The study of Shakespeare

THE STUDY OF
SHAKESPEARE

THE
STUDY OF SHAKESPEARE

BY
HENRY THEW STEPHENSON

AUTHOR OF M SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON " AND " THE
ELIZABETHAN PEOPLE"

NEW YORK

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

(&f&.6U^

33o3S/

COPTBISHT, 1915,
BY

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

THE OUINN & BODEN CO. PREM
RAHWAY, N. t.

TO
MARGARET LOUISE STEPHENSON

829103

PREFACE

For some fifteen years I have conducted classes
in the study of Shakespeare at the University of
Indiana. I early found that great advantage was
derived from an intimate knowledge of the social
conditions that obtained at the time the plays were
written. My attempt to furnish some assistance in
this direction by the publication of an account of
Shakespeare's London and of the people of Eliza-
beth's generation has given me confidence in the
preparation of a handbook designed differently from
many now in use.

Though criticism of the plays forms the larger
part of the following pages, I have had no intention
of writing a volume of criticism. The book is not
intended to be read on its independent merits, but in
conjunction with a study of the texts. Though I
hope it will be of interest to those already familiar
with the plays of Shakespeare, it is primarily ad-
dressed to students.

Inasmuch as it is intended to be an assistance,
I have not felt it necessary to discuss the obvious.
Oftentimes a mere suggestion is sufficient to start
the reader aright so that he will discover all that is
necessary without further assistance. For instance,
I have frequently observed a class which read The
Taming of the Shrew without the least compre-
hension of its meaning. To the members of the class

vii

viii PREFACE

the characters were unnatural, the plot impossible.
Nearly all of them had read Alice's Adventures in
Wonderland, and had appreciated the running al-
lusions throughout to the game of chess. A brief
explanation of how, in the same way, the well-known
process of taming a female hawk to fit her for the
chase is the framework upon which Shakespeare built
up his farce, enabled the class to read the play again
from a view-point that exposed all its delightful
qualities, and rid it of its former disagreeable effect.
To direct the student to the Elizabethan point of
view is one of the principal tasks essayed in the
following pages.

Again the play of Hamlet is full of puzzling
passages, many of which are surprisingly clear if
the stage aspect of the play is emphasized. Many a
person has thoughtlessly repeated the opinion that
Hamlet, in speaking of " an antic disposition," is
thinking of the future. But one who can image the
stage picture vividly to himself will be thinking of
Hamlet's strange behavior a moment before, and of
his " wild and whirling words." To such a student
Hamlet's words naturally associate themselves with
the antic disposition he is at that moment casting
off. There is no need to find a future application.
Hence the purely stage side of the plays is made
a matter of frequent emphasis.

Furthermore, as the book is intended to be an
assistance to those who are studying the plays, I
have made a selection including those most likely to
be read, giving to each play more attention than
would be possible were the whole list involved.

I have also tried to make the subject-matter useful

PREFACE ix

not only to class-room students but also to members
of clubs who are reading on their own initiative, or
receive the assistance of an instructor but occasion-
ally.

Shakespeare's plays are so diverse that it is im-
possible to formulate a uniform scheme for the study
of the entire set of plays considered. However,
wherever possible I have spoken of details in the
order in which they occur in the play, taking up
last such general considerations as depend for their
discussion upon a familiarity with the play as a whole.

The line numbers used throughout refer to The
Tudor Edition, published by The Macmillan Com-
pany.

The writer will sincerely appreciate any correc-
tions or suggestions for the effective improvement of
the book.

H. T. S.

Indiana University,
November 1, 1914.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER
I

Shakespeare's Biography .

PAGE
1

II

A General View of London .

7

III

The Playhouses ....

25

IV

Quartos and Folios .

49

V

Shakespeare's Verse .

55

VI

Chronological List of Plays .

. 62

VII

Dramatic Structure .

64

VIII

How to Read a Play

. 75

IX

A Brief Working Bibliography

82

f x

Richard the Third .

85

XI

Richard the Second .

112

/ XII

Henry the Fifth

. 134

XIII

Romeo and Juliet

. 155

XIV

The Taming of the Shrew

168

XV

The Merchant of Venice

. 174

XVI

Julius C^sar ....

, 190

y xvn

Hamlet

. 207

XVIII

King Lear

. 250

XIX

Macbeth

. 264

XX

The Tempest ....

285

Index

297

THE STUDY OF SHAKESPEARE

CHAPTER I
SHAKESPEARE'S BIOGRAPHY

The poet's father was John Shakespeare of Snit-
terfield, who married in 1557 Mary Arden of Wilm-
cote, near Stratford. Some five or six years before
his marriage John Shakespeare moved from Snitter-
field to Stratford, where he was living at the time
of the poet's birth. Stratford was then a small but
flourishing country town on one of the main thor-
oughfares to London; and John Shakespeare soon
became one of its prominent citizens.

In 1552 he was living in a house in Henley Street,
either the house now known as the poet's birthplace,
or the one adjoining. He set himself up in business
as a trader with a miscellaneous assortment of wares,
a fact which doubtless accounts for his designation
among older historians as a glover by one, a butcher
by another. During the next few years he was pros-
perous in a worldly way, occupying successively sev-
eral important offices in the gift of the municipality.

The poet was the third child and first son of John
Shakespeare. He was baptized in the parish church,
April 26, 1564. It was then customary for this cere-
mony to take place as soon after birth as possible.

2 SHAKESPEARE

There is, however, no authority for the usually ac-
cepted date of his birth, April 22 or April 23.

Stratford possessed a good free grammar school,
which Shakespeare probably entered about 1571. In-
struction was principally carried on in Latin, a lan-
guage the rudiments of which were known to the
poet, though he seems never to have become a pro-
ficient scholar. There is no reason to believe that
he ever studied Greek. A reading knowledge of
Italian was probably picked up after leaving Strat-
ford. The acquirement of his knowledge of French
may have begun at Stratford and have been continued
by himself in later years. He possessed no claim to
be called " one skilled in the tongues " ; on the other
hand, he certainly possessed a good foundation in
Latin, French, and, perhaps, Italian. Doubtless he
read little. The Bible was probably to him the most
accessible book in English. Though his plays con-
tain many biblical allusions, they suggest, as Mr.
Lee puts it, " youthful reminiscence and the assimi-
lative tendency of the mind in a stage of early de-
velopment rather than close and continuous study of
the Bible in adult life." * It should be remembered
in this connection that the service of the Church of
England provides for the continuous reading of both
the Old and the New Testament.

Shakespeare was still a schoolboy in 1575 when
Queen Elizabeth visited Robert Dudley at Kenil-
worth. He was, however, probably withdrawn from
school in 1577, when but thirteen years of age, to
be apprenticed to his father. This move was proba-

* Sidney Lee : A Life of William Shakespeare. Revised
edition. Page 17.

SHAKESPEARE'S BIOGRAPHY 3

bly due to the declining family fortunes. For some
years John Shakespeare's fortunes and his promi-
nence in civic affairs had been on the wane. Records
of his borrowings and of the sale of some of his prop-
erty show that in a worldly way he was in distress.
Never again did he regain his former position of im^
portance.

Shakespeare's marriage in 1582 has given rise to
endless speculation. The whole subject has been
treated in detail by Mr. Lee. The facts, stripped of
all inference, are as follows: Anne Hathaway was
the poet's senior by eight years; the marriage was
arranged and solemnized in a hasty and irregular
manner, mainly at the instigation of the friends of
the bride; within six months a daughter was born to
the poet. In after life Shakespeare did not scruple
to live away from his wife and family for the better
part of twenty years, though he visited Stratford
occasionally, and at last returned to his home and
family to spend the years that followed his retirement
from the London stage.

While still a resident of Stratford, Shakespeare
acquired a familiar knowledge of outdoor life. In his
plays the art and practice of falconry is at his tongue's
end. He knew about horses and dogs. Flowers were
his familiar friends. He knew every superstition
and all the folklore of the countryside. Above all,
he knew the country characters and their pranks.

In fact, association with a group of these country
characters in one of their ribald escapades was, ac-
cording to persistent tradition, the cause of his leav-
ing Stratford. The hall and park of Charlecote was
the most pretentious estate in the immediate neigh-

4 SHAKESPEARE

borhood of his home town. Shakespeare, in company
with other idle fellows, raided the deer park at
Charlecote. For this they were severely prosecuted by
the owner of the park, Sir Thomas Lucy. In retalia-
tion Shakespeare is said to have written a ballad which
so incensed Sir Thomas that he redoubled his perse-
cutions. In order to escape, Shakespeare fled from
Stratford. In later years he vented his spleen by
caricaturing Sir Thomas Lucy in the person of Jus-
tice Shallow of The Merry Wives of Windsor.

Traditions that attempt to fill up the gap of the
next few years in the poet's life are wholly without
a proved foundation. It is idle to guess where he
went; and what he did is not known. He probably
left Stratford in 1585. We next hear of him in
London about 1590, under circumstances that imply
that he had been there for some time and was already
firmly footed in the theatrical world.

During Shakespeare's career there were many com-
panies of actors ; not nearly so many, however, as the
numerous names applied to them would suggest.
There were two companies of men actors of far
greater prominence than any others. One was under
the associate management of the money lender, Philip
Henslowe, and his son-in-law, the great actor, Edward
Alleyn. From their patron, the Lord High Admiral,
they were known as the Admiral's Men.

The other and more notable company was the one
to which Shakespeare belonged. It is known by
many names. Leicester's early company, under the
patronage of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, be-
came at his death in 1588 Lord Strange's Men. They
became known later, in all probability, by the name

SHAKESPEARE'S BIOGRAPHY 5

of his subsequent title, Lord Derby. Under suc-
cessive patrons this company was known as Lord
Hunsden's Men, and as the Chamberlain's Men.
After the accession of James in 1603 they were known
as the King's Men. Shakespeare is known to have
been a member of the company as early as 1594; and
there is no reason to doubt the probability that he
was connected with it from the beginning of his the-
atrical career.

What Shakespeare's first duties about the play-
house were we do not know. When he appears again
in history after his flight from Stratford he is an
actor of minor roles, and a maker-over of old plays,
with, perhaps, a play or two of his own to his credit.
For many years he continued to act, taking subordi-
nate parts in some of his own plays. For the next
twenty years, however, his biography, as known to us,
is mainly the record of the succession of his dramas.

It is easy to piece out in broad lines the history
of his life during this period of twenty years. He
never became a great actor. He soon, however, passed
beyond the apprentice stage of play writing. From
a maker-over of old plays he soon became a writer
of original plays, for some years mainly in imitation
of the established writers of the day. Then he broke
loose from the trammels of imitation to write the long
list of dramas on which his fame rests to-day. A
study of his plays shows him a constant student.
Books he read, to be sure, and many of them; but
it is as a student of the life about him that he stands
pre-eminent. A consideration of plays following the
Essex Rebellion discloses a temporary morbidness
that to many implies some unfortunate connection with

6 SHAKESPEARE

that ill-starred attempt to supplant Elizabeth. An-
other dark page in his history is disclosed vaguely to
some by the description of an intrigue set forth in the
sonnets. But this is a shadowy inference at the best.

Meantime he was growing rich. He derived a rev-
enue, not only as play writer and play actor, but also
as sharer in the company's profits. The latter was
probably his chief source of income. About 1610 or
1611 he retired from the theatrical world. He had
from time to time purchased properties in Stratford,
among them the most prominent private house in
town. To New Place he returned to live the remain-
ing years of his life.

Shakespeare died at Stratford, April 23, 1616. On
April 25 he was buried in the parish church. His
wife and his two daughters, Judith [Quiney] and
Susanna [Hall] survived him. By 1623, the year the
Folio Edition of his plays was published, a bust of
the poet was placed in Stratford church. This is one
of the two likenesses that are known to have been in
existence at such an early date. The other is the
portrait engraved on the title page of the First Folio.

Besides his worldly goods Shakespeare left a book
of sonnets, a few minor poems that are doubtfully
attributed to him, two long narrative poems, and the
plays. The list of plays shows Shakespeare's versa-
tility. Nine of them are history plays, among which
are the very best of their type; there are a couple
of farces, one of which is, perhaps, the best produced
during the generation. There are numerous comedies
and tragi-comedies. But upon the great series of
tragedies which began with Julius Ccesar and ended
with Coriolanus Shakespeare's position rests supreme.

CHAPTER II
A GENERAL VIEW OF LONDON

Roughly speaking, mediaeval London began with
the building of the White Tower by William the Con-
queror, and ended with the great fire of 1666.
Throughout this long period changes were made from
year to year; but, after the great religious establish-
ments were once built, the face of London changed
so slowly that the picture of one generation is the
picture of the next. The most sudden sweeping
change was made at the Dissolution of the Monas-
teries, and the period of most rapid expansion was
the reign of Elizabeth. It is the London of the latter
half of the sixteenth century and the beginning of
the seventeenth, the most brilliant period in its his-
tory between Hastings and the Fire, that the follow-
ing pages essay to present.

Three hundred years ago the relative importance
of London to the rest of England was even greater
than it is to-day. All the theaters and all the pub-
lishers of note were in London or in the immediate
vicinity. The court was held for most of the time
at Westminster. There was but one Royal Exchange
in the kingdom. All persons of any pretense to
wealth or influence possessed their town house or inn.
The city set the manners and furnished the news for
the whole island; it was, indeed, the heart of the
kingdom.

7

8 SHAKESPEARE

In order to draw a fancy picture of the Eliza-
bethan city as Shakespeare knew it, one who is fa-
miliar with the modern metropolis must blot from
his mind all present associations — not only in regard
to size, but also in regard to outward aspect, and in
the manners and customs of the people; for in these
respects the city of that day was wholly different
from the city of this. It should be remembered that
the fire of 1666 practically swept away all but the
suburbs of Elizabethan London. Hardly a town in the
world of ancient origin preserves so few of its orig-
inal structures as does the capital of England. One
can go about the city to-day and encounter practically
nothing besides the street names that reminds him
of times before the Fire. Roughly speaking, a line
connecting the Tower, Crosby Hall, Christ Church,
Ludgate Circus, and the approach to Blackfriar's
Bridge includes the part of the city destroyed by
the great conflagration. And this area, though it is
but a small part of the city we know, constituted the
major part of the city in 1600.*

In the latter part of the sixteenth century a Dutch
traveler by the name of Hentzner visited England,
and afterward wrote a very interesting account of
his foreign travels. He visited London, and his quaint
account of the sights is full of the local color of
which we are so desirous. Let us for a moment sta-
tion ourselves where he must have been when he first
caught a glimpse of what was then, as it is to-day,
one of the chief cities of the world.

We are on the Surrey side, approaching London

* The part of the modern metropolis known as The City
approximates in area the Elizabethan city.

A GENERAL VIEW OF LONDON 9

along the old Roman road which leads to the bridge.
Perhaps before Hentzner crossed the river he visited
St. Mary Overies. If he had ascended the Tower
he would have seen a splendid sight. Across a river
that was as unlike the modern Thames as imagina-
tion can picture lay the bustling city. The river was
clear and shining, sparkling with swans that swam
gracefully in miniature fleets of snowy whiteness. Be-
hind, on either side, and beyond the busy capital were
green fields spotted with flowers or covered with
golden grain and emerald turf. The city itself was
nestled upon three hills. On an eminence to the right
rose the many-towered walls of the citadel surround-
ing the lofty White Tower of William the Norman.
Two small valleys rendered visible by the dip in the
red-tiled roof line separate it from the great cathedral
pile of St. Paul's. This church was the glory of all
England. No other cathedral in the kingdom was so
beautiful, the source of so much pride; and one who
looks at the modern structure that occupies its site
sighs with deep-felt regret over the ignominious
contrast.

What perhaps impressed the Dutch traveler most
was the innumerable collection of spires that rose
from the densely populated city. The Dissolution of
the Monasteries had not fallen lightly upon London;
in fact, it had left it, as Mr. Besant says, a city of
ruins. For all that, the parish churches had been
spared. Hardly one had fallen in the national game
of snatch-grab that followed the Dissolution. Stow
tells us that there were no less than a hundred and
twenty, and all of these were provided with towers
or steeples. Yet, high above the clustered mass of

10 SHAKESPEARE

slender spires rose the great bulk of the cathedral.
Its lofty, graceful spire, however, had been burned
some years before, and only a mutilated stump re-
placed it.

If we pause for a moment to listen we can hear
the mingled peals of bells and the roar of the city,
for it was even more noisy then than now. People
lived in the streets and used them constantly as a
daily convenience that is suggested to one by modern
Paris, not by London.

Immediately beneath us lies the only bridge across
the Thames. London Bridge of those days was a
little east of the present structure; in fact, it crossed
the river just where St. Magnus* Church now stands.
It was an arched bridge of nearly a score of arches,
no two of them exactly the same in width. About
the piers were timber frameworks of wood that so
encroached upon the waterway that the flow while the
tide was rising and falling was greatly impeded.
Such obstacles were thes. lozenge-shaped " starlings,"
that the backing up of the water at mid-tide pro-
duced a fall beneath the bridge of several feet. Pen-
nant alludes to the sound of the falling waters in the
following words : " Nothing but use could preserve
the rest of the inmates who soon grew deaf to the
sound of falling water, the clamors of watermen, or
the frequent shrieks of drowning wretches." The old
plays sometimes refer to the sound of the bridge
being heard over the whole city. This natural water-
fall was pressed into use to operate a set of force
pumps that supplied water to a large part of the
city. Much of the local travel that is now carried
on in cabs was then performed upon the river in small

A GENERAL VIEW OF LONDON 11

boats. The cry with which one hailed a waterman
was Westward ho! or Eastward ho! according to the
direction. If, in the journey, it was necessary to
cross the bridge at mid-tide the passenger had to
land and wait. Sometimes they " shot " the bridge,
that is, took their chances of mishap and went over
the fall. The danger that attended this kind of
rapid transit gave rise to the proverb : London Bridge
was made for wise men to walk over and fools to
go under. When the Princess Elizabeth, afterwards
the Queen, was conveyed a prisoner to the Tower,
it was necessary for the boatman to row about in the
neighborhood of the bridge for an hour before it was
deemed safe to " shoot."

What to us appears the most peculiar feature of
this old bridge was not the starlings or the noisy
river, but the covered way or arcade that capped
the arches throughout the entire length. From end
to end, with the exception of two small openings,
London Bridge was covered with houses that inclosed
and roofed a narrow street: dwellings above and shops
below. There were many kinds of shops, but in the
time of Elizabeth the bridge was especially noted for
the manufacture of pins, and the fair dames of Lon-
don often bargained among the narrow stalls above
the water for this indispensable article of dress.

At the southern end of the bridge was a huge
towered gate-house whose principal use in the days
of Queen Bess was to afford a resting place for
traitors' heads. Imagine the trait of character that
prompted the people to flock to an execution by the
hundred, in holiday attire, and afterward gaze un-
shocked upon a score of bloody heads on pikes, grin-

12 SHAKESPEARE

ning ghastly from the battlemented tower. About
midway on the bridge was a handsome chapel. Be-
neath the last three arches of the northern end were
the pumps for forcing water to which allusion has
already been made. At the London approach was
another tower, almost in ruins by the third quarter
of the century, and taken down by the end.

Unless Hentzner hailed a boat at the stairs of the
Bear tavern by the bridge foot with the cry of North-
ward ho! he must have entered the city along the
gloomy bridge. The roadway through this structure
was scarcely wider than a single cart, and in the
press one had to exercise considerable ingenuity to
escape collision, the bridge being always a busy thor-
oughfare. At two places only were open spaces
where people could stand for safety.

Instead of following the Dutch traveler to his
tavern, let us take a general view of the outward
appearance of the city in methodical order. The city,
as has been said, was then comparatively small; it
was also comparatively open in the manner of build-
ing. For, though the streets presented solid and
continuous lines of house fronts, there were gardens
behind most of them. In fact, many of the city
blocks resembled open courtyards occupied on the
four sides with buildings. There were numerous
churches, and about most of them burying grounds of
considerable size. Furthermore, it was but a short
walk to the country in any direction. Ten minutes
was sufficient for a person to reach the open fields
from any part of London afoot. Hunting and hawk-
ing were still common sports of the neighborhood
and were carried on as near the center of the city

A GENERAL VIEW OF LONDON 13

as the British Museum or the Liverpool Street
Station.

Elizabethan London, which in area corresponded
closely with the modern City, was surrounded by a
wall that remained almost intact on three sides till
a time long subsequent to that under description.
Even so early as the days of Fitzstephen the river
side of the wall had disappeared, leaving no trace of
its existence except in such names as Dowgate and
Billingsgate. The course of the Elizabethan wall was
from the north side of the Tower ditch, along the
Minories in a northwesterly direction to Aldgate;
then, curving west and north, followed Camomile and
Wormwood Streets and London Wall. The angle of
the wall at the northwest corner is still marked by the
existing base of the tower which stands in the church-
yard of St. Giles, Cripplegate. From this point the
wall turned directly south along the present Noble
Street, west, crossing Aldersgate Street, and south-
west between St. Bartholomew's the Great and
Christ's Hospital to a point west of Newgate prison.
Thence it ran south to Ludgate Hall, west to Lud-
gate Circus, and south again to the river.

The wall was built, except for a small portion,
upon the foundation of an earlier Roman wall. The
more recent structure was partly of rough stone and
partly of tile, and was capped by a battlemented wall
of brick and stone. At short and irregular intervals
were small towers in addition to the fortified gate-
house. None of these smaller towers has survived,
nor is there any accurate description of them. The
base of one in St. Giles churchyard has been men-
tioned and another was discovered after a fire about

14 SHAKESPEARE

a century ago. It was two and twenty feet in height,
but not complete.

There were several gates: the Tower postern, Aid-
gate, Bishopsgate, Moorgate postern, Aldersgate,
Greyfriar's postern, Newgate, and Ludgate. These,
with the exceptions of the posterns, were huge tow-
ered structures, with, usually, a triple passage: one
for vehicles, the others for pedestrians. The latter
were closed at night by heavy doors, the former by
ponderous portcullises. Newgate and Ludgate were
used as prisons, the others often as private dwellings
for those who guarded the gates.

The wall on the outer side was bordered by a
ditch two hundred feet across ; on the west side, how-
ever, the place of the ditch was taken by the Fleet
River. Of old time the ditch not only was a defense,
but also supplied most of the water and much of
the fish used in the city. In Elizabethan times,
however, it had become too filthy for such purposes,
and was, moreover, encroached upon in many places,
filled up with debris, turned into garden plots, and
otherwise marred and displaced, much to the chagrin
of the old historian Stow.

This relic of mediaeval life had been of real service
to the city in the time of Queen Mary, and actually
formed an obstacle that turned to naught the ill-
starred rebellion of Essex ; yet, in spite of these facts,
the wall was an obsolete and useless feature of Lon-
don life. It was no longer necessary as a protection,
and, in consequence, the city began to spread beyond
the limits of its confines at the beginning of the reign
of Elizabeth. By the end, the jurisdiction of the
Lord Mayor extended over the adjacent ground north

A GENERAL VIEW OF LONDON 15

of the river in every direction for a distance varying
from one to three-fourths of a mile. All this area,
however, was not wholly occupied by buildings. On
the east, running northwest from the Tower, was a
single row of houses along the Minories. The same
was true of much of the north side of the city; but
in the immediate vicinity of the gates the populated
portion extended along the high road for some little
distance. There was, Stow tells us, a continuous line
of houses along the river east of the Tower for half
a mile or more; and the road from Bishopsgate was
well occupied all the way to Shoreditch Church, which
was well outside the city limits. Northwest of the
city in the vicinity of Smithfield, and the church and
hospital of St. Bartholomew's, a considerable hamlet
had sprung into existence. The Strand was lined
upon the south side with palatial residences all the
way to Westminster, though the mayor's jurisdiction
stopped then, as it does now, at Temple Bar. The
north side of the Strand was built upon for the first
time during the reign of Elizabeth.

The population of the city of that day cannot be
accurately given; but a fairly trustworthy estimate
can be obtained. The city contained in all likelihood
not far from one hundred thousand people, with as
many more in Westminster, Southwark, and the
neighboring suburbs to the north and west. It is in-
teresting to note the foreign population at this time.
In 1567 there were 40 Scots, 428 French, 45 Span-
iards and Portuguese, 140 Italians, 2,030 Dutch, 44
Burgundians, 2 Danes, and 1 Liegois. In 1580 there
were 2,302 Dutch, 1,838 French, 116 Italians, 1,542
English born of foreign parents, and 664 not specified.

16 SHAKESPEARE

The increase of native population kept pace with
the foreign increase, a tendency the government tried
hard to interrupt. A proclamation of Elizabeth for-
bade the erection of any new buildings upon hitherto
unoccupied sites within three miles of any of the
city gates. The same proclamation forbade more
than one family to live together in the same house.
The noble persons were fast removing their mansions
to new locations without the walls, and the last-
mentioned provision of the above proclamation was
directed against the popular custom of turning the
abandoned mansions into tenement houses, crowded
and filthy fosterers of the plague. The reason given
for this proclamation and some others of a similar
nature, which, however, were frequently violated, was
to prevent the danger arising from disease and dis-
order, both important factors in the Elizabethan life;
but there can be but little doubt that under the sur-
face of these building regulations lay a substantial
jealousy, if not an actual fear, of the rapidly growing
wealth and power of the city corporation.

Within the area bounded by the old wall the city
was divided by a few grand thoroughfares, but, for
the most part, by narrow and filthy streets. They
were dark and dingy from the projecting upper stories
of the gabled houses that shut out most of the light,
and dirty under foot, while one in passing was not in-
frequently deluged with the house-maid's slops from
an upper window. Most of the streets were poorly
paved, or not at all, with a kennel half full of stagnant
water in the center. Sometimes there was no specially
prepared footway ; often such a convenience was little
more than indicated by a low line of posts. The

A GENERAL VIEW OF LONDON 17

public streets were made the dumping grounds for
all sorts of rubbish. Scalding Alley owed its name
to the habit of scalding chickens there for sale in
the neighboring market of the Poultry. So little
was the value of correct sanitation known that as
late as 1647 the following permission is recorded in
the official reports of the Royal Hospital: " No man
shall cast urine or ordure in the streets afore the hour
of nine in the night. Also he shall not cast it out
but bring it down and lay it in the channel." It is
not to be wondered at that the people often encoun-
tered the blue cross on a doorpost, the sign of plague,
or that statutes required every householder to build
a fire opposite his house three times a week in order
to purge the atmosphere.

The houses that lined these streets were of various
kinds. There were still standing many of the fine
old mansions of the nobility that retained the appear-
ance, though no longer the reality, of stone fortifica-
tions. One of the finest of these remained almost
until yesterday — Crosby Hall. The houses of con-
temporary build were usually of brick and timber,
eked out with lath and plaster, and constructed on a
less pretentious scale. The woodwork of the fronts
was often grotesquely carved and painted, and the
roof usually gabled towards the street, as is still to
be seen in the Staple Inn.

The windows were generally composed of small
panes of glass imbedded in lead, and opening case-
ment-wise; while each story of the house projected
several feet beyond the line of the story below. Often
a street of fair width on the ground showed but a
narrow sky line above, the house fronts being so

18 SHAKESPEARE

close together that people could shake hands across
the space. In addition, shop-keepers often built pent-
houses against their lower walls for the display of
goods, thus encroaching still further upon the narrow
passage.

One is particularly struck by three details in con-
nection with the houses of old London : ( 1 ) The num-
ber of churches, to which allusion has already been
made. (2) The frequency of taverns. It would be
useless to attempt to catalogue the city taverns. Be-
sides the scores that are famous, there were other
scores and scores. Often and often Stow finishes the
description of an unimportant street with the words,
" containing many fair houses and divers taverns."
(3) The proximity of shops of the same nature.
Until quite recently Holywell Street, Strand, pre-
sented an aspect typical of Elizabethan London.
Both sides of the street were lined with the shops
of petty dealers in second-hand books, one adjoining
the other throughout the whole length of the street.
In Elizabethan times this custom was carried out
over the whole city. Thus the pin makers were upon
London Bridge, the apothecaries in Bucklesbury, the
goldsmiths in Cheapside, etc. Only the ubiquitous
tavern possessed no local habitation.

Then as now the smaller streets were named in
connection with their proximity to larger streets. As
there were no numbers in use, each house was indi-
cated by a sign, and much ingenuity was required
to diversify them. These signs were occasionally
painted upon the house fronts, or carved in the stone-
work; but more commonly they hung out over the
street, suspended from elaborate wrought-iron brack-

A GENERAL VIEW OF LONDON 19

ets. Originally a sign had indicated an individual
shop-keeper's trade, but, just as the number of a
house remains to-day unchanged with change of occu-
pant, so the Elizabethan sign was generally perma-
nent. Thus came about the state of affairs that
Addison ridicules in The Spectator.

" I would enjoin every shop-keeper to make use
of a sign that bears some affinity to the wares in
which he deals. A cook should not live at the ' Boot,'
nor a shoemaker at ' The Roasted Pig,' and yet for
want of this regulation I have seen a goat set up
before the door of a perfumer and the French King's
head before a sword cutter's."

The streets of London were poorly lighted at night,
or not at all. Various acts provided that householders
should at regular intervals hang out lanterns; but
these lanterns did little or no good, for they were
only horn boxes containing a dim candle. Even so,
the acts were seldom obeyed, and one of the common
street cries was that of the watchman reminding a
delinquent householder that his lantern was not in
place.

The watchman, who was, too often, not at all unlike
Dogberry and his companions, went his rounds armed
with a huge halberd, and was about as useless for the
preservation of order as the numerous " Statutes for
Streets," which among other things forbade persons
to cry out at night, to blow a horn after nine o'clock,
to whistle, to cause a disturbance, or to do a thousand
and one other necessary acts. From time to time
special attempts were made to improve the efficiency
of the police, especially in regard to the arrest of
" sturdy beggars," the pest of Elizabethan London.

20 SHAKESPEARE

But, do what they could, the fact remained that one
always wore his side arms for protection, and took
his life in his hands, when he stirred abroad after
nightfall.

In connection with the streets of London one might
mention the water supply of the city, since so great
a part of it was drawn from the public conduits in
the streets. Till the thirteenth century London de-
pended for its water supply wholly upon the neigh-
boring brooks and springs and upon the Thames.
With the growth of the city, however, the smaller
streams became polluted and, in 1236, the citizens
were given permission to convey water in pipes from
Tyburn to Cheapside. In 1285 was commenced the
great lead-lined cistern with a castellated structure
over it that was known as the Great Conduit in Cheap,
to which the water was conveyed a distance of three
and a half miles.

There were in and about London many springs and
wells that were turned to account in serving other con-
duits; and there was also a system of pipes supplied
by a pump under London Bridge. Besides the con-
duits in Cheapside, the principal conduits throughout
the city were as follows: the Tun upon Cornhill, the
conduit in Aldermanbury, the Standard in Fleet
Street, the Standard without Cripplegate, the con-
duit in Gracechurch Street, the conduit at Holborn
Cross, the Little Conduit at the Stocks Market, the
conduit at Bishopsgate, the conduit in London Wall
opposite Coleman Street, the conduit without Aldgate,
the conduit in Lothbury, and the conduit in Dow-
gate.

An annual custom in connection with the conduits

A GENERAL VIEW OF LONDON 21

is thus described by Stow : " And particularly on the
18th of September, 1562, the Lord Mayor and others
. . . rid to the conduit heads for to see them after
the old custom (of annual inspection), and after
dinner they hunted the hare and killed her, and
thence to dinner at the head of the conduit . . . and
after dinner they went hunting the fox."

The vehicles encountered in the streets were mostly
the carts of costermongers, still more clumsy wagons,
men on horseback, chairs, and coaches. The latter,
however, were of infrequent use, having been but re-
cently introduced. It was considered so effeminate
as to be almost a disgrace for a man to be seen riding
in a coach, unless it were the occasion of some civic
or royal ceremony.

Stow in many places expresses his heartfelt en-
thusiasm for the city, such enthusiasm as a native
Londoner born within sound of Bow Bells would feel.
Elsewhere, however, the same Stow bewails the fol-
lowing state of affairs in the streets of his native
city:

" But now in our time, instead of these enormities,
others are come in place no less meet to be reformed,
namely purprestures, or encroachments on the high-
ways, lanes, and common grounds, in and about this
city; whereof a learned gentleman and grave citizen
hath not many years since written and exhibited a
book to the mayor and commonalty; which book
whether the same have been read by them and dili-
gently considered upon, I know not, but sure I
am nothing is reformed since concerning this mat-
ter.

" Then the number of cars, drays, carts, and

22 SHAKESPEARE

coaches, more than hath been accustomed, the streets
and lanes being straightened, must needs be dan-
gerous, as daily experience proveth.

" The coachman rides behind the horse tails, lash-
eth them, and looketh not behind him; the drayman
sitteth and sleepeth on his dray, and letteth his horse
lead him home. I know that, by the good laws and
customs of this city, shodded carts are forbidden to
enter the same, except upon reasonable cause, as
service of the prince, or such like, they be tolerated.
Also that the fore horse of every carriage should be
led by hand; but these good orders are not observed.
Of old time coaches were not known in this island,
but chariots or whirlicotes, then so called, and they
only used of princes or great estates, such as had
their footmen about them ; . . . but now of late years
the use of coaches, brought out of Germany, is taken
up, and made so common, as there is neither distinc-
tion of time nor difference of persons observed; for
the world runs on wheels with many whose parents
were glad to go on foot."

The close crowding of the city and the timber
framework of the buildings gave rise to the two great
dangers of the Elizabethan city: fire and plague.
People are prone to think of the great plague which
Defoe described as the only plague to which the
metropolis has been subjected; but, as a matter of
fact, this dread disease visited the city about once
in thirty years. It was not an uncommon happening
to have the court moved inland because of the danger
of infection, and it furnished the cause of many of
the brief closures of the theaters long before the
Puritans carried their way on moral grounds. Cam-

A GENERAL VIEW OF LONDON 23

den asserts that in 1563 there were 21,530 deaths
from plague in London alone.

The streets of Elizabethan London were proverbi-
ally noisy, not only from the busy, jostling traffic,
but also from the innumerable street cries heard upon
every hand. It was the custom for an apprentice to
stand in the door of his master's shop and to solicit
trade of the passers-by with the cry of " What do
you lack ? " A foreigner, who was likely to be ridi-
culed by the common people wherever he was met
in those days, or any other person who examined
articles without making a purchase, was liable to
the sarcastic chaff of the disappointed 'prentice; and
if the customer answered impudently he was likely
to have the whole brotherhood down upon him with
their clubs in a trice. Sir Walter Scott in The For-
tunes of Nigel has given an excellent picture of the
Elizabethan shop, the rude behavior of the appren-
tices, and a subsequent riot.

In the days of Elizabeth they declare by act of
common council that in ancient times the lanes of the
open city have been used and of right ought to be
used as the common highway only, and not for huck-
sters, pedlars, and hagglers to stand or to sell their
wares in, and to pass from street to street, hawking
and offering their wares. The preventive acts of
Elizabeth, however, chiefly illustrate the abuses in
full operation notwithstanding the violation of the
law; hence we are not surprised to find a number of
forbidden street cries alluded to in the old plays,
among which are the following: " Old clothes, any
old clothes " — " Buy, sell, or exchange, hats, caps,
etc." — " Any kitchen stuffs, have ye, maids " — (the

24 SHAKESPEARE

latter was the cry of those who collected refuse for
the manufacture of soap and candles). "Ballads,
Almanacks," was the frequent cry of the itinerant
book-seller. Heywood, in The Rape of Lucrece,
under the head of cries of Rome, gives a series of
amusing illustrations of the London cries of his own
day. Many others are to be found in the second act
of Bartholomew Fair. Suffice it to say here that they
were of innumerable variety, representing nearly
every trade imaginable, and were heard like a con-
stant chorus in the streets.

The principal thoroughfares of London were as
follows : ( 1 ) From Newgate, across the city by Cheap-
side to Aldgate. (2) From Bishopsgate, south by
London Bridge to the Surrey Side. These were the
only thoroughfares that crossed the city completely.

(3) From Ludgate to the Tower by way of Candle-
wick Street, interrupted, however, by the necessity of
going through or around the churchyard of St. Paul's.

(4) Thames Street, that ran parallel to the river from
Blackfriars to the Tower.

CHAPTER III
THE PLAYHOUSES

As early as the time of Henry the Seventh com-
panies of players constituted a part of the households
of the great noblemen of England. The players
were attached to the musical part of the establish-
ment; and presented the morality plays and the in-
terludes, the forerunners of the Elizabethan drama.
When the services of the players were not needed
by the master the actors were allowed to wander
about the country at will. The most adaptable place
to be found in the rural districts for dramatic pur-
poses was the interior of the village tavern. During
the years just previous to 1576 a small group of
London taverns had become in reality the theaters
of the day.

The English tavern of those days contained a cen-
tral quadrangular courtyard entered through a large
doorway at one end. About this court were galleries,
one above the other, at the level of each story. When
a play was to be performed, the actors would erect a
temporary platform upon trestles at the end of the
court, and extending back beneath the first gallery.
From this gallery they would hang draperies so as
to convert the back part of the platform and the
court into a sort of dressing room. The spectators
of the play stood about in the open court, or sat upon

25

26 SHAKESPEARE

stools placed in the galleries. As we shall see in a
few moments, this impromptu arrangement contains
all the essential features of the earliest Elizabethan
theaters.

The principal London taverns thus used were the
Bull and the Cross Keys, both in Gracechurch Street,
and the Bel Savage on Ludgate Hill. The Black-
friar's tavern should not be confused with later the-
aters of the same name. There was another Bull in
Bishopsgate Street, and one " Nigh Paul's " about
which nothing else is known. So, too, was used the
Boar's Head in Eastcheap, the gathering place of
Falstaff and his merry companions.

By the end of the third quarter of the century
Puritanism had taken a fair hold on the people of
London. This is no place to describe in detail the
long factional quarrel which resulted in the expulsion
of the players from the city. Suffice it to say that
the long dispute culminated in an order from the
town council prohibiting the performance of plays
within the jurisdiction of the Lord Mayor. So the
actors set to work at once to build theaters. The
first two to be built were north of the city wall.
Soon, however, the Bankside, on the opposite shore
of the river, became more popular. It is now alone
associated with the original performance of most of
the greatest Elizabethan plays.

The first playhouse to be built was The Theater,
erected in 1576 by James Burbage, once a carpenter,
later a play-actor. Of the construction of The The-
ater practically nothing is known. No picture or
detailed description of it is extant. It must, however,
have been a ramshackle affair, for, in regard to it,

THE PLAYHOUSES 27

one of the Lord Mayor's proclamations refers to
" the perils from ruins of such weak buildings." And
it was subsequently demolished quickly and with ease.
In December, 1598, or January, 1599, The Theater
was taken down and the material, so far as possible,
used in the construction of Shakespeare's new play-
house on the Bankside, the Globe.

The other theater north of the city was probably
built the same year — 1576. It was near at hand,
and from what scanty information we have of it, one
fancies it much like The Theater. Its name, the
Curtain, does not imply the use of a curtain therein.
The name was derived from a military fortification,
a curtain, on whose site it was built.

The Rose, the earliest of the Bankside theaters,
was built by Henslowe, probably before 1592. It
was circular, whereas most of the other Bankside
theaters were hexagonal or octagonal. It was also
a very low building in comparison with the others.
The flagstaff rises from the interior, and the usual
hut is lacking. This flag and hut, as we shall see,
are very important details in the construction of the
early theaters.

When The Theater north of the city was demol-
ished the materials were carried across London Bridge
to Southwark, where they were incorporated in the
new Globe. This was in 1599, in all likelihood. The
theater became the home of Shakespeare's company.
Here he acted minor parts in his own plays, and here
appeared for the first time the great series of his
tragedies from Julius Ccesar to Coriolanus. It served
as the model of the Fortune to be referred to later, so
little need be said of its construction here. It is

28 SHAKESPEARE

sufficient to say that it was a relatively tall building,
open to the sky, and that it possessed a double-
gabled hut from which projected the flagstaff. These
huts will be spoken of later. They constitute one
of the Elizabethan theatrical enigmas.

This theater was burned to the ground in 1613
during a performance of Henry the Eighth. It was,
however, immediately rebuilt and remained in exist-
ence till 1644, when it was taken down to make room
for a pile of tenements.

The original site of the Bear Garden contained a
circular inclosure for the baiting of bulls and bears
— hence its name. The first bear ring, we know not
when, was rebuilt rectangular in form. In 1606 it
was again rebuilt by Peter Street, who had already
built the Globe. And in 1613 it was again rebuilt
in its final form. For a short time the new theater
was known as the Hope, but it soon returned to the
use of its more venerable name.

Farther west was the Swan. Though one of the
largest theaters, it was not long, and never exclusively
used for plays. Like the Eear Garden, it possessed a
movable stage which could be taken down when the
interior was to be used for bear-baiting. Though
one of the minor theaters, it is of great historical im-
portance. This is due to the fact that a view of the
interior which has come down to us is the only con-
temporary picture of the interior of an Elizabethan
playhouse extant.

In 1599 the Rose theater was falling into decay.
Again Peter Street was called upon to build a the-
ater, this time the Fortune, this on the city side of
the river, not on the Bankside. The contract for

<*"

Interior of the Swan Theater

THE PLAYHOUSES 29

building the structure has been preserved and forms
the basis of the graphic reconstructed drawing given
opposite page 32. This square theater was burned in
1621, and rebuilt as a round brick building.

The other of the two theaters belonging to Shake-
speare's company was called the Blackfriars.* It
was on the city side of the river, and was known
as a private theater, that is, it was smaller, higher-
priced, more select, and roofed over. This latter de-
tail necessitated some kind of artificial lighting during
the performance, notwithstanding the fact that the
plays were given in the daytime.

It was common practice in those days for the play-
ers to parade the streets of London with music on
the day of performance. As there was then but one
bridge across the river and Bankside on the opposite
side from the city, persons on their way to the the-
aters often made use of the numberless small ferry-
boats that plied upon the river. As the playhouses
were open to the sky bad weather often prevented
a performance — hence the value of the flag appearing
in all the early representations. This flag could be
seen across the river from the city side. If, for
any reason, an advertised performance was aban-
doned at the last moment, the flag was lowered. Thus
the would-be theater-goer would be saved the trouble
of crossing the river to a disappointment.

General admission was collected at the outer door.
The increased price of the best seats was collected

* Recent discoveries have revealed the existence of an
earlier theater by this name. A convenient account of the
matter is to be found in The Elizabethan Playhouse and
Other Studies, by W. J. Lawrence; Lippincott, 1912.

30 SHAKESPEARE

inside. Prices, of course, varied with the occasion,
and with the theater. Admission was sometimes as
low as a penny (about twenty cents, for money was
then worth about ten times its present value). A
good seat, however, frequently cost a shilling, that
is, about two dollars in our money. Prices for a first
performance were usually double. The plays were
performed by daylight in the afternoon.

Once within the doorway of the theater the spec-
tator found himself within a large, circular inclosure
into which projected the stage. The floor of the
central area, called the " yard " was the bare clay or
turf, and was not furnished with seats. About the
yard were three galleries, one above another, divided
into sections called " rooms." The lower rooms could
be reached by steps from the yard as well as from
a door in the rear of each room. The music room,
so often referred to in the old plays, was probably
one of these rooms nearest the stage. Later, how-
ever, as structural improvements were introduced,
the portion thus called and reserved for the use of
the musicians was in all likelihood a continuation on
either side of the upper stage, which will be described
later. The people who occupied the yard were called
" groundlings," because they stood on the ground.
They were the commoner sort of tradesmen, appren-
tices, and petty venders, loose women, pickpockets,
and the like. The better sort of quietly disposed
people sat in the rooms. Respectable women some-
times accompanied their husbands to the rooms, but
on such occasions they always went masked. Not
to do so was a sign of loose morals.

The stage projected into the yard, was rectangular,

THE PLAYHOUSES 31

and occupied about one-fourth of the area. In the
earlier theaters the stage was an open platform upon
trestles, later it was boxed in, and in one or two of
the theaters it may have been provided with a railing.
At any rate, from its projecting position it was open
to the view of the audience from three sides. This
necessitated all entrances and exits being made from
the back or very near it. The stage, however, was
not wholly given up to the actors. It was upon either
side of the stage that the gallants placed their stools,
often arriving late for the mere fun of making a
disturbance. These were the most expensive seats
in the house, corresponding in a way to the box seats
of to-day.

The space directly behind the stage was occupied
by a three-story structure. The stage doors opened
into the dressing rooms on the first floor. The sec-
ond story was like a room with the front wall re-
moved, so that its interior was visible to the audi-
ence. It was called the upper stage, or the upper
gallery. In it were originally represented those parts
of the play that were supposed to be separated from
what was being acted on the lower or main stage.
Before the added improvement of a rear or inner
stage on the ground floor, we should imagine the
Juliet in the famous balcony scene as appearing on
the upper stage, while Romeo stood on the stage
proper. The play before the king and the court in
Hamlet was acted on the upper stage. In the history
plays the defenders of the city walls and ramparts
would appear on the upper stage, and the besiegers
on the stage proper below.

The third story of this rear structure was the hut

32 SHAKESPEARE

that was visible from the outside of the building,
and whose use can only be guessed at. It seems
almost too elaborate to have been built merely to
shelter the bugler before he came out to announce
the beginning of the play. Nor is its erection justi-
fied on the score that it was a mere support for the
flagstaff. This point, however, will be returned to
later.

From a point above the upper stage a canopy
projected forward sufficiently to cover one-third or
one-half of the lower stage. It was called the
" heaven," or the " shadow," and served partly as a
shelter for the actors in inclement weather.

All of these chief structural points are illustrated
in the interior of the Swan, the only contemporary
picture of the interior of an Elizabethan theater that
has come down to us.

What is certainly a more trustworthy guide to the
interior construction of these theaters in the zenith
of their fame is the drawing of the interior of the
Fortune opposite this page. It is constructed by
a modern draughtsman from all the data obtainable,
including the builder's contract for the Fortune.
Note that the space between the stage and the ground
is concealed from the sight of the audience. Such
a scene as that of Hamlet at the grave of Ophelia
could be adequately represented on this stage, but
not on the stage of the Swan, where the spectators
could see beneath the floor. Note the two doors, one
at either side towards the rear of the middle stage.*

* The portion of the stage proper from the columns that
support the shadow forward towards the audience is re-
ferred to as the front or the outer stage. From this point

YARD

Interior of the Fortune Theater

THE PLAYHOUSES 33

In a moment reference will be made to the traverse
curtain. This curtain was drawn across so as to cut
off the rear stage from the middle stage. Probably
there was another traverse drawn between the col-
umns supporting the shadow which could be used to
cut off the middle stage from the outer stage.

