomacy, moment" has now arrived? Rather, is he however, on that occasion gained its point, not afraid lest the rapid progress which Turwithout having recourse to arms. It seems key is making in every kind of social imthat the Cabinet of St. Petersburg was satis-provement shall render such an occurrence fied with the position in which Turkey was impossible? Does he not perceive that the placed towards Russia, in 1829, by the treaty progress of civilisation and religious liberty of Adrianople. That position is described among the Christian population of Turkey by Count Nesselrode,t in a despatch address- must render them every day more and more ed (on the 12th February 1830) to the Grand averse to a connexion with Russia; that it Duke Constantine in the following remarka- will soon be impossible to convert even the natural bonds of a common race and religion into snares for imposing the Muscovite yoke

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· It depended upon our own armies to march on Constantinople, and to overthrow the Turkish Empire. No power would have opposed it. No upon the Christians of Turkey,-and, finally, immediate danger would have threatened us if that the spread of Protestantism, propagated we had given the last blow to the Ottoman mon- among the Armenians by the American misarchy in Europe. But the Emperor was of sionaries, and which, according to the evidence opinion, that this monarchy, reduced to exist only of Mr. Layard, has, in these years, made great under the protection of Russia, and made to obey progress, will not only gain ground among the no other wishes than hers, suited better our politi-Greeks and Slavonians of Turkey, but thence *These curious despatches have been very re- spreading, diffuse itself through the Russian cently published at Paris, under the title of Recueil Church,-a contingency which would be more des documents utiles à consulter dans la crise actuelle. dangerous to the absolute authority of the Czar, and to the ascendency of the Russian politico

+ Count Nesselrode was commissioned by the Emperor to give the Grand Duke Constantine a periodical account of the state of the foreign relations of Rus-religious power, than any secular conspiracy, or perhaps even than a European war?

sia.

THE

NORTH BRITISH REVIEW.

No. XL.

FOR FEBRUARY, 1854.

ART. I.-1. Notes and Emendations to the the production. The moral spirit either of Text of Shakespeare's Plays, from Early a literary composition, an Ode of Horace Manuscript Corrections in a copy of the or Anacreon, for instance, or of a picture or Folio 1632, in the possession of J. PAYNE a statue, makes no part of its artistic chaCOLLIER, Esq., F.S.A. 8vo. London, racter. Art, in fact, to speak plainly, is 1852. Pp. 538. nothing more than a cunning; and, like 2. The Plays of Shakespeare: The Text any other cunning or skill, it may be exertregulated by the Old Copies, and by the ed, in any of its forms or degrees, for a bad recently discovered Folio of 1632, con- end as well as for a good one, or in obeditaining Early Manuscript Emendations. ence to vicious as well as to virtuous impulEdited by J. PAYNE COLLIER, Esq., F.S.A. ses. The thought or feeling itself is quite 8vo. London, 1853. Pp. 900.

It must be admitted that the science of Verbal Criticism has not had the fortune to acquire much of the veneration of the general mind, or of those who know nothing about it. It might at first appear as if the Omne ignotum pro magnifico did not hold in this case. But the fact is, that there is not suspected to be any thing about the branch of learning in question which is either magnificent or unknown. Professing to concern itself only about words, it is supposed to relate to nothing that can be very new, or of much importance to anybody.

a distinct thing from its artistic expression. The same conception or belief which in one man expresses itself artistically, may in another express itself only in conduct or action, or may not express itself at all. Expression of any kind is not an absolute necessity of thought. Of course, the more vivid or impassioned any thought is, the more strongly will it tend to express itself in some way or other. But neither clear nor even methodical thinking is the same thing with or any part of the artistic. The most methodical thinking is only logic, not art.

On the other hand, the connexion which expression has with thought is much more Yet, if we deny the importance of words, intimate than many people suppose. They we must deny a good deal. It is of words have been taught to regard it as merely alone that all writing, all literature consists. something in which thought is attired. But It all takes the shape of words. Whatever expression is much more than the dress of else may be the originating force or the el- thought. It would be nearer the mark to ementary material, a contexture of words call it the blossom of thought, or to say is the finished fabric. That is the only form that it was to thought and emotion what in which thought or feeling can manifest it- the flame is to its sustaining heat. It is not self to us in literature. The criticism of a foreign annexation to thought, but its outwords, therefore, is really the whole doc growth or product, its continuation, a part trine of literature considered as an artistic of itself. It springs from the thought, as product. For it is the expression alone in much as the portion of the plant that is which Art of every kind distinctively re- visible above the ground springs from what sides. What lies behind the expression of it is hidden below. The two are really, may be something of much greater moment, so to speak, one substance, or the one is but it is no part of the artistic character of only the other in a different form. This

VOL. XX.

