of Milton, Otway, Swift and Pope, and saying in reference to the latter that âPoets do not always express their own thoughtsâ, and notes, as an example of this, that for all Popeâs âlabour in the praise of musicâ, he was âignorant of its principles, and insensible of its effectsâ.
With Maloneâs decision to parse the plays for evidence of what an author thought or felt, literary biography had crossed a Rubicon. Fictional works had become a legitimate source for biographies, and Shakespeareâs plays and poems crucial to establishing this new approach. In 1790 Malone had announced thathis long-promised life of Shakespeare was well along; he had already âobtained at very different timesâ a great deal of material, though âit is necessarily dispersedâ. At âsome future timeâ, though, he would âweave the whole into one uniform and connected narrativeâ. He still had faith that Shakespeareâs commonplace book or personal correspondence would surface, which would enable him to flesh out the many lost years and mysteries of the life. As late as 1807, five years before his death, Malone was still reassuring friends that only a third of the Life âremained to be writtenâ, that âall the materials for it are readyâ, and that he even had £ 300 worth of paper âlying ready at the printing houseâ, to save time when it was ready to be published. It had taken Malone fewer than ninety days to write and publish a four-hundred-page book about the Ireland forgeries. Yet after decades of labour, his Life of Shakespeare remained unfinished, a puzzle still lacking most of its largest pieces. Even the works failed to supply the missing evidence. When James Boswell the Younger was given the unenviable task of gathering the disjointed remains and moulding them into a Life after Maloneâs death, he saw soon enough that he was faced not with some tidying up of loose ends but with a âchasmâ.Â
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Those who write about the history of Shakespeare studies cast Malone as an early hero and Ireland as one of the first villains of the story. Iâve been trained to think this way too and itâs difficult getting beyond it. Itâs easy to see why: Malone, much like the scholars who tell his story, spent much of his life surrounded by old books and manuscripts, strained his vision poring over documents in archives, and struggled to complete his life work on Shakespeare. Ireland cheated, took a short-cut. But in truth, they were in pursuit of the same goal â which may account for the viciousness of Maloneâs attack on his young rival. Both were committed to rewriting Shakespeareâs life; one forged documents, the other forged connections between the life and the works. In retrospect, the damage done by Malone was far greater and longer-lasting. He was the first Shakespearean to believe that hishard-earned expertise gave him the right, which he and many scholars have since tried to deny to others, to search Shakespeareâs plays for clues to his personal life. By the time that Boswell brought out an updated edition of Maloneâs Shakespeareâs Plays and Poems in 1821, it was already âgenerally admitted that the poet speaks in his own personâ in the Sonnets.
Malone had failed in his decades-long quest because every thread leading directly back to Shakespeareâs interior life had been severed. Most likely each had been cut for well over a century. Sufficient materials for a comprehensive biography were no longer available. One possibility is that Shakespeare went out of his way to ensure that posterity would find a cold trail. In any case, expectations about what evidence might reasonably have survived were wildly inflated. There may well have been bundles of letters, theatrical documents and even a commonplace book or two that outlived Shakespeare, but if so they have never been found and the