From the same data has been constructed the plan
shown opposite page 34. Notice that when either of the
traverses is drawn there is nothing to indicate any
division of one stage from another. It is all one
space, with a slightly irregular shape.

The cross-section of an Elizabethan theater
shown facing page 38 is the result of one of those
attempts to incorporate what is known as generally
applicable into a typical drawing rather than to make
a representation of any particular theater. Note the
provision made for sub-stage effects. Also notice that
scenes upon painted cloths could be let down from
rollers contained in the triangular spaces above the
middle stage. And there is fairly presumptive evi-
dence that something of the sort was actually done.

Now let me describe the usual form of stage
presentation in Shakespeare's time. After a bugler
had announced from the hut by three calls of the
bugle at intervals of a minute that the play was about
to begin, the prologue entered. He was dressed in
a black cloak and crowned with bay leaves. When
the prologue had finished his speech, which usually
contained an apology for the stage effects, or an

in the opposite direction to the wall of the tiring house is re-
ferred to as the back or the middle stage. In the center,
and beyond this towards the rear, was a space yet to be de-
scribed which is referred to as the rear or the inner stage.

34 SHAKESPEARE

explanation of what was to follow, or some other
matter in connection with the play, he withdrew, leav*
ing the stage to the possession of the actors. The
place of the scene was in some cases indicated by
a placard or " title."

It is known that a title was often hung out to
indicate the name of the play. It was the custom
then to decide, oftentimes, at the last moment, what
play was performed. Sometimes the bill was quickly
changed at the will of the audience. More difference
of opinion exists among critics as to the use of the
title to represent the scene. In earlier times the
staging was much cruder than in later years. There
was what was known as multiple staging, where one
part of the stage represented one location, another
another, and so on. In such cases titles were proba-
bly hung up. If the actor made his exit through one
door labeled Rome, or entered through that door, the
audience understood the scene as at Rome. But as
improvements in the theaters were introduced and
the staging became more realistic, this practice be-
came less and less used. It is probable that the title
was used very little in the height of the Elizabethan
age to represent the location of the scene.

As the play progressed the end of the scene was
usually marked by the clearing of the stage for a
moment, or the drawing of one of the traverse cur-
tains. The end of the act was frequently marked by
dancing or by music. In some plays specific direc-
tions are given in this regard. In others there is no
indication of the fact. The time of duration of a play
in those days precludes the possibility of many or
long intermissions. Some places show that the inter-

Plan of the Fortune Theater

THE PLAYHOUSES 35

act music began before the act was quite finished, and
continued till after the next act was begun, thus
minimizing the actual time of intermission. It is prob-
able that the Elizabethans did not consider the di-
vision into acts as a structural necessity, and that
intermissions were introduced sparingly for the pur-
pose of relief to the audience, or changing of setting:

At the end of the play was music and a sort of
comic aftermath known as the jig. The verses at
the end of Twelfth Night constitute such a jig. Else-
where in the present volume the last act of the Mer-
chant of Venice is explained as an expansion of the
customary jig. This diversion, we suppose, followed
even a serious tragedy.

The Elizabethan writers constantly refer to the
poverty of their stage effects. Doubtless they spoke
in comparison with the costly machinery of the court
masks. At all events, these statements seem to have
been sometimes taken a trifle too seriously by critics.
The Elizabethans were certainly rich in properties.
The following are taken from the numerous lists
quoted by Fleay and others.

The castle for Lady Peace or Lady Plenty, and
the prison in which Discord is watched by Argus;
frozen heads; Turk's heads; a monster in which Ben-
bow played; women's masker's hats; fisher's masker's
nets; spears for play of Cariclia; holly for Dutton's
play; holly for forest; fishermen's trays; palmer's
staff; vizard for ape's face; key and hailstones for
Janus; altar for Theogines; Andromeda's picture;
black physician's beard; palmer's hair; two squirts
for Paul's children; the monarch's gown; a basket to
hang Diligence in in the play of Probia, etc.

36 SHAKESPEARE

In February, 1577, a play was prepared for court
presentation in which a " counterfeit well " was car-
ried from the Bell in Gracious Street. Artificial
horses often figure in the old plays; a box-tree is
used in Twelfth Night; Slitgut climbs into a tree in
Eastward Hoe; Isabella cuts down the arbor in The
Spanish Tragedy; ordnance was constantly shot off
in the history plays; in Locrine there is a crocodile
stung by a snake and both of them fall into the water ;
tents are pitched in many of the history plays;
tables, chairs, beds, boxes, chests, piles of rock, etc.,
etc., are frequently mentioned.

The greatest money outlay referred to in the ex-
pense accounts of Henslowe is for costumes. The
clothes worn by the actors were often magnificent.
They were, however, Elizabethan garments. Cos-
tuming in the modern sense of the word was then
unknown. Julius Caesar wore an Elizabethan doublet,
and alludes to it in the lines of the play. Richard
the Third wore Elizabethan armor. One of the ear-
liest notices of the actual use of garments in accord-
ance with correct historical setting relates to that ill-
starred performance of Henry the Eighth in which
the Globe Theater was burned to the ground.

Wright, in The Second Generation of Actors, says
that there were no scenes in Elizabethan times, and
it is impossible to disprove his assertion absolutely.
There is reason to believe, however, that there was
some scenery in the modern sense of the word. There
are numerous passages in the old plays where people
point to and discuss certain things in a way that
would seem far more unreal if the actor were point-
ing to nothing in particular than if the descriptive

THE PLAYHOUSES 37

passage were altogether left out. The burlesque in
A Midsummer Night's Dream, performed by Bottom
and his companions, loses its point if we imagine
that there was no scenery on the Elizabethan stage
to become the subject of a burlesque.*

The Elizabethans were not shocked by certain sit-
uations that would seem impossibly incongruous to us ;
but this fact is hardly warrant for supposing that
they altogether lacked the sense of congruity. While
searching about for a cheap substitute for the elab-'
orate scenery of the court masks that was so familiar
to the Elizabethans, one is struck by the mention of
painted cloths among their expense accounts. These
were the popular substitutes for tapestry and interior
hangings of all kinds, decorated with pictures, often
narrating whole stories by a series. Such properties
the players had, for we find them mentioned in their
lists. Why should they possess them if they did not
use them ? Why should not many of the passages that
so readily apply to a visible scene have been uttered
with the scene described actually present in the form
of a painted cloth covering the back of the stage?
The hut above the upper stage, or stage gallery, seems
to have been too pretentious a structure to have served
no other purpose than that of a flagstaff support, or
a standing ground for the bugler. It may have con-
tained rollers by which the painted cloths were let
down. The idea of elaborate stage scenery was not
unknown to the Elizabethans, though barred from the
public stage by expense. Nor is it possible to un-

* The full significance of this fact in relation to A Mid-
summer Night's Dream was first pointed out to me by one
of my students, Mr. Russell Sharp.

38 SHAKESPEARE

derstand the rapid development in construction and
staging after the Restoration unless we imagine a
beginning in earlier times. Such facts, at least, lend
probability to the surmise that the Elizabethans had
crude representations of scenes other than what were
merely suggested by suitable properties.

There was, we know, a fair-sized space closed off
at times by a curtain which could be drawn open
at will. This space seems to have been about ten by
twenty-five feet and was located at the rear of the
stage. There was also a middle space with two doors
opening to it in such a position that exits and en-
trances could be managed independently of the inner
stage. This is what we call the middle stage. There
must have been secondary curtains. One was the
traverse used to shut off the inner stage. The others
were probably merely draperies temporarily placed
for the occasion of need. Possibly there were side
curtains used, to be referred to elsewhere.

The entrances to the inner stage were from the
side. It is possible, however, that this convenience
existed only in the more up-to-date theaters. The
gallery was certainly in existence from an early time,
and was usually called the upper stage. This also
could be cut off from the view of the audience by a
curtain. I am not so sure that the upper stage was
directly over the inner stage. Possibly it projected
over it slightly, but this is a detail of minor impor-
tance. A window in the back part of the inner stage
enabled one to look out into space and to suggest by
his words a prospect that the audience could not see.

There is fair presumption that windows existed
above the doors that opened upon the lower stage.

Cross-section of the Elizabethan Stage
(Adapted from a print by Brodmeier)

A. Loft, possibly used for D.

painted cloths. E.

B. Loft for properties and F.

machinery. G.

C. Balcony Stage. H.

Rear Stage.
Inner Stage.
Outer Stage.
Steps for Trap, etc.
Space under Front Stage.

From The Development of Shakespeare as a Dramatist by
George P. Baker (The Macmillan Company)

THE PLAYHOUSES 39

This is an important detail in staging such scenes as
the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet, as this ar-
rangement would allow both actors to stand sideways
to the audience, a much more effective position than
that in which one faced and the other stood with his
back to the audience.

Scenes in Elizabethan plays are of two kinds.
There are those having an indefinite location, or, at
least, a location which enables them to be easily
staged without accessory properties; and also those
scenes that do require the setting up of various prop-
erties and paraphernalia. The former are called
outer scenes because they were acted on the outer
stage with no scenic accompaniment; and the latter
inner scenes because they made use of the middle and
inner stages where the properties had been set in
preparation.

And this is the point. While an outer scene was
being acted with the traverse curtain hiding the inner
stage the setting of the inner scene to follow was
being put into place. At the proper time the traverse
was drawn and the scene acted on the inner and outer
stage combined. At the end the curtains were again
drawn shut. While scene three was being acted on
the outer stage the setting of scene two was being
taken away and that of scene four put in place. And
so on alternately. It must not be assumed that this
principle was followed with such monotonous regu-
larity as is suggested by the above. See the discus-
sion of The Merchant of Venice, where it is shown
that the same inner scene is returned to again and
again throughout the first three acts of the play.

This conception of the method of staging Eliza-

40 SHAKESPEARE

bethan plays removes two stumbling-blocks that have
hitherto been in the way. First, the rapidity with
which an Elizabethan play was performed, for we
know that the duration of a performance was scarcely
longer than it takes to pronounce the lines, is ac-
counted for. Second, the old idea that everything in
the way of change upon the stage was performed in
plain sight of the audience not only contradicts and
renders unintelligible many of the contemporary stage
directions but also suggests intrusions and distractions
necessary to the changing of properties which would
have entirely upset the unity if not the gravity of the
piece.

If I were constructing a new picture of an Eliza-
bethan stage I should attempt to include one detail
which, though of great importance, has been thus far
altogether ignored. I refer to the fact that part of
the audience sat upon the stage itself. And this
detail is of twofold importance. Elizabethan men
wore clothes that for variety of form and brilliancy
of color exceeded the fashion even of party dress
among women of to-day. What hostess to-day could
give a ball and decorate her drawing-room in advance
so that the colors would harmonize with the colors
of the gowns worn by her expected guests? Yet those
who have had anything to do with theatrical affairs
know how necessary it is to plan harmoniously every
detail of the stage picture from costume to drapery,
and paper on the wall. Now this possibility was
denied the Elizabethan stage manager, who could
never estimate in advance the unknown quantity of
many gaily-dressed young men on the stage itself in
close proximity to the actors.

THE PLAYHOUSES 41

On the other hand, this very fact gave him one
splendid opportunity denied the modern playwright.
I once saw The Merchant of Venice played in a small
country town by a troupe of barnstormers. In the
great trial scene, impressive as it was even under
such circumstances, the ticket seller, two ushers, and
a village lad were pressed into service to make up
the unruly rabble of spectators in the court-room.
At another time I saw the same play put on the stage
by Sir Henry Irving. In his production a score of
trained persons, carefully costumed and drilled in
their parts, appeared in this scene with never a line
to speak. I was impressed at the time with the rela-
tive expense of this detail. This, however, is what
the Elizabethan stage manager found ready to hand.
Actors and people wore the same kind of clothes,
though they might differ in cut and color. Nothing
was seen in the audience that might not have appeared
on the stage. In The Knight of the Burning Pestle
a member of the audience climbs upon the stage, and
it is some time before it becomes apparent that he
is in reality one of the actors. If an actor stepped
suddenly among the spectators seated along the sides
of the stage he could not be distinguished by general
appearance from one who had just risen to his
feet from among the stage portion of the audience.
Thus the stage manager could always count upon
merging his small handful of actors on the stage into
the larger group of spectators, also on the stage,
without the least hint of discord, just as the real
scenery of a modern stage merges into the painted
perspective at the back.

And now let us look for a moment at the character

42 SHAKESPEARE

of the audience in an Elizabethan playhouse. For,
perhaps, it was largely due to this unruly audience
that Ben Jonson was put upon the shelf and his rival
Shakespeare kept alive for us to to-day.

That was a cruel, boisterous, half-savage age. The
people were superstitious; they believed ardently in
witchcraft, ghosts, and fairies; many of the sports
both of boys and of men were cruel to a degree with
which we now have no sympathy. Branding in the
face, slitting the nose, clipping the ears, even hang-
ing, were penalties inflicted for petty crimes. Men
wore swords as a habit and were accustomed to taking
the law into their own hands. From such a people
we must expect noisy behavior in the playhouse,
though they were, in many respects, much more ap-
preciative of the drama than the modern audience.

The people who sat in the rooms were, as a rule,
well enough inclined. The characteristic scenes hap-
pened in the yard and on the margins of the stage.
The former, having no seats, tempted people to move
about during the performance. Doubtless a person
bent on crossing the yard used his arms and elbows
freely, and trod on people's toes. If the audience
was in a good humor this sort of behavior would pro-
voke a general laugh; but, likely as not, there would
be angry blows, sometimes a general row.

During the play venders of apples, cakes, ale, to-
bacco, etc., hawked their goods about the yard and
in the galleries. Sometimes a deeply tragic part
would be interrupted by a cry of " Pickpocket !
Caught ! " The play would be stopped while the luck-
less cutpurse was hustled out of the theater.

The gentlemen on the stage were little better. It

THE PLAYHOUSES 43

was thought a clever trick to come in late enough to
interrupt the prologue with a lot of noise in placing
one's stool. Once in their seats the gallants did not
scruple to bandy words with people in the yard, flirt
with women in the rooms, or interrupt the players
during a speech. We are told that sometimes these
gallants crowded so close upon the stage that the
players came forward and appealed to the audience
to know whether more room was not needed in which
to act. If the play for the day was not liked, the
actors were pelted and hooted off the stage.

Among the numerous pamphlets of Elizabethan
times, none is so racy, so amusing, or so useful as
a bit of social history as The Gull's Hornbook. The
following is taken from the direction of a young gal-
lant about to go to the theater.

"Whether therefore the gatherers of the Publique or
Private Play-house stand to receive the afternoones rent,
let our Gallant (having paid it) presently advance him-
self up to the Throne of the Stage ... on the very Rushes
where the Commedy is to daunce, yea, and under the state
of Cambises himself must our feathered Estridge like a
piece of Ordnance, be planted, valiantly (because impu-
dently) beating down the mewes and hisses of the op-
posed rascality.

"By sitting on the stage, you may (with small cost),
purchase the deere acquaintance of the boyes; have a good
stoole for sixpence; at any time know what particular
part any of the infants present; get your match lighted,
examine the play suits, lace, and perhaps win wagers upon
laying it is copper, etc.

" And to conclude, whether you be a fool or a Justice
of the peace, a Cuckold or a Capten, a Lord-Maiors sonne,
or a dawcock, a knave or an under-Sheriff; of what stamp
soever you be, current or counterfeit, the stage, like time,
will bring you to most perfect light and lay you open:

4* SHAKESPEARE

neither are you to be hunted from thence, though the
Scarecrows in the yard hoot at you, hiss at you, spit at
you, yea, throw dirt even in your teeth; 'tis most gentleman
like patience to endure all this, and to laugh at the silly
Animals: but if the Rabble, with a full throat cry away
with the foole, you were worse than a madman to tarry
by it; for the gentleman and the foole should never sit
on the stage together. . . .

" Present yourself not on the Stage (especially at a new
play) untill the quaking prologue hath (by rubbing) got
color into his cheeks, and is ready to give the trumpets
their Cue, that hees upon point to enter; for then it is
time, as though you were one of the properties, or that you
dropt out of ye Hangings to creep from behind the Arras,
with your Tripos or three footed stoole in one hand, and
a teston mounted between a fore-finger and a thumb in
the other; for if you should bestow your person upon the
vulgar when the belly of the house is but half full, your
apparell is quite eaten up, the fashion lost, and the propor-
tion of your body in more danger to be devoured than if
you were served up in the Counter amongst the Powltry;
avoid that as you would the Bastome. It shall crown you
with rich commendation to laugh aloud in the middest
of the most serious and saddest scene of the terriblest
Tragedy; and let that clapper (your tongue) be tost so
high, that all the house may ring of it. . . . As first, all
the eyes in the gallery will leave walking after the Players,
and onely follow you; the simplest dolt in the house
snatches up your name, and when he meets you in the
streets, or that you fall into his hands in the middle of
a Watch, his word shall be taken for you; heele cry Hees
such a gallant, and you passe . . .

"Before the play begins, fall to cards; you may win
or loose (as fencers do in a prize) and beat one-another
by confederacie, yet share the money when you meet at
supper; notwithstanding, to gul the Raggamufflns that stand
aloofe gaping at you, throw the cards (having first torn
four or five of them) round the Stage, just upon the third
sound, as though you had lost; it skills not if the four
knaves ly on their backs, and outface the Audience; theres

THE PLAYHOUSES 45

none such fools as dare take exception at them, because,
ere the play go off, better knaves than they will fall into
the company.

"Now, sir, if the writer be a fellow that hath both
either epigrammd you, or hath had a flirt at your mis-
tress, or hath brought either your feather, or your red
beard, or your little legs, &c. on the stage, you shall dis-
grace him worse than by tossing him in a blanket, or
giving him a bastinado in a Tavern, if, in the middle of
his play, you rise with a screwd and discontented face
from your stoole and be gone; no matter whether the
scenes be good or no; the better they are the worse do you
distaste them; and, being on your feet, sneak not away
like a coward, but salute all your gentle acquaintance, that
are spread either on the rushes, or on stooles about you,
and draw what troup you can after you; the Mimicks are
beholden to you, for allowing them elbow roome; their poet
cries, perhaps, a pox go with you, but care not for that,
theres no music without frets.

"Marry, if either the company, or the indisposition of
the weather bind you to sit it out, my counsel is then that
you turn plain Ape, take up a rush, and tickle the earnest
eares of your fellow gallants, to make other fooles fall
a laughing; mew at passionate speeches, blare at merrie,
find fault with the musicke, whew at the childrens Action,
whistle at the songs, and above all, curse the sharers. ..."

Though The Gull's Hornbook is a comical satire,
Dekker truly represents the time. Yet the Eliza-
bethan audience was not all bad. Their rudeness was,
in the main, good-natured, not a rudeness due to
malice. Furthermore, the Elizabethans knew a good
play when they saw it. Many a poor comedy that
satisfies the popular taste to-day would never have
got safely through the first night three hundred years
ago. This fact has much to do with the general ex-
cellence of the Elizabethan drama. After all, there
was manifested in the audience of that day the gen-

46 SHAKESPEARE

uine spirit of true sport, of every fellow for himself,
and give the Devil his due, that has always character-
ized the English, whether of the time of the Armada
or of Waterloo.

So far I have attempted to give the generally ac-
cepted picture of the Elizabethan stage. Let me end
the chapter by reference to one of the mooted points
about which there are two opinions.

In the study of Shakespeare's plays the present
writer lays great stress upon two points as con-
tributive above all others to thorough appreciation:
1. A knowledge of the social life and conditions of
the people at the time the plays were written. 2. An
understanding of Elizabethan staging. It is true that
the effect of modern stagecraft is often ruinous to
Shakespeare's plays. They were written for other
conditions. The modern dress is an awkward misfit.
Wherever possible or necessary, I have attempted in
the following pages to suggest the Elizabethan setting.

This chapter has shown from what scanty material
much of the story of Elizabethan staging has been
constructed. The question may be put as to some of
the suggestions contained in the following pages as
to how I know it was done that way. To be truthful,
I do not know. But I bear the following constantly
in mind. We know enough of the Elizabethan court
masks to know that stage scenery as elaborate as any
used to-day was then in use. We know that this was
debarred by expense from the public stage. We also
know that the Elizabethans were extremely imitative,
imaginative, and ingenious. We know in general the
construction of their playhouses. We have many lists
of their properties. Oftentimes we can read almost to

THE PLAYHOUSES 47

a certainty between the lines that certain things were
done upon the stage, though we do not know just how
they were done.

To my mind the situation suggested by these facts
reduces itself almost to a mathematical problem. If
one of us can easily invent such a staging for an
Elizabethan scene as any ingenious person could con-
struct out of what we know they had in those days,
is it unfair to assume that the ingenious Elizabethans
did as well, if not better ? More likely better. They
were more used than we are to making a little go a
great way.

One point in particular needs a note in this con-
nection. Not only do many of the Shakespeare scenes
imply a considerable setting, but some of them also
imply a darkened stage. Consider the last act of
The Merchant of Venice. Innumerable allusions cry
out for a darkened stage. It may be urged that the
stage was not darkened and that these references are
put in for the sole purpose of suggesting night. In
many cases this situation is doubtless true. But is it
true here? My own feeling is that the number of
references is so large that all value as suggestion on
a light stage would be lost through overdoing. Fur-
thermore, some of the points, such as the failure of
one person to see or recognize another when he first
comes upon the stage, could be easily managed more
effectively in other ways if the stage were light. Does
not the fact that it was not done otherwise imply that
the stage was not light?

There appeared in the Century Magazine for De-
cember, 1911, an article by Mr. Corbin. In this he
calls attention to the canopy over the stage, frequently

48 SHAKESPEARE

referred to as the Shadow, or the Heavens. He con-
jectures that some canvas arrangement could be
spread from the shadow which would effectually close
the open top of the theater, thus producing a consid-
erable gloom upon the stage. I might further cite a
phrase from Henry the Sixth, " Hung be the heavens
with black," to show that arrangements were actually
in use for dropping hangings from the stage canopy.
It would be easy, by means of a few wires stretched
across the top of the playhouse, a roll of canvas, and
a bundle of rings, to sufficiently darken the space
below as it is to-day to control by the same means
the light in a photographic studio. It is no com-
pliment to the Elizabethans to assume that they lacked
the ingenuity to do so. (See the discussion of The
Merchant of Venice for a further treatment of this
subject.)

CHAPTER IV
QUARTOS AND FOLIOS

Playhouse owners in Shakespeare's day consid-
ered it unwise to publish plays. Plays, however, got
into print in spite of opposition. Oftentimes a play
was so popular that its publication would be a profit-
able venture to any printer who could get hold of a
copy of the play. Laws were so loose and public
opinion so lax that there was little likelihood of pun-
ishment as the result of publishing a play without
permission. On such occasions, actors and managers
guarded their written copies of the plays zealously.
If neither love nor bribery could procure a copy for
the piratical publisher, he resorted to actual theft in
the open playhouse. That is, he would send a man
to take down the play while it was being acted. As
shorthand writing was not then developed to the ex-
tent it is to-day this process usually resulted in very
imperfect copies.

On the other hand, as plays were usually short-
lived upon the stage, managers willingly resorted to
publication when the play was no longer popular on
the stage. In such cases, however, the publication
followed the original production of the play by sev-
eral years.

There is, however, an interesting and unique ex-
ception. Two quartos of Hamlet appeared very

49

50 SHAKESPEARE

promptly after the appearance of the play on the
stage, and both before it had in any way lost its
popularity. Various theories have been advanced to
account for this fact. I incline to believe that the first
quarto, which seems to be a very imperfect copy of
the play as we know it, is the result of a piratical
publisher's theft in the playhouse, as described above.
And that the second quarto, an excellent copy, was
published with the authority of Shakespeare's com-
pany in order to protect itself against the spurious
first quarto.

However, the plays that in one way or another
got into print during Shakespeare's lifetime were pub-
lished in quarto form. They were thin pamphlets, so
called because the sheet after printing was folded
into four. The average size of the page was about
six by nine inches. During Shakespeare's life and
the intervening years before the publication of the
Folio sixteen plays were published in quarto form.
Some of them appeared successively in several edi-
tions. These plays were:

1594 Titus Andronicus.

1597 Richard II.

1597 Richard III.

1597 Romeo and Juliet.

1598 1 Henry IV.

1598 Love's Labour's Lost.

1600 Merchant of Venice.

1600 Henry V.

1600 2 Henry IV.

1600 Midsummer Night's Dream.

1602 Merry Wives of Windsor.

1603 Hamlet. (Mutilated copy.)

1604 Hamlet. (True copy.)
1608 King Lear.

QUARTOS AND FOLIOS 51

1608 Pericles.

1609 Troilus and Cressida.
1622 Othello.

Before 1557 there was very little supervision over
publication. A guild of publishers, called the Sta-
tioners' Company, exercised practically no authority
over its members. Later a law was passed making
it illegal for any one not a member of the Stationers'
Company to operate a printing press. During the
greater part of Elizabeth's reign no book could be
printed till it was licensed by the Stationers' Company.
When permission was granted the fact was entered
upon the company's register. Thus the Stationers'
Register * affords many interesting details regarding
the early publication of Shakespeare's plays. Grad-
ually the company acquired the power and developed
the will to protect the printers to whom it licensed
books. It paid, however, little or no attention to the
author or his rights. Though he had some recourse
in the courts, the process was so cumbersome and
expensive that it was seldom resorted to. Thus, even
under the protection of the Stationers' Company the
publication of a book fit for publication at all was
merely a question of the possession of the manuscript,
with or without the author's permission.

Shakespeare retired from London to Stratford sev-
eral years before his death in 1616. After his death,
seven years elapsed before any one thought of pub-
lishing a complete edition of his plays. The work
was done, however, in 1623. The volume which then
appeared is known as the First Folio, or, merely, the
Folio.

♦Abbreviated S.R.

52 SHAKESPEARE

The following account of the Folio is abridged from
Mr. Sidney Lee's life of the poet. In 1623 the first
attempt was made to give to the world a complete
edition of Shakespeare's plays. Two fellow-actors
and intimate friends, John Heming and Henry Con-
dell, were nominally responsible for the venture, but
a small syndicate of printers and publishers undertook
all pecuniary responsibility. The First Folio was
printed at the press in the Barbican, which Jaggard *
had acquired of Roberts. Upon Blount * probably
fell the chief labor of seeing the book through the
press. It was in press throughout 1623, and had so
far advanced by November 8 that on that day Edward
Blount and Isaac Jaggard obtained formal license
from the Stationers' Company to publish sixteen of
the hitherto unprinted plays it was intended to in-
clude. Four other hitherto unprinted dramas for
which no license was sought figured in the volume,
namely, 1 and 2 Henry VI, King John, and The
Taming of the Shrew; but each of these plays was
based by Shakespeare on a play of like title which
had been published at an earlier date, and the absence
of a license was probably due to an ignorant miscon-
ception on the part either of the Stationers' officers
or of the editors of the volume as to the true rela-
tions subsisting between the old pieces and the new.
The only play by Shakespeare that had been previ-
ously published and was not included in the First
Folio was Pericles.

The volume consisted of nearly one thousand
double-column pages, and was sold at a pound a copy.
From the number of copies that survive it may be
* Members of the syndicate referred to.

QUARTOS AND FOLIOS 53

estimated that the edition numbered five hundred.
On the title page was engraved the Droeshout por-
trait. Commendatory verses were supplied by Ben
Jonson and others. The dedication was addressed to
the brothers William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, the
Lord Chamberlain, and Philip Herbert, Earl of Mont-
gomery, and was signed by Shakespeare's friends and
fellow-actors, Heming and Condell.

There is no doubt that the whole volume was
printed from the acting versions in the possession of
the manager of the company with which Shakespeare
had been associated. But it is doubtful if any play
was printed exactly as it came from his pen. The
text of the First Folio is often inferior to that of
the pre-existent quartos.

The plays are arranged under three heads, come-
dies, histories, and tragedies, and each division is
separately paged. As a specimen of typography the
First Folio is not to be commended. The misprints
are numerous and are especially conspicuous in the
pagination. The sheets seem to have been worked off
very slowly, and corrections were made while the
press was working, so that copies struck off later
differ from the earlier copies. One mark of careless-
ness on the part of the compositor or of the corrector
for the press, which is common to all copies, is that
Troilus and Cressida, though in the body of the book
it opens the section of the tragedies, is not mentioned
at all in the table of contents, and the play is un-
paged, except on its second and third pages, which
bear the numbers 79 and 80.

The number of surviving copies exceeds one hun-
dred and eighty, of which one-third are now in Amer-

54 SHAKESPEARE

ica. Only fourteen are in a perfect state, that is, with
the portrait printed (not inlaid) on the title page, and
the fly-leaf facing it, with all the pages succeeding
it intact and uninjured. (The fly-leaf contains Ben
Jonson's verses attesting the truthfulness of the por-
trait.) Of these, the finest and cleanest is the
" Daniel " copy which belonged to the late Baroness
Burdett-Coutts. It measures thirteen inches by eight
and a fourth. On March 23, 1907, the copy of the
First Folio formerly in the library of the late Fred-
erick Locker-Lampson fetched at Sotheby's £3,600
(about $18,000). This is the largest sum yet realized
at public auction.

The second, third, and fourth folios, usually re-
ferred to by the abbreviations, F2, F3, F4, appeared
in 1632, 1663, 1685. To all intents and purposes
each of these folios is a reprint of the preceding.

An accurate reprint, though not a facsimile, of the
First Folio has recently been issued by Crowell
and Co.

CHAPTER V
SHAKESPEARE'S VERSE

Mr. Dowden says that the highest passion of all
finds its expression in prose. This assertion seems
at first sight to be in accordance with our ideas.
Prose seems to be more the language of nature than
verse. Mr. Dowden cites some of the speeches of
King Lear as illustrative. Is the illustration, how-
ever, quite apt? If tested by Shakespeare's other
plays the situation does not seem to fit. Some of the
most intense moments of passion are phrased in verse.
Note the words of Hamlet, " Absent thee from felicity
awhile," etc. This fact is true even in King Lear.
Prose is used in parts of King Lear because the king
is going mad. His thoughts are incoherent. The very
essence of verse is coherence, therefore it is out of har-
mony with such a situation. Shakespeare, almost of
necessity, depended sometimes upon prose, and not
always prose of the most orderly sort.

Some characters in the plays are essentially un-
poetic and are made to speak prose; yet Enobarbus,
the blunt-spoken common soldier in Antony and Cleo-
patra, recites that most wonderful description of Cleo-
patra in her barge.

Frequently Shakespeare desired to imitate the lan-
guage of ordinary conversation, and made use of
prose. On the other hand, there are passages in

55

56 SHAKESPEARE

which he accomplishes the same task in verse with
no diminution in the naturalness of effect.

Sometimes the poet seems to make use of prose
for no other purpose than to emphasize the contrast
with other passages spoken in verse : as where Hamlet
describes the make-up of the human frame.

The fact of the matter seems to be that no rule
is discoverable which uniformly applies to when
Shakespeare did or did not use prose or verse. My
belief is that he used one form or the other as the
spirit moved him, that is, intuitively, in whichever
form his thoughts naturally expressed themselves, and
that no rule or method of procedure occurred to him
in advance. He was inspired by momentary prefer-
ence and intuition.

Much has been written concerning the form and
quality of Shakespeare's verse. Blank verse was then
in its infancy, not yet having been fully reduced to
rule. To the student of metrics the whole subject
presents a wealth of exceptions that may well occupy
such an one's attention to the exclusion of more im-
portant matters. To the student who is interested in
the actual plays, rather than in the study of meter
for its own sake, the subject is not so intricate. In
fact, for our present purpose, it may be reduced to
a few simple statements.

Shakespeare wrote at a time when blank verse was
comparatively new in English poetry. It had not
been practised and pruned to the extent we find it
in Tennyson. Then, too, Shakespeare wrote blank
verse for people to speak, for actors who took all
sorts of liberties with pronunciation, and who were
able and often found the opportunity to fill up a gap

SHAKESPEARE'S VERSE 57

with a significant gesture. Hence we may expect
to find it composed very loosely.

The normal line of Shakespeare's blank verse con-
sists of five iambic feet. The lines are unrhymed.
The end of a line corresponds with a pause in the
sense. Lines differing from this normal type are,
however, almost as frequent as lines composed strictly
in accordance with it.

The principal variations are as follows: In early
plays many lines are rhymed. We find that the com-
parative number of rhymed lines steadily decreases
as we follow the list of plays in chronological order.
In the early plays we find much doggerel and many
stanzas. This practice also decreased as Shakespeare
grew older, though songs are introduced into the
plays till the very end. Lines shorter and longer than
five feet often occur, the latter more frequently when
a line is divided between two speakers. Lines in
which there is no sense pause at the end frequently
occur. They are called '* run-on " lines to distin-
guish them from " end-stopped " lines. Run-on lines
occur more frequently in the later plays.

There are still other frequent variations. The
iambic foot consists of two syllables, the first unac-
cented, the second accented. The order of accent may
be reversed in any foot, sometimes in two or more
feet of the same line. An unaccented syllable may
be added to any foot, more frequently at the end of
the line. Such extra syllables are much slighted in
pronunciation. After a pause an unaccented syllable
is often dropped. One should frequently imagine such
a gap accompanied on the stage by a pause just long
enough to enable the actor to continue the original

58 SHAKESPEARE

rhythm when he resumes his speech. Occasionally the
purpose of such a break is to produce an intentional
jar. Sometimes lines of an altogether different form
are introduced for the sake of variety.

Scansion of Shakespeare's verse is often facilitated
by a knowledge of Elizabethan pronunciation. Space
can be afforded here for only a few references to the
more important details of this subject.

Contractions, such as th* for the, and expansions,
such as i-on for ion, are not necessarily indicated in the
text. Where they are not indicated they must be sup-
plied by the reader's sense of rhythm. The more
important rules of pronunciation are:

The loss of an unaccented syllable before a con-
sonant is common.

'gainst = against,
'venge = avenge.

Sometimes a prefix beginning with a consonant is
thus lost.

'fore as be fore.

An initial vowel is often dropped and the consonant
combined with the preceding word.

what 's — what is.
they 're = they are.

Such combinations as the following are common:

I'vez=I have.
he 'th = he hath.

let 's = let us.
before 's = before us.
defy 's s= defy us.
'tis = it is.
is't=:is it.

SHAKESPEARE'S VERSE 59

Most of the above contractions are still in frequent
use; but in Shakespeare's plays we must often intro-
duce them even when not indicated in the printed
text.

The final letter is often omitted.

i' the as in the.
th'lad = the lad.
o' me as oh, me.

Many words of several syllables are contracted by
elision.

prison — prisn.
perilous = perlous.
heartily = heartly.
opening = opning.
prisoner — prisner.
reckoning — reckning.
Antony = Antny.
ordinance — ordnance,
desperate == desprate.
temporal — tempral.
general ±a genral.

Words containing v and th are often slighted in
pronunciation, thus:

devil — del or de'il.
evil = eil.
ever = ere.
even — ene.
whether -5 where,
whither = whire.
hither — here,
thither = thire.

On the other hand, words were often expanded in
pronunciation.

60 SHAKESPEARE

marriage = marri-age.
celestial = celesti-al.
Christian = Christi-an.
valiant = vali-ant.
familiar — f amil-i-ar.
conscience as consci-ence.
suspicion = suspici-on.
chariot as chari-ot.
gracious — graci-ous.
determined = determin-ed.

The word spirit when pronounced sprite retained
all the dignity of the former word, and was synony-
mous with it. Hamlet speaks of his father's ghost
as a sprite. The rhythm will guide the reader to
a one- or two-syllable pronunciation, whether the word
be spelled in the text spirit, sprite, or spright.

This is is frequently contracted into this. And
there are many other similar words and phrases. But
enough are cited for the purpose of illustration.

Many words are accented differently: access',
authorized, aspect', com'plete, cano'nized, envy',
pio'neer, portents', perse'vere, perse'verence, rheu'-
matic. Most of these words are also found with their
present pronunciation.

Words like fire, dear, hour, were frequently dwelled
upon sufficiently to make them count for two syllables.
The rolling of the r was a characteristic detail of
Elizabethan speech.

In closing this brief note on the subject of meter
I should call attention to the fact that not every line
of verse in Shakespeare can be satisfactorily scanned
with any degree of regularity. In many cases this
fact is probably due to the corrupt state of the
text.

SHAKESPEARE'S VERSE 61

The whole subject is well summarized thus by Mr.
Manly :

" In reading Shakespeare, slurs, elisions, resolutions, and
contractions occur and must be reckoned with. But they
are always found to be such as harmonize with the proper
recitation of the lines and not mere artificial products of
forcing the rhythm into a system." (Intro. Macbeth, xxxiv.)

CHAPTER VI
CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF PLAYS

It has not been easy to determine the dates of
Shakespeare's plays. In fact, there is general agree-
ment as to the dates of each play within a limit of
one or two years in most cases. Different critics, how-
ever, disagree oftentimes as to the exact date to
which this or that play is to be assigned.

The date of a play is an inference based upon many
facts. The evidence of early or late style is taken
into consideration. The dates contained in the Sta-
tioners' Register are often important. So are the
dates of the quartos. Sometimes a play refers to
known historical facts, to other books whose dates
of publication are known, or quotes from another play
whose date of composition is established. This kind
of internal evidence implies a date after which the
play cannot have been written. Some other piece of
writing may refer to the play itself. If the date of
this piece of writing is known it sets a date before
which the play must have been written. This is
known as external evidence. The sifting of all such
evidence has led to the present chronology.

The introductions to the Tudor Edition of the plays
recite the evidence of the dates there assigned, which
have been quoted in the following list:

1590-91 1 Henry VI.
1591-92 2 Henry VI.

62

CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF PLAYS 63

1592 3 Henry VI.

1592-96 Richard III.

1594-95 King John.

1595-96 Richard II.

1597 1 Henry IV.

1597-98 2 Henry IV.

1599 Henry V.

1613 Henry VIII.

1591 Love's Labour's Lost.

1591 The Comedy of Errors.

1592 Two Gentlemen of Verona.
1594-95 Midsummer Night's Dream.
1594-97 The Taming of the Shrew.
1596-97 The Merchant of Venice.
1598-1601 All's Well That Ends Well.
1599-1600 As You Like It.

1599 Much Ado About Nothing.

1599-1600 The Merry Wives of Windsor.

1601 Twelfth Night.

1601-02 Troilus and Cressida.

1603-04 Measure for Measure.

1607-08 Pericles.

1609-10 Cymbeline.

1610-11 The Winter's Tale.

1610-11 The Tempest.

1594 Titus Andronicus.

1594-95 Romeo and Juliet.

1599 Julius Caesar.

1602-04 Hamlet.

1604 Othello.

1606 King Lear.

1606 Macbeth.

1606-08 Timon of Athens.

1607-08 Antony and Cleopatra.

1608-10 Coriolanus.

CHAPTER VII
DRAMATIC STRUCTURE

Every one who reads a play realizes that much of
the effect produced depends upon the local color, the
words and phrases used, scenery and properties, sug-
gestions, bits of foreshadowing, cross-references, etc.
All such details, however, are manufactured by the
playwright late in the process of constructing a play.
They are, figuratively speaking, scattered over or
hung upon the skeleton of the play. A description
of what is meant by this skeleton involves the subject
of dramatic structure. In other words, the structure
of a drama may be compared to the framework of a
building on which are engrafted the decorations.

There are differences in this framework according
as the play is of one type or another. Let us post-
pone the consideration of such differences for the
present and consider as the type a play which is to
be taken seriously. Such a play need not necessarily
be a tragedy, though hardly an out-and-out farce.

It is necessary, however, first to consider a few
general details.

What is meant by dramatic? A drama is a story.
The essence of the drama is action — but all action
is not dramatic. Action is dramatic only when it
leads to more action. Yet this action need not be
physical action. It may be mental. Thus an argu-

64

DRAMATIC STRUCTURE 65

merit which leads to physical action is dramatic, as
Antony's oration over Caesar's body. Or, a discussion
that changes the ideas of persons in the play and thus
leads them to action is essentially dramatic, as the
soliloquy of Lady Macbeth after reading her hus-
band's letter. Pure passion, even inaction, may be
dramatic if it is made the means of leading to more
action.

A drama should contain a dominant idea. Because
one cannot lay aside a drama as one can a novel, but
must listen to the end at one sitting, the play must
be a unit. That is, there must be some one thing
that is begun, carried on, and brought to a conclusion
during the performance. This is usually called the
idea.

Think of the novels you have read. Can you sum
up each one in a single sentence? The Prisoner of
Zenda — yes; Vanity Fair — no. A good drama can
be thus summed up. It has a well-defined theme,
a topic sentence, so to speak. Thus in Macbeth: the
conflict between Macbeth and fate in the person of
Macduff in which the character of the former is grad-
ually depraved till it leads to his downfall. In Rich-
ard the Second: the overthrow of a weak, wicked
monarch by one whose opposite characteristics better
fit him to rule as king.

It is also well to remember that many rules of
dramatic technique depend upon the mechanical and
physical conditions under which the play is produced.
Many structural differences between the Elizabethan
plays and the plays of to-day are due to architectural
differences between the old and the new theaters.
The rapidity of performance allows the audience no

66 SHAKESPEARE

time to stop and think, hence omissions, contradictions,
etc., may be tolerated in a play that would be alto-
gether out of place in a novel. This rapidity of
performance prevents one from weighing details too
critically; it enables the dramatist to juggle with the
feelings of his audience in a way utterly impossible
under other conditions. The tiring of the audience
physically, mentally, and emotionally accounts for the
requirement of greater brevity and more rapid action
as the end of the play approaches. And as the audi-
ence wishes to leave the playhouse fully satisfied,
every question raised by the play must be disposed
of before the curtain falls.

We have suggested what sort of material is essen-
tially dramatic. A mere mass of dramatic material,
however, does not constitute a dramatic story. The
story of a drama differs in one important detail from
what may be a good story for a novel. A dramatic
story must have a beginning and an end.

As these words are used with a technical signifi-
cance, it is necessary to explain them. Recall for a
moment the story of Vanity Fair. Is there any par-
ticular reason for beginning the story at the point
where Thackeray takes it up? There is none. The
story could just as well have been begun later; or,
had Thackeray so wished, he could have begun a
volume earlier. So, too, the story could have been
ended sooner, might possibly have been thereby im-
proved. Also, as affairs are at the end of the volume,
it would be possible to go right on with many more
events. In other words, as we look back over the
history of Becky Sharp we find no part of it cut out
as a single piece, standing alone, for treatment here.

DRAMATIC STRUCTURE 67

This story is without beginning or end in the dra-
matic sense.

Consider, by way of contrast, the story of Hamlet's
life, both as we have it in the play and as we have
it pieced out by our fancy. As our imagination roams
over his whole life we suddenly pause at one signifi-
cant event, the supernatural revelation of a crime.
This event begins a new era in Hamlet's life. The
results of it bring new forces into play. Then they
play themselves out. When this is done there is
nothing left to write about. The early history of
Hamlet could not be incorporated into the play with-
out becoming an unnecessary drag. Nor can one con-
ceive a sequel to Hamlet. It is this sharply defined
initial occurrence, and the equally sharp finality of
the conclusion that constitute in the dramatic sense the
beginning and the end. Thus, every good dramatic
story is capable of being isolated from its chrono-
logical surroundings as a whole — that is, it has a be-
ginning and an end. And both, so to speak, are
final.

Furthermore, every dramatic story involves a strug-
gle. Sometimes it is a struggle between ideas; but
more frequently between two people or between two
groups of people. At any rate, the idea of a struggle
is always present. And the presentation of this strug-
gle on the stage follows a regular course. The reader
must be sufficiently informed in regard to prelim-
inary events to understand what follows (the intro-
duction). Then comes the initial event, the begin-
ning, out of which the story grows (the exciting
force). One element of the struggle involved grad-
ually rises into prominent significance (the rising ac-

68 SHAKESPEARE

tion) till it reaches (the turning-point), the place
where it begins to find the other element of the strug-
gle too strong to be withstood. While the balance of
power swings the other way (the falling action) we
approach the end of the play, the technical end re-
ferred to above (the catastrophe).

Before calling attention to some of the minor de-
tails concerning the presentation of this arrangement,
it is necessary to dwell for a moment longer on the
technical terms contained above in parentheses.

The peculiar nature of dramatic production entails
a certain way of opening the narrative. It should be
remembered that the audience has no control over the
speed of production. If, in reading a novel, one be-
comes confused, one can pause, re-read, turn back,
or ponder as deliberately as one wishes. This oppor-
tunity, however, is denied the playgoer. The pres-
entation of the play goes right on without interruption.
If the audience is confused, there is no time to stop
and straighten matters out. Hence, one of the abso-
lute requirements of dramatic story-telling is perfect
clearness from start to finish.

This requirement implies an introduction. The
dramatist cannot plunge into the middle of his story.
He must begin at the beginning, in fact, a little before
the beginning. No matter how sharply defined the
technical beginning of the play, its full comprehen-
sion presupposes something. Some details must be
known which lead up to and account for it. Further-
more, the audience must become acquainted with the
principal characters, and know something of their
personalities as well as of their relations to each other.
And the story will be much more effectively received

DRAMATIC STRUCTURE 69

if the audience is put in the proper mood, acquainted
from the start with the keynote of what is to follow.

It is the purpose of the introduction to furnish all
this material in the briefest possible space consistent
with clearness and completeness.

Then comes the exciting force. This is the tech-
nical beginning spoken of above, the initial event that
sets things going. It must stand out prominently, be
of sufficient importance of itself, and the following
events should grow out of it in accordance with the
law of cause and effect. Every plot detail that fol-
lows should be traceable more or less directly back
to this event. The exciting force excites the quiescent
conditions of the introduction into action.

The rising action can be disposed of in a few words.
It is merely the logical development of the story from
the appearance of the exciting force to the climax of
interest known as the turning-point. This scanty defi-
nition will seem more sufficient after reading what
follows descriptive of the turning-point.

As the phrase turning-point suggests, something in
the drama turns at this point. Let us see what it is.
As has been said, every dramatic story involves a
struggle between two forces. And this struggle is so
presented that at first one of the forces is dominant
and, throughout the rising action, seems mounting to
success. At the turning-point, however, we begin to
see that the present success is temporary and that
ultimately the other force will prevail. The turning-
point, then, is the place where the success of one
element of the struggle begins to find itself powerless
before the ultimate success of the other element of
the struggle.

70 SHAKESPEARE

In Hamlet, for instance, the struggle is between
Hamlet and Claudius. Late in the first act, after the
introduction, the exciting force appears in the form
of the ghost's revelation to Hamlet. As a result,
Hamlet is bent on just revenge. During the rising
action the story develops. Hamlet formulates and puts
into action " The Mouse-Trap." Hamlet, however,
so mismanages this little device that Claudius reaps
an advantage. He is immediately roused into action.
Henceforth, throughout the falling action Claudius is
the aggressor, directing his heretofore quiescent
energy against Hamlet. The " Mouse-Trap " scene
where Hamlet's aggressive behavior reaches the max-
imum and immediately sinks before the energy of
Claudius, may be called the turning-point of the play.