11

sets expression very high. It is the reflec- Now we will not deny that something of tion of thought, if you will, or its picture, all this does or may occasionally happen. or its impression, or it is thought crystal- Whatever be the field or the object of conlized, or reduced from the fluid or gaseous templation, only let the mind be strongly to the solid state; in any way of looking at excited, and there is hardly any deformity it, or figuring it, it is still essentially thought. in what it admires that it will not overlook, It follows, that, generally speaking, or in or any deficiency which it will not in some every case in which the expression is of sort supply out of its own resources. But any moment at all, there can be only one the creative power thus called into activity adequate expression for the same thought. is always dependent, at least for the characChange the expression, and you change that ter or quality of what it produces, upon the which is expressed. You change, if not ac- native capacity and acquired intelligence of tually the thing said, at least, in a greater the mind. The commonest lunatic may or less degree, the effect with which it is people his chamber with grinning demons; said. And the more complex, or subtle, or the grotesque and the hideous are the weeds delicate the thought, the more liable it is to of the mind, and spring up readily in any be affected by any alteration of the words soil; but we must not take quite au pied de in which it is conveyed. In no writing that la lettre what we are told about the lover is really artistic can even a syllable be alter- seeing in the Egyptian brow of any rustic ed except for either the better or the worse. Audrey or Jaquenetta that may have inIt is common to meet, both in talk and in flamed his fancy the beauty of the incomprint, with the notion that it is only the parable Helen. He may see as much of it writer of inferior genius, or no true genius as the amount of the sense of the beautiful at all, whose compositions are very much with which he is endowed will allow him to dependent for their effect upon the words imagine. And even the lover most gifted which he employs. The original thinker, in this way would probably find his brightit is argued, or the great inventive poet, est imaginations outshone and dimmed by need scarcely mind in what words he ex- the sight of the real Helen. presses himself. His power, which resides People who believe that the perfection of in his matter, will make itself be felt the expression is little or nothing in writing, through any disadvantages of manner. Or, are usually, in truth, indebted for their simalthough his expression should to a consid- ple creed to their want of the requisite erable extent be lost or corrupted, it would amount of qualification and perception to be of little consequence. So long as enough enable them to judge of such matters. They remains from which to gather his meaning, are much in the condition of those lovers of we have all that we need care for. And music with whom the neglect of the sharps the example which is most frequently ap- and flats counts for nothing, and who somepealed to by our English preachers of this times think their taste for melody all the doctrine is that of Shakespeare. Any of truer and purer on that account. It is no his plays, we are told, will, after all, interest doubt an advantage which such a reader has and charm an unsophisticated reader as over others in the perusal of a corrupted text much in the worst text or edition as in the of any great writer, that he is insensible or best. The other qualities or ingredients of less sensible of its defects. What distresses the work make us, or ought to make us, a finer organization, or a more learned and quite forget the words. We have the story, cultivated taste, gives him no annoyance. we have the characters, the situations, the Flats or sharps, true concords or false, in meeting and contending passions, all that tune or out of tune, it is all, within certain constitutes the action of the drama; we liberal limits, the same to him, and very have all that really make the imitation of satisfactory music. It is as good as he has life and nature in the ever animated and any notion of or feeling for. But any highpictured page; even the rich and felicitous er excellence is a thing for which he has no imagery, and the deep philosophy, cannot sense, and all art properly so called is be more than very slightly obscured, and thrown away upon him. His coarse and that in most cases only for a moment, by undiscriminating voracity is a hunger only, any injury which the expression may have not a taste. sustained. Nothing, in short, is destroyed; Least of all is a reader so easily pleased, some things are only made perhaps a little more difficult of apprehension, or a little less striking at first sight, than they would otherwise have been. The royal form is unmistakeable, for all the beggar's rags that flutter about it.

