you may see it at Smithfield all the fair-time; 'tis the butt-end of the nation
I'm making a brief reference in my Shakespeare chapter to Nahum Tate's 1681 adaptation of Richard II, and since I had to look up this bit I thought I'd share it with you, as it is rather interesting (the adaptation itself is crappy, but as Restoration Shakespeare fascinating in a headdesky sort of way, as this stuff generally is).
What you need to know for context is that the play only ran for a few performances, under the title The Sicilian Usurper (which I still think sounds like it should be a deep-dish pizza), and was then shut down, the subject matter being considered too politically sensitive at the time -- not just because of the memory of the Civil War, but also the ongoing Exclusion Crisis, which is very complicated but basically has to do with the urging of a bill in Parliament to have Charles II's brother James, Duke of York, removed from the line of succession on account of his Catholicism; some people thought that Charles' illegitimate son James, Duke of Monmouth, ought to succeed his father, despite being illegitimate, but this ends very badly. Dryden's Absalom and Achitophel, which was also published in 1681, is a thinly-veiled allegory for these events in which Absalom is Monmouth, King David is Charles (who "scatter'd his Maker's image through the Land"), and the false counselor Achitophel is Anthony Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury, chief proponent of the Exclusion Bill. (There's more information in the Dryden link. Which is worth checking out; I am not known as a great Dryden fan but this is a fun poem.) Tate's adaptation of Richard II is very much informed by this crisis (at one point, he has York say "I would hang a son, to kill a traitor" -- but as Tate is trying hard to be Tory-friendly, his York is far more ridiculous than Shakespeare's.)
Tate went on to publish his play with a preface defending himself, and thus provided perhaps the only example I have ever seen about a playwright complaining about his own historical inaccuracy:
I am not ignorant of the posture of Affairs in King Richard the Second's Reign, how dissolute the Age, and how corrupt the Court; a Season that beheld Ignorance and Infamy preferr'd to Office and Pow'r, exercis'd in Oppressing, Learning and Merit; but why a History of those Times shou'd be suppresst as a Libel upon Ours, is past my Understanding.
[After this there follows a selection of passages from Shakespeare illustrating Richard's general unpleasantness followed by some explanations of how Tate has made the play more palatable.]
After this account it will be askt why this Play shou'd be supprest, first in its own Name, and after in Disguise? All that I can answer to this, is, That it was Silenc'd on the Third Day. I confess, I expected it wou'd have found Protection from whence it receiv'd Prohibition; and so questionless it wou'd, cou'd I have obtain'd my Petition to have it perus'd and dealt with according as the Contents Deserv'd, but a positive Doom of Suppression without Examination was all that I cou'd procure.
The Arbitrary Courtiers of the Reign here written, scarcely did more Violence to the Subjects of their Time, then I have done to Truth, in disguising their foul Practices. Take ev'n the Richard of Shakespear and History, you will find him Dissolute, Careless, and Unadvisable: peruse my Picture of him and you will say, as Æneas did of Hector, (though the Figure there was alter'd for the Worse and here for the Better) Quantum mutatus ab illo! And likewise for his chief Ministers of State, I have laid Vertues to their Charge of which they were not Guilty. Every Scene is full of Respect to Majesty and the dignity of Courts, not one alter'd Page but what breaths Loyalty, yet had this Play the hard fortune to receive its Prohibition from Court.
For the two days in which it was Acted, the Change of the Scene, Names of Persons, &c. was a great Disadvantage: many things were by this means render'd obscure and incoherent that in their native Dress had appear'd not only proper but gracefull. I call'd my Persons Sicilians but might as well have made 'em Inhabitants of the Isle of Pines, or, World in the Moon, for whom an Audience are like to have small Concern. Yet I took care from the Beginning to adorn my Prince with such heroick Vertues, as afterwards made his distrest Scenes of force to draw Tears from the Spectators; which, how much more touching they would have been had the Scene been laid at Home, let the Reader judge. The additional Comedy I judg'd necessary to help off the heaviness of the Tale, which Design, Sir, you will not only Pardon, but Approve. I have heard you commend this Method in Stage-writing, though less agreeable to stricktness of Rule; and I find your Choice confirm'd by our Laureat's last Piece, who confesses himself to have broken a Rule for the Pleasure of Variety. *The Audience (says he) are grown weary of melancholly Scenes, and I dare prophesie that few Tragedies (except those in Verse) shall succeed in this Age if they are not lightned with a course of Mirth.
*Epst. Ded. to the Span. Fryar. (Tate's note)
The Laureate, of course, is John Dryden. And the comedy referred to is a bizarre episode in which Bolingbroke has a run-in with some commoners who are all for rebellion but aren't sure whether they like him specifically. I may transcribe it; it's not funny but it is Historically Interesting. (Also there are a lot of refs to 1381, which is something that's in this play that isn't in Shakespeare, except perhaps one extremely oblique mention. At one point, someone remarks that it's a shame how Richard turned out, since he was such a badass as a kid.)