The falling action of the second half of the play
corresponds to the rising action of the first half. It
is the logical working out of the new turn of affairs
that has been ushered into existence by the turning-
point.

The catastrophe is the end. It should correspond
with the end of the play, all minor details having
been disposed of previously; and it should also come
as a climax of interest.

Oftentimes the climax of an Elizabethan play is
followed by a brief passage that is usually omitted
to-day. The entrance of Fortinbras and his soldiers
at the end of Hamlet is such a passage. It was in-
serted by Shakespeare not for dramatic purposes, but
for mechanical. The absence of a drop curtain in
the theaters of that day made some such device neces-
sary in order to rid the stage easily of the dead
bodies.

DRAMATIC STRUCTURE 71

The familiar diagram representing the structure
of a drama is given below. AB represents the intro-
duction. The exciting force appears towards the end
of this part or soon afterward. BC is the rising
action. C is the turning-point. CD is the falling
action. D is the catastrophe. The introduction and
the exciting force usually appear in the first act of an
Elizabethan play; and sometimes the rising action is
started. The turning-point is usually in the third
act. In Othello, however, it is delayed to the fourth,

a condition more nearly represented by the dotted
lines in the diagram. The catastrophe, as has been
said, occurs at the end of act V. Thus, acts II. and
IV. are more or less transitional. Here, if anywhere,
a slight lull in the interest becames tolerable. The
action, however, must proceed more rapidly towards
the end.

Many of the Elizabethan plays were first printed
without any indication of division into acts — a fact
which implies that no very great significance was at-
tached to the act-division. In fact, the division of a
play into acts was a mere imitation of the outward
form of Seneca's plays which furnished the earliest
Elizabethan models. By the time of Shakespeare
the five- fold division was followed almost as a habit,

72 SHAKESPEARE

hardly at all for its structural significance. In
Shakespeare an act is seldom more than a mere fifth
of the play. Beyond what is said above relative to the
function of each of the five acts it is impossible to go.
Rarely does an act of Shakespeare correspond to an
integral unit of structure. And when it does it seems
to do so by accident.

The scene, however, is more likely to be a structural
unit. Yet even in this case less significance seems to
attach to such divisions than in a modern play. Many
of the early play texts omit the division into scenes
as well as the division into acts. For all that,
the scene is in the majority of cases an integral
unit.

In dramatic parlance the word scene is used with
varying significance. 1. It represents what may be
seen, and is akin to scenery. 2. A new scene, as in
French plays of to-day, is marked every time the num-
ber of persons on the stage is increased or diminished.

3. According to Elizabethan practice a new scene is
indicated whenever the stage is completely cleared.

4. The word is often used to denote any portion of a
play that is a unit in itself — that represents fully one
brief step or portion in the development of the story.
This may include a dozen scenes if the text is printed
according to the French custom alluded to above.

In Elizabethan times the scene very nearly cor-
responded to what is mentioned last above. Yet we
sometimes find a text scene that includes more than
one such scene.

Yet, in the majority of cases, an Elizabethan scene
is a distinct unit, with a structure somewhat similar to
the play as a whole — that is, it begins quietly with an

DRAMATIC STRUCTURE 73

introduction, rises to a climax, and falls away to a
quiescent close.

There is one kind of scene that requires especial
mention. Often there is a scene that implies a con-
tinuation in another place or after a lapse of time.
If one scene followed the other immediately the effect
would be unsatisfactory. The audience would not
appreciate the gap. The insertion, however, of a
short, irrelevant scene diverts the attention for a mo-
ment, and thus emphasizes the lapsing interval, or the
change of place. Such division scenes are of frequent
occurrence in the Elizabethan drama.

Just as the above device seems to emphasize inter-
ruptions, so many other devices serve to preserve the
continuity of the parts. Thus, hints, or bits of fore-
shadowing of what is to come, are freely used. Often
the close of one scene outlines plainly what is to
follow in another; and the opening of one frequently
recapitulates what has happened earlier.

The student may encounter difficulties in applying
the structure outlined above to many of the plays
of Shakespeare. It might as well be acknowledged
at once that the structure of certain plays is faulty.
This is especially true of the history plays. In the
first part of the chapter on Richard the Third it is
pointed out that these plays belong in a class by
themselves. In them another interest was paramount
to the dramatic interest. The loose structure of
Henry the Sixth is more characteristic of the series
than the accidentally symmetrical structure of Rich-
ard the Second. And again, the earlier plays of
Shakespeare display less structural skill than the
plays of his maturer years.

74 SHAKESPEARE

The analysis of plays composed of several distinct
threads often presents difficulties. In King Lear, not
an easily analyzed play at the best, we should expect
to find the structural points referred to above appear-
ing both in the Lear and in the Gloucester stories.
In The Merchant of Venice, on the other hand, the
different stories are so closely interwoven as to make
their structural separation impossible. (It is pointed
out in Chapter XV. that act V. of this play is structur-
ally unusual.)

And then again, these rules are not applied so
rigorously in comedy as in tragedy writing. The
mood in which we listen to a comedy is naturally less
serious, the mind is less critical, and the dramatist
not under so great a responsibility in regard to log-
ical sequence.

(It is a good example for the student to work out
the structure of each play studied. In the following
chapters hints as to the structure are given from time
to time.)

CHAPTER VIII
HOW TO READ A PLAY

I have frequently encountered students who are
discouraged over the fact that a certain period of
time spent upon a play is not so productive of results
as the same amount of time spent upon the study of
any other form of literature. That is, a student will
read thirty or forty pages of a novel in an hour and
be able to give a pretty good account of himself in
the class-room. If, however, he reads a play at the
same rate his knowledge of it is inconsiderable. This
is as it should be, but few students, and too few
teachers, realize the situation. I would impress upon
the student at the outset that play reading is slow
in comparison with any other kind of reading.

Let us look for a moment into the actual condi-
tions. No one would deny that three men can do
more work in a given time than one man. If one
man would do the work of three he must take more
time to it. In the playhouse, three senses are at work
all the time: — eye, ear, and mind. With the eye
one sees the persons, their motions, their positions,
their dress, and the stage setting. By means of the
ear one is alert to tones of voice, inflections that often
give the meaning rather than the actual word, etc.
Mentally the audience is constantly interpreting the
word symbol into what it conventionally stands for.

75

76 SHAKESPEARE

When, on the other hand, one reads a play in the
study, all impressions are received primarily through
the eye and the printed word. The sense of sight
is doing the work that in the playhouse engaged the
eye, the ear, and the mind. Is it to be wondered at
that the process takes more time?

When one reads a play one must be alert at all
times to supply the missing points. How easy it is
when reading to lose track of a character upon the
stage who for the time being has nothing to say. This
would be impossible on the stage. How easy it is to
recognize a character whose former entrance had been
announced in the text merely by a printed stage direc-
tion! In the playhouse we have actually seen him,
we remember his dress, his features, the tones of his
voice. If we forget his name, that is a mere baga-
telle. It is unnecessary to say more in order to make
plain the fact that when we read a play we are ac-
quiring only a part of the dramatic presentation. It
is the purpose of this chapter to suggest a few prac-
tical hints which will sharpen the average reader's
attention, thus helping him to supply those parts that
are inevitably present in a stage production.

In the first place, I should say, read, read, and re-
read. A thorough familiarity with the text is abso-
lutely essential. In every case the play should be
read through at a comfortable rate of speed before one
begins the actual study of details.

Make first a careful study of the dramatis personae.
Do not merely glance over the list. Read it carefully
again and again. Read it aloud so that the abbrevia-
tions of the speakers' names used in the text will be
at once familiar. Note whether the list is compara-

HOW TO READ A PLAY 77

tively long or short. What is the proportion of men
to women? Are the characters of high or low rank?
Ask the dramatis personse every imaginable question
and try for an answer.

It is a good plan, before beginning the study of the
text proper, to turn over the pages of the play, read-
ing the captions of the scenes, the people present at
the beginning of each scene, the entrances and exits,
and other stage directions. One can often in this way
surmise the general setting of the play, which are the
important characters, what are inner and outer
scenes, etc.

Next, read the first act through, on the way per-
forming conscientiously several tasks. 1. Make a
brief written synopsis of the story part of each act.
2. Note what characters enter; and how soon the en-
tire dramatis personae have appeared. 3. Does one
character, or do several, stand out above others more
prominently? 4. What details are introduced which
are manifestly to inform the reader concerning the
part of the story which has gone before, but which
does not form a part of the story as actually drama-
tized? 5. What is the setting? 6. By what means is
it presented to the reader? 7. What are the char-
acters who are not speakers doing with themselves?
8. Make out frequent plans to show where the char-
acters should stand to the best advantage. 9. Above
all, try to imagine the gestures, the manner, and tone
of voice in which each remark is spoken. Reading
aloud is good practice. 10. To whom is a remark
addressed and how is it received? 11. Is it an inner
or an outer scene? 12. If the latter, try to imagine
the actual Elizabethan setting. To ask and answer

78 SHAKESPEARE

these and similar questions is time well spent, al-
though it may prevent the reading of more than a
few pages in a given time.

Having thus acquired a fair familiarity with the
first act it would be well to read it over again, just as
carefully but with a new object in mind. Persons
take part in every dramatic story. It is the supreme
gift of the dramatist to delineate character. In read-
ing a play we have in the actual words but a small
portion of what the dramatist depends upon for the
delineation of his characters. In other words, we
lack, when reading the text, all that the art of acting
adds to the mere words. We should do our best to
supply the omission.

In this second reading of the first act one should
note every detail which serves to indicate the person-
ality of the characters in the play. What they say
may be an indication. So may what they fail to say.
The way in which their remarks are received by
others, as well as others' opinions of them will help
us to formulate our knowledge. As early in the read-
ing of the play as possible attempt to formulate the
personality of each character. In most Elizabethan
plays, and in nearly all of Shakespeare's, the chief
characters are pretty well drawn by the end of the
second act. The remainder is reiteration and amplifi-
cation, merely a filling out, with the plot becoming
more and more prominent towards the end. Occa-
sionally, however, as in Macbeth, a character is con-
tinually changing throughout the play. In such a
play there should be no relaxation of the continual
scrutiny of the character's acts and words.

As it is advisable to make a written synopsis of

HOW TO READ A PLAY 79

the story, scene by scene, so it is equally advisable
to make frequent brief written statements of the per-
sonality of each character. Such written notes have
no permanent value, hardly even the value of a class
exercise. Their purpose is to order one's thoughts,
or, oftentimes, merely to reveal the hazy condition
of them, thus spurring one to the effort to clear the
matter up.

When one has read each of the five acts slowly and
carefully as indicated above, one is fairly on the road
to a comprehension of the play. For all that, one
is yet far from the end of the journey.

In reading the play again one should give general
consideration to several matters that have been here-
tofore examined in fragments. Note how much space
is given to the introduction relative to the rest of the
play. Does the story run smoothly throughout?
How many crises are there in the narrative interest?
Is the story completely finished at the end? Which
thread is left to the last? How and where have the
minor threads been disposed of?

Note the relative number of important characters.
One is often surprised to find how few characters in
one of Shakespeare's plays are of prime importance.
How are the characters grouped? Is there one of
great importance in each group? Is one character
set over against another so as to contrast with it?
Or is one made almost similar to another? If so, do
they appear together or separately?

It is not to be understood that these identical ques-
tions should be asked and answered in regard to every
play; but rather that they are illustrative of what
the alert student will be asking continually. The

80 SHAKESPEARE

actual phrasing of an answer, either orally or on
paper, is so conducive to clear thinking that I consider
it imperative.

By this time the reader, in the case of some plays,
will be so familiar with the characters that further
study is unnecessary. In such a play as Twelfth
Night, the characters are so clearly and so simply
portrayed that one thoroughly familiar with the lines
of the play can hardly escape their true significance.

Other plays, however, contain characters so com-
plex and so enigmatical that special study from this
point of view is necessary. I know of no practice so
valuable as re-reading in succession only those scenes
in which the characters appear. Ponder each speech
carefully. At any place where the significance is not
fully grasped try to imagine the situation. Fancy
who is present, what the person would be thinking
about, what has recently happened to him, what is
he planning for the future. Under such circum-
stances, what would he do? This will frequently
suggest the true meaning of what he actually does do
and say.

It would be well to analyze the plot of each play
and try to imagine the Elizabeth staging, as set forth
in chapters devoted to these subjects.

In the following pages an effort is made not to
repeat more than is necessary. Thus, the Elizabethan
staging is discussed in detail in regard to only a few
plays, or parts of plays. Yet it is assumed that the
student will think over such matters in regard to all
the plays. Oftentimes the critical part of a char-
acter is discussed in some part of the notes on the
text. Though nothing further may be said, it is sup-

HOW TO READ A PLAY 81

posed that the student will order his thoughts relative
to the presentation of the character as a whole. Above
all, it is well to make comparisons. If a question is
asked in regard to one play, try to fit it to another,
recall similar passages elsewhere, etc., etc.

There is a point in the study of every art where
mechanical application seems to reach its limit, and
taste and intuition begin to play their part. Just
here is where the rules set by an instructor fail to
be of use. Careful drill will sharpen one's wits, but
one must exercise them for one's self. Repeated ex-
ercise will develop one's taste, gradually creating the
knowledge of good and evil. A knowledge of dra-
matic good and evil is the only road to a sane appre-
ciation of Shakespeare's plays. But for guidance in
the last steps of the process the student must depend
upon himself.

CHAPTER IX

A BRIEF WORKING BIBLIOGRAPHY

The following is not a bibliography for the study
of Shakespeare ; rather a very condensed list of books
of use to the average school-teacher, or to the reader
who desires to carry his study of Shakespeare beyond
the limits suggested in this volume.

Editions

There are numerous school editions of individual
plays on the market. In this day and generation
there is no excuse for a poorly edited edition of one
of Shakespeare's plays. So far as the present writer
is concerned, who has examined most of these edi-
tions, he is inclined to say that the imprint of a well-
known publisher is synonymous with accurate,
scholarly editorial work. This edition may involve
special features more attractive to the individual in-
structor than that one. Among them, however, I find
it impossible to discriminate.

The Cambridge Edition, edited by Professor Niel-
son, and published by The Houghton Mifflin Co., is
from the standpoint of editorial work and typo-
graphical make-up the best one-volume edition on the
market.

The Eversley Edition, published by the Macmillan
Co., in ten volumes, has but few notes (on the page,

82

A BRIEF WORKING BIBLIOGRAPHY 83

however, with the text). The introductions to the
plays are excellent. On the whole, it is the best
reading edition of the plays for general use that has
come to my notice.

The references in the present volume are to the
Tudor Edition, published by The Macmillan Co., one
play to the volume. The edition seems to strike the
happy medium between under and over editing.
Typographical details are of the highest quality.
A style of binding cheaper than the standard recom-
mends it to those who would economize carefully in
the choice of a class text. Take it all in all, it is
the present writer's favorite edition for all such pur-
poses as are implied by a use of the present volume.

The Dowden Edition, published by The Bobbs-
Merrill Co. of Indianapolis, is very fully edited. It
is certainly the best edition for the advanced student
who is interested in the textual interpretation of the
plays.

Though as yet far from completion, the Variorum
Edition, published by Lippincott and Co., is the final
word in regard to the plays that have appeared.
They are treated both textually and critically. Its
expense, however, in many cases implies its use as a
library reference book.

Miscellaneous

Bartlett's Concordance, published by The Macmil-
lan Co., is the standard concordance. Its references
are to the Globe Edition of the plays, also published
by The Macmillan Co. The text, however, of this
one-volume edition limits it to occasional use.

84 SHAKESPEARE

Luce's Handbook to Shakespeare* s Works (The
Macmillan Co.) contains in briefest space the largest
amount of information regarding the plays. Though
each play receives a brief critical treatment, the vol-
ume is mainly a storehouse of valuable facts.

Shakespeare's London and The Elizabethan People
(Henry Holt and Co.), both by the present author,
are an attempt to portray the social manners and
customs of the metropolis at the time of Shakespeare.

The standard biography is A Life of William
Shakespeare, by Sidney Lee, The Macmillan Co.

CHAPTER X

RICHARD THE THIRD

I. The History Play as a Type

During the decade from 1575 to 1585 England as
a great national power was slowly coming to its own.
Even before the victory of 1588 Englishmen had
begun to realize their strength and to feel proud of
their birthright. Along with this new feeling of man-
hood grew up an intense national desire on the part
of Englishmen to know themselves and their past.
This desire was catered to by prose writers, as in
Holinshed's Chronicle, by the poets who produced
histories of England in verse, and by the playwrights.
From their hands came a long series of dramatic pro-
ductions whose first and foremost purpose was to
popularize history for the sake of instruction. These
history plays, then, were akin to the purpose novel
of to-day. At any rate, the information concerning
history came first in importance, dramatic quality sec-
ond. While criticising them from the dramatic
standpoint, this fact should never be lost sight of.

Shakespeare's task in producing a history play (ex-
cept in those cases where he revised an earlier play)
was little more than translating the narrative of
Holinshed into dramatic dialogue. In some cases the
original formless story, as in Henry the Sixth, re-

85

86 SHAKESPEARE

suited in an equally formless play. In others, how-
ever, notably in Richard the Second, the original ma-
terial, almost by accident, shaped itself into a sym-
metrical dramatic composition.

Different writers of history plays varied greatly
in their methods of procedure. In Greene's James the
Fourth the historical element is so secondary as al-
most to exclude this play from the class. Other
writers were manifestly politicians who seemed to
garble facts intentionally in order to effectively pre-
sent their own particular views. Shakespeare among
them all seems to be the fairest in his dealing with
history. He displays no particular bias; he presents
his source accurately in the main, only departing
from fact in trivial details that do not alter the tenor
of general truths.

It is a fact that he gives in Richard the Third a
picture of the king which is believed by modern his-
torians to be false. But it should be remembered
that Shakespeare gives the picture held by his own
generation of the last of the Plantagenets. We cannot
accuse the dramatist of wilfully distorting the pic-
ture.

On the other hand, we can find no evidence that
Shakespeare was an historical student in the modern
sense of the word. His later history plays show him
to be not only a clear but also a deep thinker on his-
torical subjects. But the plays nowhere afford the
least indication of the modern spirit of investigation.
Research was unknown to him. He did not go to
original sources, he did not try to discover both sides,
he did not try to weigh all the evidence and judge
impartially. He merely took what was the currently

RICHARD THE THIRD 87

accepted historical account for granted. This he
transformed into the best dramatic terms possible.

What the history play really was is best illustrated
by a comparison of three plays on the same subject —
namely, the reign of King John. The first of the
three is not really a history play at all. The second
is a true history play, written, however, before the
type had passed beyond its crudest stage. The third,
Shakespeare's King John, is a play written but a few
years before the type reached its highest develop-
ment.

1. John Bale's King Johan, though not a true his-
tory play as we are now using the term, is the earliest
Elizabethan play whose subject-matter is drawn from
English history. It was probably written about 1550.

" The play opens with a speech by the king in which he
declares his determination to do justice. England, as a
widow, implores his help against the clergy, but this con-
fidence is interrupted by Sedition, who is strongly clerical
in his sympathies. Nobility, Clergy, and Civil Order come
in and discuss the state of the kingdom, and Clergy makes
a hypocritical submission. Dissimulation and Sedition take
counsel and bring in Private Wealth and Usurped Power
to their aid. They procure the election of Stephen Langton
as archbishop (here we touch history) and soon after we
have the Pope cursing King John for his attacks on the
church. This closes act 1. In the second act we find the
clergy preparing to resist the king. . . . In a subsequent
scene we are shown John's submission to Pandulph, and
the hard terms exacted of him, but Sedition is not satisfied
and procures a fanatic monk to murder the king. . . . But
now come on Verity and Imperial Majesty. The memory
of the king is vindicated, and the play ends with com-
pliments to Queen Elizabeth." *

* Pollard: English Morality Plays.

88 SHAKESPEARE

The play reminds us of the Elizabethan drama in
only two points.

First: The author loses no opportunity to abuse
the Roman Catholic clergy. In fact, the play is a
religious tract. Bale, the author, though educated
in a monastery and in holy orders, had married and
had preached against the celibacy of the clergy. For
this he was obliged to leave the country. He re-
turned, however, and found protection, only to be
driven out again at the accession of Queen Mary, but
to return to his native country a second time at the
accession of Elizabeth. His hatred of the Roman
church, which was due to the harsh treatment he
had received at its hands, is everywhere evident
throughout the play. In this expression of the per-
sonal feeling of the author regarding current
events the play reminds us of the Elizabethan
drama.

It also reminds us of the Elizabethan drama in
another though unimportant way: namely, it closes
with a flattering tribute to the queen. This custom,
which was frequently practised in Shakespeare's day,
has in this play already found its birth.

In general, however, the play of King Johan is
altogether unlike the Elizabethan drama. In the first
place, it is written in a rough, halting meter which is
hard to read and harder to listen to. The lines are
arranged in long, jingling couplets that for the most
part rhyme two and two. It differs from the Eliza-
bethan plays in another vital characteristic. It con-
tains little or no action worthy of dramatic presenta-
tion. It is full of long, tedious dialogues which are
either epic in their character, or are mere arguments

RICHARD THE THIRD 89

and debates concerning the present condition of
England.

In other ways the play is unlike the more finished
drama of Shakespeare's day. It possesses no unity
whatever, let alone a unity of action, which implies
an orderly arrangement of incidents based upon the
law of cause and effect. There is no attempt to bind
the parts together by means of the ordinary dramatic
conventions, such as foreshadowing, cross-linking, etc.
It almost entirely lacks human interest, and fails ut-
terly to appeal to the passions of the audience, which
appeal is the main asset of Shakespeare and his con-
temporaries. But slight knowledge of history is made
use of; and there is displayed practically no indi-
viduality of character.

A mere glance at the dramatis persons reveals its
greatest departure from Elizabethan traditions. Of
the nineteen characters, only five or six represent
persons ; and of them, only the king has a personality
of his own, and that none too well defined. All the
others who take part are the personified abstractions
of the Morality plays: Clergy, Nobility, Private
Wealth, Treason, etc. It is this that links the play
hard and fast to the preceding era, notwithstanding
the fact that it deals with material that is distinctly
within the province of the history play.

This brief review of a play that is not one of those
we have under consideration is necessary to a clear
conception of the birth of the history play itself.

2. The second play of the three here considered
was published in 1591, though written, doubtless,
much earlier. In the period that elapsed between
Bale's King Johan and The Troublesome Reign of

90 SHAKESPEARE

King John the great religious struggle had come to
a head. Though the play may have appeared before
the great emancipation of England in 1588, the coun-
try already knew its power, and the patriotic wave
was on the rise. People had become interested in the
history of their ancestors. For all that, none of the
great Elizabethan plays had appeared. The drama
was still crude, the rules of structure not yet formu-
lated.

By this time the drama had begun to fill in part
the place of the modern periodical and popular text-
book. It was akin, as has been said, to the novel of
purpose. And its purpose was well defined: namely
to instruct the people in the history of England.

The Troublesome Reign of King John, which is
written for the most part in blank verse, shows a
great advance over King Johan. It opens with a
scene that presents a definite point of beginning for
the plot. Chatillon, the French ambassador, enters
to King John and his court to claim the crown of
England for John's nephew Arthur, who is with the
king of France. John, of course, refuses the justice
of the claim. Chatillon departs, vowing war and
vengeance.

There follows a very clumsy scene. Robert and
Philip enter, each claiming to be the heir of Sir
Robert Falconbridge. The debate hangs on the par-
entage of Philip. Robert asserts that Philip is the
son of Richard Coeur-de-Lion. His only proof is the
resemblance of Philip to the former king of England.
King John resolves to solve the difficulty by applying
to Philip and to his mother. Both vehemently deny
his bastardy. Then, for mere form's sake, the question

RICHARD THE THIRD 91

is put again. This time Philip assents just as posi-
tively that he is the son of the king. King John is
satisfied. He recognizes Philip Plantagenet, and con-
firms Robert as heir to Falconbridge. The only bear-
ing that this incident has on the play is that later
Philip becomes one of John's staunch henchmen.

Here we see plainly illustrated the lack of care in
planning one scene to prepare for the next. The law
of cause and effect is not followed. There is no
reason for Philip's denial changing into an affirma-
tion. No pressure is brought to bear to make him
change his attitude. Likewise, there is no attempt to
justify the king for believing Philip, who has just
proved himself a liar. The author must have felt
the crudeness, for he makes the widow of Falconbridge
acknowledge later that Philip is not her husband's
child.

Crude as this presentation is, it is far ahead of King
Johan. There are no personified abstractions. The
author starts at a definite point in the plot, and real-
izes the necessity of introducing all the principal
characters early in the play. There is shown a con-
siderable knowledge of the then-accepted history of
the time ; and the desire to present it for its own sake
is evident from first to last.

For instance: when the two kings meet in France
before Angiers much space is occupied by explaining
in detail the political situation, and the claim of Ar-
thur. Lest the audience should not take it all in
at once, the matter is re-explained when the king
summons Angiers to surrender.

The town, however, refuses to surrender. There
is a good deal of fighting. At last it is proposed that

92 SHAKESPEARE

the Dauphin marry John's niece. This is agreed
upon. The two kings are reconciled. Arthur's claim
is merely ignored. To all intents and purposes the
play seems to be at an end.

For all that, the play is by no means finished. It
begins all over again. Just as Chatillon appeared at
the beginning to make trouble between John and
France, so Cardinal Pandulph now enters to make
trouble between John and Rome. He upbraids the
king for opposing the election of Stephen Langthon
to the See of Canterbury — a thread of interest for
which the audience is in no way prepared. John
continues his refusal. He is excommunicated. The
rest of the play is occupied with his struggle against
the Pope.

So far as the facts of history were then known,
this play popularizes with sufficient accuracy the
principal events of the reign of King John, but with
one important exception. There is no reference to
the signing of the Great Charter. Yet it is a true
history play in purpose and in subject. Its defects
of form are the defects of the drama of the day,
then in its crude infancy.

Let us now see how the master hand of Shake-
speare, yet in its immaturity, however, has treated the
same theme.

3. King John, by far the most important and dra-
matically the most perfect of the three plays, may
be discussed in relatively fewer words because it is so
familiar. It shows a great advance in plot construc-
tion and continuity of action. It begins and ends
sharply. Though there is no marked balance and
symmetry of structure, it possesses a connected and

RICHARD THE THIRD 93

continuous action. One scene leads up to the next.
Most of the significant situations grow out of the
preceding. No better illustration can be cited of
increased skill in this respect than the scene where
Falconbridge establishes his identity. In The Trou-
blesome Reign the whole matter is accomplished at the
expense of inconsistent character portrayal. In King
John the situation is developed naturally and con-
vincingly. Everything happens in accordance with
realistic character. One feels no dismay due to plot-
ridden personalities. Throughout the play historical
situations are sufficiently but not over-explained. As
a last improvement we note that the abrupt end and
new start in the midst of the former play has been
done away with.

Improvement in plot, however, does not mark the
main advance of this play. The difference in char-
acter drawing is almost immeasurable. The people
are realistic. Every member of the dramatis per-
sonae is an individual. So valuable is this quality that
the fact of Shakespeare's having found the plot almost
completely worked out for him in advance becomes
negligible. The play is his own creation.

To recapitulate: Shakespeare shows great advance
in the art of character drawing, telling a story, and
dramatic technique. He adds, however, no detail
characteristic of the type which is not to be found
in The Troublesome Reign. One play is as character-
istic of the type as the other. Shakespeare has
merely improved the type.

94 SHAKESPEARE

II. Shakespeare's History Plays

A consideration of all of Shakespeare's plays shows
him to be the man of the hour. He did not originate.
He took what he found and bettered it. This asser-
tion is equally true of the history plays. What is set
forth above relative to King John is true of all of
them. The type was the vogue. Shakespeare took
it up. And he has given us the best of it.

Shakespeare wrote or participated in ten history
plays. Two are excluded from the following discus-
sion: King John because enough has been said of it
above; Henry the Eighth because it was written in
collaboration after a lapse of many years, and does
not properly belong to the present consideration.

As a matter of convenience for discussion the re-
maining eight plays are divided into two groups which
possess decidedly different characteristics. I call the
three parts of Henry the Sixth and Richard the Third
the York plays ; Richard the Second, the two parts of
Henry the Fourth, and Henry the Fifth the Lan-
caster plays. The first group was written before the
second and possesses marked differences.*

In the York plays we find that narrative is of the
first interest. It is as if Shakespeare set to work
on that most objective of all histories, Holinshed's
Chronicle, with but one task before him: namely, to
dramatize the story, to present the simple narrative.
We find little or no attention given to questioned mo-
tives beyond the desire to make the dramatic char-

* There is a difference of opinion as to whether or not
Richard the Third preceded Richard the Second. I am
of the opinion that it did, but the question is of minor im-
portance in the following discussion.

RICHARD THE THIRD 95

acter plausible on the stage. We find little moraliz-
ing, little reflection on the great issues at stake, no
appreciation of the inner political significance of the
material dealt with. In other words, Shakespeare is
concerned with the outward, pictorial, and spectacu-
lar aspect of the facts of history, not with their inner
significance.

The York plays deal with a threefold theme: 1.
The fall of the House of Lancaster. 2. The rise of
the House of York. 3. The fall of the House of
York. Thus, in the four plays devoted to Henry the
Sixth and Richard the Third we find the old story of
the Wars of the Roses dramatized for popular in-
struction.

The Lancaster plays, though written later, deal
with an earlier period. They are Richard the Second,
two parts of Henry the Fourth, and Henry the Fifth.
In them we find that the interest in mere narrative
is no longer supreme. The dramatist has developed
a real interest in the meaning of historical events.
And he has infused these plays with this new spirit.
He reads Holinshed more critically, he is constantly
reading between the lines. He is fully aware of the
fact that the objective narrative is superficial. His-
tory is a matter of deeper moment than a series of
pictures to be enjoyed as a spectacle. There has
been born in his mind the attitude that gives rise to
modern constitutional histories rather than to picture
books.

The theme of this set of plays is also threefold:
1. Who is responsible for civil war? 2. The influence
of personal character in determining history. 3. A
king's responsibility to his people and to his God.

96 SHAKESPEARE

Though three of the history plays are considered
in detail later, it is not possible here to work out all
of the above propositions. I hope later to supple-
ment the present volume with chapters dealing with
the remaining plays of Shakespeare. For the present,
however, a few suggestions must suffice for the
omitted plays.

In the York plays we note improvement in tech-
nique. The four plays, to be sure, are not distinct
dramas, each with a symmetrical structure of its own.
They form, on the other hand, an almost continuous
story. There is little skill shown in binding the parts
together, or in linking various threads. The character
drawing is at times the crudest, in others, as in Rich-
ard the Third, more finished. The stage handling of
battle scenes improves steadily. The law of nemesis
is observed throughout. On the other hand, there
seems to be little recognition of graded punishment.
Death is the constant penalty. There is no account
taken of the inalienable rights of the commonalty.
The plays deal with kings and princes, peers and
potentates. Common people are usually introduced
merely for comic effect.

The Lancaster plays, on the other hand, are alto-
gether different. There is plenty of action. The
narrative is not stinted, but it is not supreme. There
is a steady improvement in the minor details of dra-
matic technique. The rights of the common people
are here taken into consideration, the final conclusion,
voiced in Henry the Fifth, being that they are su-
preme. The king is as worthy of punishment as the
commonest person in the kingdom. Thus Richard the
Second is not so much concerned with telling the story

RICHARD THE THIRD 97

of Richard's deposition as in showing that he lost his
crown because he disregarded the rights of his people.
Again, Bolingbroke rebels against his sovereign.
Was that right? The ultimate success of the House
of Lancaster answers yes. The trials and remorse of
King Henry himself answer no. In other words,
Henry succeeded because he did what was best for
England; he was punished because he used question-
able means.

These and other questions of principle are what
are worked out in the Lancaster plays, culminating in
Henry the Fifth, Shakespeare's picture of The Happy
Warrior.

III. Shakespeare's Relation to Marlowe

When Shakespeare began his stage career in Lon-
don as a reviser of old plays, Christopher Marlowe
was not only at the zenith of his career but also uni-
versally recognized as the foremost dramatist of the
day. He had already inspired a set of imitators,
among whom we find Shakespeare. The latter had
imitated Lyly, or was soon to do so, in comedy. So
he took Marlowe as his model in history and tragedy.
So close is this imitation in Richard the Third that
occasional critics have advanced the idea that in real-
ity it is a play by Marlowe.

Though in one way Shakespeare is the most orig-
inal of poets, it cannot be denied that he was a crafty
imitator. It is, however, impossible ever to follow
his imitation far. Thus we soon find him outgrowing
his model. The Marlowesque character of Richard
the Third was followed (I think) by the character of

98 SHAKESPEARE

Richard the Second, conceived and portrayed from a
different point of view and in a different way. In
fact, the often referred to resemblance between Mar-
lowe's Edward the Second and Shakespeare's Richard
the Second has never appeared to me. And in a later
chapter I have tried to show that Richard the Second
really indicates Shakespeare's emancipation from the
Marlowe tradition.

IV. Notes on the Text

%

Act I., Scene i., line 1, etc. The opening soli^quy.
Soliloquys in Elizabethan plays were used for two
purposes. In the first place, the soliloquy was the
conventional way of expressing one's unspoken
thoughts. In such a case, though the audience hears
the words, it fancies them unspoken. The acfor is
really supposed for the time being to be lost in "silent
meditation. The spoken words merely constitute the
dramatist's device for getting the silent thoughts be-
fore the audience. We are not to look upon the person
who soliloquizes as one who is in the habit of talking
to himself aloud. Hence, such a soliloquy represents
the inmost personality of the speaker.

The soliloquy, however, is frequently used for an-
other purpose. All that the dramatist has to say to
the audience must proceed through the lips of the
various characters. So long as they speak for them-
selves there is no difficulty. On occasion, however,
the dramatist longs for the novelist's privilege of
speaking to the audience in his own person. Though
seldom so used to-day, the Elizabethan playwright
often used the soliloquy for this purpose. There are

RICHARD THE THIRD 99

times when the soliloquy is not really indicative of
the speaker's thoughts at all, but in reality represents
some thought in the mind of Shakespeare which he
desires to convey to the audience.

The soliloquy of Lady Macbeth uttered after read-
ing her husband's letter is truly characteristic. On
the other hand, the soliloquy in which Prince Hal
informs the audience that he will eventually throw
off his trivifel personality and become the great king
is not consj^tent with the character at all. It is
Shakespeare's hint to the audience, forestalling pos-
sible criticism of an adverse kind for making light of
the character of Henry the Fifth.

It is always necessary to bear this double use in
mind; and it is not always easy to determine which
application to make.

In the present soliloquy we have a very accurate
description of the character of King Richard. How-
ever, the sentiments expressed are hardly indicative
of the thoughts that would be passing in his mind.
Many men are given to accurate self-analysis ; but the
character of Richard as set forth in Henry the Sixth
and in this play is hardly one that would prompt such
a self-judgment. We are compelled to think of the
soliloquy as proceeding from Shakespeare rather than
from Richard himself.

Note also the unusual condition of a play opening
with a speech by the main character.

I. i. 145, etc. Does Richard's gleeful talk of his
own wickedness sound natural? or does it seem to be
a mere pose? Watch the character of Richard care-
fully throughout the play. Does he take himself more -— r~
seriously towards the end?

100 SHAKESPEARE

I. i. 161, 162. Note the rhymed couplet at the
end. In the chapter on verse it is pointed out that
Shakespeare used rhyme less and less as time went
on. This rhyme, however, is of a peculiar nature.
It is introduced for the purpose of giving the actor
a sort of vocal flourish at the last moment to assist
his exit. Such rhyme-tags were used by Shakespeare
even after he had practically discarded the ordinary
use of rhyme.

I. ii. In this scene Richard meets the body of
Henry the Sixth mourned by his daughter, the Lady
Anne. She knows that both her husband and her
father have been murdered by Richard. She hates
him viciously. Richard meets her. In the course
of a short conversation she turns the body of the king
over to him willingly, and practically acknowledges
favorable progress in Richard's suit for her hand.

Briefly stated in this way the situation seems im-
possible. Even the daring Richard would hardly
have attempted it under ordinary circumstances. No
woman for whom we entertain the sympathy that we
have at times for Anne could have capitulated so ig-
nominiously. As the scene reads it is thoroughly
unconvincing.

Before a modern audience, the scene on the stage
is no more effective. To portray Anne as an un-
feeling doll who could do such an act naturally is
to sacrifice other vital moments in the presentation
of her character. Nor, were she such, would Richard
have felt the necessity of marrying her as a detail
in the safety of his plans. No matter how well the
part of Richard is acted, this scene is one to be over-
looked when we are searching for plausibility.

RICHARD THE THIRD 101

I think, however, that to the Elizabethans the
scene was very different in its effect. The above
objections did not appear to Shakespeare's audience.
In other words, the situation seen through Eliza-
bethan eyes was thoroughly plausible.

The Elizabethans believed implicitly in a personal
devil. They believed that he manifested himself in
all sorts of ways in the ordinary daily life of the
people. Horatio's first impulsive thought was that
the apparition which beckoned Hamlet was not his
father's ghost but the devil in disguise. So here,
I think, the Elizabethans understood the victory of
Richard as due to the devil, not merely to his own
wicked personality.

In I. iii. 228 Queen Margaret calls him elfish
marked, and says (line 229), " Thou that wast sealed
in thy nativity . . . the son of hell." In the present
scene (ii. 45) Lady Anne remarks, " And mortal eyes
cannot endure the devil " ; a statement the truth of
which she is soon going to exemplify in her own be-
havior. She continues (line 46), " Avaunt, thou
dreadful minister of hell." And in line 67 she speaks
of Richard's hell-governed arm.

Later, when Richard offers Anne his sword she
still hates him, offers at him, but her arm is power-
less. In the moments that follow, her behavior is
exactly that of one who is bewitched. Richard him-
self (line 237) attributes his power, the result of
which is a surprise even to him, to the devil. And
in IV. i. 66, etc., Anne in looking back finds her own
behavior to be incomprehensible from any rational
point of view.

I think the Elizabethans considered Richard to have

102 SHAKESPEARE

exercised the perfectly natural power of magic over
Anne.

I. iii. What is the situation of the queen's kinsfolk?
and how will their situation be altered by the death
of Edward?

I. iv. None of the plays written in the maturer
period of Shakespeare's workmanship is so devoid as
Richard the Third of characters with whom we fully
sympathize. In this respect Clarence of this play
stands almost alone. This pathetic scene belongs to
him. Note how it is supplemented by the words of
Edward in II. i.

The death of Clarence is a mere detail in Richard's
plan to sweep away all impediments to the throne.
Being a mere detail, the space given to it in this
scene and in the next is out of all proportion to its
importance in the full development of the story.
Nevertheless, this scene and the next are among the
best scenes of the play. We could hardly spare them
even if their condensation improved the compactness
of the play as a whole.

II. i. 79. Stage direction, " they all start." Note
the intense dramatic effect of Richard's sudden an-
nouncement of the death of Clarence. Try to picture
the group on the stage and how each one takes the
news. In the first place, Richard is the guilty party.
He is thoroughly in command of himself. Yet, ac-
cording to the letter, the king, though now repentant,
is actually responsible. (How much good is there in
Edward's character?)

What of Buckingham at this point? In line 83 he
asks Dorset, ".Look I so pale as the rest?" What
does this line mean? It has been suggested that he

RICHARD THE THIRD 103

is one of the guilty parties and fears that he shows
it in his face. If so, would he have referred to the
fact? " Rest" refers to the queen's kindred. Their
guilty looks are referred to in line 135. But they
are really not guilty. Is it possible that Buckingham
is as yet so little in with Richard's plans as not to
know that he lies in line 135? If so, Buckingham
may fear that he will be the next victim of the
queen's kindred, and therefore asks whether he shows
his fear by the paleness of his face.

Again, the passage may have no character signifi-
cance at all, being merely a dramatic device to call
attention to the others and to suggest their looks. It
should be remembered that a miscellaneous group of
actors cannot turn suddenly pale at will. There are
traditions that some of the great actors have been
able to control the color of their features, but it is
a rare accomplishment, not to be depended upon under
ordinary circumstances. Without this line, the audi-
ence would not notice the pale group upon the stage,
but with it, it is easy to imagine their appearance.

II. i. 100. Derby's request for his servants in regard
to a trivial matter serves to emphasize Edward's fol-
lowing speech concerning the similar but momentous
situation involving Clarence. Here is where Edward
appears to the best advantage in the play; and his
speech beginning with line 102 is one of the finest
passages.

II. ii. 70, etc. There is a symmetrical artificiality
about this passage that we miss in Shakespeare's later
plays. In the early years of the generation blank
verse was more bombastic and acting probably more
stilted than in later years. Lyly, too, had done more

104 SHAKESPEARE

than any other dramatist to popularize word-play and
artificial balance both in sentence structure and in
the larger details of dramatic structure. (See the
double speeches of the ghost to Richmond and to
Richard later in the play, and the two orations before
the armies.) The artificial character of this passage
is probably due more to the example of Lyly than to
that of Marlowe, whose manner in general is so closely
followed in this play.

II. iii. " 2 Cit.," etc. Speeches attributed to a vague,
indefinite person, as Second Citizen, usually indicate
rumor and hearsay. That is, the ideas expressed are
not held by these particular citizens but by any and
all citizens in general.

II. iv. The lines spoken by children in Shake-
speare's plays should not be scrutinized too carefully
from the standpoint of naturalness. It was a dra-
matic convention of the day to represent children on
the stage as more precocious than we generally find
them in real life. Just as to-day the bright sayings
of youthful prodigies often suggest an adult origin.

III. ii. 22. Note that Catesby is playing a double
part. Though really Richard's man, he is pretending
to be Hastings'. The latter shows his confidence by
the free expression of his intentions, lines 43-45.

III. iii. This is a division scene. (See chapter
on Dramatic Structure.) At the end of scene ii. the
group of speakers is proceeding to the Tower. After
a short lapse of time they appear at their journey's
end in scene iv. If the two scenes followed each
other immediately the effect would be unnatural. This
would be less unnatural on the modern stage, for
there would probably be a darkening of the theater

RICHARD THE THIRD 105

for a moment, a change of scene, etc., before the
resumption. The place of this mechanical interrup-
tion is taken by the conventional Elizabethan division
scene.

III. iv. 60. We already know that Richard will
play false with Hastings if Hastings does not agree
to his plans. Richard already knows the position of
Hastings when the former leaves the stage with Buck-
ingham. (Line 43.) Now they are returning. What
did they do while absent in conference ?

The scene that follows was stupidly conceived and
is clumsily carried out. Were the details due to the
suggestion of Buckingham or is Richard wholly re-
sponsible for the plot? Richard has already ex-
pressed the opinion that Buckingham is a gull.
Would the former have followed the latter's sugges-
tion as to such a clumsy device? If it is due to Rich-
ard himself, consider whether it is natural for him
to plan so poorly, or whether the whole thing merely
represents Shakespeare's inability to design a better
form to the matter. Again, is it possible that this
clumsy, ill-timed act is what first suggests to Buck-
ingham his future desertion from the standard of
Richard? He may here begin to think that such a
man is not a safe one to follow further. Yet Buck-
ingham goes still further in co-operation with Rich-
ard. Or did Shakespeare intentionally plan the detail
thus to emphasize the sweeping power of Richard's
personality over every one — it is not necessary for
him to be careful.

The above contradictory and inharmonious list of
suggestions is introduced partly for the purpose of
illustrating how necessary it is to consider all possi-

106 SHAKESPEARE

ble sides of a situation before deciding just what is
the real effect of the passage.

III. v. 5, etc. Note how suggestive this passage
is of the Elizabethan manner of tragic acting.

III. v. 47. Here and elsewhere in the play the
Lord Mayor is a gull, a mere tool, without a mind
of his own, blown willingly by the wind here and
there. Yet there is no reason to believe that Shake-
speare intended any reflection on the office of the city
magistrate. The Lord Mayor is merely one of those
minor characters necessary to the development of the
plot. His character is not worked out with any degree
of care.

III. vii. 240. Richard becomes king. This is the
height of his desire. Almost immediately his fortunes
begin to decline. This may be looked upon as the
turning-point of the play.

The student should observe the character of Richard
carefully throughout the remainder of the play.
There is no apparent difference in his personality;
but Shakespeare himself seems to have undergone a
change. He seems to be taking the task of character
presentation more seriously. In the first part of the
play Richard seems to be playing at being wicked.
His jocose remarks imply a mere game. From here
on he is seriously wicked, in desperate straits, and
thinking carefully. Note also how similar many
points in his subsequent career are to those of Mac-
beth. For instance, Richard is no sooner king than
he begins to fear lest he shall be unable to maintain
his own. (See IV. ii.)

IV. ii. 5. So far Richard has waded through crime
in order to reach the throne. He has been wholly

RICHARD THE THIRD 107

intent upon the needs of the present hour. He seems
to have taken no thought for the morrow. But now
he sees that he has only just begun. The most des-
perate chances are really yet before him.

IV. ii. 24. In reading below relative to the char-
acter of Buckingham the student should weigh this
passage carefully. Richard's surprise at Bucking-
ham's coldness is shared by the audience. So far he
has been such a patient tool in the king's hands that
his present opposition is altogether unexpected. And
there is no sufficient reason for it. One possible ex-
planation is suggested in connection with III. iv. 60.
Or is Buckingham shrewd enough to foresee the drift
of events, and is preparing to desert? Or is Buck-
ingham, bad as he is, unwilling to go quite so far?

IV. ii. 34. It hardly seems natural for the king
to consult a lad relative to the choice of a murderer,
or that the lad would have one ready at hand.

IV. iv. 425. Note the similarity of the preceding
passage to I. ii. There is, however, a great differ-
ence. Instead of with Anne, Richard is here dealing
with the queen, a woman of the world who is not to
be easily taken in by him. She has already made her
plans for the future. Her seeming agreement with
Richard is but a ruse to gain time. Line 431, how-
ever, shows that the king is thoroughly deceived. Is
the audience aware of the true situation ?