and of so undistinguishing an appetite, the person to enjoy and appreciate the art of Shakespeare. It is evident that with Shakespeare words were as much things of life as thoughts themselves. At one time, indeed, his sensitiveness in regard to language

sidered his own, must have been so written,
the expression was throughout, and in every
sentence and every syllable, as happy as the
thought. His feeling of all the proprieties
of language was evidently exquisite, and his
mastery over its resources boundless. We
cannot, therefore conceive of him as ever
breaking down or failing in that.
If in any
instance we were to admit that he had done
so, we should be driven to suppose that the
passage had been written when he was half
asleep. In him nothing could account for
imperfect expression but indistinct or half
thinking. We believe that usually thought
and expression were one act of his mind;
that is to say, that, whenever the conception
had assumed its ultimate and complete
form, it had likewise shaped itself into
words, into the words best suited for it, or
the only words by which it could be ade-
quately expressed; but if it should in any
case have happened that the fitting words
should not at once have presented them-
selves, we have no notion that he would
ever have satisfied himself with others that
gave only a dim or distorted representation
of what he wished to say. The right words
would be certain to be found by the effort
of a few moments. It is impossible to ima-
gine such a writer ever descending to the
lazy and helpless expedient of taking any
words that might merely have a chance of

seems to have verged upon something almost morbid or preternatural. In the earliest of his purely original writing and in vention we may discern the traces of his having a distinct perception of every sylla ble, both in its sense and in its sound, in its meaning and in its music, somewhat such as one has of the throbbing of the pulse in certain abnormal states. It is as if they each flashed visibly before his eyes, or hit him a slight blow, as they rose to his thoughts. In the plays belonging to this period, the love of word-catching, that horror of his modern critics, which never altogether left him, may be said to be indulged in as an end rather than as a means, and as if he could not help it, or at least without any ef fort to restrain or control it. Perhaps we may say that we have him abjuring or bidding farewell to that form of the style in Love's Labour's Lost, where in the closing scene, Rosalind imposes upon Biron the penalty of trying the effect of his incessant mocks and comparisons and flouts for a twelvemonth upon wretches speechless from disease or groaning with pain, as the true way "to check a jibing spirit," and to weed that wormwood from his too fruitful brain. But it is only the original form or rather spirit of so favourite a mode of writing and thinking that he then abandons or makes his escape from; in Richard the Second and in Romeo and Juliet, both serious, even suggesting his meaning, or a part of it, and deeply tragic dramas, the sporting with words and syllables goes on as fast as ever, with this difference only, that now it is no longer a mere display of ingenuity for its own sake, or out of very wantonness or prodigality of power, but, even when it is most fantastic, almost always what we recognise to be in the circumstances the truest and most forcible expression of carnestness or passion. Nor, although there is much less of it in his later works, and he is there completely lord of his art, did he deem it necessary ever absolutely to debar himself from dallying upon occasion with what the critics contemptuouly call a verbal conceit or quibble:-we all remember the lofty Johnsonian taunt of "the fatal Cleopatra," and the comparison of the unhappy poet to his own Antony, or rather Dryden's, in that regard. Yes; we must admit that Shakespeare continued to the last to be keenly alive to every thing that there is in words, but weak whenever it ceased to be inactive. although we may not be quite of opinion that in the indulgence of this susceptibility he either lost the world or was content to lose it.

We believe that in whatever Skakespeare wrote with his whole heart and soul, and we think that all the plays properly to be con

so leaving what he ought to do himself to be half done for him, if done at all, by the reader. If we could suppose Shakespeare to have been in the habit of writing upon that principle, we should be obliged to deny altogether his claim to be regarded as an artistic writer. He would not deserve to be called even a good writer, but rather only a very bad one. For always, be it remembered, what is not the right word is a wrong one. To hesitate in regard to this point in the case of Shakespeare is in truth only a remnant of the old prejudice which, admitting his genius, really did refuse him all credit for any knowledge of the art of writing, and looked upon him as nothing better than an inspired semi-barbarian. It was a theory entirely self-contradictory, and as absurd and incredible as it would be to say of any force in nature that it was at once strong and weak, strong naturally and inherently,

But if Shakespeare's expression were of the inartistic character supposed, his case would certainly be a singular one in the literature of the world. Of no other great writer of a poetical order, in any language, could the same thing be predicated. With regard to each and all of them, from Homer to Goethe,

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