Claude Mignault, in his notes to Alciatus (Emb. 153), quotes an epigram, from an unknown Greek author, which Hector is supposed to have uttered as he was dragged by the Grecian chariot,—
The Troilus and Cressida (act v. sc. 8, l. 21, vol. vi. p. 259) exhibits the big, brutal Achilles exulting over his slain enemy, and giving the infamous order,—
And afterwards (act v. sc. 10, l. 4, vol. vi. p. 260) the atrocities are recounted to which Hector’s body was exposed,—
The description thus given accords with that of Alciatus, Reusner, and Whitney, in reference to the saying, “We must not struggle with phantoms.” Alciat’s stanzas (Emb. 153) are,—
Thus rendered by Whitney (p. 127), with the same device,—
Reusner’s lines, which have considerable beauty, may thus be rendered,—
The device itself, in these three authors, is a representation of Hares biting a dead Lion; and in this we find an origin for the words used in King John (act ii. sc. 1, l. 134, vol. iv. p. 17), to reprove the Archduke of Austria. Austria demands of Philip Faulconbridge, “What the devil art thou?” and Philip replies,—
Immediately references follow to other fables, or to their pictorial representations,—
in allusion to the fable of the fox or the ass hunting in a lion’s skin. Again (l. 141),—
a sentiment evidently suggested to the poet’s mind by some device or emblem in which the incongruity had found a place. Farther research might clear up this and other unexplained allusions in Shakespeare to fables or proverbs; but there is no necessity for attempting this in every instance that occurs.
“Friendship enduring even after death,” might receive a variety of illustrations. The conjugal relation of life frequently exemplifies its truth; and occasionally there are friends who show still more strongly how death hallows the memory of the departed, and makes survivors all the more faithful in their love. As the emblem of such fidelity and affection Alciat (Emb. 159) selects the figures of the elm and the vine.[143]
The consociation in life is not forgotten; and though the supporting tree should die, the twining plant still grasps it round and adorns it with leaves and fruit.
To which lines Whitney (p. 62) gives for interpretation the two stanzas,—
The Emblems of Joachim Camerarius,—Ex Re Herbaria (edition 1590, p. 36),—have a similar device and motto,—
And in the Emblems of Otho Vænius (Antwerp, 1608, p. 244), four lines of Alciat being quoted, there are both English and Italian versions, to—
And,—
It is in the Comedy of Errors (act ii. sc. 2, l. 167, vol. i. p. 417) that Shakespeare refers to this fable, when Adriana addresses Antipholus of Syracuse,—
With a change from the vine to the ivy a very similar comparison occurs in the Midsummer Night’s Dream (act iv. sc. 1, l. 37, vol. ii. p. 250). The infatuated Titania addresses Bottom the weaver as her dearest joy,—
The fable of the Fox and the Grapes is admirably represented in Freitag’s Mythologia Ethica (p. 127), to the motto, “Feigned is the refusal of that which cannot be had,”—
Freitag, 1579.
The fable itself belongs to an earlier work by Gabriel Faerni, and there exemplifies the thought, “to glut oneself with one’s own folly,”—
Whitney takes possession of Faerni’s fable, and gives the following translation (p. 98), though by no means a literal one,—
Plantin, the famed printer of Antwerp, had, in 1583, put forth an edition of Faerni’s fables,[144] and thus undoubtedly it was that Whitney became acquainted with them; and from the intercourse then existing between Antwerp and London it would be strange if a copy had not fallen into Shakespeare’s hands.
Owing to some malady, the King of France, in All’s Well that Ends Well (act ii. sc. 1, l. 59, vol. iii. p. 133), is unable to go forth to the Florentine war with those whom he charges to be “the sons of worthy Frenchmen.” Lafeu, an old lord, has learned from Helena some method of cure, and brings the tidings to the king, and kneeling before him is bidden to rise,—
The fox, indeed, has always been a popular animal, and is the subject of many fables which are glanced at by Shakespeare;—as in the Two Gentlemen of Verona (act iv. sc. 4, l. 87, vol. i. p. 143), when Julia exclaims,—
Or in 2 Henry VI. (act iii. sc. 1, l. 55, vol. v. p. 153), where Suffolk warns the king of “the bedlam brain-sick duchess” of Gloucester,—
And again, in 3 Henry VI. (act iv. sc. 7, l. 24, vol. v. p. 312), the cunning creature is praised by Gloucester in an “aside,”—
The bird in borrowed plumes, or the Jackdaw dressed out in Peacock’s feathers, was presented, in 1596, on a simple device, not necessary to be produced, with the motto, “Qvod sis esse velis,”—Be willing to be what thou art.