V. iii. The history play was popular as early as
1585; and it reaches the crest of its vogue by 1600.
During this period we find a steady advance in the
staging of battle scenes from the mere crude sugges-
tion of the earlier plays to the elaborate setting of
Henry the Fifth. This play is midway in the prog-

108 SHAKESPEARE

ress. The present scene may have been staged as
follows :

The middle stage is bare, with possibly the stock
drop let down at the back representing the open
country. Soldiers come in and pitch Richard's tent,
say on the right side of the stage. This must be a
real tent, perhaps only half a tent. At any rate,
Richard must enter it and be seen therein. Later
Richmond's tent is pitched on the opposite side of
the stage. These tents represent the opposing camps.
The distance between them must be fancied great
enough to embrace the intervening territory.

The ghosts subsequently appear on the upper bal-
cony. From one side they speak to Richard. Then
they move to the other and address Richmond. In
these few steps they must be supposed to have
traversed a considerable distance. Only an unim-
aginative audience would be disturbed by their ability
to speak thus in one breath to two leaders so widely
separated in space.

V. iii. 236. The oration to the soldiers. Formal
declamations were very common in Elizabethan plays.
(See a further discussion of the subject in the chapter
devoted to Henry the Fifth.)

V. The Character of Buckingham

Suggestions have been made above relative to the
character of Richard. On the whole, however, his
character is easily read, and, though it dominates the
play, can be understood with little or no difficulty.
The character of Buckingham, however, is altogether
different. It is not easy to understand. He does not

RICHARD THE THIRD 109

seem consistent. This defect, however, is not due so
much to an intricate mingling of qualities as to Shake-
speare's carelessness and crudeness of portrayal. So
much attention is here given to a minor character for
the purpose of illustrating the precepts regarding
character study laid down in Chapter VIII.

After one is familiar with the text of the play it
is well to review consecutively the passages in which
a particular person appears.

I. iii. 288. Margaret addresses Buckingham as if
he had not yet cast in his lot with Richard; perhaps
he is as likely as the others to be misled but is better
worth appealing to than they.

I. iii. 328. Richard refers to Buckingham as a gull.
Attention is called below to several other disparaging
remarks by Richard. They all hang together pretty
well. But Richard's actions tell a different story.
He would hardly trust the secrets of his mind and
the execution of his dearest plans to a gull, or to
one whose insurrection he considered of no moment.
Yet he does throw Buckingham aside as if he were
a nonentity.

Buckingham is often made up on the stage as very
youthful, rather effeminate, and altogether like an
innocent. Is this the proper way to represent him?

II. i. 29. Edward calls him " Princely Bucking-
ham " and seems very intent upon winning his promise
of subsequent support. Hence he must be consid-
ered by the former king as a man of much conse-
quence.

II. i. 83. The significance of this line is discussed
above.

II. ii. 151. Richard calls Buckingham "his other

110 SHAKESPEARE

self " and by many other trustful and endearing
terms. There is the sound of hollow flattery in this
speech; yet Richard so treats him, and a literal inter-
pretation is quite in accordance with the facts.

II. iv. 44. A messenger calls him a mighty duke,
and associates him on terms of equality with Glou-
cester.

III. i. 151-180. By these speeches we know that
Buckingham is the partner of all Richard's plots,
and certainly a much more considerable personage
than the trusted henchman Catesby.

III. i. 193. Buckingham is not startled by Rich-
ard's suggestion of chopping off the refractory Has-
tings' head. He is also mercenary. He is promised
the Earldom of Hereford. The refusal to grant it is
the ostensible cause of his desertion.

III. iv. 12, 13. This is a point-blank lie to Buck*
ingham's credit.

III. v. 5, etc. Buckingham orates most eloquently
relative to his ability to play the hypocrite. And
later he justifies the opinion. In his dealings with
the mayor and citizens he is both liar and hypocrite.

IV. ii. 22. See above for a discussion of Buck-
ingham's behavior at this point. He has suddenly
become " all ice."

IV. ii. 42. Richard calls him the deep-revolving,
witty Buckingham. This is the only place where
Richard gives him credit in words for being a man
of parts; yet the thoughtlessness with which he drops
the duke implies that the king really thought of him
as a gull.

IV. iii. 50. Richard considers Buckingham's rebel-
lion as nothing in comparison with Richmond's.

RICHARD THE THIRD 111

IV. iv. 332. Richard calls him dull-brained. Com-
pare this with " deep-revolving " alluded to above.

On the whole, I fancy Buckingham to be a great
and powerful duke whose aid and support is necessary
to Richard. He is a hypocrite, a liar, hesitates at
nothing that is criminal so long as it tends to his own
interest. When he sees the change of fortune coming
he immediately deserts, but, overestimating his own
power, is easily borne down to the ruin he deserves.

CHAPTER XI
RICHARD THE SECOND

I. Relation to " Edward the Second "

This play is often compared to Marlowe's Edward
the Second, and it merits the comparison. Yet it is
a question in my mind whether the usual implication
of the comparison is correct. For to me, it is their
differences rather than their similarities that are
notable.

A rough outline of the two plots reveals similar
situations: that is, a weak king, one who is unworthy
of respect, deposed for inability, and succeeded by a
more kingly monarch. But the treatment of the sub-
ject in the two plays is altogether different. In the
introduction to Richard the Third it was pointed out
how the series of York plays were objective, follow-
ing Marlowe, that is, dealing with the narrative alone ;
and that the series of Lancaster plays were subjec-
tive, that is, more concerned with the inner and
deeper meaning of historical events. This is Shake-
speare's peculiarity in the latter part of the series.
Now Edward the Second is of the former kind. So
is Richard the Third, written when Shakespeare was
still a close follower of Marlowe and his methods.
But Richard the Second belongs to the latter class,
and is a marked departure from the Marlowe method.
112

RICHARD THE SECOND 113

Nor is the characterization of the king in the Mar-
lowe vein. Richard the Third was, like Edward the
Second, essentially conceived along the lines of Tam-
burlaine and the Jew of Malta. Shakespeare's Rich-
ard the Second, however, is quite unlike these prede-
cessors in the drama. He is not a type, but a man,
well rounded out, with human qualities, and deserving
of human sympathies.

There are many minor differences, however, that
need not be referred to here. The above remarks are
sufficient to suggest the true situation, and the actual
difference. The similarity of the two plays is due
to the accidental resemblance of plot and is essen-
tially superficial. The differences are important and
of vital significance.

Instead of being an additional illustration of
Shakespeare's debt to Marlowe, I consider Richard
the Second as an indication of Shakespeare's breaking
away from early models, perhaps the first sounding
note of his future independence. It is the first play
written on his long voyage of independent travel.

II. Notes on the Text

In the following notes a little more stress is laid
than usual on structural points. This is due partly
to the fact that this is the most symmetrically con-
structed of the three history plays here considered;
and partly to the desire to illustrate promptly some
of the suggestions contained in Chapter VII.

The theme of the play is very clearly defined. /*
it right to depose an unworthy king? Note that Mar-
lowe '# Edward the Second is the story of how an

114 SHAKESPEARE

unworthy king was deposed. This play goes deeper
into things. Richard is an impossible king. He ap-
pears to much better advantage after his deposition,
when he earns our sympathy as a mere man. Shake-
speare, however, does not complete the situation
which he has here begun to portray till the end of
the series which involves both parts of Henry the
Fourth and Henry the Fifth.

This play is of the two-hero type of construction,
the most perfect example of which is Othello. Boling-
broke and King Richard are the two opposites.
Richard is the action-producing element of the first
half, Bolingbroke of the second. The absence of
Bolingbroke from the time of his banishment till his
triumphal return is a crudity of structure which
Shakespeare corrected in his later plays modeled upon
this style. (See Hamlet, Othello, and Macbeth. The
last, however, contains an equally gross violation
of the usual rules in the portions that relate to Mac-
duff.)

The introduction to the play need not be recapitu-
lated here. It is brought in naturally throughout the
first act of the play, much of it in the second scene.
The technical beginning, or exciting force, is Boling-
broke's charge against Mowbray. It is referred to
at once in the opening lines; and is developed fully
in the first and third scenes.

In weighing the relative merits of Bolingbroke and
Mowbray in their controversy, and the character of
Bolingbroke throughout, the modern reader, especially
if he be an American, should bear in mind the follow-
ing: King Henry the Fifth was to the Elizabethans
their great national hero, either as statesman, general,

RICHARD THE SECOND 115

or perfect man. He was a sort of English George
Washington and Abraham Lincoln in one. So de-
voted were the people to his memory that Shakespeare
thought it necessary to forestall adverse criticism of
his portrait of Prince Hal in Henry the Fourth by a
soliloquy which is altogether out of keeping with the
character of the person who speaks it. Now, as the
Bolingbroke of this play is the father of Henry the
Fifth, it is easy to fancy that he appeared before an
Elizabethan audience familiar with his history and
prejudiced in his favor. Though it is suggested below
that neither Bolingbroke nor Mowbray appeared to
better advantage in the first act, it is probable that
Shakespeare's audience instinctively sided with
Bolingbroke and gave him the benefit of the doubt.
It is probably due to this national prejudice that
Shakespeare was not plainer-spoken regarding the
right and wrong of Henry's motives on his return to
England. His guilt or innocence in this respect is
delicately answered, but in the later plays, and then
only by implication.

I. i. What is King Richard like in this scene?
This question is of greater importance here than else-
where, for the character of the king is developed by a
method used only once in a great while by Shake-
speare. In fact there is no other example of such a
great departure from his usual method. Shake-
speare's usual method of developing character is to
open with a correct but incomplete sketch which is
later filled out in all its details. This is true of
Richard the Third, and of Hamlet, Macbeth, and
Othello.

Richard the Second, however, is a departure; or

116 SHAKESPEARE

should we say that Shakespeare had not yet fully
developed his method? In the opening scene Richard
appears to better advantage than elsewhere. Later
his weaknesses are set forth more fully. Still later
the wicked elements of his character appear. And,
last of all, the good points of his character come into
prominence after he has ceased to be king.

Which of the two, Bolingbroke or Mowbray, is
right? Is there any possibility of their both being
wrong? (See I. i. 25.) Does the king know which
is right? Do the speeches of either man ring truer
than those of the other? What motive could there be
at this time to prompt Henry to bring a false accusa-
tion against Mowbray? Does he later desire to have
Mowbray come before him to substantiate old charges
as if he were himself troubled with a guilty con-
science? The answer to the latter question depends
largely upon the fact as to whether Henry knew of
the death of Mowbray.

I. i. 100. The Duke of Gloucester's death. This
charge is brought up emphatically several times in
the play. Does it turn out to be a matter of any
particular importance? Does not the degree of em-
phasis laid upon it foreshadow greater significance
in the remainder of the play? Is the truth of the
charge ever proved or disproved?

I. ii. Structurally, this is a division scene. Note
also the emphasis laid again on Gloucester's death.
The scene contains much of the introductory matter.
And it serves also to introduce John of Gaunt.

Though Gaunt appears only in the early part, he
is one of the great characters of the play. His is a
splendid personality, perhaps the one man who de-

RICHARD THE SECOND 117

serves no ill feeling throughout. The great national
awakening of the decade from 1585 to 1595 called into
being first a national curiosity as to England's past,
and then a true spirit of patriotism. The catering
to the demand of the people for knowledge regarding
the sources of these two widespread emotions brought
into existence the history play. In this drama, Gaunt
is the embodied spirit of patriotism, a figurative kind
of character, almost allegorical, that finds its fullest
development in Henry the Fifth.

I. iii. This is one of the most important scenes of
the play. From a structural point of view it repre-
sents the completion of the exciting force. Note how
the subsequent events are related to this. Boling-
broke's charge against Mowbray brings about the
trial which is interrupted at the command of the king.
As a result he banished Bolingbroke. Resulting grief
and disappointment hastens the death of Bolingbroke's
father, John of Gaunt. The absence of Gaunt's heir
prompts Richard to seize the dead duke's property.
As a result of this act, determination to win back his
own causes Bolingbroke's return before the expira-
tion of his period of banishment. The effort to estab-
lish himself as Duke of Lancaster leads him further,
and ends in the overthrow of Richard.

The scene also contains a very important though
partial presentation of the character of the king. As
pointed out above, Shakespeare is here, contrary to
his later method, developing Richard's character grad-
ually. Here he appears to disadvantage through his
weakness, but hardly as actually wicked. The char-
acter information is all bound up in the king's reason
for stopping the combat. If we turn to the original

118 SHAKESPEARE

historical source we learn that Richard feared an out-
break from the adherents of Lancaster, and that he
took great precautions to police the lists. Fear lest
the precautions taken should prove insufficient prob-
ably caused him to stop the trial at the critical mo-
ment. And the lighter sentence on Bolingbroke, to-
gether with the reduction of his banishment from ten
years to six, is a sop to the faction of Gaunt. This
explanation is not emphasized in the text, though it
must have been in Shakespeare's mind, and he may
have assumed it as being taken for granted by the
audience.

Note the appearance of the following list of char-
acteristics of the king:

1. Lack of decision. — He is almost unwilling to
pronounce the heavy sentence against Norfolk. The
timid king seems to lack the courage of his convic-
tions.

2. Lack of personal magnetism. — We have already
noticed in scene i. that he has no control over Nor-
folk, and that he turns Bolingbroke over to his fa-
ther's management as if quite beyond his own influ-
ence. Here he also fails utterly to dominate Norfolk,
and gives in to Gaunt merely as a result of his un-
spoken behavior.

3. He does not know his own mind. — So far as
we know the king has acquired no new information
since scene i. Any reason for not permitting the trial
to go on existed when he arranged it at first. It is
possible, however, that the king proceeded in the mere
hope that something accidental would turn up to stop
it without his own decided action.

4. Insincerity. — I. iii. 125. The reason the king

RICHARD THE SECOND 119

gives for stopping the combat is not the true one. If
it were he would have urged it at the beginning as a
reason for not permitting the combat to take place at
all. (See also I. iii. 184, where he commanded
Bolingbroke and Mowbray never to reconcile their
differences.)

5. Cowardice. — The king's reason for stopping the
combat is fear of the results. In those days people
believed in the just and righteous outcome of such a
trial. Physical powers had nothing to do with such a
result. It makes no difference whether the king knew
which man was right. If Mowbray won it might set
the dissatisfied party of Lancaster into active opposi-
tion against the crown. If Bolingbroke won it would
reflect upon the past behavior of the king's party,
even upon the king himself. No matter which pre-
vailed, the king would be in a dangerous situation.

6. Vacillating. — Note the change in Bolingbroke's
sentence.

7. Impracticable. — Notwithstanding the fact that
the king has banished both combatants he lays strict
commands upon them to be obeyed in absence, as if
he were still able to control them by a mere word.
They must not communicate with each other or recon-
cile their differences. In other words, the king ex-
pects them in absence, after a heavy and unjust pen-
alty, to show to him a loyalty that he could not
command at home before this act of injustice.

8. Unjust. — So far as we know there is no reason-
able proof that either is guilty. There is no justice
for either sentence. If, however, both be thought par-
tially guilty of misbehavior, there is no reason for
discrimination. And if Bolingbroke were worthy of

120 SHAKESPEARE

a banishment of ten years there is no justice in re-
ducing it to six.

Note that in this list of qualities the first seven
show Richard to be a weak man, and in no way a great
leader. Many a good man has been weak. The sit-
uation is to be lamented, but it need not necessarily be
interpreted to his moral discredit. The eighth quality
of injustice is a little more defamatory. Yet it would
be possible to fancy that his very weakness forced
him into this line of action against his will; or, at
least, not altogether of his own aggressive initiation.
In other words, this scene presents the disadvanta-
geous qualities of the king, leaving his most vicious
characteristics for later presentation.

II. i. 5. It was a common superstition of the time
that a person about to die, on the borderland, so to
speak, between life and death, could see forward into
the life to come. Hence the words of dying men were
listened to with peculiar respect and often regarded
as prophetic. The fact that Richard pays no atten-
tion to his uncle's words at this time is, therefore, more
indicative of his character than would be the case if
Gaunt were not at death's door.

II. i. 17- According to York, how fully Richard
seems to be given up to the influence of bad advisers.
(See also III. ii. 130.) Do not this outbreak of the
king against his favorites, and the hasty, erroneous
judgment shown, imply very plainly that the king
knew their bad qualities all along? If so he deserves
all the more blame for the national adversity they
have led him into countenancing.

Note also (line 31, etc.) the patriotic description
of England. As already pointed out, Gaunt repre-

RICHARD THE SECOND 121

sents figuratively the newly developing patriotism of
the Elizabethans. Gaunt, who, throughout his whole
life, has always subordinated the interests of his fam-
ily to the interests of the king, is now near death. In
the clearer vision of this moment he discovers that love
and duty to England is a greater thing than even a
blind devotion to the king and his interests. The king
himself owes this devotion to England as well as the
meanest subject in the land. And the upshot of it all
is that a king who does not feel this patriotism has no
right to continue being king.

II. i. 73-83. In Elizabethan times puns were not
necessarily considered funny. There is no hint of wit
or humor implied in this passage. (See a further
discussion of this matter in the chapter on Mac-
beth.)

II. i. 115, 139- Shakespeare, having shown Rich-
ard to fair advantage at the start, then as weak and
flighty, is now engaged in bringing out his most des-
picable characteristics. At no place in the play does
he appear to worse advantage than here, with his
brutal disrespect to the dying Gaunt, typified by the
two lines cited above.

Richard might have shown some grief, or, at least,
some outward respect, when he hears that his uncle,
the greatest man in England, is dead. But he shows
joy, rather than grief (II. i. 154), and absolutely no
respect (II. i. 160).

Note how in keeping with his character is this seiz-
ure of Gaunt's property, and how inevitably the fol-
lowing events grow out of the seizure as a result of
the law of cause and effect. This is a good example of
the interplay of character and plot so necessary to

122 SHAKESPEARE

dramatic effect. (See the chapter on Dramatic
Structure.)

After the introduction and the exciting force were
introduced in act I. we find a sort of pause in the gen-
eral swing of forward motion preparatory to the great
events of act III. In the second act, which has been
spoken of as structurally transitional, we have the
plot advanced, a good deal of foreshadowing, the re-
turn of Bolingbroke prepared for, and the bad side of
the king's character further presented. The latter
detail is completed in act III., scene ii. Note that no
event in this act, save the death of Gaunt and the
seizure of his property, which comes first, is of great
spectacular importance. Yet all the remainder of the
act taken together is preparation for what is coming
in act III., and suggestions as to what it will be like.

The character of York should be noted carefully.
He is a timeserver, one who wishes to be on the safe
side from selfish motives. Yet he is not altogether
bad. He is usually faithful enough for the time be-
ing, and often shows better impulses, though seldom
able to live up to them. On the whole York fails to
win our sympathy or admiration.

II. i. 163. It means a good deal for such a man
to express himself as out of patience with the behavior
of the king. Evidently it is the first time York has
ever expressed himself thus. See the startled excla-
mation of the king, lines 169, 186. Note York's re-
marks to the king relative to the unjust treatment of
Bolingbroke, and what will follow such a course of
action; and compare these sentiments with what he
says to Bolingbroke in II. iii. In this latter scene
York is still a king's man.

RICHARD THE SECOND 123

II. i. 211. When the king reiterates his determina-
tion to seize the property of Gaunt, York replies, "I'll
not be by the while." Thus quickly does his better
impulse to opposition wear itself out, lest like treat-
ment be accorded to him. (See line 151.)

II. i. 246, etc. The noblemen give a long list of
Richard's misdeeds, many of them amounting to
crimes. (See line 277, etc.) In their conversation the
nobles say nothing of Bolingbroke's return to claim
his own rights. On the other hand, line 292, it is very
plain that their opposition is directed against the king.
They deny this later. We should, however, take their
denial, II. iii. 148, for no more than it is worth.

II. ii. 98-122. York here is much excited and
muddled. His helplessness, however, is not so much
due to lack of ability as to a lack of knowledge as to
what it is best for him to do for himself in the long
run. He acknowledges weighty ties both to the king
and to Bolingbroke. It would be worth a good deal to
him at this moment to know which side to espouse.
He elects the king's, but changes as soon as a sight of
the formidable following and backing of Bolingbroke
convinces him of his error.

II. iii. 71. Bolingbroke asserts that he came to
England only to reclaim his confiscated rights as Duke
of Lancaster. It is interesting to determine whether
he is here telling the truth. There can be no doubt
but that the nobles rally to his support intending in
their own minds to make him king. And it is barely
possible that they have deceived Bolingbroke in this
respect, and are trusting to the general drift of cir-
cumstances to embolden him to the seizure of the
crown. As a matter of fact, Shakespeare leaves the

124 SHAKESPEARE

honesty or dishonesty of Bolingbroke's original mo-
tives an open question.

II. iii. 88. York calls Bolingbroke a traitor. Com-
pare with York's sentiments formerly spoken to the
king, II. i. Does the use of the word traitor imply
that York believes that Bolingbroke is in reality fight-
ing for the crown? If so, what light does it shed on
the character significance of York's desertion from the
king's party?

II. iii. 113-171. Bolingbroke insists that he has
come to England only to claim his own rights as Lan-
caster. Northumberland and the others support him
in this assertion. York offers no objection save in
line 152. Does he mean by " I see the issue of these
arms," to say " Your intentions at this moment may be
honest enough, but I see where this opposition will
eventually lead you " ?

Note, however, at the end of this passage, Boling-
broke's determination to attack Bushy, Bagot, and
Green. Is this an act in the pursuit of his private
interests? And in III. i. does he not order their ex-
ecution as dictatorially as if he were already king? or
counting confidently on becoming king?

We are now rapidly approaching the structural
turning-point of the play — the point at which by ab-
dication Richard gives place to Bolingbroke.

III. ii. The function of this scene is mainly to
justify Bolingbroke's seizure of the crown. This jus-
tification is to be found mainly in the king's utter help-
lessness in an emergency. He has had every oppor-
tunity in the past. Now that the time and opportunity
to do something has come his mismanagement of
affairs has rendered him altogether incapable. Why

RICHARD THE SECOND 125

should not a better man take the reins of government
in hand? The answer to this question implies the
total effect of the scene.

The wild and enthusiastic joy of the king when he
sets foot on English ground does not redound much to
his credit. One feels that there is a superficial senti-
mentality about the expression of such sentiments
from the man who had loved England so little that he
has brought it to the point of ruin through his selfish-
ness and wickedness. The declamation is mere hol-
low insincerity. The exhibition of outward feeling
here expressed is in no way in keeping with Richard's
past actions. He has done his best to bring disaster
upon England and to render it untenable, both for him
and for others.

Even his own people condemn him. Carlisle and
Aumerle consider him amiss in his dilatory dealing
with Bolingbroke, line 33. Again, Aumerle comments
on his cowardly pallor, line 75, and finds it necessary
to remind the king that he is a king, line 82. A little
later when Richard is wholly given up to his mourn-
ful wailing, Carlisle, his devoted friend, utters what
is the strongest charge of inability brought against
the king in the whole play : namely, " Wise men ne'er
sit and wail their woes, But presently prevent the
ways to wail."

III. ii. 97. The king apparently jumps to the con-
clusion that Bolingbroke is in reality aiming at the
crown.

During all this scene the king appears to the
greatest disadvantage. He is up and down in spirits,
speaking grandiloquently at one moment when danger
seems distant; utterly collapsing the next when it ap-

126 SHAKESPEARE

pears more near at hand. Not once, but several times,
does he experience this transition from boastful hope
to pallid fear. At the end we realize that he is in-
capable of offering any material opposition. All his
strength lay in the wicked favorites who have been
executed or in those lukewarm adherents who have
deserted him. Bolingbroke has nothing more to fear.
After this scene the result is a foregone conclusion.

III. iii. The complicated situation of this scene
requires careful analysis. The king, having given up,
practically in hiding, believes the end is near and that
the all-powerful Bolingbroke has come to seize the
crown. York, who has lately deserted the king, holds
practically the same belief. Northumberland and the
other peers are determined that Bolingbroke shall
ascend the throne. However, they do not yet know the
absolute weakness of the king. Hence they are not
quite ready to come out into the open. So they pre-
tend to support Bolingbroke only in his position of
claiming his rights as the Duke of Lancaster. Boling-
broke's position, on the other hand, is not quite so
clear. He may be at one with the barons, or he may
be honestly desirous of regaining his own rights and
no more.

At any rate, the move they have decided upon is to
lay the claim for the full restoration of Bolingbroke,
offering to disband their army if this is granted. They
probably expected Richard to refuse point-blank.
Their next move would be to depose Richard for this
further act of injustice, and then proclaim Henry
king.

But in a moment the king suddenly upsets all their
plans. He agrees without the least hesitation to all

RICHARD THE SECOND 127

terms. Bolingbroke's apparently honest expression
of satisfaction rather than of dismay may imply his
innocence, or it may merely imply good acting. To
use a slang phrase, the king has called their bluff.
They need time to devise a way out of the situation.

Note, however, that the king himself considers them
all insincere. He believes that he has really given up
his crown, that he accompanies them to London in
actual fact as a prisoner. In the next scene the
gardener not only takes this view but tells us that the
king is generally considered to be deposed. And in
the scene next following Richard is called upon to
acknowledge publicly what is assumed as already to
have taken place.

So I should consider this scene as equivalent to the
virtual abdication of the king, and place the structural
turning-point here.

Notice how promptly in the next act Shakespeare
begins to solicit our sympathy for the deposed mon-
arch. None of his good points appears till he is
robbed of the position and the power which served to
bring out only the worst elements of his character.

Structurally the fourth and fifth acts are less sym-
metrical than the first three. The first 106 lines con-
stitute an absolutely irrelevant scene. From 106 to
160 attention is taken up with the tirade from Carlisle
that results in nothing save his subsequent qualified
forgiveness by Bolingbroke. And the rest of the
act is given up to a pitiful example of harsh treat-
ment of the downfallen ruler which serves, however,
to rouse the sympathy of the audience for him, but
which has no plot significance. And most of the fifth
act is taken up with a comedy diversion.

128 SHAKESPEARE

It is well to note that in several cases Shake-
speare's plays end more weakly than they begin.

IV. i. 1-106. See a former note relative to the
frequent reference to Gloucester's death. The point is
made very emphatic here. And nothing comes of it.
Even the dilemma of Aumerle has nothing to do with
the dilemma he finds himself in in the fifth act. The
passage is dead weight to the progress of the play.
Possibly it was meant to contrast Henry's behavior
with Richard's in a similar situation at the opening of
the play. But the effect, from this point of view, is
wasted, for Henry immediately drops the whole mat-
ter. The day of trial, referred to in line 106, never
comes.

IV. i. 107-161. Carlisle's brilliant speech on be-
half of the king results only in his arrest for high
treason by Northumberland, and his subsequent for-
giveness by Bolingbroke.

Nowhere else has Shakespeare treated a character
as he has treated the character of Richard. The
dramatist has begun with an attractive glimpse, then
the character of the king was gradually debased till
our sympathy is entirely with his enemies. Then
Richard is slowly but surely raised in our estimation.
This latter phase is developed by the use of pathos.

The requisition that Richard announce publicly all
the details of his downfall, even to the point of ex-
patiating on his own deserts and praising his enemies,
is certainly carrying the matter too far, now that
Henry has gained all that he wants. Even he is at
last shamed into bidding Northumberland to " urge it
no more."

The next act opens with the queen upon the stage.

RICHARD THE SECOND 129

Her meeting with the king and their tender parting
brings tears to the eyes of those who a moment before
were willing to cry " Down with Richard." Our in-
dignation is justly roused when we are told, V. ii.,
that the populace on the day of coronation " threw
dust and rubbish on King Richard's head." There is
no more pathetic touch in the play than Richard's
injured pride at the news that Roan Barbary was
proud to be beneath his new master.

V. v. 1-66. This wild rush of poetical but dis-
connected fancies, almost incoherent at times, repre-
sents the result of Richard's constant and lonely
brooding over his change of fortune. It represents
a mind on the very point of collapse. To a man in
such a state we can render nothing but sympathy.
Then he suddenly rises to a display of energy that
would have made him a better king had it been rightly
directed from the start. First one attendant and then
another falls before his fierce onslaught. And, at our
last view of Richard, we feel, with Exton, that he died
" as full of valor as of royal blood."

The structural end of this play comes where it
should come, at the end. It is the entrance of Exton
with the coffin speaking the termination of the tale,
" Great king, within this coffin I present thy buried
fear." It is said above that before the end of the play
all loose threads, etc., should be gathered up and dis-
posed of. The opening lines of V. iii. are a reference
to the escapades of Prince Hal, and serve to bind this
play to Henry the Fourth. So also does the pro-
jected pilgrimage to the Holy Land, mentioned at the
close. For Henry the Fourth opens with an ex-
planation as to why this pilgrimage was not made.

130 SHAKESPEARE

In other words, these two details serve to link the play
to the next in the series rather than to end it sharply
and with finality.

III. The Character of Bolingbroke

It is hoped that in a subsequent edition of this
volume room will be found for a treatment of both
parts of Henry the Fourth, as they assist materi-
ally in understanding the character of Bolingbroke.
It has been pointed out above that the interesting de-
tail of Henry's character is in connection with the
motives that actuated his return to England. Was he
guilty of designs upon the crown from the very start,
or was he forced upon the throne by the drift of cir-
cumstances? Shakespeare has left the question with-
out an answer in Richard the Second. I think,
however, that a careful consideration of the four plays
of the series enables us to determine Shakespeare's
position. In brief, it seems to be as follows :

Bolingbroke, in absence, was aware of the bad con-
ditions at home, saw that the time was ripe for a ris-
ing against the crown, and awaited only a pretext that
would permit him to place himself promptly in the
limelight. This pretext came in the seizure of his
rights and properties as Duke of Lancaster.

Consider for a moment the significance of the char-
acter of Gaunt as outlined earlier in the chapter. So
long as only personal interests were at stake he did
what seemed right, he remained subservient to the
king. But when the good of England was at stake
he turned against his monarch. This is Shakespeare's
position as well as Gaunt's.

RICHARD THE SECOND 131

Now apply this to the situation of Bolingbroke. So
far as he is actuated by selfish motives he is doing
wrong and deserves punishment. But he was a good
king and did well for England, and for this he de-
serves reward.

Shakespeare always observed the principle of nem-
esis with subtile justice. And he has applied it here
with consummate skill. Henry is punished by remorse
over the way in which Exton has misinterpreted his
chance remark about the king,* by the inability to
clear his conscience by a pilgrimage, by the rebellion
of the north, and by the behavior of his unthrifty
son. On the other hand, he is rewarded by eventual
success, by peace and plenty brought to England dur-
ing his administration, and, eventually, by the triumph
of his house in the magnificent career of his son,
Henry the Fifth.

IV. The Comedy Element

In the above notes on the text of the play the sec-
ond and third scenes of act V. have been passed over
almost without comment. If I am right, their proper
interpretation has often been neglected. They fur-
nish, in fact, the comedy element of the play.

Shakespeare's plays of this period are largely ex-
perimental. The age demanded a large admixture of
the comedy element with the tragic. Shakespeare ex-
perimented as to the best place to put it. In Rich-
ard the Third it is practically omitted. In Henry
the Fourth two stories, one serious, the other comic,

* It is interesting to note that this remorse is not hinted
at in the chronicles. It is Shakespeare's addition.

132 SHAKESPEARE

are told, almost independently, and introduced in al-
ternate scenes. In Henry the Fifth an effort is
made to weave the comedy into the body of the story
as an integral part of it. In Richard the Second,
however, Shakespeare adopted still a different device.
He waited till the serious part of the play was, to all
intents and purposes, ended ; then introduced a plenti-
ful supply of comic diversion all at once.

In my classes I have frequently met students who,
on a superficial examination, have failed to recognize
the farcical nature of these two scenes. Hence a
brief suggestion may not be out of place.

York, throughout the play, has been a timeserver.
In these two scenes he is drawn as a caricature of
himself. It is the willing reed bent by a sort of re-
ductio-ad-absurdum method to the extreme limit. The
very nature of what is coming is foretold, for the last
line of act IV. promises us " a plot shall show us all
a merry day." There is something ridiculous in the
air of carelessness of an arch-conspirator who goes
about with his bond exposed to view.

After the discovery we must imagine York storming
about, " roaring as gently as any sucking dove " and
completely overacting the part. Then appears the
equally impetuous duchess, with the great conspir-
ator standing by, doing nothing but twiddle his thumbs
while his parents wrangle. And at regular recurring
intervals comes York's imperious slogan, " Bring me
my boots."

One who could manage to escape the humor of the
next scene could easily fail to see its possibilities.
The great Henry is placid in the face of danger.
York, Aumerle, and the duchess are all on their knees

RICHARD THE SECOND 133

before him. Both the elders are a bit too stiff in their
knees to rise easily. So York continues to clamor for
the conviction of the son who has already been for-
given ; the duchess for his pardon, not knowing that he
has been forgiven even before her entrance.

Through melodramatic overacting all this is made
delightfully laughable. Throughout this play and
both parts of Henry the Fourth the king is painted
as a grim, stern potentate, quite unlike Prince Hal or
Henry the Fifth. Yet even Bolingbroke is overcome
by the humorous situation and exclaims, line 79,
" Our scene is altered from a serious thing."

CHAPTER XII
HENRY THE FIFTH

I. Relation to Other Plays

There is a difference of opinion as to whether the
four Lancaster plays, Richard the Second, the first
and second parts of Henry the Fourth, and Henry the
Fifth, should be considered separately or together. It
has already been pointed out how the closing lines of
Richard the Second link the play to Henry the
Fourth. Both parts of the latter play are quite con-
tinuous. There are, however, reasons for looking upon
Henry the Fifth as a separate venture, not as a con-
tinuation of the series.

Both Richard the Second and Henry the Fifth dif-
fer structurally from Henry the Fourth. Hence no
structural unity in the series is to be discovered.

Richard the Second and Henry the Fourth conform
to the description of a history play given in Chapter
X. That is, they aim primarily at a dramatization
of the chronicle in such a manner as to enlighten the
audience regarding the historical events of the period
under consideration. Now Henry the Fifth does not
do this. It is little more than a spectacular dramati-
zation of the Battle of Agincourt.

Furthermore, the first three plays mentioned above
are thoroughly dramatic, full of action and interre-
134

HENRY THE FIFTH 135

lation of parts. Henry the Fifth, on the other hand,
is much more epic in character, frequently delayed by
long patriotic declamations, and requires a chorus be-
fore each act, a detail not appearing elsewhere among
the plays of Shakespeare.

These differences are sufficient to support the con-
tention that Henry the Fifth, in spite of its position
in the historical sequence, is an entirely independent
play. And to these facts may be added another of
even greater significance.

Consider what the absence of Falstaff means. At
the close of the second part of Henry the Fourth
Shakespeare tells us that he already has the play of
Henry the Fifth under consideration. He further
tells us specifically that Falstaff is to be a character
in it. And the implication is that the fat knight will
be as important in the new play as he was in the old.

Shakespeare postponed the writing of Henry the
Fifth long enough to produce the Merry Wives of
Windsor. Then he wrote the play under consideration
according to a plan, and of a tone, that precludes the
presence of Falstaff. Evidently, in the interim,
Shakespeare's conception of the play as a continuation
of the series had undergone such a change that he
could not keep the promise formerly made at the
conclusion of Henry the Fourth.

The play also bears a special relation to Shake-
speare's whole career. His early work was imitative.
His middle work independent but experimental. This
period and the next begins with Henry the Fifth.
There follows the period of maturity in which he pro-
duced the great tragedies. In other words, Henry
the Fifth looks back upon the history plays and for-

136 SHAKESPEARE

ward upon the tragedies. The sources of many of the
tragedies are to be found in Holinshed, whence came
the material for the history plays.

Now the history plays, as pointed out above, aimed
to instruct. The facts — that is, the plot — must be in
accordance with a ready found account and, if need be,
take precedence over a better arrangement from the
dramatic point of view. As Shakespeare matured, this
limitation became more and more irksome. When he
gave up history-play writing he gave up this limita-
tion. He would henceforth be at liberty to change,
rearrange, omit, or invent at will. This change in
procedure is equivalent to an assertion of his com-
plete independence of models, the beginning of the
full development of his own individual personality.

Henry the Fifth I consider to be the first play
produced in accordance with this change of method
and purpose.

Later, as another difference between this play and
the other three, will be pointed out the irreconcilable
inconsistency between the character of Prince Hal
and that of Henry the Fifth.

II. The Conception of the Play

So far as we know, Shakespeare did not stop writ-
ing history plays because the field had been covered.
Nor was it because the demand for them was waning
— witness his own popularity as a producer of this
kind of play. It was rather because, as has already
been pointed out, the type demanded a close adher-
ence to facts already laid down. This condition ham-

HENRY THE FIFTH 137

pered his maturing genius, his developing dramatic
powers began to demand a wider scope.

The generally experimental nature of the history
plays is not always clearly enough recognized. Shake-
speare appears in the three parts of Henry the Sixth
merely as a reviser and polisher-up. In Richard the
Third he is a follower of Marlowe. With Richard the
Second he asserted his independence of Marlowe, but
not of the history play as a type. The accidental
plot symmetry of this play is due to the exceptionally
dramatic nature of the original account. In Henry
the Fourth the dramatist tried the experiment of the
double plot, which, rather than adding to his prestige
as a writer of history plays, made him famous as a
comedy writer.

By this time, Shakespeare, as suggested above, must
have decided to give up the writing of history plays.
Of the four plays which constitute his notable contri-
bution to the type, the first presents the picture of a
weak and worthless king. Shakespeare resolved to
say good-by to the type in a play presenting just the
opposite kind of ruler.

The nature of the chronicle play and his experi-
ments with it showed Shakespeare that dramatic unity
was not the chief quality of the type. He therefore
resolved to treat the whole thing in a new way. The
new play was to be epic rather than dramatic (an ex-
periment, however, which he did not repeat). He
would sing the glory of his country. To do this he
chose one man and one event.

Henry the Fifth was chosen not because he came
after Henry the Fourth, whose reign had just been
dramatized, but because of the peculiar attitude of

138 SHAKESPEARE

the Elizabethans towards him and Agincourt. Henry
the Fifth was their great national hero ; and Agincourt
was to them what Waterloo is to modern Englishmen,
or Gettysburg to Americans.

Shakespeare's conception of the play is twofold.
It involves the treatment of an ideal king, and also the
glory of England. In the plan adopted, Henry be-
comes partly allegorical. At times he is a man, at
other times he is England. Thus in I. ii. 275, etc., he
is boasting to France as England. From 279 on he is
speaking modestly to his own people as a man and
their king.

Throughout the play it is necessary to bear in mind
its twofold significance. It is constantly alternating
between realism and allegory.

III. Notes on the Text

The Elizabethan dramatists made frequent use of
the prologue, though its use was by no means uni-
versal. Shakespeare resorted to it sparingly; and in
no other play inserted a prologue or chorus before
every act.

The prologue was put to a number of uses. Some-
times it served merely as an introductory speech re-
questing the favor and patience of the audience.
Again it would explain the special occasion for the
production of the play. Thus some plays have a pro-
logue for public presentation and another for pro-
duction at the court. Again, the prologue was used
to apologize for the inadequacy of the stage effects at
the command of the presenters. Ben Jonson used it
frequently to air his precepts regarding stagecraft

HENRY THE FIFTH 139

and literary criticism. But perhaps the most common
use of the prologue was to forecast the substance of
the play or to give a synopsis of the parts omitted in
the actual presentation. Several of these functions
are illustrated by the choruses of this play. Their
special significance, however, is discussed in a later
section of this chapter.

Act I. Prologue. The Globe, Shakespeare's the-
ater, was round, hence the allusion to it as a cockpit
and a wooden O. The companies in that day were
probably much smaller than theatrical troupes to-day,
hence an army would be represented by a very limited
number of actors. So this prologue is usually cited
by critics as an apology for the crude and limited
resources at Shakespeare's command for the presenta-
tion of stage effects.

I am inclined, however, to take a different view of
the matter. Consider for a moment the actual con-
ditions. The date of no other play of Shakespeare is
generally accepted within such narrow limits as that
of Henry the Fifth. If produced in the spring of
1599, as is generally supposed, the Globe playhouse
was still too new for its novelty to have worn off.
Shakespeare's company was the leading troupe of
London, and the Globe the finest, most up-to-date the-
ater. With such resources at his command is it
likely that Shakespeare would take a humble and
apologetic attitude, rather than one of ostentatious
pride ?

I think that there are two significations to this pro-
logue. As pointed out in the section devoted to the
Elizabethan staging of the play, it may be that a spe-
cial effort is made to produce a great spectacular

140 SHAKESPEARE

effect as unusual on the London stage of that day
as the play itself. In such a situation the opening
apology, soon to be put at naught, would be merely a
bit of rhetorical irony.

The other significance of the prologue may be
phrased something like this: " Here we are, the best
troupe in London, with the best playhouse in town,
making a special effort to do credit to our new theater
and to our theme. But the theme is so great that
even our resources are utterly and absolutely inad-
equate to do justice to our subject." In other words,
granted the unusual resources at command, every
word of disparagement is a word enhancing the glory
of Henry the Fifth.

I. i. 24. Canterbury is here referring to the early
life of the king, fully set forth in the two parts of
Henry the Fourth.

I. i. 38. Note this list of the characteristics and ac-
complishments of the king.

I. i. 64-69- It is later pointed out that Prince
Hal is a different sort of man from the king.
Henry the Fifth is not merely a reformed Prince
Hal. The ordinary way of accounting for the change
by those who see no difficulty in reconciling the differ-
ence, is a familiar, every-day occurrence known to
every one. Yet Ely and Canterbury discuss the
change and give its explanation up as inexplicable.
In their opinion it can only be explained as the re-
sult of a miracle. Remembering, as already pointed
out, Shakespeare's change of conception regarding
the play as a whole, is not this passage equivalent to
a direct hint from him to expect a different person-
ality in the king?

HENRY THE FIFTH 141

I. ii. 33, etc. This long and tedious exposition of
the Salic law is a passage illustrative of the instruc-
tional element of the history play. The conception of
Henry the Fifth as set forth above need not imply
that Shakespeare broke away once and for all from
every detail of the history-play type. It merely im-
plies the peculiar qualities of the type have given
place to something else. We even find reminiscences
of the history-play habit very marked in Julius
Ccesar.

Note how much of this scene is essentially undra-
matic. It is largely a patriotic recitation of the great
deeds England has done and will do again.

II. i. Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, and Hostess were
familiar to Elizabethan audiences as characters of
Henry the Fourth.

II. ii. Note the undramatic quality of this whole
scene. Nothing has led up to it. It produces no after
effect, no new step in the action. It is a mere episode
in Henry's journey to France.

It may be asked, Why is so much space given up to
it? The answer is, To help portray the character of
the king. Character description, so far as it is neces-
sary to explain or account for action, is dramatic. But
such disproportionate attention to the point here is the
justification for calling the scene essentially undra-
matic. One reason why the play is so undramatic as
a whole is that it is a character sketch presented on a
large scale rather than a character protrayal by a con-
tinuous action produced in accordance with the law of
cause and effect.

1. The scene contrasts the duplicity of the traitors
with the honesty of the king.

142 SHAKESPEARE

2. Henry's leniency is shown in his dealing with
the condemned soldier.

3. It illustrates the king's watchfulness, which has
resulted in the discovery of the conspiracy.

4. It shows his just discrimination in forgiving
the soldier and in punishing the conspirators to the
full.

5. Henry's sorrowful pity for Lord Scroop re-
minds us of Lincoln's sympathy for his erring brothers
of the South.

6. The contrition of the conspirators is a tribute
to Henry's greatness of character.

7. Henry continues his journey absolutely undis-
turbed by such a momentous danger.

II. iv. 48, etc. Note throughout the play the con-
trast between Shakespeare's contempt of the French
and the praise of Englishmen often put into the
mouths of Frenchmen.

III. i. This is one of the finest declamations of the
play. Inasmuch as it incites the soldiers to hearty
action in the battle it may be looked upon as the only
one of these well-known declamatory passages which
is truly dramatic.

III. iv. This scene is translated in the Tudor Edi-
tion of Shakespeare's Henry the Fifth. The trans-
lation, however, is unnecessary to a comprehension of
the effect. In fact, a literal knowledge of its meaning
in a way destroys its purpose. The Elizabethans
probably understood France no better than did King
Henry himself. When Shakespeare wrote this scene
he knew very well that the Globe audience would
understand no more than the general drift, and that
they would not clamor for an interlinear translation-

HENRY THE FIFTH 143

The active, energetic pantomime of the two French-
women together with the strange words made it as
funny to the Elizabethans as a similar scene in a
French cafe is to an American to-day who knows
French only through his Baedeker handbook.

III. vii. The purpose of this scene is to contrast
the frivolous, over-confident behavior of the French-
men before the battle, with the sober, God-fearing
preparation of Henry's army.

IV. i. 309-322. Note the bearing of this passage
on the question raised in the discussion of Richard the
Second, namely, the initial guilt of Bolingbroke's ac-
quisition of the crown.

IV. Declamations and Choruses

The Elizabethan generation greatly loved declama-
tions. Declamatory exhibitions and contests similar
to modern oratorical contests and debates were popu-
lar. The drama, which was gradually superseding
most forms of indoor entertainments, catered to this
demand. It may almost be said that the drama with-
out some sort of appeal to the declamatory instinct
was exceptional. Irrelevant declamations were often
introduced, much as popular songs are introduced
into plays to-day. Shakespeare resorted to irrelevant,
or, rather, to undramatic declamations at all periods
of his career; but in no play so extensively as in
Henry the Fifth.

A list of the more important declamations is as
follows. If read over consecutively one will notice
how little they have to do with the dramatic quality
of the play.

144 SHAKESPEARE

I. ii. 183, etc. Canterbury's long oration about the
state of man.

II. ii. 79. Henry, as outraged justice, reproves
the traitors.

III. i. The only spectacular dramatic declamation
of the play which has truly dramatic significance.

IV. i. 154. Note Henry's reply to Williams. It
will help to explain Shakespeare's idea of a perfect
king.

IV. i. 247. This splendid declamation is usually
referred to as the " Sham of Ceremony " passage.
Nowhere does Shakespeare reach a higher pitch in his
poetry.

IV. iii. 118. Henry's reply to Westmoreland about
Saint Crispin's Day.

V. ii. 23. Burgundy's long speech about the
peace.

These declamations are nearly all epic or descrip-
tive, and, except III. i., lead to no particular dramatic
action, as is the case after Antony's speech in Julius
Ccesar. This, like III. i. above, had direct dramatic
significance. Except the choruses they seldom possess
any value except that which attaches to pleasant dec-
lamation.

The use of the chorus is not characteristic of Shake-
speare. It is interesting to raise the question as to
why Shakespeare used the chorus here and nowhere
else. In other words, What part do they play in
Henry the Fifth?

Recall what is said above regarding prologues. One
is instantly reminded of three points :

1. They serve slightly to apologize for the poverty
of stage effects. This is especially true of the chorus

HENRY THE FIFTH 145

to act V., last five lines. (See the discussion above of
the special significance of the chorus to act I.)

