Preface to the Works of Shakespeare (1734)

In Short

This preface serves as a manifesto for the scholarly editing of English literature. Facing a corrupted tradition of Shakespeare’s plays—marred by unauthorized transcriptions and sloppy printing—the editor sets forth a systematic program of collation and linguistic analysis to recover the author’s original voice. It is a vital historical bridge, moving beyond mere appreciation to the professional work of textual restoration. Its enduring importance lies in its insistence that an editor must possess both deep historical knowledge and the courage to make reasoned, evidence-based corrections to a damaged inheritance.

The Story

The narrative begins with a passionate defense of Shakespeare’s creative power. The editor invites the reader to admire the poet’s mastery of character, his ability to craft unique, lifelike portraits, and his profound psychological insight. Moving from the artistic to the biographical, the text addresses the playwright’s life in Stratford, including the famous, likely apocryphal, anecdote involving a deer-stealing incident and a subsequent grudge against a local magistrate. By examining the subtle satirical references in The Merry Wives of Windsor, the editor paints a portrait of a man who, while capable of wit and biting humor, possessed a fundamental candor and good nature.

The argument then shifts to the state of the texts themselves. The editor details the chaotic history of how these plays reached the public. Because the original manuscripts were often treated as private company property, many versions were surreptitiously copied by shorthand or printed from incomplete, stage-worn parts. This historical negligence left the plays riddled with errors that have obscured the author’s meaning for generations. The editor argues that these "desperate" passages cannot simply be ignored; they demand a disciplined, scholarly intervention.

A central conflict emerges as the editor challenges the prevailing views of the time, particularly those held by previous critics like Alexander Pope. The editor critiques the "arbitrary" and "tyrannical" nature of past editorial practices, where editors would delete or rewrite lines based on personal taste rather than historical evidence. In response, the editor outlines a new, transparent methodology: the diligent collation of all available early editions and a deep study of the language, customs, and classical influences of the Elizabethan era.

The argument culminates in a rigorous defense of "literal criticism." Rather than indulging in the "ostentatious affectation" of abstruse learning, the editor advocates for a balance between natural genius and scholarly art. By comparing Shakespeare’s diction to that of his contemporaries and the ancients, the editor demonstrates that the poet was not a rustic, unlettered talent, but a conscious craftsman whose work often pushed the boundaries of the English language.

The story concludes with a humble acknowledgment of the collaborative effort required for such an undertaking. The editor details the contributions of friends and scholars who helped scour the old folios and quartos, sacrificing their own time and resources to assist in the restoration. It is a closing statement of gratitude and integrity, affirming that the ultimate goal is not the vanity of the editor, but the honor of the poet whose "divine" voice, despite the ravages of time and corruption, still manages to break through with astonishing force and splendor.

How It Unfolds

The call to admiration The editor establishes the premise that Shakespeare’s work deserves profound study, noting that his characters are not mere caricatures but fully realized individuals who operate as independent, living beings.

The search for the man The text moves into biography, examining the playwright’s early life in Stratford and the influence of his environment on his dramatic output, particularly his use of music and satire.

The diagnosis of textual decay The editor explains why so many versions of the plays are faulty, attributing the corruption to the secrecy of theater companies, the use of shorthand, and the lack of authorized manuscripts.

The debate on editorial duty The argument addresses the tension between respecting an author’s text and the necessity of fixing obvious errors, rejecting both total inaction and unchecked, capricious alteration.

The methodology of restoration The editor details the tools of the trade, including the laborious collation of old copies, the comparison of sources, and the application of historical context to resolve linguistic obscurities.

The defense of the poet’s intellect The text confronts the myth that Shakespeare lacked learning, arguing instead that he possessed a sophisticated understanding of science and the ancients, even when he chose to adapt them in unconventional ways.

The final acknowledgment of assistance The work closes by highlighting the collaborative nature of this specific edition, thanking colleagues who provided access to rare books and joined in the weekly, meticulous study of the plays.

The People

Shakespeare is the central figure, portrayed as a man of vast, natural genius whose work is characterized by "openness, candour, and complacence." He is presented as a brilliant observer of human nature who suffered the misfortune of having his work disseminated by indifferent or incompetent printers.

The Editor acts as the tireless champion of the poet. Driven by a sense of professional duty and an indignation against previous, flawed scholarship, the editor views it as a moral imperative to rescue the text from "invincible darkness."

Mr. Pope represents the antagonist in the realm of criticism. The editor regards him with professional disdain, framing him as a critic who treats the text with a "wrong-headed sagacity" and whose personal attacks lack the basic "humanity" required of a true scholar.

The Learned Assistants, such as Hawley Bishop and William Warburton, serve as the essential, modest allies of the editor. They provide the necessary, laborious, and often expensive support—ranging from access to rare folios to the intellectual rigors of correspondence—that allows the project to move from a rough-hewn idea to a finished, reliable volume.

In Its Own Voice

Regarding the poet's unique ability to create characters that possess a life of their own:

"If we look into his Characters, and how they are furnish’d and proportion’d to the Employment he cuts out for them, how are we taken up with the Mastery of his Portraits!"

On the unfortunate state of the early texts:

"We are to consider him as a Writer, of whom no authentic Manuscript was extant; as a Writer, whose Pieces were dispersedly perform’d on the several Stages then in Being."

On the necessity of scholarly correction:

"But to be so very reserved and cautious, as to interpose no Relief or Conjecture, where it manifestly labours and cries out for Assistance, seems, on the other hand, an indolent Absurdity."

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the intellectual legitimacy of editorial work. It asks: what do we owe to the past? The editor posits that we owe it the dignity of accuracy. The book grapples with the tension between "art" and "nature," defending Shakespeare as a deliberate artist who used his "luxurious imagination" to navigate the complexities of his time. It confronts the problem of textual authority—how we can know what an author truly meant when the physical evidence is broken and scattered. Ultimately, it is a statement on the ethics of criticism, arguing that a scholar’s primary goal is to act as a clear, honest conduit between a great, misunderstood writer and a discerning, modern audience.

Why Read It Today

Readers who love the history of ideas will find this book deeply rewarding. It provides a rare, transparent window into the eighteenth-century mind, capturing the exact moment when the study of English literature shifted from casual reading to a serious, disciplined pursuit. There is a palpable, infectious excitement in the editor’s meticulous process—the thrill of matching a line of verse to a classical source or uncovering the true meaning behind a corrupted word.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the dense, formal prose and the intellectual rigor of the period. The book assumes a high level of classical literacy; the editor frequently cites Greek and Latin, and the tone is one of eighteenth-century polemic—measured, yet sharp. The language is elegant but can be challenging, requiring patience to navigate the long, complex sentences.

What lingers after reading is not just a deeper understanding of Shakespeare, but a profound appreciation for the "labour" of scholarship itself. You will come away with a clear sense of the human effort required to preserve the works we take for granted. It is an essential read for anyone who wants to understand how the canon of English literature was built, brick by brick, through the patience and conviction of those who refused to let great art vanish into the fog of history.