It is in the Third Century of the Symbols and Emblems of Joachim Camerarius (No. 81), and by him is referred to Æsop,[145] Horace, &c.; and the recently published Microcosm, the 1579 edition of which contains Gerard de Jode’s fine representation of the scene.
Shakespeare was familiar with the fable. In 2 Henry VI. (act iii. sc. 1, l. 69, vol. v. p. 153), out of his simplicity the king affirms,—
But Margaret, his strong-willed queen, remarks (l. 75),—
In Julius Cæsar (act i. sc. 1, l. 68, vol. vii. p. 322), Flavius, the tribune, gives the order,—
and immediately adds (l. 72),—
But more forcibly is the spirit of the fable expressed, when of Timon of Athens (act ii. sc. 1, l. 28, vol. vii. p. 228) a Senator, who was one of his importunate creditors, declares,—
The fable of the Oak and the Reed, or, the Oak and the Osier, has an early representation in the Emblems of Hadrian Junius, Antwerp, 1565, though by him it is applied to the ash. “Εἴξας νικᾶ,” or, Victrix animi equitas,—“By yielding conquer,” or, “Evenness of mind the victrix,”—are the sentiments to be pictured forth and commented on. The device we shall take from Whitney; but the comment of Junius runs thus (p. 49),—
Whitney adopts the same motto (p. 220), “He conquers who endures;” but while retaining from Junius the ash-tree in the pictorial illustration, he introduces into his stanzas “the mightie oke,” instead of the “stout ash.” From Erasmus (in Epist.) he introduces an excellent quotation, that “it is truly the mark of a great mind to pass over some injuries, nor to have either ears or tongue ready for certain revilings.”
Whitney, 1586.
On several occasions Shakespeare introduces this fable, and once moralises on it quite in Whitney’s spirit, if not in his manner. It is in the song of Guiderius and Arviragus from the Cymbeline (act iv. sc. 2, l. 259, vol. ix. p. 257),—
Less direct is the reference in the phrase from Troilus and Cressida (act i. sc. 3, l. 49, vol. vi. p. 143),—
To the same purport are Cæsar’s words (Julius Cæsar, act i. sc. 3, l. 5, vol. vii. p. 334),—
In Love’s Labour’s Lost (act iv. sc. 2, l. 100, vol. ii. p. 138), the Canzonet, which Nathaniel reads, recognises the fable itself,—
We have, too, in Coriolanus (act v. sc. 2, l. 102, vol. vi. p. 403) the lines, “The worthy fellow is our general: He is the rock; the oak not to be wind shaken.”
This phrase is to be exampled from Otho Vænius (p. 116), where occur the English motto and stanza, “Strengthened by trauaile,”—
In several instances it is difficult to determine whether expressions which have the appearance of glancing at fables really do refer to them, or whether they are current sayings, passing to and fro without any defined ownership. Also it is difficult to make an exact classification of what belongs to the fabulous and what to the proverbial. Of both we might collect many more examples than those which we bring forward; but the limits of our subject remind us that we must, as a general rule, confine our researches and illustrations to the Emblem writers themselves. We take this opportunity of saying that we may have arranged our instances in an order which some may be disposed to question; but mythology, fable, and proverb often run one into the other, and the knots cannot easily be disentangled. Take a sword and cut them; but the sword though sharp is not convincing.
Horapollo, ed. 1551.