2. They serve to explain missing details and to
bridge gaps.

3. All that is said above of declamations applies to
them.

Yet it must be acknowledged that neither nor all
of these uses accounts for the undue emphasis implied
by their use.

A closer study reveals three other and far more
significant qualities.

1. At the risk of repetition, note carefully the
character of the first chorus. The tone of apology is
not so much for the poverty of the Elizabethan stage
as that any stage is inadequate to the presentation of
so vast a theme. It enhances the value of the theme,
and its magnitude, as employed in the conception of
the whole play.

2. The very nature of the theme demands con-
tinuity. Now, continuity was not a quality of the
Elizabethan drama. To-day, the most fitting selec-
tions of music for the orchestral intermissions would
be patriotic airs between acts. The chorus takes the
place of the modern but usually irrelevant musical in-
terruption.

3. King Henry is the all and be-all of this play.
His chief characteristic is modesty. A modest man
cannot boast to advantage of the greatness for which
he stands as a symbol. Yet the carrying out of the
theme requires much of this kind of eulogy of the
king. Most of it is put into the mouth of the chorus.
In fact, it constitutes their principal value. They say
what cannot well be said by others: — 1. The theme is

146 SHAKESPEARE

too vast. 2. Eulogy of Henry. 3. Magnificent spec-
tacle of Henry and his army. 4. Eulogy of Henry.
5. Eulogy of Henry expressed by the clamorous pub-
lic joy at his home-coming.

V. The Character of Prince Hal and op
King Henry

Many attempts have been made to make the change
of character from Prince Hal to Henry the Fifth
seem consistent. To my mind this is an impossible
task. The serious side of Prince Hal is perfunctory
and conventional — a mere bow on the part of Shake-
speare to the contemporary feeling towards Henry
the Fifth. The real character of the prince is to be
found in the Falstaff scenes.

Most writers have tried to reconcile the two char-
acters on the ground that the change is ethical. If
this were all, they might have saved themselves the
trouble. Every day we see about us sudden and com-
plete reformation of morals. If this were the only
characteristic of the change we should accept it as a
mere fact and require no further explanation.

That this, however, is not the character of the
change, is implied by the fact that Shakespeare essays
an explanation but (through the mouth of Canter-
bury) gives it up, and falls back upon a miracle as
the cause.

The change is one of intellect and temperament, not
of morals.

Canterbury dwells upon the king's intellectual
powers, a quality never displayed by Prince Hal.
Henry's reasoning in divinity would have been

HENRY THE FIFTH 147

doubted by Falstaff. Hal showed no love of state-
craft, nor power to grasp it. Canterbury goes on to
tell us that knowledge of war, familiarity and con-
viction regarding a theory of life, were impossible to
the prince but characteristic of the king. Consider-
ing his past career it is impossible to imagine him
possessed of even the rudiments of such things.

Indeed, between the intellect of Prince Hal and
the intellect of the king there is an impassable gulf.
But there is a greater "ifference even than this. It
is to be found in their relative sense of humor. Hal
is full of humor, quick-witted. Henry, on the other
hand, has a stolid, well-balanced mind, but no sense
of humor. Imagine Prince Hal in the glove episode,
or wooing Katharine in a foreign tongue, and com-
pare with the behavior of King Henry. It is not that
Henry suppresses his boisterous humor. He never
had any. It is not a question of more or less of this
or that. He is portrayed as an altogether different
man.

VI. The Character of the King

On the whole the character of the king is so evi-
dently and so simply set forth that one need call at-
tention only to the principal points.

His simplicity of character is remarkable, amount-
ing almost to naivete. Though he is plain and out-
spoken, and on terms of familiarity with his soldiers
he always preserves his dignity. He ardently loves
right and hates wrong. He is a good warrior and
carefully solicitous as to the welfare of his soldiers.
His persistency is of the bulldog type. He is modest

148 SHAKESPEARE

in triumph, and evinces a wholesome reverence, and
the fear of God is inbred in his whole nature.

Perhaps his most prominent characteristic is the
latter. At the close of Canterbury's harangue Henry
expresses his fear of God and his faith in Englishmen,
who in reality derive their only strength from the Al-
mighty. He believes in the mediaeval superstition
which preserves a sincere faith in penance. After the
Battle of Agincourt he insists that all the credit and
glory belong to God alone.

His homely modesty is shown in many ways.
Throughout he is boastful only to France, and that
when he is speaking rather as personified England
than as a man. But he is humble always to his own
people. He generously enlarges the soldier who rails
against him, excuses the fellow's conduct, and advises
mercy. Thus the king ever shows a desire to forgive
all injuries directed against himself. " Touching our
person," he says, " we seek no revenge." But he is
sternly just in regard to injuries against the state.
He claims no higher title than to be called a soldier.
Throughout we see his desire to put himself in the
position of his subjects; and he has the power to do so.

The following suggests his intellectual difference
from Prince Hal. Like Caesar's Brutus he believes in
the efficacy of reasons, and requires a full explanation
of the Salic law, which he thoughtfully considers be-
fore acting. He evinces an instant recognition of the
stragetic importance of Scotland. Note the skill with
which he moralizes on the ingratitude of traitors; and
note also " the sham of ceremony passage " in which
he dwells in a masterly manner on a very trite idea.
Note also how he goes to the heart of the matter in

HENRY THE FIFTH 149

the passage beginning "So if a son that is by his
father sent." How quickly he is able to see the
justice of Williams' argument!

His lack of the sense of humor is referred to above
and need not be emphasized here.

Take it all in all, Henry is the plain, simple, sym-
pathetic man who as a king displays the same qualities
in a larger field and on a grander scale. But the qual-
ities do not alter. Modesty and humility increase in
proportion to his exalted position. He is drawn both
as a man and as a personification. As a personifica-
tion of the perfect king he represents all good, manly
qualities turned in a true Christian spirit wholly to
the service of his people.

VII. Elizabethan Stage Conditions

The student should refer to Chapter III. before ex-
amining the following notes regarding the Elizabethan
staging of the play.

In the first place, consider the following list of
scenes. The stage directions are taken from the
Tudor, not the original edition.

Prologue — Chorus 1

I. i. London, Ante-chamber, Palace ... 2

I. ii. The Presence Chamber 2

Prologue 1

II. i. London, a street 3

II. ii. Southampton, Council chamber ... 2

II. iii. London, before a tavern .... 3

II. iv. France, the King's palace .... 9

Prologue 1

III. i. France, before Harfleur .... 4

III. ii. The same 4

150 SHAKESPEARE

III. iii. The same, before the gates .... 4

III. iv. The French king's palace .... 2

III. v. The same 2

III. vi. The English camp in Picardy ... 1

III. vii. The French camp near Agincourt . . 1
Prologue 1

IV. i. The English camp at Agincourt ... 5

IV. ii. The French camp 5

IV. ii. The French camp 5

IV. iv. The field of battle 5

IV. v. Another part of the field .... 5

IV. vi. Another part of the field . . . .5

IV. vii. Another part of the field .... 5

IV. iii. The English camp 5

Prologue 1

V. i. The English camp 5

V. ii. France, a royal palace 1

Epilogue 1

No modern presentation of the play could very
well afford to provide for twenty-nine changes of
scene. The task of the stage manager would be to
reduce this number as far as possible. The same task
appeared before the stage manager in Elizabethan
times. Let us apply our knowledge of the stage con-
ditions of that time and see what could have been
done with the situation.

At the beginning of the play the transverse cur-
tains would be drawn between the columns supporting
the heavens. At the moment of the third sounding of
the bugle the curtains would be parted and the pro-
logue appear. This would happen at the beginning
of each act; and also at the end of the play there are
two scenes where this arrangement could be conven-
iently used. Let us call this setting 1.

Doubtless every theater possessed the necessary

HENRY THE FIFTH 151

paraphernalia for setting up a stock interior before
the play began. This would doubtless be pressed into
service ; in the background a drop representing panel-
ing. What is perhaps more likely is that the back of
the stage was so decorated that in its normal condition
it represented and looked much like the interior of a
room. Then any trifling change of properties would
easily suggest " another room." The illusion, how-
ever, would depend much upon movable properties
in the form of furniture and hangings. Any one who
has had anything to do with staging amateur theatri-
cals knows that it is a comparatively simple task to
make a perfectly satisfactory representation of a room
without resorting to much scenery or carpentry. Let
us call this interior setting 2.

After speaking the prologue the traverse is with-
drawn disclosing the interior. Ely and Canterbury
enter. During their conversation they get well in
front of the traverse and to one side. At the end of
the scene, at the words " Then go we in, to know his
embassy," they turn and start towards the king and
his followers, who are just entering. Ely and Can-
terbury slip out to re-enter a moment later. This
brief change of position, together with the words cited
above, would be sufficient to suggest that they had
passed from the ante-chamber to the presence cham-
ber.

Next to an interior I fancy that the most usual
possession of a theater in the way of scenic material
was a painted cloth representing a street. This would
be let down from a roller not far behind the tra-
verse. Call it setting 3.

To return: at the end of scene ii. the traverse is

152 SHAKESPEARE

again drawn. While the prologue is speaking, the
street scene alluded to above is let down. At the end
of the prologue the traverse is drawn. Act II.,
scene i., is performed before the street drop. It is
then raised, disclosing the original interior used for
scene ii. Though it is the same interior used in act
I., the prologue emphatically says that it represents
a room at Southampton. Then the street drop is again
let down for scene iii. and raised for scene iv. Pos-
sibly a few articles of French furniture have been in-
troduced slightly to alter the general appearance of
things. The drawing the traverse marks the end
of the act.

Trivial as they may seem, the next three scenesv
virtually, however, but one scene, are difficult to ac-
count for. It is hardly possible that they were acted
on the inner stage, for this would require the re-
moval of the interior setting. This is hardly likely, as
this set is needed again. The upper gallery might be
pressed into service. They might have been acted
before the traverse, as the prologue. Or another
painted cloth may have been let down representing
some sort of general landscape. Let us accept the
latter suggestion for a moment and call it setting 4.
At the end we return to 2 for two scenes. Then the
traverse is drawn. The next two scenes could easily
be spoken before the traverse.

These two scenes, together with the chorus, give
plenty of time for any change of scenery on the inner
stage. The interior, which is not needed again, is
taken away, and preparations made for the great spec-
tacular scene of the play. My interpretation of the
first chorus, the newness of the Globe playhouse, and

HENRY THE FIFTH 153

the theatrical prestige Shakespeare's company was
bound to maintain, leads me to infer — I admit that it
is an inference — that at this point a special effort
was made to produce a grand spectacular result.
I can see no reason to believe that the Eliza-
bethans never made capital out of something dra-
matically new. Note also that the scene suggested
below is practically in continuous use till the end of
the play.

In the earlier production of Elizabethan plays a
multiple setting was frequently resorted to. In this
method of presentation one portion of the stage repre-
sented one locality, another part another, etc. The
position of the actors on the stage determined the lo-
cation of the scene, all being visible to the audience
all the time.

Let us see how Shakespeare's manager could have
carried out this idea in designing a single scene on a
large spectacular scale that would practically furnish
the stage for the remainder of the play.

Imagine a painted cloth let down at the back on
which is represented the open country of France,
with numerous tents on either side, disappearing grad-
ually in the diminishing distance. These are the
camps of the two armies. On one side of the stage
proper are several tents and groups of soldiers. Flags
etc., indicate that they are English. Entrance from
that side indicates an entrance from the English camp.
Action on that side takes place in the English camp.
A similar representation of the French camp is ar-
ranged on the other side of the stage. The space be-
tween represents the general battleground between
the two camps. Call this setting 5.

154 SHAKESPEARE

At the end of V. i. the traverse is drawn. V. ii.
and the epilogue are spoken before it.

The question naturally arises as to the reliability of
this suggested setting. To those who require docu-
mentary evidence for every detail accepted regarding
Elizabethan stagecraft it will not appeal. But to
those who possess a flavor of imagination I suggest
the following:

1. Every theater must have possessed something
in the way of stage paraphernalia.

2. The mode of presentation suggested above re-
quires two painted cloths, the usual representation of
an interior, the use of the traverse, and one spec-
tacular scene designed to bear out the newly aug-
mented reputation of the company's theater.

3. Of the two settings of the inner stage, one
remains undisturbed during the first half of the play.
Then it is removed and the other put into place, in
turn remaining undisturbed throughout the remainder
of the play.

4. Any one to-day who has any skill in the adapta-
tion of a crudely constructed stage could do this and
more with only amateur help at his command. Is it
possible that the ingenious Elizabethans did not do
as much? My only feeling is that I have underesti-
mated the scenic attractiveness of the Elizabethan
production of Henry the Fifth,

CHAPTER XIII
ROMEO AND JULIET

I. Introductory

In the Tudor Edition of this play the editor dis-
cusses the date of its origin, finally assigning it
tentatively, or timidly, perhaps, to 1594 or 1595.
Many critics, however, believe that the present text of
the play is the result of a revision of an earlier version
much of which still remains. In connection with this
point of view two dates are thought of, one earlier and
the other later than that suggested above.

At any rate, parts of the play closely resemble in
style the known early efforts of Shakespeare ; and the
stylistic qualities of other parts more nearly resemble
the poet's style of a later date.

There are several other points to be considered.
Though a beautiful love story it does not conform to
the rules of dramatic tragedy. This may be due to the
fact that it is an early play, written before Shake-
speare acquired that technical skill which character-
izes his later work. In the following notes another
possibility is hinted at; namely, that the play was
originally written as a tragi-comedy and at a later
date hastily reconstructed into a tragedy.

It will also be noticed that in many of the parts of
the play which show evidences of early style, Romeo is

155

156 SHAKESPEARE

trivial and not over-manly in his behavior; and in the
parts whose style resembles that of a later date Romeo
is a far worthier lover of a heroine like Juliet. I
venture as a mere suggestion that in the revision of the
play the character of Juliet was completely rewritten.
This necessitated the rewriting of many of the Romeo
parts but permitted others to remain unchanged.

II. Notes on the Text

Act I. Prologue. This is a sonnet, a characteristic
of Shakespeare's early style in which he resorted to
many forms of verse and stanzas. Note, however,
that the Elizabethans seldom made use of the familiar
rhyme-scheme of the sonnet. The sonnet prologue
appears again before the second act. But there are no
more prologues to the play.

I. i. The first 70 lines of this scene are merely low
comedy. Such continuous word-play is characteristic
of Shakespeare's early style. Find other similar pas-
sages throughout the play.

I. i. 72. Enter Tybalt. Though Ben Jonson fre-
quently named characters after their personal qual-
ities, Shakespeare soo 1 gave up the practice. Tybalt
means tom-cat; Benvolio, good-fellow or peacemaker;
Mercutio, one of a mercurial disposition.

I. i. 90, etc. Earlier blank verse was more con-
ventional, more sing-song, fuller of pauses at the end
of the line than later blank verse. Compare this pas-
sage, written in the earlier style, with the blank
verse of the balcony scene. Find other passages that
illustrate both the earlier and the later forms of verse.

I. i. 121, 122. Repetition of words and phrases is

ROMEO AND JULIET 157

resorted to oftener in this play than in any other.
Find illustrations throughout. They occur from first
to last, but usually in passages that have other ear-
marks of early style.

I. i. 177. Note that Romeo is much of a punster in
those scenes which are written in the earlier style.
This quality disappears in the more serious portrayal
of the hero.

I. i. 182, etc. This coupling of opposites, heavy
lightness, cold fire, etc., is another early trait.

By the end of this scene we learn that Romeo is al-
ready suffering from the effects of unrequited love.
We are told by critics that this is the most likely con-
dition as a preliminary to love at first sight, and that
Shakespeare here displays his keen knowledge of
human nature. However, he overlooked the situation
in regard to Juliet, who fell in love with equal celerity.
It is just barely possible that Shakespeare introduced
this detail of Romeo's past merely because it was in
the original version of the story, and also afforded an
excellent opportunity for getting started.

I. ii. Compare Capulet's attitude towards Juliet,
as displayed in his conversation with Paris early in
this scene, with his actual behavior later. How is
the contrast to be explained? Is he insincere at
either time?

I. iii. Juliet is said by the nurse to be fourteen
years of age. Even after making due allowance for
the earlier maturity of southern girls in olden times
Juliet seems to be more than fourteen years old. This
allusion is probably a remnant of the earlier version.
In the revision, Shakespeare must have had in mind a
woman, not a girl.

158 SHAKESPEARE

I. iv. 2. Apology in this line, Cupid in line 4, with-
out-book prologue in line 7, etc., are references to
masking, a popular form of Elizabethan entertain-
ment.

I. iv. 53. This fairy speech by Mercutio may be
looked upon as one of the formal declamations so
popular in Elizabethan times. Though beautiful
poetry it has no dramatic significance.

I. iv. 106-113. Evidences or indications of a tragic
conclusion are very scarce in the first four acts of
the play. Most of these few are like the passage
cited above; that is, they could have easily been in-
serted bodily at the time of revision. The tragic ele-
ment of this play is accidental, not ingrained.

II. i. In the setting on the Elizabethan stage some
provision must have been made by which the audi-
ence could see both Benvolio and Mercutio on one
side, and Romeo on the other. Yet Romeo, who was
near enough to hear what the others said, was invisi-
ble to them.

II. ii. 1. The antecedent of " he " is " Mercutio."
The line refers to his jesting of a previous scene.

II. i. This so-called " balcony scene " is not only
one of the most beautifully poetic passages of the
play but of all English literature. The sentiment
is deep and rings true, without the least approach
to sentimentality. It is sufficient, one might almost
say, to wipe out of existence all memory of the crude
touches and inconsistent details that appear else-
where.

But there is more to the balcony scene than just
this. Heretofore, love-scenes and love-making on the
Elizabethan stage had been conventional and senti"

ROMEO AND JULIET 159

mental to a high degree. No such genuine passage
as this had appeared before the advent of Romeo and
Juliet. It is easy to imagine, perhaps it would be
more truthful to say it is difficult to imagine, the en-
thusiasm of the contemporary audience at the first
reception of this brilliant scene, which, as after events
showed, was but an earnest of what was to come.

II. ii. 63. Recall the deadly feud between the two
families. Do not overlook the nerve it required on
the part of Romeo to make this dangerous entry into
the garden of his family enemies. Later he appears
as a nerveless, puling nonentity whom even the nurse
compares to a foolish woman. This scene is written
in Shakespeare's later style. III. iii. is written in
his earlier style.

II. iii. Friar Laurence is a purely conventional
character. It is not necessary to study his personality
analytically or to take too seriously his copy-book
phrases of philosophy.

II. iii. 90. Note that Friar Laurence agrees to
marry Romeo and Juliet because he thinks that it
will bring about a reconciliation between the two fam-
ilies. Perhaps this reconciliation was intended to
come about in the earlier version of the play. There
are other evidences of it that will be later pointed
out. The actual conclusion of the preserlt play shows
that it could easily have been accomplished.

II. iv. 222. " The dog's name." That is a growl,
the R in Romeo. In Elizabethan pronunciation it
was common to roll the r.

III. i. 65. Note the peaceful rejoinder of Romeo.
The audience understands the ironical significance of
his remarks. But none of the others possess this

160 SHAKESPEARE

clue. What ought to be the effect upon his com-
panions of Romeo's peaceful demeanor? Ought they
not all to be surprised, and his partisans chagrined?
Yet Mercutio is the only one who shows such emo-
tion. Is there any indication in this reception of his
attitude that this is the kind of behavior to expect
from Romeo?

III. i. 127. Compare Romeo's behavior here with
his behavior earlier in the scene, in the balcony scene,
and in the friar's cell.

III. ii. The opening speech of Juliet certainly
emanates from a woman older than fourteen. And
the smooth pliability of the blank verse is similar to
the style of Shakespeare's verse of a date later than
that usually assigned to the first draft of the play.

III. ii. 45-50. Note the repetition of I, ay, eye, all
pronounced alike. Note throughout the play the
numerous examples of excessive repetition.

III. ii. 73. Is it natural for Juliet to turn so sud-
denly against Romeo? What recalls Juliet's loyalty?
(See line 90.)

III. iii. Note the repetition of banished and ban-
ishment.

Romeo's behavior in this scene gives no evidence
of the nerve that first led him into Capulet's orchard,
or inspired him in the fight with Tybalt. The friar
upbraids him for his weakness, and even the nurse
upbraids him for his pusillanimity.

III. iii. 108. Stage direction. Imagine the situation
of the play at this point. The nurse is the typical
comic character throughout. There is an element of
the ludicrous in her attempt to stop Romeo from stab-
bing himself. One can in this situation hardly be

ROMEO AND JULIET 161

seriously affected by Romeo's anguish. In his rant-
ing behavior he out-nurses the nurse herself. The
two of them together would be able to make a capital
comic scene.

On the other hand, this vein is quite inconsistent
with the tone and tenor of a serious tragedy. Is the
true explanation to be found in Shakespeare's inabil-
ity to portray Romeo here to the same excellent stand-
ard reached in some other parts of the play ?

There is a third suggestion that is worth a mo-
ment's consideration. Mercutio and Tybalt, it is true,
have both been killed. Yet they are minor char-
acters who, though attractive, have not been suffi-
ciently prominent to thoroughly grip our sympathy.
Their deaths, Romeo's banishment, and the situation
of Juliet constitute just the sort of complication char-
acteristic of a tragi-comedy. Were the earlier play of
this type, just here is where the resolution would be
likely to begin. That it is expected seems to be very
plainly hinted at in lines 150-155. And what more
likely than the insertion of a scene in a lighter vein
just at the turning-point!

The play preserves all the characteristics of a
tragi-comedy until the middle of the last act. Later,
allusion will be made to the sudden and artless manner
by which it is wrested into the path of a tragic con-
clusion.

III. v. Contrast the general tone of the scene with
that of III. iii. Is it similar or different? Is the
opening similar to the rest in this respect?

On the whole I find this a very puzzling scene. In
the first place, look at it seriously for a moment as
a step in the serious development of a tragedy. Ju-

162 SHAKESPEARE

liet is secretly married to the banished Romeo. Her
parents wish to force her into a marriage which can
be prevented only by the disclosure of her secret.
Now, is this situation as essentially tragic as usually
represented? In the first place, Romeo is now out
of the Capulet reach. No harm can come to him by
the disclosure. And Juliet could hardly be subjected
to worse treatment than is threatened by her father
for crossing his will. Furthermore, in case she will
not marry Paris she is to be turned into the streets
and left to her own devices. What more could she
desire with a husband waiting, and a willing friar,
for a go-between, who is confident that it will all turn
out well in the end ! In other words, the high-spirited
Juliet could have acknowledged her lover without
injuring him, with hardly a risk of making her own
situation worse than it would be if she persisted in
her refusal to marry Paris without making a full
acknowledgment, and the possibility of righting the
whole situation in the end. And in addition, the recon-
ciliation at the end of the play is due wholly to the
fact that the parents discovered that the two were
lovers and married. The situation in all of its details
is certainly not to the credit of Shakespeare's powers
of invention if we consider it seriously! nor does it
show any of the skill displayed by him a few years
later as naturally as if it were second nature. How-
ever, it must be remembered, on the other hand, that
a few years makes a great difference, and this play
was written before the culmination of Shakespeare's
preparatory period.

On the other hand, suppose this to be a scene left
over from, or a part of, an original tVagi-comedy.

ROMEO AND JULIET 163

From the former scene the audience has learned
through the words of the friar that a reconciliation
is not unlikely to take place when the truth is known.
With this cue the audience is prepared to take pleas-
antly details which are but complications on the sur-
face. The earlier part of the scene contains several
remarks from Juliet that have a double meaning.
Their wrong interpretation by Lady Capulet must
have caused a smile, to say the least. Then comes
Capulet, who, through his overexertion in the matter
of abuse becomes almost comic. And last, the ridicu-
lously impossible solution of the whole matter sug-
gested by the nurse. And the scene ends by Juliet's
promise to return to Friar Laurence, the one who
formerly gave the pointed intimation that the play
would end happily. As a scene of this intent it is
much better conceived and carried out than as a tragic
scene.

Though I do not wish to insist on the inference here
suggested relative to the character of the early draft,
I should like to point out that parts, like this scene,
indicate on the part of the writer greater skill in the
lighter vein than in the tragic vein; and that it was |
not till years later that Shakespeare excelled in the /
writing of tragedies. The question remains, if such I
were the original draft, why did Shakespeare change
it. Perhaps the play was a failure. It must have
been both written and rewritten during Shakespeare's ,
period of experimentation. Perhaps he was just ex-
perimenting with tragedy, which he had not attempted
since his passable but not excellent Titus Andronicus.
And the carelessness of the revision is quite consistent
with his methods displayed in his earlier plays.

164 SHAKESPEARE

IV. iii. The apparent comedy outcome is carried
on in this scene. The friar suggests a perfectly feasi-
ble plan which will solve the present difficulty, de-
pendent only upon Juliet's will and courage to carry
it out. She has both, and departs in good spirits.
By all customary standards the preparation and fore-
shadowing of the scene can suggest to the audience
nothing but a happy resolution at the end.

IV. iii. 10. Note that Capulet's stormy scene and
Juliet's refusal to marry Paris has caused no inter-
ruption in Capulet's plans for the wedding.

IV. iii. 14. There has been nothing said or done
to arouse on the part of the audience any distrust of
the friar. Nor has anything occurred to justify such
a thought in the mind of Juliet. Her present thoughts
are due entirely to the exigencies of the present mo-
ment. The audience would certainly share her fears
and terrors, for it is a courageous and mysterious act
she is about to perform. But the sympathy of the
audience would be tempered by the certainty that her
fears were groundless.

As the act closes, everything seems to be carrying
out the friar's plot to a satisfactory conclusion. There
is as yet no sign of the coming tragedy.

At the opening of act V. we find that Romeo hears
the news of Juliet's death before he gets the friar's
letter explaining that it is a sham. Trouble may
come of this, but the audience does not expect it: —
for two reasons: 1. The passage is preceded by a bit
of happy foreshadowing. 2. Romeo postpones killing
himself out of misery till he gets to Juliet's grave.
There is every chance for him to be disillusioned at
this point. This looks very like a device to make his

ROMEO AND JULIET 165

happiness the more complete as it is the more un-
expected.

There are two conditions universally acknowledged
as necessary to a tragic development of the plot: — 1.
The story and its development should be incapable
from the beginning of straying from the path that
leads to a tragic conclusion. 2. That the tragic end-
ing should depend upon events related to each other
by the law of cause and effect. If the story is
plotted in defiance of either of these rules it lacks
excellence to just that extent.

V. ii. 4. Here we find the first step or detail of the
tragic conclusion. The fact that so much of this play
could be discussed as above, as if it were a tragi-
comedy, is a gross violation of rule 1.

The failure of the friar's letter to reach its destina-
tion is an equally gross violation of rule 2. In the
first place, the miscarriage of the letter is due to the
merest accident. Why did not Brother John deliver
the letter at once instead of getting himself quar-
antined on the way? If one explains this on the
ground that friars had to travel in pairs, and that
Brother John perforce had to find a companion, and
was as likely as not to pick up one with a contagious
disease, matters are not much bettered. Why did
Laurence send John at all? The letter by all indi-
cations should have gone by Balthasar. At III. iii.
170 the friar, when sending Romeo to Mantua, says
that he will use Balthasar to carry letters to Romeo.
And when Balthasar enters (V. i. 11) Romeo is sur-
prised that his man does not bring a letter from Friar
Laurence.

In other words, in order to bring about a tragic

166 SHAKESPEARE

conclusion, Shakespeare made the friar drop his cus-
tomary channel of communication, which would inevi-
tably have prevented the final catastrophe, and select
another messenger, which device by the merest acci-
dent turns a good comedy ending into a poor tragic
end.

As I said above, it is a mere inference, a mere
guess, that the first draft of this play was in reality
a tragi-comedy, converted by a hasty revision into
a tragedy. Whether this is true or not is a matter of
no considerable importance. I have used this idea
merely to illustrate the fact that four acts of Romeo
and Juliet constitute part of a splendid tragi-comedy,
light-hearted, joyous in spite of the early deaths of
Tybalt and Mercutio. The effect of the play with
its beautiful poetry would have been, had the end pre-
pared for been written, as delightfully pleasant as
a Cymbeline or The Tempest. But if, from the nature
' of its end, we are compelled to examine it as a tragedy,
we find its structure bad, the invention poor, and in
no way deserving to rank with the great series of
tragedies that began with Julius Ccesar.

Scene iii. contains the tragic conclusion. In this
scene the audience experiences three painful and un-
expected shocks.

1. The audience, it seems to me, is fully prepared
by numerous hints for a happy conclusion, the reso-
lution which does not come. With the example of a
fake drug administered to Juliet, and a knowledge
that Friar John is on his way to the tomb, or soon
will be, and that Juliet is about to awake — all this
taken together renders the actual death of Romeo like
a bolt out of a clear sky.

ROMEO AND JULIET 167

2. The second shock is due to the death of Juliet,
emphasized by the fact that she overslept herself by
just a moment, and that the friar was also late by
just a moment. Had Romeo been subjected to any
little delay, accidental in nature, such as seems to
have overtaken all the others, the day would still have
been saved.

3. The third shock is the fact that Friar Lau-
rence's prophecy of a peaceable reconciliation (III.
iii. 151) was true, but delayed till after the death of
Romeo and Juliet. What after all reconciled the two
houses of Capulet and Montague? It was not the
murder of Paris, nor the death of the lovers, nor
even the command of the prince which had been inef-
fective before, but a knowledge of the fact that Romeo
and Juliet loved each other, and were man and wife.

Does it not seem as if the final result would have
come about had Juliet courageously disclosed her mar-
riage when Paris was first urged upon her ?

CHAPTER XIV
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW

I. Introduction

In the selection of plays for this volume I have
been guided by the student and his needs. There are
some teachers and students as well who believe that
every word Shakespeare wrote or uttered was in-
spired, that his mere ejaculation of Tweedledum is
capable of subtile psychological analysis. The Taming
of the Shrerv as a play was, easy as it is to read now,
still easier to the Elizabethans; but it is easily mis-
understood to-day. The play has been misconstrued
both by critics and by actors. So I shall suggest with
the utmost brevity a few points explanatory of the
text ; and then explain the real significance of the play,
which with such facility escapes the attention of a
modern reader unused to Elizabethan conditions.

II. Notes on the Text

Title. — Only female hawks were used in hunting.
They were proverbially cross, perverse, and stubborn,
that is, curst. The word " taming " in the title refers
to the process of training the shrewish hawks into a
condition of obedience suitable for the chase.

The induction. — This framework serves to intro-
duce the play. For the players who arrive in scene i.
168

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 169

are supposed to perform The Taming of the Shrew
for the benefit of Sly. In scene ii. he appears aloft,
that is, in the upper balcony above the stage. From
this vantage point he views the start of the play, and
makes some comments at the end of scene i. Later,
however, he simply drops out of consideration by dis-
appearance. This fact implies that the cutting off
of the upper balcony from the view of the audience
by means of a curtain or some similar device was pos-
sible. Otherwise there would be the need of some
outward means of ridding the stage of Sly.

I. i. This scene and the next introduce the ele-
ments of a somewhat complicated plot. Most students
find it difficult at first reading to avoid some con-
fusion. Note how rapidly, almost simultaneously, the
threads of the story are introduced; and compare
with The Merchant of Venice, where the threads of
the story are introduced gradually, one at a time.
However, on the stage, where one is assisted by the
eye, the confusion encountered in reading the early
part of the play nearly disappears.

It will be a help to the student to analyze the
plot carefully. See the chapter on The Tempest for
an example.

In anticipation of the third section of this chapter:
— one should not take the character of Katharine or
of Petruchio seriously. Their actions should not be
analyzed. No human beings ever acted like this. At
any rate, no Elizabethan would have looked at them
from this point of view, or have been distressed by
the unnatural excesses of their behavior.

II. i. 278. See the note on the title relative to the
word taming.

170 SHAKESPEARE

IV. i. 191-210.. This passage is full of the tech-
nical allusions to the process of training a hawk for
the chase. In the first place, there was but one thing
to be done to a wild hawk, namely, to break her
wilful spirit; but there were many ways in which it
could be done. One was to keep her hungry to the
verge of starvation, tantalizing her with the sight of
food. This is one of the methods resorted to at a
later time by Petruchio. Another common mode of
training was to keep the hawk awake till exhausted
for want of sleep. The Elizabethan word for waking
was watching. The word is used in this sense in the
passage cited above — he will watch (keep her awake)
as we watch these kites. The word is similarly used
in Othello, where Desdemona says, " I'll watch him
tame." She means that she will keep Othello awake,
give him no peace, till he is more tractable. Another
even more cruel procedure consisted in sewing up
the eyelids of the hawk for a time. This was called
seeling. It suggested the line in Othello,

"To seel her father's eyes up close as oak."

This kind of cruelty can almost be forgiven as some-
times a necessary step in the training of a falcon;
but it is painful to record that seeling was sometimes
performed by Elizabethans on harmless doves for the
mere sport of witnessing their frantic and helpless
efforts in misery. We are told in Sidney's Arcadia,
" Now she brought them to see a seeled dove, who,
the blinder she was, the higher she strove to reach."
We have, however, not exhausted the allusions to
falconry in Petruchio's speech. " I have a way to man

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 171

my haggard," he says. " To man " was the technical
term for gaining the mastery. An unmanned, that is,
an untrained hawk, was called a haggard.

"If I do prove her haggard,
Though that her jesses were my dear heart strings,
I'd whistle her off and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune."

Thus, in his suspicious moment, Othello compares
his wife to a haggard hawk. Oftentimes a hawk that
had not been properly trained would turn aside while
in pursuit of prey in order to follow something else.
This turning aside of a haggard was called checking,
and is referred to in Marmion's motto, " Who checks
at me to death is dight." And in the words of Viola:

" To do that well craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their moods on whom he jests,
The quality of the persons and the time,
And, like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye."

Until the hawk had learned to fly properly at the
game she was constantly reclaimed, that is, drawn
back by a long string after she had been started.
The falcons were cared for and trained by the fal-
coner and his assistants, the falconer's boys. When
the falcon was injured in the hunt it was the fal-
coner who proceeded to imp the wing. This process
of mending required the broken wing to be carefully
trimmed, and the feather of another bird matched to
the broken one. The hawk, when not following the
game, was kept covered by a hood that completely
blinded her. This headdress was made of silk or of
leather, often exceedingly dainty and ornamental. It

172 SHAKESPEARE

bore upon its top a tuft of feathers by which it could
be easily and quickly removed when it was desirable
to start the falcon after game.

It is interesting to note how closely Petruchio in
this speech has outlined the process of taming, not
a wife, but a hawk, and how closely he follows out the
suggestion in practice.

Note how this process is carried out. In IV. iii.
3, etc., Katharine alludes to the fact that she is being
famished. In the conversation that follows, Grumio,
evidently at the command of his master, is tantalizing
Katharine with the idea of delicious food just as an
untrained hawk was tantalized. And Petruchio con-
tinues the idea by sending away the food just as
Katharine is about to eat it. The same tantalizing
methods are kept up in the dealings with the tailor,
the haberdasher, etc.

Such treatment of a hawk was kept up till the
hawk was absolutely tractable. So IV. v. portrays
Katharine as entirely docile. In other words, The
Taming of the Shrew is complete, and there remains
nothing but to give an exhibition of the effect at the
end of the play.

III. The Significance of the Play

In section one I suggested that, but for one point,
this play is so easy to read as to render its study al-
most unnecessary. And in the few notes above I
have referred practically to only such points as refer
to this one point.

It is a mistake to take the play seriously, to fancy
that Petruchio has developed a scheme by which a

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 173

cross woman may be brought into a docile state of
obedience. Neither his method nor the results are at
all to be desired in this world. And he who goes at
the play from this point of view, who tries to imagine
such characters, and to justify the acts of Petruchio
and the results as exemplified by the final behavior
of Katharine is but laying himself open to ridicule.

In reality Shakespeare is telling a sort of fairy
story. His audience were as familiar with all the
details of falconry as we are with the details of foot-
ball or of baseball. He knew that his people would
catch the cue from the very title. They would under-
stand that there was here a mere translation into
facetious human terms of the process of training a
hawk. One who is altogether unfamiliar with the
game of chess misses the delightful adventures of Alice
with the White Knight. So one who is unfamiliar
with the game of falconry misses the whole point of
The Taming of the Shrew. Petruchio and Katharine
are not human beings; they are the falconer and his
haggard hawk. In a fairy-story way they represent
the process of training that was so familiar to all
the Elizabethans in the audience. It was far from
them, or from Shakespeare's conception — this analysis
of the principal characters from the human stand-
point. One would as soon present a medical ex-
planation of the crooked gait of Alice's White Knight.

CHAPTER XV
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE

I. Notes on the Text

Read the play rapidly, noting in a general way the
complicated story, and the interlinking of the threads
of the plot. Also the supplementary nature of the
fifth act. Make an outline scene by scene of the nar-
rative.

Read the play again more carefully, performing
such tasks as are suggested in Chapter VIII. Also
attend to the following points in the text.

At the opening of the play Antonio appears de-
pressed in spirits without a knowledge of why or
wherefore. This is a literary device used in order
to strike at the outset the tone of the story of Antonio,
which is serious almost to the point of tragedy, but
not beyond the possibility of a happy ending. An-
tonio is unaware of the cause of his depression, be-
cause nothing has really happened to account for it.
This absence of a cause suggests that the result will
not be so serious in the end. Shakespeare is careful
to keep the attention of the audience forward towards
later developments. Lest the audience should infer
too serious an outcome, the light-heartedness of
Antonio's companions serves as a corrective, at the
same time leading up to the delightfully care-free

174

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 175

beginning of the Portia story in scene ii. Her thread
of the story is all joyous. The audience must be far
from the serious suggestion at the beginning. Note
that both scenes begin with similar expressions.
Portia is also weary of the world, but her body is
not little. The whole speech is belied by her manner
of acting, hence the heightened contrast with the
words of Antonio, who is sincere.

Try to place the best positions on the stage for
those who enter throughout the act.

In scene i. Salarino speaks much more than Salanio.
Is this relative importance kept up throughout the
play? Which part requires the better actor?

At the entrance of Antonio's friends their names
are all mentioned. This serves to introduce them to
the audience. How frequently is this device used?
Is it used more in the earlier parts of the play?

Notice the long speech of Gratiano beginning, " Let
me play the fool." It serves to describe his char-
acter. It is also a defense of frivolity. This passage
needs some accounting for. It would hardly be con-
sidered dramatic unless Gratiano's character is im-
portant enough to demand it. Is it? But there is
a more important use for it. It is a formal piece of
declamation. The Elizabethans were very fond of
declamations to be spoken from the front of the stage
irrespective of their lack of dramatic significance —
speeches with which we associate The Seven Ages
of Man, The Death of Ophelia, Cleopatra's Barge,
etc. (See the chapter on Henry the Fifth.)

Note how much the remainder of the scene con-
tains that is useful in subsequent portions of the play :
1. The beginning of the story to raise money; 2. The

176 SHAKESPEARE

character of Bassanio; 3. The friendship of Bassanio
and Antonio; 4. Description of Portia.

In scene ii. we are introduced to Portia and Nerissa.
The parts should be taken by actresses of very dif-
ferent personalities. Why? What hints are con-
tained in the text that would help one to cast these
parts ?

This scene is illustrative of a kind of passage that
has to a great extent lost its interest to people of our
day and generation. Many of the remarks of Portia
are allusions better understood then than now. Many
of the most popular Elizabethan horses were of Ne-
apolitan breed; hence there is point in comparing the
Neapolitan prince to a colt. The satires of the time
abound in slurs upon the Elizabethan habit of aping
French customs, and Falconbridge is ridiculed there-
for. Indeed, the aptness of such hits must have
made this scene very sparkling to the Elizabethan
wits.

From this point on, try to keep the Antonio story
and the Portia story separate. As the play goes on,
several new threads appear. The difficulty of keep-
ing them separate will suggest how skilfully they are
interwoven.

Shylock is the great character of the play. His
first appearance shows him to be covetous, untruthful,
and an usurer. For all that, he is very different from
the other great Elizabethan picture of a Jew con-
tained in Marlowe's Jew of Malta. A comparison of
the two plays shows the latter to be a repulsive mon-
ster of cruelty and wickedness. Shylock, on the other
hand, is a human being from whom our sympathies are
not wholly alienated. Later in the play, though we

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 177

blame we also pity him. It seems as if Shakespeare
were trying to make out the best case he could for the
Jew in a time when public sympathy was all against
the race.

With very few exceptions, Shakespeare first pre-
sents a bold outline sketch of a character. As the
play goes on, this first sketch is filled out and com-
pleted, but the character does not change. Macbeth
is one of the exceptions. Is Shylock?

It would be well at this point to read in succession
all the scenes in which Shylock appears. Question
the motive of each act. Formulate your estimate of
his character at the end of the first act, at the end of
the third, at the end of the play. Note carefully
whether the character changes, and also whether your
feeling towards him changes.

In II. i. we have another glimpse of Portia's room.
Note how gradually and how carefully Shakespeare
is leading up to the culmination of the casket story.
This breaking the story into bits enhances the fa-
miliarity of the audience, gives opportunity to intro-
duce the other characters, and the remaining threads
of the story.

In modern presentation some of the casket scenes
are thrown together and abridged. Does this imply
that Shakespeare's account is too long drawn out?
Has the Elizabethan love of declamation anything to
do with the question?

II. ii. To the average reader this scene is anything
but amusing, though it is delightfully funny on the
stage. In fact, the amusement depends almost wholly
on the stage business introduced. It is well to remem-
ber that oftentimes the text of the play is the smallest

178 SHAKESPEARE

part of the actual presentation. And Shakespeare
wrote always with the actual presentation in his mind,
as all successful dramatists do. Many so-called dif-
ficult passages are easily made clear by the attempt
actually to imagine the stage picture.

II. ii. 157. Stage direction. " To his followers."
When did Leonardo and the others come upon the
stage? What have they been doing in the meantime?

Except for the allusions to the coming dinner, the
first 175 lines of this scene are wholly a comedy
diversion. They serve no purpose in the plot, nor
do they add to our knowledge of the important char-
acters. Does one often find in Shakespeare so long
a passage with no dramatic value? Such passages
were in common use with the other Elizabethan dram-
atists. They are not so common to-day.

Beginning with line 1 83 is another picture of Gra-
tiano, but it is not altogether like the first, it supple-
ments it. Note what was said above relative to Shake-
speare's method of drawing character. Richard II
is an exception to this method, but not in the same
way as Macbeth.

II. ii. 198, etc. Should Gratiano act as if he were
speaking seriously or in mockery? The student can
answer this question by taking into consideration: 1.
Bassanio's next lines. How does he take it? 2. WThy
does Gratiano want to go? 3. How serious is his
intention ? 4. Would one behavior or another be more
likely to gain Bassanio's permission? 5. How does
he actually behave himself when he gets to Belmont?

With scene iii. we have the beginning of another
thread of the story, which must be thought of both
by itself and as a part of the whole. Like the story

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 179

of the caskets, the story of Lorenzo and Jessica is
introduced piecemeal. One advantage of this method
is that it produces the effect of passing time.

II. iv. What does this scene add to the play? Note
the minor plot details; also the touches that add to
the character of Jessica. On the Elizabethan stage
the change of scene was probably not indicated except
by the momentary clearing of the stage. Doubtless
the characters of scene iii. went off one side of the
stage to be followed immediately by another set enter-
ing opposite.

II. vi. There were no women among the Eliza-
bethan actors. Their parts were taken by boys young
enough to have unbroken voices. Though they were
thoroughly trained professionally they were still boys.
Their immaturity accounts for the absence of com-
plex characters among the women of Shakespeare's
plays. (Cleopatra and Lady Macbeth are two possi-
ble exceptions.)

It is easy to imagine how much more at home a
boy on the stage would be in his own clothes. Hence
the frequent disguising of the heroine in male attire.
How often does Shakespeare make use of this device ?

Note that the scene ends with a suggestion regard-
ing the journey to Belmont — and the next scene opens
at Belmont. Such little connective touches add much
to the impression of continuity throughout the play.

II. viii. This is a very important scene. It tells
the outcome of what happened in scene vi. It adds
a few touches to Shylock's character. It serves as
a division scene between the one before and the one
after, both laid in Portia's room. Such division scenes
were very common in the Elizabethan drama. If

180 SHAKESPEARE

they served no other purpose they could be omitted
in modern presentation, their place being taken by
a momentary drop of the curtain. But Shakespeare,
almost alone among Elizabethan play-writers, seldom
failed to make them serve other purposes as well.
He was very economical of space.

Note also that the lovers are grouped with those
in whom Antonio is interested, so their flight serves
to whet Shylock's enmity against Antonio. This is
an added motive for his malignity. And there imme-
diately follows a hint as to the possibility of financial
disaster before Antonio, which will give Shylock his
chance.

II. ix. The gold and silver caskets are now dis-
posed of, leaving only one for Bassanio to choose.
So we are prepared for the outcome in advance. He
cannot choose wrong. Shakespeare always takes his
audience fully into his confidence. This is in contrast
to the practice of his great contemporary Jonson.

Though Portia says nothing during Bassanio's
speech, she is the most important figure on the stage.
The audience should be watching her. Where is she?
What does she do? Does she act as if she knew the
outcome? Should the other persons on the stage be
watching her or Bassanio? Or should one be watch-
ing her and the others Bassanio? Which one, and
why?

III. ii. As the structure of a comedy is looser
than that of a tragedy, it is not always possible to
discover all the structural points in a comedy that we
expect to find in a tragedy. However, this scene may
be looked upon as the turning-point. It marks the
culmination of Bassanio's successful suit. Almost at

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 181

the same moment comes the news of the distressing
turn in Antonio's fortune. Henceforth the success of
Bassanio is made the means of relieving Antonio.

Recall the allusions to lapsing time in the preceding
scene. Bassanio seems very impatient to make his
choice and to be done with it. Does not this imply
that but little time has elapsed? Is Bassanio a mere
fortune-hunter? Do we at any time feel as if he
were not good enough for Portia ? Or has he changed
from a fortune-hunter to a true lover since he came
to Belmont? In such a case, however, would he not
have been impatient from the first? and prone to
delay later? just the reverse of what he does.

IV. i. Note that Shylock has done nothing illegal.
He is a hard man, but the case is with him. Has
Antonio's haughty behavior justified the Jew's hatred?
Antonio has shown no wisdom in allowing himself to
fall into such a trap. Had Shakespeare been trying
to illustrate the proverb, " Pride goeth before de-
struction," could he have done better?

Note also how the scene, like a play in miniature,
rises to a climax and falls away. Shylock steadily
grows more confident till Portia's fanciful inter-
pretation of the bond. Then, by degrees, he is
crushed more and more almost to the point of anni-
hilation.