I love the disingenuity of the first paragraph of the quote, which I'm sure generated certain levels of seismic activity in Westminster Abbey thanks to Queen Elizabeth rolling in her grave...
Also, I would LOVE it if he'd set his adaptation on the moon. That would be AWESOME.
What you need to know for context is that the play only ran for a few performances, under the title The Sicilian Usurper (which I still think sounds like it should be a deep-dish pizza), and was then shut down, the subject matter being considered too politically sensitive at the time -- not just because of the memory of the Civil War, but also the ongoing Exclusion Crisis, which is very complicated but basically has to do with the urging of a bill in Parliament to have Charles II's brother James, Duke of York, removed from the line of succession on account of his Catholicism; some people thought that Charles' illegitimate son James, Duke of Monmouth, ought to succeed his father, despite being illegitimate, but this ends very badly. Dryden's Absalom and Achitophel, which was also published in 1681, is a thinly-veiled allegory for these events in which Absalom is Monmouth, King David is Charles (who "scatter'd his Maker's image through the Land"), and the false counselor Achitophel is Anthony Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury, chief proponent of the Exclusion Bill. (There's more information in the Dryden link. Which is worth checking out; I am not known as a great Dryden fan but this is a fun poem.) Tate's adaptation of Richard II is very much informed by this crisis (at one point, he has York say "I would hang a son, to kill a traitor" -- but as Tate is trying hard to be Tory-friendly, his York is far more ridiculous than Shakespeare's.)
Tate went on to publish his play with a preface defending himself, and thus provided perhaps the only example I have ever seen about a playwright complaining about his own historical inaccuracy:
I am not ignorant of the posture of Affairs in King Richard the Second's Reign, how dissolute the Age, and how corrupt the Court; a Season that beheld Ignorance and Infamy preferr'd to Office and Pow'r, exercis'd in Oppressing, Learning and Merit; but why a History of those Times shou'd be suppresst as a Libel upon Ours, is past my Understanding.
[After this there follows a selection of passages from Shakespeare illustrating Richard's general unpleasantness followed by some explanations of how Tate has made the play more palatable.]
After this account it will be askt why this Play shou'd be supprest, first in its own Name, and after in Disguise? All that I can answer to this, is, That it was Silenc'd on the Third Day. I confess, I expected it wou'd have found Protection from whence it receiv'd Prohibition; and so questionless it wou'd, cou'd I have obtain'd my Petition to have it perus'd and dealt with according as the Contents Deserv'd, but a positive Doom of Suppression without Examination was all that I cou'd procure.
The Arbitrary Courtiers of the Reign here written, scarcely did more Violence to the Subjects of their Time, then I have done to Truth, in disguising their foul Practices. Take ev'n the Richard of Shakespear and History, you will find him Dissolute, Careless, and Unadvisable: peruse my Picture of him and you will say, as Æneas did of Hector, (though the Figure there was alter'd for the Worse and here for the Better) Quantum mutatus ab illo! And likewise for his chief Ministers of State, I have laid Vertues to their Charge of which they were not Guilty. Every Scene is full of Respect to Majesty and the dignity of Courts, not one alter'd Page but what breaths Loyalty, yet had this Play the hard fortune to receive its Prohibition from Court.
For the two days in which it was Acted, the Change of the Scene, Names of Persons, &c. was a great Disadvantage: many things were by this means render'd obscure and incoherent that in their native Dress had appear'd not only proper but gracefull. I call'd my Persons Sicilians but might as well have made 'em Inhabitants of the Isle of Pines, or, World in the Moon, for whom an Audience are like to have small Concern. Yet I took care from the Beginning to adorn my Prince with such heroick Vertues, as afterwards made his distrest Scenes of force to draw Tears from the Spectators; which, how much more touching they would have been had the Scene been laid at Home, let the Reader judge. The additional Comedy I judg'd necessary to help off the heaviness of the Tale, which Design, Sir, you will not only Pardon, but Approve. I have heard you commend this Method in Stage-writing, though less agreeable to stricktness of Rule; and I find your Choice confirm'd by our Laureat's last Piece, who confesses himself to have broken a Rule for the Pleasure of Variety. *The Audience (says he) are grown weary of melancholly Scenes, and I dare prophesie that few Tragedies (except those in Verse) shall succeed in this Age if they are not lightned with a course of Mirth.
*Epst. Ded. to the Span. Fryar. (Tate's note)
The Laureate, of course, is John Dryden. And the comedy referred to is a bizarre episode in which Bolingbroke has a run-in with some commoners who are all for rebellion but aren't sure whether they like him specifically. I may transcribe it; it's not funny but it is Historically Interesting. (Also there are a lot of refs to 1381, which is something that's in this play that isn't in Shakespeare, except perhaps one extremely oblique mention. At one point, someone remarks that it's a shame how Richard turned out, since he was such a badass as a kid.)
I love the disingenuity of the first paragraph of the quote, which I'm sure generated certain levels of seismic activity in Westminster Abbey thanks to Queen Elizabeth rolling in her grave...
Also, I would LOVE it if he'd set his adaptation on the moon. That would be AWESOME.