PROVERBS are nearly always suggestive of a little narrative, or of a picture, by which the sentiment might be more fully developed. The brief moral reflections appended to many fables partake very much of the nature of proverbs. Inasmuch, then, as there is this close alliance between them, we might consider the Proverbial Philosophy of Shakespeare only as a branch of the Philosophy of Fable; still, as there are in his dramas many instances of the use of the pure proverb, and instances too of the same kind in the Emblem writers, we prefer making a separate Section for the proverbs or wise sayings.
Occasionally, like the Sancho Panza of his renowned contemporary, Michael de Cervantes Saavedra, 1549–1616,[146] Shakespeare launches “a leash of proverbial philosophies at once;” but with this difference, that the dramatist’s application of them is usually suggestive either of an Emblem-book origin, or of an Emblem-book destination. The example immediately in view is from the scene (3 Henry VI., act i. sc. 4, l. 39, vol. v. p. 245) in which Clifford and Northumberland lay hands of violence on Richard Plantagenet, duke of York; the dialogue proceeds in the following way, York exclaiming,—
The queen entreats Clifford, “for a thousand causes,” to withhold his arm, and Northumberland joins in the entreaty,—
Clifford and Northumberland seize York, who struggles against them (l. 61),—
York is taken prisoner, as he says (l. 63),—
The four or five notions or sayings here enunciated a designer or engraver could easily translate into as many Emblematical devices, and the mind which uses them, as naturally as if he had invented them, must surely have had some familiarity with the kind of writing of which proverbs are the main source and foundation.
In this connection we will quote the proverb which “Clifford of Cumberland” (2 Henry VI., act v. sc. 2, l. 28, vol. vi. p. 217) utters in French at the very moment of death, and which agrees very closely with similar sayings in Emblem-books by French authors,—Perriere and Corrozet,—and still more in suitableness to the occasion on which it was spoken, the end of life.
York and Clifford,—it is the elder of that name,—engage in mortal combat (l. 26),—
At the point of death Clifford uses the words (l. 28), La fin couronne les œuvres.[148]—“The end crowns the work.” It was, no doubt, a common proverb; but it is one which would suggest to the Emblem writer his artistic illustration, and, with a little change, from some such illustration it appears to have been borrowed. Whitney (p. 130) records a resemblance to it among the sayings of the Seven Sages, dedicated “to Sir Hvghe Cholmeley Knight,”—
Perriere, 1539.
The two French Emblems alluded to above are illustrative of the proverb, “The end makes us all equal,” and both use a very appropriate and curious device from the game of chess. Take, first, Emb. 27 from Perriere’s Theatre des Bons Engins: Paris, 1539,—
The other, from Corrozet, is in his “Hecatomgraphie:” Paris, 1540,—
Corrozet’s descriptive verses conclude with thoughts to which old Clifford’s dying words might well be appended: “When the game of life is over,[149] every human body is hidden in the earth; as well great as little the earth covers; what alone remains to us is the good deed.” “La fin couronne les œuvres.”
But Shakespeare uses the expression, “the end crowns all,” almost as Whitney (p. 230) does the allied proverb, “Time terminates all,”—
Whitney, 1586.
A sentiment this corresponding nearly with Hector’s words, in the Troilus and Cressida (act iv. sc. 5, l. 223, vol. vi. p. 230),—
Prince Henry (2 Henry IV., act ii. sc. 2, l. 41, vol. iv. p. 392), in reply to Poins, gives yet another turn to the proverb: “By this hand, thou thinkest me as far in the devil’s books as thou and Falstaff for obduracy and persistency; let the end try the man.”
In Whitney’s address “to the Reader,” he speaks of having collected “sondrie deuises” against several great faults which he names, “bycause they are growẽ so mightie that one bloe will not beate them downe, but newe headdes springe vp like Hydra, that Hercules weare not able to subdue them.” “But,” he adds, using an old saying, “manie droppes pierce the stone, and with manie blowes the oke is ouerthrowen.”
Near Mortimer’s Cross, in Herefordshire, a messenger relates how “the noble Duke of York was slain” (3 Henry VI., act ii. sc. 1, l. 50, vol. v. p. 252), and employs a similar, almost an identical, proverb,—