Shylock claimed his bond justly. The Christians
outwit him by a quibble, then rob him. Is there not
a good deal to be said on Shylock's side? Is he any
more devilish than his enemies? Do they not really
kill him? If a Jew were holding Christian practice
up to ridicule, would he write differently? We are
glad of Antonio's escape, but are we proud of the

182 SHAKESPEARE

method? Did Shakespeare mean to produce the im-
pression implied by the above questions?

A play usually advances in rapidity towards the
end. In the fifth act of this play there is a great
cessation in the action. In 125 lines nothing happens
except the arrival of Portia and Nerissa. The ring
episode is started as a new interest after the play
is practically finished. (Compare with the fifth act
of The Midsummer Night's Dream and Canto 6 of
Scott's The Lay of the Last Minstrel.) By trifling
alterations, mainly omissions, this play could be re-
duced to four acts. This is probably an attempt to
make the jig an integral part of the play.

The fifth act, however, is interesting from another
point of view, to be discussed in connection with the
Elizabethan staging of the play.

II. The Plot
Make an analysis of the plot, employing the fol-
lowing suggestions:

1. How many different threads to the story?

2. Note how difficult it is to tell any thread with-
out telling parts of the others.

3. Note how they are interwoven.

4. Does each story have a separate climax, or do
they come to a climax together?

5. Note the order in which the stories are intro-
duced, and the order in which they are disposed of.
Has this order anything to do with their relative im-
portance ?

6. Is there anything that could be omitted ?

7. Would you suggest any change in the arrange-
ment of the scenes?

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 183

III. The Characters

It is supposed that the student has been following
through his study the suggestions contained in Chap-
ter VIII. In paying especial attention to character,
it is well to read through in succession the scenes in
which the characters appear.

Formulate your impressions of Shylock, Antonio,
Bassanio, and Portia.

IV. The Elizabethan Staging of the Play

The notes on the Elizabethan staging of this play
are fuller than elsewhere in the present volume in
order to serve as an example to the student who
should consider each play from this point of view.

Below is a list of the stage settings as derived from
the Tudor Edition of the play.

1. Venice, a street. I. i. ; II. ii. ; II. iv. ; II. viii. ;
III. i.; III. hi.; IV. ii.

2. Room in Portia's house. I. ii. ; II. i. ; II. vii. ;
II. ix.; III. ii.; III. iv.

3. Venice, a public place. I. iii.

4. A room in Shy lock's house. II. iii.

5. Before Shylock's house. II. v.; II. vi.

6. Portia's garden. III. v.

7. Venice, a courtroom. IV. i.

8. Avenue to Portia's house. V. i.

The probable average duration of an Elizabethan
performance was two hours and a half, a period of
time that does not allow much time for intermissions
or scene shifting. At any rate, it is hardly conceiva-
ble that the Elizabethans allowed for eight different

184 SHAKESPEARE

scenes, or for the frequent tearing down of one scene
and replacing it after another had been used as is
implied by the above list.

Let us examine it. Note that seven scenes occur
on a street in Venice and six in a room in Portia's
house. The other scenes are used but once. (II. v.
and II. vi. were probably acted as one continuous
scene.)

Examine the list further. 3, a public place, might
be the same as 1, a street. This street might also
contain Shylock's house, 5. Notice the list with these
slight alterations made.

1. Venice, a street. I. i. ; I. iii. ; II. ii.; II. iv. ;
II. v.; II. vi.; II. viii.; III. i.; III. iii.; IV. ii.

2. A room in Portia's house. I. ii.; II. i. ; II. iii.;
II. vii.; II. ix.; III. iv.

3. Portia's garden. III. v.

4. A courtroom. IV. i.

5. Avenue to Portia's house. V. i.

Notice that the setting for the first three acts
(except III. v.) alternates between a Venetian street
and a room in Portia's house, and that neither of
them is used again. Glance over the scenes enu-
merated above, and it will be seen that all of those on
the street could be easily acted in a smaller space than
the others, and with less paraphernalia in the way
of properties, etc. We may suppose them a series
of outer scenes, and the Portia house scenes to be
the inner scenes. So it would be easy to provide
practically for the first three acts of the play by
means of one interior setting and one or more painted
cloths let down from rollers overhead.

Let us fancy the setting of the room in Portia's

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 185

house. There would be all the necessary properties
in the way of furniture, etc., placed upon the middle
stage. At the beginning of the play the table upon
which rest the caskets would probably be on the inner
stage concealed from the audience by a curtain, to
be drawn in the casket scenes. Doubtless there were
painted cloths at the back, representing the walls of an
interior, a stock set which it may be supposed was
already in the possession of the playhouse. All this
material could be in place before the play began, and
not materially disturbed till the end of the third act.
Most of it, however, would be concealed from the
audience by the drawn curtains between the posts
supporting the heavens.

At the beginning of the play these curtains are
drawn apart, showing a painted cloth that has been
let down in front of the articles that furnish the
material. This cloth would represent a street for
the street scenes, and a house to serve as Shylock's
house, probably to one side, so that the balcony above
could be used as the second story of this house. At
the end of the scene the cloth is rolled up, dis-
closing Portia's room. At the end of the next scene
it is dropped for I. iii., raised for I. iv., and so on.
Note that up to this point one painted cloth on a roller
and the stock furnishing for an interior have provided
for all the scenes.

It would be well for the student to go through the
play looking for every suggestion both in stage direc-
tions and in the lines themselves that will help make
out a list of the properties needed. This, however,
is merely an exercise for practice. It should be
remembered that many of the stage directions have

186 SHAKESPEARE

been introduced by modern editors. If the student
wishes to include only such items as are mentioned in
contemporary texts he should consult the " First Folio
Edition/' Crowell & Co.

A second painted cloth representing a garden could
now be let down for III. v. This would doubtless
already be in possession of the company that had
produced Romeo and Juliet. While the scene is being
acted a slight rearrangement of properties would con-
vert Portia's room into a courtroom. When the
painted cloth is raised the audience would see the
court of justice, a seat for the duke, tables, etc., and
a portion of the audience on either side of the stage,
dressed in clothes similar to those worn by most of
the actors. This portion of the audience would eke
out the handful of spectators witnessing the trial.

At the end of the scene the original painted cloth
is let down, and the preparations made for act V.
As the last scene of act IV. is very brief, there may
have been a short intermission here, for the next
scene may well have been the great scene of the play.
In fact, act V. affords plenty of scope for the fancy
to rove.

As I read through the succession of Shakespeare's
plays I find that a few stock sets and half a dozen
drops will furnish the stage effects of most of them.
Every now and then, however, I am driven to the
conclusion that some play demands an extensive new
setting, just such as would to-day be advertised under
the heading of extensive and elaborate scenery. The
camp scenes of Henry the Fifth are an example. It
is my feeling, a mere inference, I confess, that the
playhouse owners of that day frequently made an

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 187

effort to produce some new effect which could be in-
troduced to enliven a play that was staged for the most
part with scenery already in possession of the com-
pany. In the present case I have suggested that
four acts of this play could easily and effectively
have been staged by material already in posses-
sion of the house. And I imagine that the special
efforts were put upon the setting for the last
act.

I shall not attempt to describe it. That would be
a mere exercise of invention as to what could be done
with the resources we know the Elizabethans had at
their command. What I wish to call attention to is
this: the scene is so much more effective when acted
upon a stage that can be darkened, that I believe the
Elizabethans would do so if they could. No other
act in Shakespeare affords so many indications that
the scene was acted upon a partially darkened stage.
I wish to point out these facts and then show how
the Elizabethans could have accomplished the effect
readily with the resources at their command.

Let us consider the situation in detail. The scene
is before Portia's palace at night. There are many
places in Shakespeare's plays where a descriptive
passage seems to serve the purpose of suggesting sur-
roundings not visible to the audience. There is no
contradicting the fact that such suggestions may be
serviceable, and were frequently made use of, and
that an audience could take advantage of them to
supply the absence of a tangible setting. On the
other hand, if such suggestions be carried to the
extreme, they defeat their own end. A suggestion
must be lightly touched, not driven in with a sledge-

188 SHAKESPEARE

hammer. Nothing would be easier or more disastrous
than to overdo the matter of suggestion.

Now what is the situation in this regard of the
last act? The fact that it is night is referred to no
less than thirteen times. Is not this a little too em-
phatic for mere suggestion? Would not the constant
repetition seem ridiculous rather than suggestive?
But this is not all. The presence of a visible moon
and stars is referred to six times. Of even greater
significance are some of the situations. Stephano
enters, but is not recognized till he tells who he is.
Launcelot enters. Several phrases are spoken before
the persons on the stage can properly locate each
other. Portia and Nerissa appear. They neither see
the others on the stage nor are seen by them. Portia
is at last recognized by her voice.

Even after granting a vivid imagination to Eliza-
bethan audiences, far more vivid than ours in dra-
matic affairs, I cannot help but feel that this scene
would not carry itself on a fully lighted stage such
as we imagine in connection with a daylight perform-
ance. Though it is but an inference, it seems a
justifiable one, that during this scene the Elizabethan
stage was actually darkened.

Two points add somewhat to the plausibility of the
suggestion. If the playhouse and the stage were
flooded with daylight fewer references and slight
alterations would add to the effect of mere suggestion,
were that all that was desired. The fact that Shake-
speare, who by this time was a master of stagecraft,
took a different course, implies different conditions.

Second. It would be easy to darken the stage. The
distance across the top of the playhouse was not too

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 189

great to be easily spanned by wires, or ropes. Canvas
could be easily drawn backward and forth upon such
cables and manipulated as easily as the shades which
control the light in a modern photographic studio.
Could the inventive Elizabethans have failed to resort
to such an easy and inexpensive means of adding
effectiveness to many scenes that seem to have been
written to take advantage of a darkened stage?

The stage could also have been darkened in an-
other way. The middle stage was shadowed by the
heavens. It would have been easy to draw curtains
from the supporting posts to the rear of the stage
upon either side. This would have materially lessened
the amount of light falling upon the middle stage.
The inner stage would have appeared almost like a
cave for darkness. And the contrast would have been
increased inasmuch as the audience would then have
been in the full light. The total effect would be that
of one in the full light looking into a cavern.

It might be suggested that this method would cut
off the view of that part of the audience seated upon
the stage itself. But not necessarily. If the side
curtains did not come to within four feet of the stage
floor seated spectators could look under them, and
the curtains would have been equally effective. The
spectators themselves would fill the gap made by the
shortened drapery.

(As an example, let the student search for other
examples throughout the plays that seem to cry out
for a darkened stage. Note also the slightly different
method of working out the setting of scenes as sug-
gested in the chapter on Henry the Fifth.)

CHAPTER XVI
JULIUS CMSAR

Notes on the Text

One who assumes that an Elizabethan play is
named after the principal personage is easily led into
error regarding Julius Ccesar. It is a fact that the
Elizabethans did not consider it necessary to follow
the practice of closely relating the title of a play to
the subject-matter. Shakespeare evidently considered
it a matter of no importance to give a play an irrele-
vant title, or a title that suggested a minor part: —
for instance, Twelfth Night, As You Like It, The
Merchant of Venice, Cymbeline, etc. This play, in
reality, is the play of Brutus.

Structurally, the play appears more symmetrical
when viewed from the standpoint of Brutus. Like
Hamlet, it is a study of the disastrous results of a
man's attempt to perform a task for which he is
wholly incompetent. Brutus at the beginning is inno-
cent but disturbed in mind. He is won over to the
conspirators largely because he considers them to be
as high-minded in their motives as himself. He then
attempts the impossible task of running a political
conspiracy on moral principles. Because he does not
understand the wicked passions and motives of the
men he has to deal with, he makes one blunder after

190

JULIUS C^SAR 191

another, till he brings ruin upon himself and his
followers.

In this plot design Brutus is opposed to imperial-
ism, to the office of Caesar, represented in the play
by three persons: Julius Caesar, Antony, and Oc-
tavius. The first of the three is, therefore, not to
be thought of in any way as the most important char-
acter of the play.

The theme of this play is identical with that of
Hamlet. There is, however, this important difference
between the two plays. In Hamlet the working out
of the idea is the dominating element. Everything
is made subservient to it. In Ccesar this is but partly
true. Shakespeare had just emerged from his his-
tory-writing period. The habit was still strong upon
him. Habits are difficult things to drop, and we find
in places that the mere dramatization of Plutarch's
story seems to take the precedence. For all that, the
play illustrates a considerable progress on the part
of Shakespeare along the road of dramatic independ-
ence.

I. i. This scene shows primarily that there is al-
ready in existence a considerable party opposed to
Caesar. Perhaps this party was secretly incited by
Cassius. Is there anything in the play to confirm
or disprove this notion? Brutus may have known of
it. It may have been the existence of this faction that
set him to thinking along new lines. But at the open-
ing of the play he is still uninfluenced by it. His ac-
tions are due wholly to his own reasoning out of the
situation.

This scene also implies that important use is
eventually to be made out of the Roman mob. The

192 SHAKESPEARE

behavior of the mob, however, need not be taken
to represent Shakespeare's conception of the common
people and their characteristics. Compare with Henry
the Sixth, where such persons are introduced wholly
for comic effect; and with Henry the Fifth, where
the commonalty is the chief justification for the ex-
istence of a king, as well as his mainstay and sup-
port. Note also the characteristics of the common peo-
ple in Coriolanus. If one of these plays represents
the personal feelings of Shakespeare more than an-
other I fancy that it is Henry the Fifth.

I. i. 69- Is this fact referred to again in the play?

I. ii. Examine this scene carefully. Note all the
references to the character of Caesar and to his phys-
ical personality. Note how many of them are unat-
tractive and uncomplimentary. Later, supplement
this list with material drawn from the remainder of
the play. We find Caesar superstitious, pompous,
vain, and boastful. How is this unfavorable view of
Caesar to be accounted for? Does Shakespeare mean
to imply that the position of Caesar, that is, imperial-
ism, is independent of the particular man who for
the moment represents it? That because he is
Caesar he can carry these defects as if they were no
load to speak of?

I. ii. 29- Note how Brutus and Antony are con-
trasted from the very beginning of the play.

I. ii. 46. It must be remembered that at the mo-
ment Cassius approached Brutus the latter was, as
we learn later, much disturbed over the very matter
that Cassius has come to broach.

I. ii. 79- Brutus says, " I do fear the people choose
Caesar for their king." He here uses the word fear in

JULIUS C^SAR 193

the same loose way in which we now use it colloquially
in such expressions as " I fear it will rain to-morrow."
Cassius, however, pretending to understand Brutus to
mean the word in its literal sense, so uses it himself,
thus forcing Brutus into an acknowledgment which
he did not intend to make. This quick-witted atten-
tion to details is very characteristic of Cassius. Find
other illustrations in the play of his quick and keen
observation of details.

I. ii. 162-175. Though Brutus has already been
thinking along the very lines suggested to him by
Cassius, he is cautious and unwilling to act without
sufficient thought. Cassius realizes that it will be
difficult to win the support of Brutus. But Cassius
also knows that if Brutus is once won over he will
became a staunch adherent. This slow reasoning to
a permanent conclusion is the prime characteristic of
Brutus.

I. ii. 200-212. This passage is a very accurate
estimate of the character of Cassius. Does it in real-
ity emanate from Shakespeare or from Caesar? Con-
sider the character of Caesar throughout the play. If
he knew all this, and believes all he says to Antony
about Cassius, would he be likely to take no precau-
tions to protect himself?

Notice also how this scene suggests the importance
of Cassius in relation to Caesar.

I. ii. 267- Casca refers to Caesar's doublet. In
Elizabethan times there was practically no serious at-
tempt at costuming as we now understand the word.
It is true that one of the largest expenses of the
Elizabethan actors was for clothes. But the clothes
they wore were Elizabethan clothes, not costumes

194 SHAKESPEARE

representative of the parts enacted. A warrior wore
armor, but Elizabethan not Roman armor. Caesar
here wears an Elizabethan doublet, not a Roman
garment.

I. ii. 312, etc. (See the remarks concerning so-
liloquies in the chapter on Richard the Third.) This
soliloquy is accurate so far as the character of Brutus
is concerned. It is also quite in keeping with the
character of Cassius. It calls attention to the " hon-
orable metal " of Brutus, but hints that he is gullible
and easily deceived. It suggests in line 315 the pit-
fall into which Brutus eventually falls. It also im-
plies the crafty nature of Cassius, a rather low view
of human kind (316) and that he is a trifle vain (319).
It shows him, here as elsewhere, a good judge of
men and utterly unscrupulous. Find other examples
in the play of these characteristics of Cassius.

I. iii. The Elizabethans believed in the widespread
superstition which held that abnormal physical con-
ditions, especially great storms, preceded or accom-
panied great crimes. Therefore, the effect of
such a tremendous display of omens and portents
is to enhance the magnitude of the crime that fol-
lows.

With this fact in mind, one feels that the scene,
acted in the broad daylight, would be almost ridicu-
lous. See elsewhere the discussion of a darkened
stage in Elizabethan times and the method of accom-
plishing it in the contemporary theater.

Note how cleverly Cassius sounds Casca and wins
him to his side. We may imagine this typical, not as
a single occurrence, but as an example of how Cas-
sius is working upon all the likely people with whom

JULIUS CAESAR 195

he comes in contact. His success here also fore-
shadows his future success with Brutus.

II. i. 10-34. This passage is a genuine soliloquy.
It shows Brutus in the act of making up his mind.
He is the apostle of reason. That is the character-
istic which made him one of the conspirators, and it
is also the characteristic which eventually brings about
his downfall. Is this assertion supported by the re-
mainder of the play? Or should we say that Brutus
is a poor reasoner, and that that is what brings about
his final ruin?

Brutus reads the paper that is thrown in at his
window. The audience has already been informed
about this paper. How does Brutus take it? Does
the way in which it influences him show whether he
is or is not a practical man of the world? How do
we usually feel towards people who act as the result
of, or are influenced by, anonymous communications?

II. i. 61. Note how seriously Brutus is taking the
matter. He does not cast in his lot with the con-
spirators heedlessly. If he makes a mistake it is
because he is unable to judge the situation more ac-
curately.

II. i. 90. Cassius is a very skilful flatterer. Ob-
serve how often he gives evidence of this character-
istic.

II. i. 101-111. No importance attaches to this
scrap of conversation. It is merely put in to occupy
the time while Brutus and Cassius are whispering.
It would be very awkward for the other actors on
the stage to be doing nothing for a moment or two.

II. i. 114. Why does not Brutus want them to take
an oath? 1. What he says is quite true of himself.

196 SHAKESPEARE

2. Is it true of the others? 3. Should he have
thought it true of all the others, or should he have
known better? 4. Does the situation not show that
Brutus is unacquainted with the general run of men?
In other words, that he is not a practical man of the
world ?

Note also that this first act of Brutus after he has
decided to join the conspirators is to object to one of
their plans. This happens several times in the play.
As a rule we find that the opposition of Brutus is due
to high-mindedness, but, as a rule, it is ill-timed.

II. i. 150. Again, in regard to Cicero, Brutus
raises an objection to what all the other conspirators
seem agreed upon. They have very earnestly desired
the co-operation of Brutus; and the ready way in
which Cassius permits himself to be overruled by his
new recruit shows the advantage he hoped would be
derived from the accession of Brutus to the ranks of
the conspirators. Yet Cassius must have begun to
repent very soon. In fact, his misjudging the char-
acter and the advantage of Brutus is the blunder that
in the end wrecks the conspiracy.

Note that generally throughout Shakespeare's
plays the men who deserve punishment bring it upon
themselves.

II. i. 162, etc. Still again Brutus opposes the sug-
gestion of Cassius, — this time in regard to their at-
titude toward Antony. This is the third time Brutus
has manifested his opposition. And, as events turn
out, it proves to be the fatal mistake. For it is An-
tony's permission to speak at Caesar's funeral,
granted by Brutus but opposed by Cassius, which
eventually overthrows the conspiracy.

JULIUS C&SAR 197

In all this Brutus shows himself to be a poor judge
of present conditions. He is acting in accordance with
his theories. He is trying to run a conspiracy on
paper. He does not know what is likely to happen in
real life. He misjudges the behavior of the mob and
underestimates the power of a man who possesses a
persuasive tongue like Antony's.

How does the failure of Brutus to act to the best
practical advantage of the conspirators affect our
estimation of the character of Cassius ? Should he not
have known Brutus better?

II. i. 183. Cassius is not so subservient to Brutus
as before. He expresses some opposition himself.
But he has been so urgent to the other conspirators
regarding the advantage of Brutus' assistance that he
finds his hands in a way tied at the present moment.

II. i. 219. Brutus will give Ligarius reasons. The
key to the character of Brutus, and to his failure, is to
be found in the fact that he does not know that most
men are swayed by their passions rather than by their
minds. Indeed, this fact is one of the principal de-
tails brought out in the play.

II. i. 229. The return to Lucius for a moment, with
whom the scene began, serves to round up this portion
of the scene as a kind of unit. It is now ended and we
are ready for other things.

The closing portion of the scene, in which Brutus
talks with Portia, serves several purposes: 1. It re-
calls us to the every-day world about us which we left
at the entrance of the conspirators, much as the knock-
ing on the gate does in Macbeth. 2. It also empha-
sizes the deliberate, thoughtful way in which Brutus
has made up his mind. 3. It further serves to give us

198 SHAKESPEARE

a little touch of the more human side of the man who
has just been caught up by the current of great pub-
lic events. Nowhere in the play does Portia rise
above the position of a mere minor character.

II. ii. Note how the opening conversation between
Caesar and Calpurnia recalls the closing situation of
the preceding scene, the conversation between Brutus
and Portia. By such little devices are the portions of
a play linked together and made to seem more con-
tinuous.

Does this scene bring out the constancy of Caesar
of which he boasted? — or the reverse? Do selfish
motives figure in Caesar's final decision to go to the
Senate House?

Scenes iii. and iv. were probably acted continuously
on the outer stage, and the time of their enactment
occupied in setting the scene which follows, on the
inner stage.

III. Scenes i. and ii. of this act, which prac-
tically constitute the whole act, have to all intents and
purposes the same setting. We may, therefore, think
of them as constituting a continuous scene. Note,
then, how much significant matter is contained in this
great central scene of the play. 1. There is the
outbreak of the conspiracy culminating in the murder
of Caesar. 2. Next comes the sudden rise of Antony.
3. The scene contains what is, to all intents and pur-
poses, the overthrow of the conspiracy. 4. It makes
very evident the fact that Brutus, after all, was the
real cause of failure on the part of the conspirators.

III. i. 8. Is this phrase of Caesar's a noble senti-
ment, or mere grandiloquence ?

Note the care with which Antony is drawn aside.

JULIUS CESAR 199

Brutus formerly made light of the pretense that An-
tony might turn out to be an enemy with whom they
need seriously to reckon. But the conspirators seem
to have known better.

III. i. 35, etc. Caesar speaks a good deal of bom-
bast in this scene. Is its effect on the audience prej-
udicial to the character of Caesar? Throughout the
play, does Caesar act with the consistency of which he
brags in this scene?

III. i. 95. Note that Antony's name appears again
at the most critical moment of the play.

III. i. 104. Brutus acts as spokesman as if he were
the actual leader of the insurrection. Yet Cassius
has really been the heart and soul of it up to this mo-
ment. How important a part does Brutus think he
himself has played?

III. i. 124. The servant's speech is a masterpiece.
It must have been planned in every detail by the
clever Antony. It plays upon Brutus' weakness, it is
thoroughly non-committal, and every safeguard is
taken for eventually jumping either way.

III. i. 141. Brutus has been quickly caught by
Antony's bait of an opportunity to give reasons.

III. i. 147. One of the most skilfully managed
passages of the play follows the entrance of Antony.
He is acting every moment of the time. He pretends
to be loyal to Caesar lest the conspirators will not
trust him if he seems to desert too easily. Yet he
wants them to believe that in the end he is to be won
over. Of course, at heart, he is loyal to Caesar
throughout.

III. i. 177, 178. This is an odd speech for Cas-
sius to make. Does he mean it?

200 SHAKESPEARE

III. i. 205. This expression of praise required
splendid courage on the part of Antony, and shows his
far-sighted intuition. It is a true representation of his
feelings, but it is not a spontaneous outbreak. Every
detail has been planned in advance and carried out
with the skill of a consummate actor. His motive is to
make the conspirators feel that if he could be so loyal
to Caesar under such dangerous circumstances, just
so loyal will he be to them if he is once won over.
Antony took a great risk when he made this speech,
but he triumphed.

III. i. 232. Cassius knows men far better than
Brutus does. He instantly sees the danger of allow-
ing Antony to speak, and seeks to restrain Brutus from
giving permission. Brutus, however, insists on having
his own way. And it is the result of this insistence
that turns the tide against him. Thus Brutus is really
the cause of the overthrow of the conspiracy. And
his cause fails because of his own unswerving devo-
tion to his own high motives.

III. i. 245. Brutus' belief that Antony will obey
his commands argues very little worldly knowledge on
the part of Brutus — it is almost childlike. This in-
cident also reflects somewhat on the character of Cas-
sius, who should have gauged Brutus to better advan-
tage before he made him the leader of the conspiracy.

III. i. 254. Up to this point the audience has not
been quite sure whether Antony is playing fast and
loose with the faction, or whether he is really med-
itating an advantageous desertion to its ranks. At
this point he throws off the mask of his acting. This
soliloquy represents the real Antony, and sets the
audience right.

JULIUS C^SAR 201

Note how the sympathy of the audience swings like
a pendulum. Caesar's arrogance turns this sympathy
towards Brutus. Brutus is so easily taken in by An-
tony that he now loses some of the sympathy that has
been aroused for him as a conscientious leader. Mean-
time, the attention of the audience is becoming cen-
tered upon the rising genius of Antony. In other
words, the sympathy of the audience is again swinging
towards Caesar and the successor of Caesar.

III. i. 276. Notice here the allusion to Octavius.
It was Shakespeare's habit to introduce an allusion to
the force that is going to resolve the action at the very
moment at which that action reaches the height of its
first culmination.

III. ii. 7. Brutus is going to give the public rea-
sons. He is the philosopher, the exceptional man, who
regulates his actions entirely by his mind. He knows
mankind so slightly that he fancies all men like
himself. He cannot understand how a man can fail
to side with him if sufficient reasons are given for so
doing.

On the other hand, Antony is the man of the hour.
He knows that men are swayed at important moments
by their passions, not by their minds. He is willing
to risk all on a half-hour incendiary oration.

As the sequence shows he is right. The much purer,
higher-minded Brutus is all wrong. And so Antony
wins and Brutus loses because the former is familiar
with his tools and the latter is not.

III. ii. 78. This wonderful speech of Antony will
bear careful analysis. It is a masterpiece of elo-
quence. Its proper delivery requires the exercise of
marvelous acting ability.

202 SHAKESPEARE

Antony is the friend of Caesar, speaking at the
moment of the triumph of his enemies, at their vic-
tim's funeral, by their sufferance, and before a hostile
crowd. It is his intention to turn that crowd against
the very men they are now adoring, and to win them
entirely to his own side. And he essays the task with-
out fear, and with no doubt as to the outcome.

III. ii. 87. Antony speaks of Brutus as an honor-
able man. There is here not the least hint of sarcasm
in Antony's voice. His first step towards winning the
crowd is to adopt their point of view and make them
believe that he is one of them. Later he uses the
same words sarcastically. In the meantime he grad-
ually, but very gradually, changes his tone. All the
while he is on the outlook for indications that the
crowd has begun to come to him. Perhaps the first
touch, the slightest touch, however, of sarcasm, ap-
pears in line 104.

III. ii. 112. In reality Antony pauses, not because
he is overcome by emotion, but in order to catch some
audible hint of the change of feeling on the part of
his hearers. He needs a cue as to how to continue.
He is richly rewarded by the scrap of conversation
which he overhears among the citizens, and begins
again to speak with renewed confidence.

III. ii. 129- The increased sarcasm of this line is
soon to develop into an open sneer.

III. ii. 145. Now that he is sure of success, Antony
begins to tease his audience with delay.

III. ii. 219. Fancy the contempt Antony puts into
the word, " reasons " !

III. ii. 225. Note the splendid irony of this line
and in what follows.

JULIUS CAESAR 203

III. ii. 265. With the exit of the citizens the con-
spiracy, if not over, is at least foredoomed to failure.
At this point one can easily fancy the outcome. From
here on the play consists of: — 1. The mere continua-
tion of the story to the end. 2. A picture of Brutus
in defeat. And, as often elsewhere in Shakespeare,
the play ends more weakly than it began. Hamlet
and Othello are the two most notable exceptions to
this reflection.

IV. i. At the opening of this scene we meet the
triumvirs, all of whom figure in Antony and Cleopatra.
The suggestion contained in line 9 is quite unworthy
of the Antony of the latter play. In fact, throughout
this scene Antony's attitude towards Lepidus is not
at all to his credit. It must be remembered, however,
that Lepidus was generally considered to be the non-
entity of the triumvirate.

IV. ii. Note how quickly dissension has got among
the conspirators. In line 19 Brutus refers to Cassius
as "a hot friend cooling." Is this charge true? Is
it due to the fact that Cassius is well aware of the
blundering of Brutus? Does Cassius think he could
make better progress without Brutus? Does Brutus
have any idea as to what causes the present behavior
of Cassius? Is their reconciliation in the next scene
genuine ?

IV. iii. Doubtless Shakespeare thought that the
news of Portia's death would cause even the philo-
sophic Brutus to act in an unusual manner. But the
testy wrangling with Cassius in the early part of the
scene is quite unworthy of Brutus. It does not belit-
tle the greatness of Shakespeare to acknowledge that
once in a while he is at fault in the presentation of a

204 SHAKESPEARE

character — especially in his earlier years, a period
that may be said to close with Julius Ccesar.

IV. iii. 31. Cassius here asserts that he is an abler
soldier than Brutus. From the standpoint of the
practical management of a revolution he is certainly
right. But note that he denies the word abler in
line 56.

IV. iii. 76. In a way Brutus is helpless and ac-
knowledges his dependence on Cassius for everything
in the way of practical details.

IV. iii. 104. Is Cassius sincere? At the opening of
the scene we get the impression that Cassius is trying
to pick a quarrel. If this speech is sincere, we must
attribute the change in Cassius to the effect of Brutus'
noble personality.

On the other hand, if it is a hollow piece of flattery
spoken for the purpose of mollifying Brutus we must
discover why Cassius, who a moment before wished to
quarrel, now desires a reconciliation. This is a diffi-
cult discovery to make.

In the latter part of this scene we have in Brutus'
tender consideration of Lucius one of those little
touches which show how much brighter Brutus shone
in private than in public life.

Act V. The fifth act is merely the working out of a
foregone conclusion. It contains practically nothing
but a description of the battle. It is not often that
the last act of one of Shakespeare's plays contains so
little vital material.

V. i. 45-47. Cassius prepares himself for death
protesting against the policy of Brutus.

V. iii. 5. The last fatal slip of the battle is set down
to the long list of blunders on the part of Brutus.

JULIUS CAESAR 205

V. v. 68-81. Note the final estimate of the char-
acter of Brutus put into the mouths of Antony and
Octavius.

In the view of Brutus' character set forth above he
is conceived as one unused to public life, unskilled in
the very kind of work he is called upon to do. This
view, however, does not imply anything derogatory
to his character. Antony was right when he called
Brutus the noblest Roman of them all.

There are critics who see in all of Shakespeare's
plays Sunday-school morals of the conventional sort.
Though this view is usually obscured to me, there can
be no doubt about the fact that underlying each of the
great tragedies of Shakespeare there is some great
human truth. And this play is no exception.

The situation may thus be phrased: it is of one
who has high ideals, a noble nature, called upon to ex-
ecute some great task. The tools at his service are
such as he cannot use with justification to his own
conscience. Shall he use them and succeed, or shall
he refuse them, live up to his ideals, and fail nobly?

Shakespeare does not answer the question. But he
shows that the latter course will inevitably bring
worldly ruin.

It is interesting to note that the play which in-
volves the reappearance of so many of the characters
of Antony and Cleopatra, is very closely associated
with that play in its general idea. In the later
play Antony appears as a hero of gigantic propor-
tions. Again, throughout the play, public duty and
personal desire are placed in opposition. Everything,
so far as Antony is concerned, is sacrificed to his per-
sonal devotion to the Egyptian queen. In one way it

206 SHAKESPEARE

is an ignoble passion, in another it is the opposite. He
goes down grandly, dragging the queen and his fol-
lowers with him. But our sympathy is with him to
the very end. Shakespeare has hardly achieved so
much in the case of Brutus.

CHAPTER XVII
HAMLET

I. Outline of the Early History op the Play

There are, or were, several versions of the story
of Hamlet in Elizabethan times. In the first place,
there was a long prose account known as The Hystorie
of Hamblet. Though no longer extant, it is generally
supposed that a play setting forth the same story was
in existence as early as 1589. This is frequently re-
ferred to as the lost-Hamlet, and many suppose
it to have been written by Thomas Kyd, author of
The Spanish Tragedy. In 1603, the year after the
probable appearance of Hamlet on the stage, the first
quarto edition of the play was published. This differs
in many respects from the second quarto of 1 604. And
the text of the Folio, 1623, differs in a few respects
from that of the second quarto. The texts of the sec-
ond quarto and of the Folio are evidently but slightly
differing versions of the same play, and they are com-
bined to produce the currently accepted text of to-
day.

The extraordinary differences between the first and
the second quarto, appearing as they did from the
press so close together, has given rise to endless crit-
ical discussion. There are three possible suppositions :
1. The first quarto may be Kyd's supposedly lost play
207

208 SHAKESPEARE

or a version of it. 2. It may be an earlier play of the
same subject by Shakespeare himself. 3. It may be a
pirated edition of Shakespeare's play which called into
existence quarto two, the true version, as a mere mat-
ter of financial protection. I incline to a firm belief
in the latter hypothesis.

I do not think that it can be Kyd's play. So far
as we know, there are extant but two of his plays.
One of them, The Spanish Tragedy, is, when judged
by contemporary standards, remarkable for its ex-
cellence. The other, Soliman and Perseda, judged by
the same standards is as remarkable for its lack of
excellence. At any rate, neither one resembles the
other, or shows any evidence of self-imitation.

Later I shall try to show that the resemblance be-
tween The Spanish Tragedy of Kyd and the Hamlet
of Shakespeare is so close that we are driven to the
conclusion that the former served as a model to the
latter. And the main points of this resemblance are
visible even in the first quarto. It does not seem to
me likely that Kyd would thus copy his own earlier
effort — for four reasons: 1. There is no confirma-
tory evidence of the fact. 2. The two extant plays
suggest diversity of work rather than close self-imi-
tation. 3. The copying of an earlier skeleton plot is
not unlike the practice of Shakespeare. 4. It is a
mere matter of personal taste, but to me the bad
points of the quarto are unworthy of Kyd, and the
good points more suggestive of Shakespeare than of
the earlier playwright.

Nor do I think the play to be an earlier play by
Shakespeare. Its crudeness in parts is so great that
it must have been written by Shakespeare, if at all,

HAMLET 209

at a very early date. Yet Titus Andronicus, Shake-
speare's earliest tragedy, is so superior to it as to sug-
gest a wide difference in their dates. Yet Titus An-
dronicus must have been written very early in Shake-
speare's career.

On the other hand, the contemporary conditions of
literary piracy seem to account plausibly for all, or
practically all, of the essential differences between
the first and the second quarto. It was the usual
custom of that day to keep popular plays unpublished
till the temporary stage popularity had waned. Then,
if a further penny could be turned by publication, the
companies did not scruple to do so. On the other
hand, the crooked practices that obtained among
publishers prompted them to resort to all sorts of
underhand means in order to procure a copy of the
text. They would bribe the players, doubtless resort
to theft if necessary, or send stenographers to take
down the play while it was being acted.

There was no adequate system of shorthand writ-
ing in vogue at that time. Hence one, in taking down
the play, would perforce leave many gaps to be filled
in later from memory. As this is a student handbook,
I shall not go into the case thoroughly. But in my
opinion a close comparison of the two quartos suggests
that the former in the main could very easily be the
result of the work of such an imperfect stenographer
and hack-writer's attempt to take down and subse-
quently fill out the play as represented by the second
quarto.

Of course, this theory does not explain everything.
If it did, there would be no case left for believers in
the other hypothesis. And a student who would go

210 SHAKESPEARE

into the case more thoroughly should study both the
quartos carefully and all the attendant conditions of
contemporary theatrical life and practice. It is suffi-
cient to say here that in my opinion such an examina-
tion not only gives to this explanation far greater
validity than to either of the other two, but it also
gives sufficient validity to it to warrant its acceptance
despite a few unexplained details that appear to me
on the whole as trifling in comparison.

If this explanation be the right one there remains
no difficulty in explaining the appearance of the sec-
ond quarto. In accordance with current practice
Shakespeare's company refused to publish the play.
A publisher got hold of the garbled copy issued from
the press as the first quarto. As the play, though in
a mutilated condition, was now on the book market the
theatrical company who owned the play naturally de-
sired to reap whatever advantage was due to publica-
tion. Hence they came forward promptly with the
true text.

II. " The Spanish Tragedy " and " Hamlet " *

The attribution of the lost play of Hamlet to
Thomas Kyd lends additional interest to the relations
between Kyd and Shakespeare. Resemblances of
many kinds are noticeable among the works of the two
writers. Such a coincidence as the following can
hardly be accidental:

* This note and most of what is said subsequently re-
garding the " Mouse-trap " have appeared in " The Sewanee
Review."

HAMLET 211

" I had not thought that Alezandro's heart
Had been envenomed with such extreme hate:
But now I see that words have several works,
And there's no credit in the countenance."

— Sp. Tr., III. i.

"There's no art
To find the mind's construction in the face,"

are the words of Duncan. It is, however, not in such
verbal similarities that we find a resemblance between
the dramatists of remarkable degree; it is rather in
the similarity of treatment and conception between
the great play of Kyd and the masterpiece of his suc-
cessor.

The motive of both plays is revenge, in each for a
murder. In Hamlet the murder is committed before
the beginning of the play and is revealed by super-
natural means. In The Spanish Tragedy the murder,
which forms a part of the action, is revealed by means
of a mysterious letter. None will forget the burst of
human grief that almost vanquishes Hamlet at the mo-
ment he hears the details of his beloved father's
death. Though there is no attempt to portray Hie-
ronimo fully as a human character of many sides, he
experiences sufficient grief and sorrow to cause him to
lose his mental balance temporarily.

I hope to show that there is reason to believe that
Shakespeare had The Spanish Tragedy in mind while
writing Hamlet and that, though he followed it as a
model, he improved it at many points. It is note-
worthy as an illustration that at the point in Hamlet,
corresponding with the above suggestion from Hie-
ronimo's behavior, Hamlet makes the speech which
contains the phrase " To put an antic disposition on."

212 SHAKESPEARE

Shakespeare, however, was, I think, too shrewd a
judge of human nature to imagine that Hamlet, who
had just been startled out of sane behavior by the
terrible revelation of the ghost, could in the same
moment, like Hieronimo, be so self-possessed as to
plan in a moment the ruse of assuming a future cloak
of madness. The " antic disposition " is doubtless a
reference to the " wild, whirling words " that his fel-
lows could not understand, the general incoherent be-
havior that has preceded the utterance of the line, and
which Hamlet fears may occur again under a similar
strain.

The author of the crime is revealed to Hamlet by
the ghost — to Hieronimo by a letter. Both persons
instantly suspect the trustworthiness of their informa-
tion. Hamlet's doubt is due to his belief in a well-
known Elizabethan superstition: namely, that the
devil possessed the power to appear in the likeness of
a dead person in order to tempt a living. This is a
doubt shared likewise by Horatio and may well bid
Hamlet pause till he has better proof. Hieronimo,
however, suspects from no cause. The detail is un-
motived.

However, both men suspect and both of them re-
solve to test the truth of the information which they
have received. Hamlet most carefully plans the
" Mouse-trap " which, though it turns out in an unex-
pected way, convinces him of his uncle's guilt. Hie-
ronimo asserts that he must take time for investiga-
tion, but in reality does nothing. He merely waits
till a second more convincing letter comes to him by
accident. Just why this letter should be written is not
quite clear. It is intended by Kyd to convey informa-

HAMLET 213

tion to Heironimo, but it is intended by its writer,
Pedringano, to convey an appeal for relief to Lorenzo.
Yet the substance of the letter is that most calculated
to harden Lorenzo's heart. Hieronimo, who before
was so ready to doubt the revealing letter, accepts this
as true in every respect and considers his doubts as
completely set at rest. Both Hamlet and Hieronimo
are now ready to act upon their original information
— and both allow their revenge to be delayed till the
end of the play.

How can we account for this delay? The answer
to the former case is evident. Hamlet has planned
to sit quietly by till the " Mouse-trap " is finished and
then compare notes with Horatio on his uncle's be-
havior. But he is himself affected by the scene be-
yond the limits of endurance. By interrupting the
proceedings too soon, Hamlet causes the court to dis-
perse with the impression that Hamlet, not Claudius,
has made an exhibition of himself. Though Hamlet
is himself convinced of his uncle's guilt, he realizes
that he has so bungled the affair that he will be unable
to convince others of anything but his own inability to
act with reason. In the reaction of despondency he
allows himself to be drawn away from Denmark; but
the moment his spirit returns he hastens back to ac-
complish his revenge.

Why Hieronimo delays is not quite so evident, yet a
similar scene to the above appears in the correspond-
ing portion of The Spanish Tragedy. Immediately
upon the completion of his self-conviction, Hieronimo
resolves to appeal to the king. He has every reason to
believe his appeal will be successful. Yet, when he
comes to the point, he is so wrought up by his emotion

214 SHAKESPEARE

that he cannot say what he intended to say, and at
last dashes off the stage hysterically mad. As in
Hamlet, the impression left upon the court is exactly
opposite to that intended by Hieronimo. In conse-
quence, however, Hieronimo merely remains quiescent
till the end of the play. He has no excuse for inac-
tion. When Bel-Imperia upbraids him for his delay
he requests her to wait and to expect great things,
but he offers no defense.

These two scenes cannot be dismissed without a
word concerning the wild behavior that occasionally
characterizes both Hamlet and Hieronimo. This is
not the place to consider in detail the question of Ham-
let's madness. He is certainly not insane in the sense
that Lear is insane; nor is he believed insane by any
of the shrewder intellects of the play — nor is Hieron-
imo. The key to their wild behavior is the same.
Both have exceptionally passionate natures. The rev-
elation of the ghost, the " Mouse-trap," and the burial
of Ophelia act so powerfully upon Hamlet's nature
that he temporarily loses self-control — control, how-
ever, which he immediately regains. The same is true
of the character of Hieronimo.

There are a few other similarities between the
two characters. Immediately after the failure of the
" Mouse-trap " during a conversation with the queen,
Hamlet conjures up a vision of his father come to
chide him for his long delay.

" Do you come," says Hamlet, " your tardy son to
chide, That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by
The important acting of your dread command? " Im-
mediately after his failure to convey his appeal to the
king, Hieronimo conjures up a vision of his son come

HAMLET 215

to chide him for his delay. "And art thou come, Ho-
ratio/' says Hieronimo, " from the depth To ask for
justice on this upper earth, to tell thy father thou art
unrevenged? "

Hamlet is spurred back to activity from the period
of despondency following the failure of the " Mouse-
trap " by the accidental sight of a company of Fortin-
bras's soldiers who remind him of his own unfinished
task of revenge. Similarly Hieronimo is spurred back
into action by the sight of a handkerchief dyed in his
son's blood which he accidentally draws from his
pocket.

When the end of the play is reached and the of-
fenders are killed, both Hamlet and Hieronimo recog-
nize the necessity of some public justification of their
actions. Hieronimo delivers his own plea. For this,
however, Hamlet's span of life is insufficient. Yet he
dies, begging Horatio do the office for him :

" Absent thee from felicity awhile,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
To tell my story."

With this close parallelism in mind is one not likely
to hazard the inference that Shakespeare's play bears
less resemblance to the lost Hamlet than to The Span-
ish Tragedy?

It is hard to believe that the first quarto, which in
all its larger and broader qualities so closely resembles
the second, bears any close resemblance to the play
by Kyd. This, if considered in the light of the above
list of parallels, implies an almost inconceivable de-
gree of self-imitation. On the other hand, one can
easily imagine that Shakespeare, who borrowed not

216 SHAKESPEARE

only plots, but other dramatic details that proved
successful, would take for his model the most popular
tragedy of the time, and adhere to it in the main with
the same fidelity illustrated, for instance, in Romeo
and Juliet. Yet he did in Hamlet what he had already
done in Romeo and Juliet. He transferred the unpo-
etic dross of the original into the poetic ore associated
in our minds only with Shakespearian genius.

III. Notes on the Text

I. i. 23. Note that Horatio is introduced as skepti-
cal regarding the story he has heard of the ghost.
Yet his subsequent behavior (see I. iv. 70) shows that
he believes in ghosts. The convincing of the skeptic
Horatio contributes to the vividness and reality of the
situation here. (See note at the end of the chapter
relative to the Elizabethan staging of the play, and
the article of Mr. Baker therein cited. This scene was
probably acted on a darkened stage.)

I. i. 42. " Thou art a scholar." Critics have cited
the fact that an old superstition implies that a ghost
should be conversed with in Latin; therefore Horatio,
who was a scholar, was urged forward as spokesman.
But the critics seem to have overlooked the fact that
Horatio does not address the ghost in Latin when the
time comes to speak. In fact, there is probably no
allusion whatever to this superstition here. The
others are slightly frightened, a good deal terrified,
if we are to believe the account given by Horatio to
Hamlet later. He then says that they were almost
distilled to jelly by the act of fear. Horatio, however,
is of superior education, has boasted of his skepticism.

HAMLET 217

His companions urge him forward just as a child
will say, " You are the biggest. You go first."

I. i. 79, etc. How easily the correlative information
needed as an introduction is inserted. Fortinbras,
though a minor figure, plays a very important part in
the drama.

I. i. 126-139- One must understand this passage
in order to read it correctly. There was a supersti-
tion of the time which held that a ghost, though en-
dowed with supernatural powers, was limited in many
directions. For instance, it was necessary, perhaps,
to address him by the proper name in order that he
be able to speak. This is why Hamlet (I. iv. 44),
says, " I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father, royal
Dane." We must imagine a sufficient pause after each
name for Hamlet to discover whether he has used the
right epithet.

Again, it was believed that a ghost could not speak
till he was addressed relative to the subject upper-
most in his mind. This is the superstition involved
in the passage cited above. The ghost refuses to
speak, line 129- So Horatio guesses. He asks if the
ghost wishes to talk regarding anything advantageous
to himself, Horatio. Then there is a pause. The
silence of the ghost shows that this is not that regard-
ing which he wishes to speak. Horatio tries again.
" Is it relative to the welfare of your country? " he
asks. There is another pause. This is not it. Does
the ghost wish to speak of hidden treasure? Con-
tinued silence answers no. And so the phantom dis-
appears.

There was still another superstition which held that
a ghost would remain silent unless addressed by the

218 SHAKESPEARE

proper person. As the ghost has failed to answer
Horatio, the latter thought comes into his mind. The
ghost would not speak to the others. He would not
speak to him. Who is the person who ought to ad-
dress him? Probably his son, the younger Hamlet.
So they decide to ask the prince to share their watch
with them.

J. ii. We may look upon this as the first formal,
public gathering of the court since the death of the
king and the marriage of his widow to his brother
Claudius.

We are told in this scene much of the introductory
material, are introduced to most of the remaining char-
acters. Laertes is given permission to depart. He is
kept in mind by several touches hereafter, but does not
appear as an important character till act IV.

In the structure of this play we find the two-hero
type exemplified in its perfection by Othello. Clau-
dius and Hamlet are the two opposites. The char-
acter of the former should be scanned carefully
throughout the play.

I. ii. 65. This is the first line spoken by Hamlet.
It should be examined carefully. Its literal meaning
is: A little more than kin (uncle by blood, step-
father by marriage) and less than kind (unnatural; a
reference to the indecent haste with which he has mar-
ried his brother's widow). In the Tudor Edition this
line is marked " aside." Some critics do not so mark
it. I do not think it matters much. In either case the
implication is the same. Shakespeare's first line at-
tributed to Hamlet shows: 1. That he is out of har-
mony with his uncle, the present king. 2. That some-
thing is preying deeply on his mind. In the conver-

HAMLET 219

sation that follows the king shows that he is either
ignorant of the former condition or that he pretends
to neglect it. His words, however, the queen's, and
Hamlet's all emphasize the second. Something ex-
traordinary is preying upon his mind. It is not fully
accounted for by outward circumstances. It is not yet
fully understood even by Hamlet himself. It is only
cleared up later.

I. ii. 129, etc. This soliloquy shows, but not yet
quite fully, what is preying upon Hamlet's mind. It
is his mother's hasty marriage. He idolized her, and
her over-hasty marriage shattered his mind's image of
a superior woman.

I. ii. 226, etc. There is nothing impossible to
Hamlet about what Horatio says. Yet the former,
who can imagine easily the appearance of the ghost,
wishes to make sure. He has been told that the
others were terribly frightened by the appearance of
the apparition (I. ii. 205). So, as I said, he wishes
to make sure. The only significance to the rapid
fire of questions tha' follows is Hamlet's desire by
cross-examination to test the coherence of their story.
The clue to Hamlet's character throughout is justice,
the desire to go slow and to be sure of himself and his
cause. This is the first example of it.

I. ii. 256. Doubt in Elizabethan times usually
meant suspect.

I. iii. Note that Laertes does not take the idea of
Hamlet's courtship of Ophelia seriously. Yet it is
serious and honest.

The Elizabethans not only enjoyed but demanded a
fair admixture of comedy with their tragedy. In
some plays, as in Othello, Shakespeare ignored this de-

220 SHAKESPEARE

mand. In Macbeth and in Hamlet he catered to it
only slightly. In the latter play the grave-diggers of
act V. and Polonius afford the comic element.

We must fancy Polonius as an old man who has in
the past been a worthy and trusted councilor. But he
has now passed the zenith of his intellectual career,
becoming a little childish. His mind is most occupied
over trivial matters. There is a ludicrous element in
this scene about his urging Laertes forward in haste
for the waiting ship while he simultaneously detains
him to hear a long-winded declamation full of copy-
book precepts relative to good behavior. And later
Polonius goes to the king with an altogether erroneous
interpretation of Hamlet's behavior, upon the truth
of which he is willing to stake his life and reputation.

Polonius takes almost the same view of Hamlet's
courtship of Ophelia as that taken by Laertes. Does
Ophelia believe what her father and brother say?

I. iv. 69-78. There was a belief in that day and
generation that the devil possessed the power of ap-
pearing to living persons in the semblance of some
deceased loved one. It is to this detail that Horatio
refers. Note how quickly he grasps the situation.
This apparition may be the spirit of the dead king.
On the other hand it may be an evil spirit come to do
harm to Hamlet. This doubt figures largely in what
follows. Hamlet has no thought of it in scene v. of
the first act. By the opening of act II. he has begun
to share Horatio's doubts. It is to test the truth of
the ghost's story, incidentally to discover whether it
is a true ghost or an evil spirit, that he plans the
" Mouse-trap."

I. v. 40. " Oh my prophetic soul ! My uncle ! "

HAMLET 221

This exclamation has been explained as indicative of
the fact that Hamlet had already suspected his uncle's
guilt. I do not, however, find any justification for this
interpretation. In the first place, I conceive it to be
an exclamation of surprise. If, however, Hamlet has
not suspected his uncle, to what does he refer?

Now, Hamlet is overwhelmingly depressed in spirits
and he hates his uncle viciously. The excuse for the
low state of his spirits is to be found partly in the
grief due to his father's death. But, as Claudius aptly
remarks, strong men do not collapse under such cir-
cumstances ; and Hamlet knows that the king is right.
Furthermore, Hamlet is much distressed over his
mother's hasty marriage. In a way, it has shattered
one of his ideals of womanhood. Yet Hamlet knows
that under ordinary circumstances he could have borne
even this with a fair degree of equanimity.

And why does he hate Claudius? Partly because
Claudius has usurped the throne, and partly because
he has married the queen. Yet these motives hardly
justify Hamlet's extreme aversion to the king.

In other words, Claudius, the queen, and Hamlet
himself all feel that the extremity of his emotion is
not fully accounted for by the known facts. And now,
at the ghost's revelation, Hamlet suddenly realizes
that there is a reason sufficient to account for all his
feelings; and, inasmuch as he had had no previous
knowledge or suspicion of the fact, the feeling itself
was in a way prophetic.

The line should be read as two distinct exclama-
tions, not as one, as is implied by the punctuation of
some texts of the play.

At the end of scene iv. Hamlet departs with the

222 SHAKESPEARE

ghost against Horatio's will. We must fancy that his
lingering companions on the ramparts of the castle
wait a reasonable time for his return; then decide to
hunt Hamlet up. They find him towards the end of
scene v. Hamlet has just heard the astonishing rev-
elation of the details of his father's murder. For a
moment he is completely overcome. His high-strung
nature is unable to retain its calm self-control. He
talks nonsense (the " wild and whirling words " of
line 133). And he acts ridiculously. He desires an
oath against which the others protest. However, when
Hamlet holds up the cross-shaped hilt of his sword for
them to take oath upon they agree to his whim. Just
at the critical moment Hamlet changes his mind and
drags them off to some more likely position for the
oath (line 156). And still again when they are will-
ing to humor him with an oath he drags them to still
another place of vantage (line 163).

During the next few lines Hamlet begins to recover
his self-control. He realizes how he has been acting.
He recalls Horatio's fears at their last parting. He
knows that Horatio must be saying to himself, " This
is just what I expected." Yet Hamlet is greatly
wrought. He has no plans for the future. He has not
had time even to conjecture what will be the sequel to
all this. He has not yet decided whether or not he will
relate the whole affair in confidence to Horatio. But
there is one thing he is sure of. The present meeting
with the ghost has momentarily thrown him off his
balance. It may happen again in the future. If so,
he hopes his friends and companions will not betray
him by referring to the incidents of to-night. In
other words: " If at any time in the future you see me

HAMLET 223

act as strangely (put an antic disposition on, line
172) as you have seen me act in the last live minutes,
do not shrug your shoulders, look wise, and say, ' That
is just the way he behaved himself one night after
meeting his father's ghost upon the ramparts.' "

Many critics have assumed that in the excitement
of the moment Hamlet has found time to formulate
definite plans for the future which involve the as-
sumption of madness. They quote this line as a ref-
erence to the intention of assuming insanity in the
future as a cloak to his plans. To me, however, it is
perfectly clear that the exclamation does not point
forward, but backward to the antic behavior that has
just been acted out on the stage. It would at least be
fresh in the mind of the audience, and it is hard to con-
ceive how the audience would fail to connect the two.

II. i. One of the cleverest dramatic devices of the
play involves the prominence of Laertes in the fourth
act. It is needful that we do not forget him during
his absence throughout the first three acts. The open-
ing portion of this scene is largely for the purpose of
keeping Laertes in the mind of the audience.

II. i. 75-100. This passage should be studied in
connection with III. i. 90-158. One may profitably
return to this discussion after reading the section de-
voted to Hamlet's madness. The result of these two
meetings of Hamlet and Ophelia is: 1. Ophelia is con-
vinced of Hamlet's madness. 2. Polonius is confirmed
in his belief of Hamlet's madness. Yet Hamlet is
acting quite rationally.

Let us for a moment try to fancy what has been
passing recently in the mind of Hamlet relative to
Ophelia. There can be no doubt that Hamlet is hon-

224 SHAKESPEARE

estly in love with her. Yet the gross-minded Laertes
doubts the fact. Polonius, while not taking quite so
low a view of the matter as that taken by his son, con-
siders marriage as out of the question because of the
social difference in rank between his daughter and the
prince. It is to prevent Ophelia from falling hope-
lessly in love that Polonius commands her to return
Hamlet's presents and letters and otherwise cause a
break in his attentions which can only result in harm.
Now look at this situation and its results through
the eyes of Hamlet. It must be remembered that he
has received no explanation of Ophelia's conduct. He
is honestly in love with her. She seemed to be so with
him. He was heir-apparent to the throne. His father
died. His uncle seized the crown. Immediately he
is jilted by Ophelia. And very shortly before this
his mother's hasty marriage has shattered his belief
in womanhood. What more likely than that Hamlet
should conceive Ophelia to be a mere fortune-hunter
who thrust him aside when he lost the throne? And
much of the pathos lies in the fact that he is so com-
pletely mistaken. However, under this belief he ap-
proaches Ophelia (II. i. 75). But he still loves her.
He cannot trust himself to speak, departing in dis-
tressed silence. On the second meeting, however
(III. i. 90), he speaks his mind plainly. Though there
is down deep in his heart left some of that former love,
to come to the surface violently at the scene by Ophe-
lia's grave in act V., Hamlet feels now only contempt
for the woman who could treat him as she has done.
Claudius, who secretly overhears the whole conver-
sation, sees no sign of love or affection. When Hamlet
tells Ophelia over and over again to go to a nunnery

HAMLET 225

he means just what he says. Penance and a monastic
life are necessary to purge her of her sinful nature.

II. ii. In this scene Polonius proposes his theory
of madness. Had Shakespeare desired the audience
to believe in this explanation would he have originated
it in the foolish mind of Polonius? or would he have
propounded it with so much in the way of amusing
accompaniment? In the conversation that follows
even Polonius can see some method. It is hardly
likely that an Elizabethan audience would fail of the
matter altogether.

Pursuant to the commands of the king and queen
given at the beginning of the scene, Rosencrantz and
Guildenstern here approach Hamlet to discover if
possible the cause of his distress. They have probably
been informed of the madness proposition suggested
by Polonius. Hamlet immediately sees through them.
Line 305, so shall my anticipation, etc., may be para-
phrased as followed: You have been sent by the king
and queen to worm something out of me. If I tell you
of my own accord you have certainly not got it out of
me. You may tell them so, thus befriending me and
saving your own conscience.

II. ii. 396, 397. There is nothing irrational about
this speech. Handsaw means heronshaw. The alluj
sion to the wind would be understood by any one fa-
miliar with the out-of-door sport of falconry. The
sentence means: I am not mad at all, but so possessed
of my reason that I can distinguish the trifling differ-
ence between a hawk and a heron in mid-air a long
way off.*

* A description of the point in falconry referred to here
is to be found in my Elizabethan People, page 117.

226 SHAKESPEARE

II. ii. 361. The Elizabethan plays are full of an-
achronisms to which the audience of that day had no
objection. Notwithstanding the fact that the setting
of this play is Denmark of an earlier time the con-
versation in which the above line occurs is relative to
the Elizabethan companies of boy actors who for a
time proved such formidable rivals to the older com-
panies of men actors.

II. ii. 454-634. This passage is so intimately con-
nected with the treatment of the " Mouse-trap " that
it is difficult to determine which should be considered
first. I think, on the whole, that it is best to point out
the significance of each scene first, returning later to
point out some technical matters in relation to this
passage.

Note, however, this situation. At the end of act
I. Hamlet firmly believed in the honesty of the ghost.
During the interval between acts I. and II. he has be-
gun to share Horatio's doubts. At least, if he does not
share them, he is not so positive in his conviction as
to discard them altogether. He admits a possibility of
their truth. One of the keys to Hamlet's character is
absolute justice. He will not proceed till he knows
the truth. How shall he find out? He cannot tell.
So far he has thought much but done nothing. The
good acting and the declamation of the players affect
him powerfully. They can do as a mere matter of
hire and pay. But he himself has been able to do
nothing, notwithstanding the fact that his motive is
stronger than theirs by a thousand-fold. So he is
shamed into action, immediately planning the " Mouse-
trap."

This passage will be returned to in order to point

HAMLET 227

out the significance of the form of verse spoken here
by the players and that spoken by them while enact-
ing the " Mouse-trap."

III. i. 53. This is the first hint that the audience
has received relative to the truth or the falsehood of
the ghost's revelation. Up to this point the audience
would be as doubtful as Horatio or Hamlet as to
whether the apparition was a true ghost or a dis-
honest devil. And so easily might the qualified hint
here given be overlooked, Shakespeare has repeated
the information later with more emphasis at a most
critical moment (III. iii. 37).

III. i. 28-195. In this passage the king overhears
all. The eavesdropping device was planned when
Polonius came to the king with the explanation of
Hamlet's behavior based upon madness. It is notable
that at the end of the incident the very shrewd Clau-
dius, instead of being convinced that Hamlet is mad,
is convinced of the contrary.

THE MOUSE-TRAP

At the risk of monotonous repetition I shall repeat
one or two of the details already mentioned. For I
consider this the most important passage in the
play.

The usual interpretation of this part of the third
act of Hamlet renders some of the protagonist's sub-
sequent actions difficult if not impossible to explain.
If Hamlet, as is so often supposed, was completely
successful in the plot by which he put his uncle's in-
tegrity to the test, it is hard to understand why he
made no immediate use of it, or why he gave himself

228 SHAKESPEARE

up so easily to the diversion caused by the projected
journey to England. He could not have set out in
ignorance of his companions' character, for Hamlet
acknowledges to the queen that he would trust them as
he would adders fanged, an assertion indicative of his
complete distrust of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Hamlet has set out upon a course of revenge, and he
had held back from its accomplishment for certain
reasons that the " Mousetrap " was intended to re-
move. If they were removed by the complete success
of the plot, why did he not continue as he had planned
in advance? He does not, however, but gently, with-
out opposition consents to his own removal from the
scene of action at the very moment which most de-
mands his presence, in company of men set over him
by his enemy the king, men whom he suspects capable
of foul play of the foulest kind. The suggestion that
Shakespeare winked at this apparent inconsistency in
the character of Hamlet for the purpose of ridding
the plot of him at the time of the reappearance of
Laertes is hardly worth consideration in a play that
shows elsewhere the most careful construction even to
the minutest details. In order to show that Hamlet's
inaction is due to the utter failure and collapse of his
plan to compromise the king during the performance
of the " Mouse-trap," it is necessary to go back for a
moment to the beginning of the play.

The Elizabethans as a class were implicit believers
in the ghost-lore of the time, and Shakespeare, in
relying upon a supernatural revelation, is appealing
to one of the strongest sympathies of his audience.
To them, no thought of weakness was introduced by
the idea that a man of Hamlet's character was swayed

HAMLET 229

in his actions by the promptings of a shadowy appari-
tion. It was also a part of the contemporary ghost-
lore that a spirit had the power of becoming invisible
to whom it pleased, to one or more of many as the
case might be ; hence there is no necessity of providing
an explanation that assumes a difference between the
ghost seen by all who are present on the platform
at the beginning of the play and the ghost seen later
by Hamlet and not by the queen.

There was, however, another tradition equally be-
lieved at the time that introduced an element of un-
certainty as to the identity of the ghost: namely, that
the devil (for the Elizabethans believed in a personal
devil) had the power of appearing in the likeness of a
departed friend for the purpose of tempting one to a
crime for which he would suffer eternal punishment.
It should be borne in mind that this idea is not intro-
duced subsequently by Hamlet as an excuse for in-
action ; on the other hand, it not only occurs at once to
Horatio but also prompts him to oppose Hamlet's re-
tirement with the ghost to a different place alone.
Never till the " Mouse-trap " is over does Hamlet lose
hold of the idea of the danger to his soul if he re-
venges a crime that was never actually committed. It
is in order to discover by the king's behavior whether
the ghost of the elder Hamlet has appeared with a
true tale upon its lips, or whether the devil in a
pleasing shape has appeared with a tale of falsehood,
that Hamlet plans the " Mouse-trap."

Note the plan in all its details. Hamlet believes
that no man who had committed the crime attributed
to Claudius could sit through the visible reproduction
of that crime without displaying unusual emotion.

230 SHAKESPEARE

Such an exhibition on the part of the king will at
once settle the question of the ghost's identity, and
thus determine Hamlet's future line of action. Ham-
let, however, with the full intention of doing complete
justice, fears that his own bias may influence him to a
wrong judgment, so he imparts his plan to Horatio,
who is also to note what happens, and they are to
compare notes on the king's behavior after the play is
over. Note that it is Hamlet's full intention to sit
idly by till the play is finished before he arrives at a
final conclusion.

In this clever scheme Hamlet has forgotten one im-
portant detail. He has forgotten to think what may
be the effect of this scene upon himself. In the sequel
it turns out that Hamlet is far more deeply moved
than his uncle, and at last completely collapses under
the strain. The play proceeds. Both Hamlet and
Horatio watch the king like a pair of hawks. Ham-
let, however, is the first to give evidence that he is
suffering extreme emotion at the sight of what is
meant to be a reproduction of the murder of his
father. This seems to be the motive of the exclama-
tion " Wormwood, wormwood ! " equivalent to " Bitter
as gall," which is not marked as an aside in the early
editions. Doubtless the king is struck with the simi-
larity of the love-making of the actors to his own
situation, for he turns to Hamlet to ask whether he has
seen the play, and whether there is any offense in it.
Whatever emotion Claudius may have shown up to this
point, it has not taken shape in words. This anxiety
to know what is coming tells Hamlet beyond perad-
venture that he is on the road to the coveted proof. He
is madly joyous over this fact and impetuously

HAMLET 231

makes the fatal blunder of the play. In his reply to
the king he, as it were, shows his hand completely.

Hamlet. No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest: no
offence i' the world.

King. What do you call the play ?

Hamlet. The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically.
This play is the image of a murder done in
Vienna: Gonzago is the duke's name; his wife
Baptista: you shall see anon. 'Tis a knavish
piece of work: but what o' that? your
majesty and we have free souls, it touches
us not: let the galled jade wince, our withers
are unwrung.

The word tropically, which means figuratively, and
the last phrases, tell the king the whole situation. He
realizes that Hamlet has either discovered or sus-
pected the secret crime, and is now trying to entrap
its author. A less accomplished villain than the man
who could say with so much dignity at such a dan-
gerous moment —

"Let him go, Gertrude: do not fear our person:
There's such divinity doth hedge a king,
That treason can but peep at what it would,
Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes,
Why thou art thus incensed. Let him go, Gertrude.
Speak, man "

is indeed far too accomplished in self-control not to be
able to meet the coming shock when he is so fully
aware of what is expected of him.

Hamlet immediately discovers the mistake that he
has made when he appreciates the fact that the only
effect of his words is to steady the king. It is exas-

232 SHAKESPEARE

peration at his own failure that causes Hamlet to
violate his original plan of waiting to the end in order
to compare notes with Horatio. It is the exasperation
due to a coming sense of failure, because the players
cannot accomplish it, that prompts Hamlet's attempt
to force the king into an outward display of unusual
emotion, by himself springing up and taking the words
out of the actors' mouths.

Yet, wherein lies the failure ? Has not Hamlet con-
vinced himself of the ghost's integrity? Remember
Hamlet's desire for justice. To kill Claudius in a
way that will appeal to the public as a murder with-
out setting the story in a true light is far from Ham-
let's plan. He desires to be an avenging judge, not
an implicated murderer. And thus he is bound to
appear if he acts upon the information derived from
the '"Mouse-trap."

Hamlet has already won a reputation for madness
about the court. He has jumped up in the midst of a
play before the king, interrupted the players in an
important part of the narrative, talked fiercely to
the king himself; in other words, he has done much to
strengthen the belief in his madness. It would be
easy for Claudius to turn this impression to his ad-
vantage, as he actually does shortly afterwards. The
unusual situation, however, is first mentioned by
others. It is Ophelia who first speaks. It is Polonius
who first suggests that the play be given over. And
the king, though greatly wrought, is able to get away,
almost unnoticed, leaving Hamlet in undisputed pos-
session of the courtiers' thoughts. Almost immedi-
ately Rosencrantz and Guildenstern return to tell
Hamlet that his mother has been struck with his mad

HAMLET 233

behavior, struck into " amazement and admiration."
And so his behavior must appear to every one who has
seem him at the play, except Horatio and the king.

Hamlet voices this idea in his utterance beginning,
" Now might I do it pat." Claudius would be sent to
heaven, not because killed upon his knees, which is
the usual interpretation, but because he would be
canonized in the popular mind through having lost his
life at the hands of a disappointed insane claimant to
the throne. And this view of the situation is still in
Hamlet's mind at the end of the play when he begs
Horatio to preserve his life a little longer, saying,

" O good Horatio, what a wounded name,
Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!"

So Hamlet's " Mouse-trap " has not turned out as
he expected it. He has made a mistake that has vir-
tually convinced him of the truthfulness of the ghost
and at the same time robbed him of the power of
acting effectively as a result of the fact. A fit of
despondency ensues. He feels that he has bungled the
whole matter. He has once before regretted that he
has been chosen to set things right ; now he feels as if
his own weakness makes the attempt utterly useless.
In this frame of mind he is willing to depart far
from Denmark, even to England, in company
with men whom he distrusts as " adders fanged,"
rather than to remain where duty cries him on while
his futility cries impossible. But this mood is of short
duration. He is soon spurred into his true self again
at sight of the soldiers of Fortinbras. He seizes the
first opportunity, comes back to Denmark, is trapped
into a fencing match ignorantly and against his will,

234 SHAKESPEARE

and kills the king only when the evidence of his own
poisoned cup and Laertes' dying confession leaves a
record that tells posterity the truth.

II. ii. 454-634. Now, for a moment, let us return
to this passage, and examine it jointly with a con-
sideration of the staging of the " Mouse-trap." The
difference that first catches our attention is the form
of the verse. Here the players speak in vigorous, stir-
ring blank verse. In the " Mouse-trap " they utter in
sing-song couplets that unaided would soon put the
audience asleep. Why this difference? In this scene
Hamlet is thoroughly affected by the players. To
sympathize with him the audience must be likewise
affected. In other words, our attention is upon the
players, shifted suddenly at the end of their speech to
Hamlet. So they must declaim and act to the best of
their ability.

In the " Mouse-trap " scene, however, our attention
is on Claudius. Anything that diverts our attention
from Claudius first, later from Claudius and Hamlet,
will mar the scene.

Now Hamlet and Horatio should be placed as far
apart as possible on the stage, provided their positions
enable them both to watch the king to advantage. And
Hamlet should be so placed that the audience is not
likely to see him and Claudius at the same time with-
out an effort. For our attention, as is that of Hamlet
and Horatio, should be fixed upon the king and upon
him alone.

The players of the " Mouse-trap " are in the upper
balcony. If the audience looks up at them it will not
be able to watch easily what is going on below on the

HAMLET 235

stage proper. So Shakespeare has taken every pre-
caution to render this diversion of eye and attention
unlikely.

1. After the first entrance of the players, Hamlet
has outlined in a general way what the " Mouse-trap "
is to be about. This serves partly to allay the curi-
osity of the audience.

2. At the moment of presentation Shakespeare
makes use of a monotonous insipid verse that would
hardly attract attention for itself.

3. A dumb-show is introduced which enables us
to see the whole thing in advance. We must not im-
agine that Claudius received any hint from this silent
presentation. The dumb-show is merely a device to
inform the audience and to satisfy its curiosity, so
that attention will not be diverted to the players dur-
ing the critical time when we should be watching
Claudius. So we watch the king intently for some
sign of blenching. Hamlet, for the time being, should
be so placed on the stage as to be out of the direct
line of vision.

Suddenly the cry " Wormwood, wormwood ! " di-
verts our eyes to a new part of the stage. This is
the most important point of dramatic effect in the
whole play. We suddenly realize that we have been
watching the wrong man. The scene is working more
powerfully upon Hamlet than upon Claudius. The
" Mouse-trap " is closing upon the prince rather than
upon the king. After the revelation by the ghost
Hamlet grew hysterical for a few moments, that is,
he acted in a way that inspired the phrases " wild
and whirling words " and " an antic disposition."
Now the same situation is happening again. Hamlet

236 SHAKESPEARE

feels that he is losing command of himself. And then
he suddenly goes to pieces, as outlined above.

The " Mouse-trap " has disclosed the whole truth to
Claudius. He is aware now that Hamlet possesses
the secret of the murder. And Claudius, who well
knows Hamlet to be a man of prompt action, knows
also that he will strike fearlessly. Claudius can fore-
see protection only in striking back first. This he
determines to do. He plans the trip to England with
secret instructions to put Hamlet out of the way.

III. iii. 36. Note that, but for one slight and dis-
guised allusion, this is the first full open information
which the audience receives that Claudius is guilty.
And the insertion of this material here implies that
the behavior of Claudius at the " Mouse-trap " was not
such as to attract the attention of one who was not
made alert by knowing what to look for. In fact,
Horatio nowhere expresses himself as positive of the
king's guilt. And I think that Hamlet himself is
convinced more by the effect of Claudius' tremendous
effort not to betray himself than by any outward
action of moment.

III. iv. 24. Hamlet kills Polonius under the im-
pression that it is the king who is behind the arras.

During the following conversation Hamlet con-
vinces himself that the queen has had no part in or
knowledge of the murder of her husband.

It has already been suggested that in the fit of
desperation due to his bungling management of the
" Mouse-trap," Hamlet simply gives up, permitting
himself to be drawn away to England without opposi-
tion. But moods seldom are of long duration. Hamlet
soon comes to himself again. With startling energy he

HAMLET 237

grasps the first opportunity to come back to work out
his revenge.

In the structural scheme of this play there are
" two mighty opposites," Hamlet, and Claudius.
Hamlet is the motive power in the first half. It is
he who receives the information from the ghost, he
meditates revenge, he engages the players, he plans
and carries out the " Mouse-trap." The latter may be
considered the turning-point of the drama. Hence-
forth it is Claudius who furnishes the motive power.
He meditates revenge also. He plans the English
trip. He mollifies Laertes. He plans the duel and
prepares the poisoned cup.

Act IV. One should not fail to recognize the great
dramatic skill displayed in the management of the
material contained in this act. During most of the
act Hamlet, the principal actor of the play, is absent.
It would be a difficult task to prevent a let-down in the
interest under such circumstances, to prevent the im-
pression of an interruption during the progress of the
act. Yet Hamlet must be away in order to bring
about the climax.

Shakespeare has managed the difficulty by skilfully
relating the character of Laertes to that of Hamlet.
Note the similarity of situation. Laertes appears.
His father has been murdered. He does not know all
the details, but he is bent on revenge. And so we
may say that in many respects his situation is like
Hamlet's. At any rate there is enough to suggest
Hamlet and his story even while we are listening to
the story of Laertes. And this helps us to keep Ham-
let in mind while he is really absent.

Furthermore, the character of Laertes is in many

238 SHAKESPEARE

respects the exact opposite to Hamlet's. Laertes
goes headlong without sufficiently making sure of his
ground. He will act first and consider later, just the
opposite of Hamlet's mode of procedure. Laertes is
prompt to act, to take whatever turns up and use it to
his advantage without stopping to think of the conse-
quences. But in Claudius he has found a shrewder
man than himself, one who is able to pull the wool
over his eyes. Instead of similarity Shakespeare is
here making use of contrast. Laertes is in more ways
than one contrasted with Hamlet. The more we
analyze the characters of the two men the more firmly
convinced we feel that if Hamlet had had Laertes'
characteristics combined with his own he would have
made a better success; or, had Laertes the character-
istics of Hamlet combined with his own he would have
succeeded. In other words, as we contemplate Laertes
and his career we are constantly thinking of how it
would be if Hamlet had gone about it in this way, or
how Hamlet would have acted under such circum-
stances, or how different this is from the way in
which Hamlet acted, etc., etc. In other words, Ham-
let is kept vividly in our minds all through the act,
notwithstanding the fact that he is not present during
the greater part of it.

The usual reader and critic of Hamlet fails to at-
tach the proper significance to the character of the
king. To be sure, he is not made so prominent as
Hamlet. On the other hand, he is not such an insig-
nificant figure as is implied by the popular proverb,
" Hamlet with Hamlet left out." Hamlet speaks of
himself and the king as two mighty opposites. The
phrase is apt. The king is a formidable antagonist,

HAMLET 239

one of keen intellect and ripe judgment. And the
more we study his behavior the more thoroughly we
understand how carefully Shakespeare has worked
out every detail of his character.

IV. iii. 4. Claudius cites the love of the common
people as a reason for not taking an open course
against Hamlet. Note in the conduct of Laertes how
helpful this resource might have been to Hamlet had
he availed himself of it.

IV. iv. The Fortinbras thread of the story, though
very slender and inconspicuous, has, however, a very
important mission to fulfil. In the opening scenes
of the play it helps to give an opportunity for the
insertion of some of the correlative material of
the introduction. Here its value is a little greater.
Hamlet is on his way to England while still under
the sway of the fit of despondency that followed the
failure of the " Mouse-trap." Here, however, he sees
a group of common people willing to fight to the last
moment, lay down their lives if need be, fighting for
a mere point of honor rather than for a mere plot
of ground that has no intrinsic value. Hamlet falls
to self-comparison. As a result of this he is spurred
back to his earlier mood and swiftly emerges from
the despondency that has lately overtaken him.

And, again, in the last act, Fortinbras and his army
appear. Their value at the end is merely mechanical.
There are several dead bodies on the stage. There
was no drop curtain in those days, so far as we know,
by which this closing scene could be immediately
screened from the audience. Shakespeare cleverly
disposes of the dead bodies by introducing Fortinbras
and his army. His soldiers convert their shields into

240 SHAKESPEARE

stretchers, thrust their spears through the rings in
the sides, and walk off with the corpses to the stately
strains of a funeral march. Critics have been known
to object to these last lines of Hamlet on the score
that the play is already finished, and that they there-
fore constitute an anti-climax. To be sure, the play
is actually finished. In a modern presentation the
curtain could very easily be dropped and the closing
passage effectively omitted. But, to the Elizabethans,
this clever device for overcoming one of the stage dif-
ficulties at the end must have appealed as an element
of merit.

IV. v. 121, etc. Note the calm, dignified behavior
of the king. There is not an atom of fear in his
make-up. He is thoroughly self-possessed. This is
another instance of his firm behavior very like that
which followed the presentation of the " Mouse-trap "
where he showed such marvelous self-control. The
king displays his skill in managing Laertes in the
conversation that follows.

IV. vi. 12. From the letter received by Horatio
we learn what has happened to Hamlet after his meet-
ing with the army of Fortinbras. How much more
smoothly the story proceeds with this information
conveyed in this way than would have been the case
had a scene been written in which the events regard-
ing the pirate attack had been actually dramatized !
Furthermore, it would have interrupted the general
effect of Laertes as a contrast to Hamlet, as sug-
gested above. Note that this letter shows that Ham-
let was quick to act when he was convinced that action
was the proper thing. If one were to make out a list
of all the places in the play where Hamlet evinces

HAMLET 241

the power of sudden action there would be little like-
lihood of believing even for a moment that the key
to his character is inaction and procrastination.

IV. vii. The fact that in this scene Laertes is hand
and glove with Claudius is a vivid testimonial of the
latter's cleverness in dealing with the hot-headed
young man.

IV. vii. 65. Claudius has already murdered his
brother in a secret manner so skilfully planned that
it was suspected by no one till revealed to Hamlet by
supernatural means. In the suggestion here he is
merely falling back upon the weapon with which he
is most familiar.

IV. vii. 143. The Italians were very skilful in ad-
ministering poison, and invented many ingenious ways
for its conveyance. In fact, secret poisoning was
called, in England, the Italian crime. And English-
men abhorred it as the worst. To murder a man in
cold blood with a sword was to them a less heinous
crime than to murder a man by poison. Hence there
is point in portraying Laertes as a man who not only
would resort to such means but who would also actu-
ally carry the means with him habitually against a
chance opportunity to use it. At this point, or, rather,
before this point, there would be a little danger of too
great sympathy on the part of the audience for
Laertes, whose father has been murdered and whose
sister has gone mad. But this attributing to him of
a facility in the practice of the Italian crime robs
him immediately of all such sympathy at the very
moment when our feelings should surge back in favor
of Hamlet.

V. i. More than once I have called attention to

242 SHAKESPEARE

the fact that the Elizabethans often interjected into
their plays passages that referred to contemporary
conditions, even though the play had a foreign and
ancient setting. Part of the dialogue of this scene
between the grave-diggers has reference to a contem-
porary lawsuit that was quite familiar to the Eliza-
bethan audience. Not all the references are now
understood, but it is quite generally admitted that this
is a comic scene much more palatable to a contem-
porary audience than to one of to-day.

V. i. 280. Notwithstanding what was said above
relative to Hamlet's two meetings with Ophelia, we
must imagine that his affection was too deep-rooted
to be entirely canceled. Hamlet is here upset by the
hollowness of Laertes' shallow sentiments. Remorse,
too, for Ophelia's death may have been born on the
instant, for the rites and ceremonies indicated that
this was the funeral of a suicide even before anything
was said. The situation so works upon Hamlet that
for the third time in the play he suffers a momentary
loss of self-control. It is while in this state of mind
that he leaps into the grave to grapple with Laertes.

V. ii. The last scene is a mere carrying to a
conclusion of the narrative of the end. Hamlet has
fully recovered himself. He fights an honorable
match and is as innocent of Laertes' death as of the
fact that Laertes is plotting foully against his life.
But when the truth is told him he instantly realizes
that the king is back of it all. This is the situation
Hamlet has been working towards since the beginning
of the play. He has cornered the king at last hot-
handed in crime. The poisoned sword and the cup
of deadly drink are damning evidence. Hamlet does

HAMLET 243

not hesitate to act a moment. And his last words
to Horatio imply that one need but tell his story now
with the circumstances at hand to convince posterity
that his act was an act of judgment, not a murder.
And this will put Claudius in the light he deserves.

(The entrance of Fortinbras at the end of the play
has been commented on above.)

IV. Stage Setting

Until comparatively recent times the idea prevailed
that the Elizabethan plays were acted upon a bare
and structureless stage practically devoid of all scenic
effect save that produced by the use of simple prop-
erties. By degrees this idea has vanished before a
mass of inference so plausible as to be considered to
all intents and purposes equivalent to proof. There is
danger, however, of going too far in the opposite
direction, of permitting the fancy to build a picture
which is heightened beyond the limits due to justifia-
ble inference. Let us see whether we can review
within the extremes the Elizabethan presentation of
Hamlet.

Consider first the following assignment of the indi-
vidual scenes.

I. i. The platform without the castle.

I. ii. A room of state.

I. iii. A room in Polonius' house.

I. iv. The platform without the castle.

I. v. Another part of same.

II. i. Room in Polonius' house.

II. ii. Room in the castle.

III. i. Room in the castle.

III. ii. Hall in the castle.

III. iii. Room in the castle.

244 SHAKESPEARE

III. iv. Queen's closet.

IV. i. Room in castle.
IV. ii. Room in castle.

IV. iii. Another room in castle.

IV. iv. A plain in Denmark.

IV. v. Room in castle.

IV. vi. Room in castle.

IV. vii. Another room in castle.

V. i. A churchyard.

V. ii. A hall in the castle.

What at first sight seems to be a succession of
twenty scenes is in reality but a few. The platform
(1) is used three times. There is a plain in Den-
mark (2). And there is a churchyard scene (3).
All the others, fifteen in number, are rooms, now the
queen's closet, now a hall of state, in Polonius' house
or in the castle. For all that, every one is an in-
terior (4), varied, perhaps, from time to time, but
essentially the same. In other words, from the stand-
point of staging the twenty scenes reduce to four.

There is another point to bear in mind before we
consider the staging in detail. The platform may
have been provided in the form of two painted cloths,
one let down at the front of the inner stage, another
continuing the picture at the rear of the upper gallery.
A similar painted cloth let down at the front of the
inner stage would provide the plain in Denmark.
Doubtless the theaters then, as to-day, possessed the
materials for the general setting of an interior which
with little difficulty could be adjusted to the need of
the moment by a variation in the movable properties.
Thus three painted cloths on rollers and one stock
interior is all that is necessary in addition to movable
properties to make a very good setting for Hamlet.

HAMLET 245

The production of the graveyard scene will be alluded
to later.

If the inference suggested by the last act of The
Merchant of Venice be correct, we may imagine that
the canvas covering of the theater, or the side cur-
tains, were drawn at the time the audience assembled.
The semi-darkness would have a quieting effect, and
would serve to put the spectators on the proper road
to a mood suitable for the opening of the play. The
curtains between the pillars supporting the heavens
would be also closed. At the beginning of the play
they were drawn, disclosing Francisco at his post on
guard. Beyond him, on the painted cloth, is the
masonry of the castle platform, and above, at the rear
of the upper gallery, more walls and parapets appear.

At the end of the scene the means for producing
darkness are drawn back, flooding the stage with light.
Meantime the upper gallery has been closed by cur-
tains, and the lower cloth raised. The scene that
now presents itself has been set up before the play
began. It is a hall of state. The stock interior has
been used, elaborated as much as possible for the oc-
casion by the introduction of properties, among which
would be a throne. Inner, middle, and outer stages
are all open for the accommodation of the court. At
the end of this scene a painted cloth representing
the wall of a simpler room might be let down, cutting
off the view of the throne at the back of the stage.
By the simple and easy manipulation of painted cloths
the room could be easily changed from a room of state
to another room, etc. And then back to the castle
ramparts again. As easily would a cloth provide at
the proper time for the plain in Denmark. And

246 SHAKESPEARE

another, used in V. i., would represent a graveyard.
Previous to this scene, however, the curtains would be
drawn, shutting off the inner and middle stages. A
few solid properties, such as tombstones, are brought
in, the trap in the stage floor is opened, and the grave-
diggers are ready to begin their work. At the end the
curtains are drawn again. The last-named properties
immediately removed, and the stage restored to " A
hall in the castle."

Thus it will be seen that the most elaborate setting
of the play can be put in place before the play begins
and remain practically intact during the whole per-
formance.

V. Hamlet's Madness

This question has never had for me the interest
or importance that has so often been attached to it.
However, for form's sake it cannot be altogether
neglected. Some critics have held that Hamlet is
mad, or loses his mind during the play. Others be-
lieve that he is perfectly sane, but pretends to be
mad. While others believe that he is neither mad nor
pretending to be mad.

In the notes on the text I have tried to make it
appear that the " antic disposition " passage points
backward to the recent behavior of Hamlet and does
not imply the use of an intentional cloak of madness
in the future. And we may search in vain throughout
the remainder of the play to find an illustration of
his assumption of madness to further his own ends.
There is, however, one trivial passage where he is
trifling with Polonius by making unintelligible re-
marks. The remarks, however, are unintelligible

HAMLET 247

only to Polonius. The amusement of the passage lies
in the fact that Hamlet plays with the idea of Po-
lonius as to his madness, the audience being at the
same time perfectly aware of the contrary. It is also
interesting to note that in the earlier version of Ham-
let's story which Shakespeare is supposed to have had
before him, the assumption of madness on the part
of Hamlet is made very plain. All this has been cut
out of the present play. This is in itself evidence
to me that Shakespeare did not wish it to remain.

It also seems equally plain to me that there is not
the least evidence of actual madness in the play. And
I shall merely suggest the principal points without
discussing the matter at length.

At no place in the play does Hamlet act like a
madman. After the revelation by the ghost, after
the " Mouse-trap," and at Ophelia's grave Hamlet mo-
mentarily loses his self-control and acts without rea-
son. But he soon recovers himself and realizes
perfectly what he has done. His ultra excitement bor-
ders on hysterics, but no more deserves the term of
madness than the weird behavior so often attributed
to persons in the excitement of a fire when feather
beds are carried downstairs and mirrors thrown out
the window. Hamlet is guilty of no other kind of
irrational action.

And what do the people in the play itself think of
the matter? The idea that Hamlet is mad never
seems to have occurred to Horatio, notwithstanding
the fact that he feared the ghost, if it should turn out
an evil spirit, might rob Hamlet of his reason. In
other words, Horatio, who feared that such a thing
might be, never seems to think that it actually hap-

248 SHAKESPEARE

pened. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern approach Ham-
let, having been informed of and perhaps believing
in his madness. They seem to leave him convinced
of the contrary. Claudius, for the sole purpose of
confirming Polonius' belief in the madness of Hamlet,
plays the part of an eavesdropper in order to get the
proof. But the only effect of the scene is to convince
the king that Hamlet is not mad. Ophelia and the
queen both believe him to be mad; but, as pointed out
above, they base their belief upon a misapprehension
of the very circumstance that gives rise to this belief.

Polonius, who misunderstands Hamlet's treatment
of Ophelia, jumps to the conclusion that he must be
mad. Yet Polonius is never more humorously foolish
himself than when he is urging Hamlet's madness.
And even he is constrained to see a little method in it.

And, as evidence from the opposite point of view,
Hamlet throughout the play is extremely shrewd,
giving evidence again and again of a mind under con-
trol that would be the envy of many a person who has
escaped the charge altogether.

VI. The Character of Hamlet

So much has been said above relative to the char-
acter of Hamlet that there is need of no more than
a few notes binding the suggestions together. It is
often suggested that Hamlet is the man of inaction
put into a place or situation that demands a man of
action; or that he is a deliberative philosopher losing
his opportunity in the procrastination of his delibera-
tion. I cannot bring myself fully to accept either of
these suggestions.

In the first place, Hamlet is to me, though a scholar,

HAMLET 249

not a philosopher. He breaks down hysterically three
times. He argues about his own cowardice in a way
that is evidently false. He is easily put up and
down in spirits. These are not characteristics of a
philosopher.

Furthermore, he is a man of prompt action who
acts quickly as a result of his convictions. He ac-
cepts at once the invitation to meet the ghost. And he
undertakes without a moment's hesitation the danger-
ous task of following it alone. He instantly seizes the
opportunity to use the players in the " Mouse-trap."
He sees through, or thinks he does, the treatment of
Ophelia, and acts accordingly, though in violation of
his inmost feelings. There is not a moment's hesita-
tion in the murder of Polonius, whom, however, Ham-
let mistakes for the king. Hamlet is quick-acting in
the pirate attack. He is prompt to return to Den-
mark. He leaps into Ophelia's grave. He accepts the
challenge of Laertes without delay. And he kills the
king at last with a celerity unequaled elsewhere in
the play.

What, then, is the key to Hamlet's behavior? I
think that it is to be found in an adherence to the
principles of absolute justice. He acts only upon a
firm conviction that what he is going to do is right.
He delays the main act during the first half of the
play because he, like Horatio, is not fully convinced
that his uncle is the murderer of his father. He fails
to kill the king after the " Mouse-trap " because he is
as fully convinced that to do it then will produce a
wrong impression. And he kills Claudius at last
because the time has come when he can do it with
full justice to himself and in the eyes of all men.

CHAPTER XVIII
KING LEAR

In the preface to this volume I have called atten-
tion to the fact that it is not only impossible but
also inadvisable to attempt to devise a uniform scheme
according to which all of Shakespeare's plays can be
studied. Lear does not lend itself conveniently to the
method made use of, with wide variations, however,
in other parts of the present volume. In taking up
the study of Lear in the manner here set forth, I
have in mind the task of offering to the student or
the teacher a plan that may with advantage be fol-
lowed elsewhere. It implies, however, a slightly dif-
ferent method of preliminary study. In the discussion
of many of the other plays I have assumed a single
preliminary reading of the play. Then the drama is
gone through with again, with emphasis laid upon
details that come up for discussion in the order in
which they appear in the text. After a familiarity
with the play has been gained in this way, general
questions have been discussed that require for their
comprehension a pretty familiar knowledge of the
whole composition. Such a knowledge should in the
present case be obtained before the beginning of
the study of the play according to this plan.

It may not be amiss as a suggestion either to
students or to teachers, to hint a little as to prelimi-
250

KING LEAR 251

nary work necessary to the successful study of the play
along the lines here set down. Let the whole play
be assigned as reading for the first recitation. In
the class-room the play is talked over in a miscel-
laneous sort of way. Perhaps it would be well to
ask a student to begin by telling the story of the first
scene. In my own experience I have always found
that, once a start is made, there is no difficulty in
keeping the class asking and answering questions.
Nor do I think it makes much difference, for a time
at least, what they ask about, so long as the questions
are such as to show that the students have actually
read the lines and have honestly been puzzled for an
answer.

A general reading of the play may then be as-
signed a second time for the next recitation. And
I should require each student to hand in a list of
selected questions that involve difficult or unanswered
points in the play. The questioning during this recita-
tion may well be guided more definitely by the in-
structor than in the first recitation. At any rate, he
can easily manage to fill up any gaps left in the first
preliminary survey. Thenceforth, I should assign two
or three acts to be read carefully at each recitation
till the consideration of the play is ended. The whole
purpose that is to be constantly borne in mind during
the preliminary study is the familiarizing the student
with the contents of the play as a whole.

As for the questions handed in by the students, I
always study them with care at home. In fact, the
questions suggested in the following chapter are the
result of such lists presented in my classes in suc-
cessive years. Every one of them is a question

252 SHAKESPEARE

actually asked by a student, most of them many
times.

1. What has happened before the beginning of the
play? — In the discussion of this question it would be
well to point out the fact that the preliminary portion
of this play has not been worked out by the author
with anything like the care that the preliminary por-
tion of, for instance, Macbeth, has been worked out.
For instance, Lear is eccentric to the point of mad-
ness. Do we know how long this has been true of
him ? How many people in the play know of it ? The
sisters seem to be the only persons who are familiar
with the fact and take advantage of it. How came
it that no one else shared their attitude ?

What is the situation of Edmund? He has been
" out"' nine years. Yet he seems to be perfectly
familiar with every detail of British court life. Was
he kept well-informed during his absence? If so, by
whom? Do his father, and others, behave themselves
towards Edmund as they should, considering his origin
and his absence from the country? Is he made suf-
ficiently attractive to account for his affair with the
princess later in the play?

In the opening lines Kent says that he always
thought the king to be partial to Albany. How,
then, account for his equal division of the kingdom?
Does the remainder of the play bear out Kent's
suggestion? How about the impression that seems
natural, to wit, that Lear is really partial to Cor-
delia ?

Gloucester has often in the past blushed to ac-
knowledge the origin of Edmund, yet in this play he
seems to give credence to what he says even against

KING LEAR 253

Edgar. And in this respect there seems to be not the
least hesitation on the part of Gloucester.

Towards the end of the first scene Cordelia ex-
presses her perfect familiarity with the wolfish char-
acter of her sisters. Yet Kent, who seems to under-
stand Cordelia and Lear so well, gives no evidence
of knowing the truth about the other two sisters.
Have they ever before given evidence of such char-
acteristics? If not, is it possible for them to have
become such accomplished villains on the spur of the
moment? If they were always thus, would it be pos-
sible for them to keep the knowledge of their char-
acters away from every one but their sister Cordelia?
And if she actually knew what was in store for her
father as a result of putting himself completely under
their dominion, would she, if she really loved her
father, have taken a course that in the end was bound
to remove herself, his only protector, entirely from
the scene of action?

The discussion of these and similar questions will
reveal the fact that Shakespeare has not worked over
the material concerned in the preliminary details of
the play with his customary care.

2. Tell the Lear Story. — Also tell the Gloucester
story. Try to pick out the essential points of each.
Show how one is the reflection of the other. The
latter serves to break up the strain of continuous at-
tention to such a terrible tale, at the same time pre-
venting too great an interruption, too great an im-
pression of the lack of continuity.

Note that the sub-plot is very like the main plot
in many respects, and sufficiently different in others
to enable the author to make use of the effect of

254 SHAKESPEARE

constrast. (Refer to the discussion of the fourth act
of Hamlet for a note on the dramatic effect of
contrast.) Note the suspicious quality of both Lear
and Gloucester. Compare in this respect with the
unsuspicious character of Othello. Note also that
there is a deliberate attempt to maltreat Lear by his
daughters for selfish motives. The same attempt is
made against Gloucester by his son. Lear is partly
culpable because he is so unjustly headstrong.
Gloucester is partly culpable because of his unsus-
piciousness, which leads him to give credence to what
Edmund says against Edgar. Lear's suffering is men-
tal and more terrible than Gloucester's, which is
mainly physical.

3. Work out the idea of nemesis. — 1. Upon Lear
for his treatment of Cordelia. This is in a measure
justified, for he has treated her with great injustice.
The means of punishing him for this treatment of his
daughter is the combined attack upon his liberties by
Goneril and Regan. They, however, visit him with
so much more punishment than he deserves that we
find: 2. Nemesis deserved by Goneril and Regan.
3. Punishment also falls upon Gloucester because of
his treatment of Edgar. His son Edmund is the
means of effecting this. But he also wreaks far
greater punishment than Gloucester deserves, which
in turn lays him open to punishment. 4. There-
fore nemesis falls upon Edmund.

4. Discuss the character of Lear. — The following
suggestions may prove helpful:

Regarding his mental condition at the beginning
of the play: In the opening situation we find Lear's
insistence upon trifles emphasized. The speeches re-

KING LEAR 255

quired by his daughters are mere forms. He had
already definitely made the division of the kingdom.
Kent and Gloucester both seem to know this quality
of the king. We find, also, that he is getting old and
tired of ruling. Is there also evidence that he is get-
ting incapable of ruling? He wants the pleasure of
the title without the responsibility. He really loves
all three of his daughters in his own tempestuous way.
He is shrewd enough to divide his kingdom equally
lest one gobble up another's share. Yet he is slowly
losing his mind and knows it, therefore he would put
his kingdom into better hands.

As proof of the latter assertion one might say: —

Lear is absurdly fond of childish display, and mag-
nifies trifles, as in the requiring of his daugh-
ters' praise, and the following treatment of Cor-
delia.

His inability to fully comprehend the situation
when Kent puts it to him.

He does not realize that he has given away all his
power, but immediately exercises the royal prerogative
which he has discarded, in the banishment of Kent,
and later threatens to take back what he has given
away. (It should not be forgotten that the Eliza-
bethan audience was familiar with a model of the cor-
rect kind of abdication in the action of Charles the
Fifth of Spain.)

The surprise of France that Lear has gone to such
an extreme over so small a matter.

The attitude of Goneril and Regan. " How full
of changes his life is." " 'Tis the infirmity of his
age." " The unruly waywardness that infirm and
choleric years bring with them." Gloucester speaks of

256 SHAKESPEARE

Lear's dotage, and treats him generally as if he were
in his second childhood.

Lear seems to realize the fact himself. " Oh, let
me not be mad, not mad," he exclaims.

His erratic behavior lends countenance to the
charge.

What is the character of Lear in act II.? In act I.
he has cursed Goneril and her issue, and threatens to
assume again the shape that she thinks he has cast off
forever. Then he arrives, bent on seeing Regan. He
abuses Gloucester because he brings the message that
the duke and the duchess cannot see him. In the
next breath, however, Lear tries to apologize for
them, but he is hardly able to excuse their con-
duct.

As a matter of fact, this act has brought the king
to the verge of distraction. He makes an effort to con-
trol himself, but breaks down at the end and leaves
wildly in a rage. He has sworn that he will never go
back to Goneril, yet he does soon go unheroically back
to her as the lesser of two evils, because Regan has
cut his following down to twenty-five retainers. It is
pathetic to note that when Lear is charged with do-
tage he does not deny the charge.

The student should ponder carefully the mean-
ing of every detail of Lear's behavior in this act. Does
he act like a hero, or like a weakling, or like a strong
man going to pieces?

One may say that the development of Lear's char-
acter ends with the heath scene. For a while he is
mad. Then he merely recovers his mind sufficiently
at the end to enable him to die in peace.

KING LEAR 257

5. Study the characters of Goneril and Regan. —
Are they real people or merely types of wickedness?
Are the sisters essentially different? that is, are they
really individuals? The student may help himself to
answer these questions by canvassing his mind and
memory to see whether he has had difficulty in keep-
ing the sisters and their acts apart. For instance, is
it Goneril or Regan who makes the first cut in the
number of Lear's followers? Was this or that cruel
remark made by one or the other ?

6. Study the character of Cordelia; — What does
she know of Goneril and Regan at the start? What
does she know of her father's condition ? How does she
behave herself in act I. ? What does Kent think of her
behavior? What does France think of it? What does
Lear think of it? What do you think of it? Had
there been any real kindness in her heart would she
have taken a course knowingly that turned her doting
father over to the clutches of a pair of wolves, and, at
the same time, removed herself, the only one on whom
he could depend for help? And yet she virtually ac-
knowledges that this is what she does. At the end
of the play she appears as a saint come to rescue her
father. How do you account for the change ? Is there
any evidence that Shakespeare appreciated the fact
that Cordelia at the end is merely trying to make an
effort to deliver her father from the terrible situation
into which he has been thrust as a result of her own
pig-headedness in the first act?

These questions imply a view of Cordelia's character
that is not usually taken. To be sure, she is one of the
minor characters, introduced for the mere sake of the
plot, and not carefully worked out. Such characters

258 SHAKESPEARE

should never be scanned too carefulty. Under such
circumstances we should not be impelled to scrutinize
her character with the same seriousness that one would
analyze the actions of a main character. Yet she is, on
the other hand, important enough to justify one's look-
ing at her character with a sufficient degree of care.

It is hard to escape the conclusion that Cordelia is
brutally perverse in the maintenance of her pride in
act I. Nor can she be excused on the score of ig-
norance. She says plainly that she understands her
father's condition and the likely future attitude of her
sisters. Rather than speak a little harmless flattery to
please her old and failing parent she submits to ban-
ishment, disappoints him, contributes to the triumph
of her sisters, brings her husband no dower, turns her
sisters loose upon her father, and puts it out of her
own power to help him. Nor is it possible to recon-
cile this behavior with the loveliness of her character
in act V. Had she behaved herself in the beginning
as she does at the end there would have been no trag-
edy in the life of Lear. Cordelia is what we might
call a thoroughly plot-ridden character.

7. What of the character of Albany? — Is he an-
other plot-ridden character? Early in the play he is
utterly unable to assert himself in the presence of his
wife. Later he manifests the opposite quality. What
has occasioned the change? What would have been
the result had he displayed the characteristics at the
beginning that he is able to display at the end ? Is it
fair to say that, had he asserted himself at the begin-
ning of the play, there would have been no tragedy,
and that there is no sufficient reason for his not doing
so?

KING LEAR 259

8. The character of Kent. — Find passages to show
that he is shrewd, courageous, foolish. Is he a help
or a hindrance to Lear? Kent's character, on the
whole, seems inconsistent, as is implied by the above
questions relative to his being both shrewd and fool-
ish. He comprehends the foibles of the king and acts
upon them. Yet he is himself just as erratic as the
king he criticises so adversely. He brings trouble upon
Lear by his own actions when all indications point to
the fact that he is a shrewd enough man to know
better.

9- The character of Gloucester introduces some
difficulties. How does he really feel towards Edmund
and towards Edgar ? Why does he place such implicit
trust in Edmund ? What becomes of the plot he over-
hears to kill the king? Does he deserve his punish-
ment ?

10. The character of Edmund. — Why do not others
know him better? What motives prompt his wicked-
ness ? Has he been a villain before, or has he become
an accomplished villain all at once, without training?
Yet, if he had had plenty of training how happens
it that no one suspects him of being otherwise than he
seems? In the main, he is rather blundering in his
plotting, and succeeds rather by accident. Compare
in this respect with the skilful plots laid by Iago.

1 1 . The fool. — Before one attempts to make up his
mind as to the character of the fool one should con-
sider just what an Elizabethan fool was and what
privileges his station implied. The fools were house-
hold servants whose purpose was to make fun for their
masters. In order to give them free rein they were
considered immune from punishment under ordinary

260 SHAKESPEARE

circumstances, and at liberty to speak their minds
freely without fear of consequences. Hence, Lear's
jhreat to have the fool whipped is equivalent to saying
that the king has almost forgotten what is due to a
fool. And it will be noted throughout that the fool
makes remarks, without the least hesitation, that no
one else would have dared to make in the presence of
the tempestuous king.

The question arises as to whether this fool is like
other fools. He is, indeed, much like the other fools
of Shakespeare; but note that he only speaks, as a
rule, to Lear himself, and his words are generally of a
nature to " rub in " the mistakes of Lear.

Do the moments at which he acts produce a peculiar
effect? Why does he drop out in the middle of the
play ? Does the fool stand for anything in particular ?

The answer to the last question involves the enigma
of the fool — that is, if there be any enigma of the fool.
It has been ingeniously suggested that the fool rep-
resents in embodied form the conscience of Lear. If
this be so, one wonders at the fact that Lear's con-
science has no effect upon him. When a person acts
as if he were unaffected by a conscience we generally
say that he has no conscience. Perhaps what is really
meant is that the fool represents what would have been
Lear's conscience if he had had one. This would,
perhaps, explain the fact that he speaks only to Lear
and that there is no more of him when Lear has lost
his mind.

I think, however, that there may be another expla-
nation of the function of the fool. Recall the tempes-
tuous character of the king. We are always looking
for an explosion greater than the one before. Now the

KING LEAR 261

fool throughout is saying things that would cause such
an outbreak of temper had they been said by any one
else in the play. It is only because they originate
with the fool that Lear is able to control himself. Yet
we are constantly wondering how long the king will be
able to exercise this slender self-control which hangs
by such a trifling thread. The behavior of the fool,
then, seems to me to be intended to produce the effect
of lighted matches left carelessly in the neighborhood
of gunpowder. It may go off at any moment. If it
escapes an accidental ignition this time it may not the
next. At any rate there is sure to be an explosion
some time. Just when will it come ? And what will it
bring with it?

The great moment comes on the heath. And after
this, there being no further need of the fool, he does
not appear again.

12. Perhaps it would not be amiss at the conclusion
of this set of questions to say a word or two as to the
degree of cruelty displayed in the story. Though I
have no sympathy with the suggestion, it has been
suggested that the degree of cruelty displayed in
Titus Andronicus is sufficient to throw doubt upon its
Shakespearian origin. If this were true, one might
use the same line of argument in regard to Lear. The
truth, however, is that neither play is so cruel as it
seems when read in the closet. I do not mean to say
that they are not hard, stern stories, almost too repul-
sive to read, according to our modern standards. I
merely mean that, from the Elizabethan point of view,
they were not so revoltingly cruel as they are to us.

That was a cruel age. People went habitually
armed. They were used to bloodshed. It was a part

262 SHAKESPEARE

of the education of the young women of the family
to learn to dress and care for wounds. I imagine that
an Elizabethan woman who had never seen a violent
death would be as rare as a woman to-day who had
never seen a horse mistreated in the streets. Death
was the penalty for many petty crimes. People
dressed in their best and made a holiday occasion of
a public execution. To some people to-day football
is a brutal sport, brutal enough by nature to warrant
association with bull-fighting. But this is a humorous
idea to college students or to players on the team. I
mean to imply that we may look upon the brutality
of these plays as excessive, while the Elizabethans
looked upon it as normal. Football is a good hard
game for men, it is not tiddlety-winks. So the Eliz-
abethans would look upon Lear and Titus as hard,
stern stories, but not to be judged adversely because
either of them had gone too far.

And there is another point to be borne in mind.
How was this brutality enacted on the stage? Con-
sult your own feelings for a moment. Suppose you
read in the paper that A plunged a knife into B's
heart. Are your feelings the same as they would be if
you had stood at A's elbow at the moment? One
might faint at the latter situation, but hardly over the
newspaper account.

Now what is the situation in the theater ? Does not
the manner of presentation have something to do with
the result, something to do with the effect produced,
sufficient to take the edge off the cruelty, so to speak?
The crudest act in Lear is the gouging out of Glou-
cester's eyes. But they are not really gouged out on
the stage. He turns his back at the moment, and does

KING LEAR 263

not let the audience see his face plainly again till he
enters blindfolded. It is a hard act, to be sure, and
meant to be so taken. But the effect on the stage is
nothing to the real deed. And if an effort were made
to suddenly apply an artificial mask, or something that
would show the vacant bloody sockets in their repul-
siveness the device would be considered clap-trap and
inartistic. Everything diminishes in effect upon the
stage. Therefore, in order to make something on the
stage seem cruel, it must be designed as very cruel.

Take the instance in Titus where the arms of La-
vinia are cut off. This horrible mutilation of her body
is not real. Lavinia wore his arms throughout the
play. How was it staged? I do not know. But I
can guess several ways. The boy who acted the part
may have kept his arms behind him. Not being seen,
they were imagined gone. I think it more likely that
he wore gloves. There is some reason to believe that
there was a conventional color that in those days
stood for invisibility. Doubtless Ariel wears a cloak
of such material in certain parts of The Tempest. So
here, Lavinia may have worn gloves to the elbow of
this material, and the audience would have assumed
that this was a mere device meant to suggest that there
was nothing to be seen below the elbow. However it
was done, we may be sure that the actual presentation
conveyed far less of the repulsive element than we
are prone to imagine as accompanying the actual deed.

CHAPTER XIX
MACBETH

I. Introductory

The state of the original text of Macbeth is so
chaotic that editors have encountered great difficulties
in bringing it to its present state of comparative per- *
fection. There are still inconsistencies and contra-
dictions remaining. This state of affairs should be
borne in mind at several points of the play. It is also
thought that the play was either written in collabora-
tion, or finished by another hand. (See Introduction,
The Tudor Edition.)

II. Notes on the Text

I. i. This scene serves to forecast the weird and
serious tone of the drama, and suggests, by coming
first, how important a part the witches will play in
the development.

This scene, and other similar scenes to follow, were
probably acted on a partly darkened stage. How was
this managed in the open Elizabethan playhouse?
(See chapter on The Merchant of Venice.)

I. ii. Many editors believe this scene not written
by Shakespeare. The meter is slovenly and the ser-
geant's speech bombastic and inconsistent. I am
inclined to think that Shakespeare worked with a
264

j>

MACBETH 265

collaborator and that he fashioned in detail only the
parts of the two Macbeths. (See below.) Consider-
ing the loose Elizabethan practice, however, it is
hardly justifiable to assume mere carelessness of style
to be a good reason for rejecting a passage as Shake-
speare's.

I. ii. 52. Note that subsequently Macbeth must
know that Cawdor is not what he calls him in I. iii.
73, " a prosperous gentleman."

I. iii. Return to the darkness of the first scene.
Perhaps the curtains are partly drawn during the
progress of the scene, lightening it towards the end.

I. iii. 38. " So foul and fair a day." In spite of
the different explanations that have been offered con-
cerning this passage, it is altogether of no moment.
Macbeth's part was taken by the principal actor of the
company. This is his first entrance, a moment al-
ways accompanied by some emotion, if not actual ap-
plause. Naturally the first few lines spoken during
this period are of little importance. If the audience
missed them altogether, nothing significant would be
lost. The passage needs no special explanation.

Note that only two of the speeches made by the
witches are prophetical. Macbeth is already Thane
of Glamis.

It is my belief that Macbeth, at the opening of the
play, is an honest, high-minded man outwardly, who
has as yet entertained no ideas of guilt. Everything
in the play, with one possible but not probable excep-
tion, bears this conception out. Hence the degree of
emphasis laid on the subject.

I. iii. 51. Banquo calls attention to the fact that
Macbeth starts. And an innocent Macbeth should

266 SHAKESPEARE

start. The thought that he may be king has doubtless
been often in his mind, as it has in his wife's, and in
the minds of the people throughout Scotland gener-
ally. There is a good chance of his becoming king in
the natural course of events without the necessity of
crime. The crown did not always go in direct suc-
cession— for instance, see Hamlet. The two possible
successors are Malcolm and Macbeth. One is young,
inexperienced, and keeping away from the battlefield
when he should be making his reputation. Yet he has
the direct blood claim. The other, not so near in
blood, is older, experienced, and at present appearing
as the savior of his country from the double danger
of foreign invasion and domestic insurrection. Ban-
quo does not speak as if he believed the possibility of
Macbeth's succession as at all untenable. It is hardly
possible that Macbeth, even had he been the soul of
honor, would have escaped the hope. Now he hears
supernatural creatures in whom he believes, declare
the future fulfilment of his desires. Of course he
starts. And there is no reason to believe it a guilty
start.

He is immediately cast into a brown study. He is
not planning his crimes. He is merely wondering
how it will all come about. He has no doubt of the
fact.

I. iii. 73. Macbeth speaks of Cawdor whom he has
just overthrown in battle as " a prosperous gentleman."
(See note on I. iii.) Macbeth knew better. The mes-
sengers knew that he knew better. There is no point
in his assertion. It cannot be explained. It is mere
contradiction. It may be due to a corruption in the
text; or to careless collaboration; or to a change of

MACBETH 267

plan on the part of Shakespeare while working. It is
time wasted to puzzle over it.

Note that, throughout, Banquo is not so supersti-
tious as Macbeth. Had Macbeth been less so, he
might have escaped his ruin. (See note on V. v. 43.)

I. iii. 104. Ross and Angus have come to give Mac-
beth an " earnest." This word implies that some-
thing much greater is to follow. What does Macbeth
think it is? He believes, thanks to the witches, that
he will be king. The present king's support in favor
of his succession will probably make it possible. Is
this the way chance will crown him ? Does he not be-
lieve that this is what the messengers refer to? Do
they think so themselves?

I. iii. 120. That trusted home: means, if you trust
too implicitly to what the witches have said you may
be led into bringing about by bad means what you
now believe will come about naturally. Note, also,
that it is Banquo, the most upright man in the play,
who first puts the idea of possible wrong-doing in the
future into the mind of Macbeth.

I. iii. 127-142. Macbeth believes in the outcome.
Yet he is unable to see how it will come about. He
knows that witches are considered malignant beings;
yet they cannot be bad in the present instance, because
what they have foretold has turned out true, in part,
at least. (Suggestion in line 134 means temptation.)
Yet, on the other hand, they cannot be altogether
good, else he would not be so upset by the idea of
temptation that Banquo has put into his head. A man
already guilty in thought would not be so overcome
by the idea of his possible enactment of a crime. The
very thought of such a thing (line 139) is repugnant

268 SHAKESPEARE

to him in the extreme. He will not even contemplate
such a course (line 143). The meaning of the line
is: " If chance, that is, fate, will have me king, fate
must bring it about, not I. And this may be (line
147), as one can never tell what will happen." And
immediately Macbeth has disclaimed any personal
responsibility he begins to feel relieved.

I. iv. This is the scene in which Duncan appoints
his son Malcolm the Prince of Cumberland. This
title implied that he would be the successor to the
crown. Let us analyze the situation.

Sufficient attention, it seems to me, has not been
given in the modern discussion or staging of this scene.
The announcement is a fearful slap in Macbeth's face,
whom every one has considered as a possible successor
to the crown. Macbeth is coming home in triumph.
Why should the kindly Duncan select this public mo-
ment of all others to dash Macbeth's hopes forever?
The action is so unlike the nature of the gentle king
that it requires a justification — at least, an explana-
tion. Duncan has met Macbeth with a warm wel-
come. His mouth has outrun itself in fashioning ex-
travagant expressions of gratitude. The most he can
do is too little for Macbeth's deserts. But this is all
rhetorical flourish. He does not mean a word of it
literally. Macbeth, however, who remembers the
witches' prophecies and the " earnest," is now taking
all this in a literal sense. Perhaps Banquo and the
others share this impression with him. Instead of
relegating this to a mere scene in front of a middle
drop as is so often done nowadays it should be care-
fully staged. The eyes of the many persons present
turn towards Macbeth as their ears drink in the

MACBETH 269

promises of the king. Gradually positions shift, more
people grouping themselves about Macbeth, the suc-
cessor, than about Malcolm, whose youth and inexpe-
rience have caused him to be passed over.

This, however, is all due to a mistake. Duncan
suddenly realizes what is happening. Lest it be too
late to correct it to-morrow he determines to correct it
now. The gist of what he says is this: Macbeth is
worthy of everything I can do within reason. But do
not misunderstand me. I intend my son to succeed me.
Therefore I appoint him the Prince of Cumberland.

There is a splendid opportunity for stage effect in
this sudden opposite turn of affairs.

I. iv. 48. " That is a step." Macbeth means that
it now looks as if the witches' prophecy could not
possibly come true. Or else, if it does, it will only
come true by his taking some means to overcome this
new obstacle. That is what Banquo suggested. Mac-
beth is afraid even to think of what this implies.
This is certainly not the line of thought of a man
already hardened to the contemplation of crime.

I. v. Lady Macbeth is reading a letter. Through-
out the play we discover that husband and wife are
very close together. (Search the play throughout for
additional proofs of this assertion.) In the first part
of the play he reports everything to her. She knows
his character through and through. Her speech,
which follows the text of the letter in this scene, is a
soliloquy. Hence there is no reason for her not speak-
ing the truth.

She says that Macbeth is too full of the milk of
human kindness. Modern readers frequently mis-
understand kindness to mean sympathy, or tender-

270 SHAKESPEARE

heartedness. In this line the word is used in its old
sense of naturalness — as we have it in the Biblical
phrase * the kindly fruits of the earth." Human
kindness, then, is equivalent to, inherent qualities of
human beings. Milk implies soft, or weak, with a
touch of disapproval, perhaps not quite so strong as
contempt. The sense of the phrase is almost opposite
to that implied as a rule when it is quoted in modern
speech. The attribute implied is anything but com-
plimentary, even less so on the lips of such a stern
woman as Lady Macbeth.

Furthermore, she says positively that, though am-
bitious, her husband would achieve his desires by holy
means. We must at least acknowledge that if Mac-
beth entertained criminal intents at this time his wife
was ignorant of the fact. But she could not possibly
be ignorant. And she immediately voices (line 23)
the fatal defect of his character — he would profit by
the wrong-doing of others. It is upon that that she
depends. If he will but put the management of this
great business into her hands for her to despatch all
will be well. This soliloquy alone is sufficient to out-
line Macbeth's character at the beginning of the play.

I. v. 63. If Macbeth were already a guilty man at
heart his wife would not find it necessary to coax him
not to show in his face that such ideas are new to him.
She would not find it necessary to impress upon him
the fact that his natural behavior was altogether in-
consistent with a career of crime. If, perchance, she
were misjudging him he would seize this opportunity
to make an explanation. He does not, because she is
right.

I. v. 72. " We will speak further." Does this

MACBETH 271

conversation ever take place? On or off the stage?
When and where?

I. vi. This is a division scene. During the interval
Lady Macbeth has talked with her husband. (See
above, line 72.) She has persuaded him, as she thinks,
to follow her lead, and to do the deed she has sug-
gested. Doubtless she found the task difficult to ac-
complish. At the opening of scene vii. Macbeth is
still in this mood, but he is at the threshold of reac-
tion, and soon drifts back to a more honorable state of
mind.

I. vii. See above. Macbeth for a moment has given
up to his worse nature. He soon begins to draw back.
At first his objections are due to physical fear of the
consequences. Then his thoughts take a higher turn
and he objects upon moral grounds. At last he re-
solves not to do the deed at all.

I. vii. 28. At the entrance of his wife he tells her
of his change of mind. This, to her, is the milk of
human kindness in his nature asserting itself. She
realizes that her task of persuasion is all to be done
over again. She begins by irritating him with the
charge of cowardice.

I. vii. 48. Lady Macbeth says that he broke the
enterprise to her. Evidently he did not. The pas-
sage, therefore, is hard to explain.

In the first place, it may be due to a corruption of
the text.

Or, she may not be telling the truth, trusting to his
excitement to prompt him to overlook the fact, hoping
it will lead him to fall in with the notion that he is
drawing back from something that he really did pro-
pose.

272 SHAKESPEARE

Or, what I believe is more likely, in the off-stage
conversation (see I. v. 72) she may have insinuated
her ideas to him so skilfully that he did in reality
actually phrase them first though she virtually pro-
posed them.

In other words, the passage may or may not be
construed in accordance with the view here set down
of Macbeth's character. If the latter interpretation
is assumed we should remember that this single coup-
let is opposed to many and frequent indications of the
contrary. This fact robs it of its value.

One reason why I am so insistent on this view of
Macbeth's character is that it rounds out the picture
of his personality so much better than any other con-
ception, and is better dramatic construction. There
are evidences that Shakespeare has worked out
the character of Macbeth carefully, both before and
after the play begins. Later in the play Macbeth says
there was a time when his senses would have cooled
to hear a night-shriek. I think that Shakespeare con-
ceived Macbeth as one of those persons who have a
great repugnance to physical suffering. He had, at
first, for instance, to steel himself against the horrible
sights of a battlefield. But the training of war had
gradually made him callous to bloodshed. He had
undergone the change that so many sensitive surgeons
have gone through.

Later in life he goes through the same process in
regard to moral wrong. The whole of the change is
included in the present play. It takes up the history
at the very beginning of the change, not after it has
already progressed to a considerable degree, and car-
ries him on relentlessly to the end.

MACBETH 273

At the end of this scene Macbeth is once more
persuaded to carry out his wife's plans.

A preliminary word as to the character of Lady
Macbeth: Remember that in Elizabethan times her
part was taken by a boy. Not until the time of Mrs.
Siddons was her part looked upon as the principal
part of the play. We should not lose sight of the fact
that she is to be dominated by her husband so far as
the stage presentation goes. Her character is simple,
and not beyond the immature acting of a boy.

At first she is painted as a stern, ambitious woman,
and one who is capable of shrewd character analysis.
She is absolutely unscrupulous, and willing to do any-
thing to urge her husband to a great crime. She is
also tactful, and able to see quickly the possibilities
of a new situation. On the other hand, she is not a
monster. She has tender feelings regarding her child.
She is affected by the similarity of the king to her
father. She is as ambitious for her husband as for
herself. Yet she is not able to continue under the
strain indefinitely. (See II. iii. 131, the discussion
as to whether Lady Macbeth faints or not.) And she
ends with utter collapse in the sleep-walking scene.
This shows that, though she can commit a crime, she
cannot do so without compunction, as her more callous
husband learns to do before the end of the play.

Search for passages throughout the play illustra-
tive of the above characteristics.

II. ii. 1. What is the antecedent of "that"? Is
it drink ? or merely the situation ? That which has de-
manded that the grooms be drugged has demanded
that I be bold?

This scene involves the time of the murder. II. iii.

274 SHAKESPEARE

59, etc., implies that there was a terrible storm at the
time. Yet Lady Macbeth could hear the owls and the
crickets, sounds not usually very prominent in a
storm. In fact, a stage storm at this point ruins the
effect and was not intended. Furthermore, violent
noise here ruins the effect of the subsequent knocking
on the gate. (See De Quincey's essay on this sub-
ject.)

Yet the contradiction implied by II. iii. 58, etc., is
not a blemish, or something to be condoned. It is an
intentional stage device. During this scene the audi-
ence gets all the advantageous effect of weird, un-
canny silence and soft sounds. These are interrupted
with tremendous effect by the knocking on the gate
which brings the audience back to the every-day life
they have left shortly before. Later, when reference
is made to a terrible storm, Shakespeare was merely
making use of the contemporary belief that a storm
accompanied a great crime. The greater the storm the
greater the crime, and vice versa.

II. ii. 53. " Give me the daggers." This should not
be uttered too dramatically. All is hushed and quiet.
If Lady Macbeth were to assume a bombastic air of
superiority over her husband she would ruin the effect,
as most actresses I have seen do. Yet the task must
be done, and by her. She should act as if she sym-
pathized with her husband, yet is able to do, though
reluctantly, that which he has not been quite equal
to.

II. ii. 56. It is often suggested that Lady Mac-
beth's pun on guilt and gild implies a grotesque touch
of humor. Any one who is familiar with Elizabethan
conditions would be inclined to deny the above asser-

MACBETH 275

tion. In fact, the Elizabethan attitude towards puns
was altogether different from ours.

In our day and generation we either laugh at or
with a punster. The possibility of a laugh is assumed.
Three hundred years ago the laugh was acci-
dental.

The vocabulary was rapidly increasing. A good
punster needed a full command of the vocabulary,
and a ready memory that could instantly recall all
the words of similar sound, though of different mean-
ing. The ability to do so excited admiration rather
than mirth. The Elizabethan attitude towards a
punster was like our attitude towards a sleight-of-
hand juggler. A funny piece of jugglery makes us
laugh, but one that is not funny arouses our admira-
tion for the skill displayed and the juggler's control
over his muscles.

Hardly any one would discover a touch of humor
in the repeated puns uttered by the dying Gaunt in
Richard the Second. The dexterity displayed by
them merely suggests that, though dying, the great
statesman is still in full possession of all his senses.
Else he would not be able to pun. So here. Lady
Macbeth is sufficiently cool and self-controlled to pun.
There is no question of humor.

Why is the knocking on the gate of the castle
introduced ?

Compare its effect following a violent stage storm
with its effect under the conditions of the setting sug-
gested above.

Note how many details of this scene are recalled
in the sleep-walking scene.

II. iii. The porter's speeches were comic to the

276 SHAKESPEARE

Elizabethans. People of that day demanded a certain
mingling of the comic element with the most tragic
themes. This was commoner in the days of the
Miracle Plays; almost intolerable to-day. It was
more frequent in the plays of other Elizabethan dram-
atists than in the plays of Shakespeare.

II. iii. 24. Enter Macduff. In the structure of
this play Macduff is the opposite of Macbeth. He
is the second main character, for the structure is like
that of Othello and Hamlet. Yet, in the development
of the play, the character and the function of Mac-
duff are so slighted that one may easily miss the
significance of his part. It is not possible to account
for this neglect. Perhaps it is due to the corrupt
condition of the text; perhaps to the mediocre work
of a collaborator; perhaps to the fact that the play
was either not quite finished, or finished hurriedly
without actually being completed.

II. iii. 69. Imagine the strain on the Macbeths
while they are waiting the discovery of the murder,
and its effect, especially upon Lady Macbeth.

II. iii. 131. Does Lady Macbeth faint or pretend
to faint?

It has been urged that Lady Macbeth pretends to
faint because she can in this way distract attention
from her husband. Heretofore her presence has been
the only sufficient control over him. To say the least,
it would be unwise of her to withdraw this control
when at the most it would only serve as a momentary
distraction.

It has been suggested that Lady Macbeth pretends
to faint in order to convince others of her horror of
the murder. This is slightly more plausible than

MACBETH 277

the above. Still, she must face the risk of leaving
her husband unassisted.

There is, however, a still more plausible explana-
tion. Macbeth's murder of the grooms, which was not
in the original plan, was a blunder from all points
of view. Lady Macbeth realizes this fact and is
horror-stricken. But all her wits are about her.
Macbeth's extemporaneous attempt to justify him-
self (line 114, etc.) is a stroke of genius on his part.
It is very convincing and genuine. Lady Macbeth
immediately realizes that he has at last found him-
self able to rise fully to the occasion. The milk of
human kindness, which she formerly deplored, is
overcome forever. He can now take care of himself.
He no longer needs her assistance. A great wave of
relief sweeps over her. It is the last straw. Her
endurance snaps. And she really faints.

Note that the sons of the king, immediately recog-
nizing foul play, resolve to fly. There is no indica-
tion that they at once suspected Macbeth more than
another, or others. And Malcolm appeared almost
as a coward at the opening of the play.

II. iv. Enter an old man. In the Elizabethan
plays such a nameless character usually indicates
public opinion. The " old man " here implies that
suspicion has begun to get abroad in general, rather
than harboring in one particular person's breast.

Macduff suggests that the sons of the king have
done this deed, suspicion resting upon them because
they have fled. If he is telling the truth it is not
much to the credit of his common sense. They would
not have planned a murder that would have required
them to fly the moment it was successfully accom-

278 SHAKESPEARE

plished, thus compelling them to give up all the advan-
tages to be derived from it. Besides, Malcolm has
nothing to gain from such a crime. He has already
been appointed Prince of Cumberland. But Macduff
is probably not telling the truth. His actions subse-
quently show that he really suspected Macbeth. It
is just possible, however, that he did not acquire this
suspicion till after the murder of Banquo.

III. i. By this time Banquo has begun to see
through Macbeth. It is time for him to act in order
to guard against this new danger.

III. i. 10. Stage direction. In the meantime the
coronation has taken place off-stage.

III. i. 15-42. Note the phrases: Ride you this
afternoon? Is't far you ride? Goes Fleance with
you? These are so buried in the conversation that
Banquo has no idea why they are asked. Why are
they asked?

III. i. 48, etc. Would Macbeth make such unfa-
vorable comparisons between himself and Banquo?

The Elizabethan soliloquy serves a double purpose:
1. It gave the inmost thoughts of the person speak-
ing. 2. It served as a direct means of communica-
tion between the author of the play and the audience.
As an illustration of the former read Macbeth, I. v.
16, etc. As an illustration of the latter, read Henry
the Fourth, Part I, I. ii. 218, etc. This is not in
keeping with the character of Prince Hal. It is
Shakespeare's apologetic message to the audience that
he is not permanently trifling with the character of
the great king, Henry the Fifth.

III. ii. In the last scene we learned that, now that
he is king, Macbeth's troubles are really just begin-

MACBETH 279

ning. In the present scene we learn that his wife,
in spite of her former confidence, is in the same
condition.

The question arises as to why Macbeth, who was
formerly so in harmony with his wife, did not take
her into his confidence regarding the murder of
Banquo.

1. In the beginning, she wished to rouse him to
the point of taking the initiative. If she could do
this her work was done.

2. Macbeth has so far progressed in crime by now
that it is getting easier to him, and he is willing to
take the initiative himself. He desires his wife's
good opinion and thinks that this independent course
will please her. It is not a sign that he has lost con-
fidence in her.

III. iii. There has been much discussion regarding
the identity of the third murderer. Such discussion
is time wasted. There is no indication in the play
as to who he is. To assume that he is Macbeth is
to make of the latter a man of poor judgment and
clumsy behavior. The supposition is also contradictory
to his behavior in the banquet scene. Show how
this is.

III. iv. The Banquet Scene. It is well to draw
a stage plan showing how the persons should be
placed.

Should the ghost of Banquo actually enter, or not?
It has been staged both ways.

III. iv. 46. How can Macbeth say that the table
is full without recognizing the ghost?

Note how alert Lady Macbeth is to divert attention
from her husband. Part of her lines are to her hus-

280 SHAKESPEARE

band as asides. When she speaks of the air-drawn
dagger she evidently does not see anything in
Banquo's chair. But she knows from the direction
of her husband's eyes that whatever he sees is there.

The moment the ghost disappears Macbeth grows
more calm, but he goes to pieces again the moment
it reappears.

III. iv. 119. Notice that Lady Macbeth dismisses
the guests in a hurry. Why does she do it at just
this moment?

She dismisses them at a moment when her husband
was really in a little better control over himself than
shortly before. It is hardly, then, because he is going
to pieces that she does it.

At this point I think she sees the ghost; and it is
because she fears she will go to pieces herself that
she sends the guests away.

1. This is quite in accordance with the contem-
porary belief in ghost-lore.

2. It constitutes an intermediate step in her own
nervous and mental breakdown.

3. When the room is empty she would have ques-
tioned her husband as to what he saw, if she did not
already know.

4. Similarly Macbeth would have told her what
he has seen if he did not know that she had herself
seen the ghost and understood.

5. This supposition gives the actress a much better
opportunity to display her powers than if she is sup-
posed not to see the ghost.

6. Lady Macbeth probably thinks now that the
others will see it, too.

III. iv. 142. Lady Macbeth seems to have lost

MACBETH 281

interest in her husband's plans. She sees that the
game is up. This apathy is the beginning of the de-
cline that ends in the sleep-walking scene.

III. v. Note the additional witch, and the change
in meter. Perhaps the later witch scenes are inter-
polated, or written over later by another hand than
Shakespeare's.

III. iv. Somewhere about here is the location of
the technical turning-point. It is not possible to
defend one exact moment rather than another. Note
how little has been made of Macduff up to this point,
and how poorly his character has been carried out in
the remainder of the play. Compare with Othello,
a model of perfection of this kind of construction,
where the two opposing figures are Iago and Othello.

IV. i. Note the ambiguous characteristics of the
second set of prophecies as compared with the literal
directness of the first set.

IV. i. 111. "A show of eight kings." These are
the Scottish Stuarts, the last of which was on the
throne of England at the time Macbeth was written.
Those seen in the glass merely indicate the hope, on
the part of Shakespeare, that there would be many
more. This sort of anachronism was not objection-
able to the Elizabethans. There is another example
of it in the play. The scene describing the touching
for the king's evil refers to the revival of an obsolete
custom in the reign of King James.

IV. ii. The character of Macduff is very poorly
drawn. Examine his knowledge of the dangerous
state of Scotland, which he shows he is familiar with
in a later scene where he discusses the subject with
Malcolm. Under such circumstances he would not

282 SHAKESPEARE

have left his wife and children unprotected. And his
wife, though she calls him such, did not believe him
a coward. Nor was he.

Before we condemn Shakespeare for the cruelty of
a scene like this we should bear in mind the temper of
the time. Both sports and laws were cruel to such
an extent that a mutilation or a killing offended the
audience no more than a hard beating would offend
to-day. (See the subject discussed in the chapter on
King Lear.)

IV. iii. This poorly written scene is sometimes said
not to be by Shakespeare's hand. It may not be.
There is no positive way of telling. It is well to
note, however, that it is written as if it belonged to
a much longer play than the present play. It may
be from another play, from another and more lengthy
draft, or it may be poor writing on the part of Shake-
speare, or of a collaborator. Note also that the char-
acter-drawing of Macduff and Malcolm is poorly done.

IV. iii. 76. Malcolm's lies are preposterous, and
Macduff is a fool to believe them. How do they serve
as a test of Macduff's honesty?

V. i. Why is the sleep-walking scene considered
so great?

The value of this scene is not in its words. Rather
in the way the scattered exclamations of Lady Mac-
beth manage to review the whole play for us in a
moment. Note how each detail touches some impor-
tant point, some great moment of the play. In other
words, this scene is a digest of Macbeth, and the
greatness of the scene is but a reflection of the great-
ness of the play as a whole.

From here to the end of the play we have merely

MACBETH 283

the dramatization of the remainder of the narrative,
the result of which had been already guessed by the
audience.

There is, however, one point of unusual interest
(see V. v. 43), "to doubt the equivocation of the
fiend." This phrase means, " to suspect the double-
dealing of the witches."

The audience was already familiar with the his-
torical story of Macbeth, and was, therefore, familiar
with the double meaning of the prophecies long before
the truth was discovered by Macbeth. The audience
would be on the watch for his behavior when he made
the discovery. All along Macbeth has proceeded on
the assumption that the witches were altogether right.
Now he realizes that they were not; that it was his
own failure to understand them as well as Banquo
would have understood them which has driven him to
his present state of ruin. This is the real nemesis that
comes to him in the play. He has been deluded and
fooled to his destruction. In comparison to his mental
anguish at this moment his death is a welcome relief.

III. The Character of Macduff

Macduff should be a character that vies with Mac-
beth in importance, but he is not. Go through the
whole play noting: 1. How little is told of Macduff.
2. What is actually told of Macduff. 3. The char-
acteristics of Macduff to be inferred from his actions,
and from what others say of him. 4. Is the picture
of him consistent? 5. Is the picture of him com-
plete ?

284 SHAKESPEARE

IV. Was there a Collaborator?

It is not safe to conclude that because we find evi-
dence of careless work in the play it is therefore not
wholly by Shakespeare. He was often careless. On
the other hand, it is a notable fact that parts of this
play show the greatest evidence of care and skill.

The play seems to drop in interest in the middle,
both in artistic and dramatic quality. Most of the
praiseworthy points are to be found in the first half;
most of the blamable details are to be found in the
second half. Most of the blamable details of the first
half have to do with those scenes in which the Mac-
beths do not figure. Most of the praiseworthy parts
of the second half have to do with those scenes in
which the Macbeths do figure.

Is it not, then, a fair inference that Shakespeare
himself worked out the characters of Macbeth and
of Lady Macbeth, and that a collaborator worked out
the Macduffs. This theory implies that the two prin-
cipal parts of the play were composed by different
hands.

(See the chapter on dramatic structure in explana-
tion of the suggestion that Macduff should be of equal
importance with Macbeth. The structure of this play
is of the type to which is referred Othello and
Hamlet.)

CHAPTER XX
THE TEMPEST

I. Introduction

Sir G. Somers was wrecked on the shores of the
Bermudas in 16*09. In 1610 three accounts were pub-
lished of this shipwreck. These were probably be-
fore Shakespeare, yet fresh in the popular mind,
when he wrote The Tempest. A careful consideration
of them, together with the external evidence, suggests
some time early in 1611 as the date of the appear-
ance of this play.

Several contemporary writings, and the history of
Italy, suggest innumerable details of the play. There
is, however, no single original to which the author is
indebted for the major portion of the drama.

The duration of the action is a few hours following
the shipwreck.

The play was first published in the Folio.

Some critics see in The Tempest an element of
autobiography. Prospero is Shakespeare. His end-
ing his work of necromancy symbolizes Shakespeare's
retirement from the stage, and the theatrical world
in general. It is, however, not necessary to believe
this fact, hard in any case to prove, in order to ap-
preciate the play.

The play has appeared in the Variorum Edition and
285

286 SHAKESPEARE

has also appeared in the Dowden Edition. The latter
gives a full account of the wreck of Somers and the
published descriptions.

II. Notes on the Text

In the Century Magazine for December, 1911,
there appeared an article by the eminent scholar and
student of Elizabethan conditions, Mr. Corbin, deal-
ing with the Elizabethan setting of The Tempest.
There will be found a very suggestive illustration of
the stage setting for the first scene. I have followed
some of the suggestions of this article elsewhere in
the present volume; others therein mentioned were,
however, conclusions arrived at independently.

I. i. The scene is of the nature of a little prelim-
inary pageant. It is referred to in the next scene
but is hardly sufficient to get the story fairly started.
The real story of the play deals with the love affair
of Ferdinand and Miranda.

I. ii. With the details of Mr. Corbin's article
fresh in mind, let us imagine this scene acted with the
fallen chains and other paraphernalia of scene i.
still upon the stage. Instead of being a detriment
this will help to link the scene to the first one and
thus bring out the continuity of the story even before
the relation is made clear by the words of Prospero.

This scene starts the principal thread of the story,
that of Ferdinand and Miranda; and gives to the
audience the necessary introductory matter. Note
how much introduction there is and how long drawn
out.

I. ii. 15. Note how quickly and how emphatically

THE TEMPEST 287

we are told that the storm of scene i. is a mere sham.
There is no real danger, and the tone of all is mere
playfulness.

I. ii. 37. Though Miranda has never heard the
story of her life Prospero tells it here in detail in
reality for the information of the audience. This, the
story of Ariel, and that of Sycorax and Caliban, con-
stitute the introductory material. Query: Is there
too much of it? Could it be shortened to advantage?
Could the material be differently distributed ? Would
anything be gained by getting the entrance of Ferdi-
nand and Miranda earlier in the play?

I. ii. 57. It was Shakespeare's custom not to fool
the audience. He is here engaged in informing fully
as to what has happened. Contrast in this respect the
practice of Ben Jonson. See, for a good example of
the opposite, The Silent Woman.

I. ii. Let the student recall some of the earlier
plays of Shakespeare. In them we often encounter
long speeches which are monotonous to read and still
more monotonous to hear upon the stage. Here we
find a much more skilful method of procedure. The
long account of Prospero is broken up by the occa-
sional remarks and questions of Miranda, for the pur-
pose of interrupting the montony of what would other-
wise be a long address from her father.

I. ii. 189. We have already been told in so many
words that the subject-matter of this play is all
trivial, it is a mere comedy from the beginning, alto-
gether light-hearted. The reference to Prospero's
power over the storm, to his magic mantle, and now
the appearance of Ariel tell us once for all that this
is a fairy-story. And it should thus be taken by the

288 SHAKESPEARE

reader, or by the audience. There is nothing serious
about it. Some critics, however, see in it: 1. Shake-
speare's farewell. 2. A psychological study of a
woman raised absolutely alone. S. Merely a delight-
ful tale. If one delights in either the first or the
second interpretation he must, perforce, be grateful
to the author. But, for my part, I owe a sufficient
debt to Shakespeare not to increase it by such an
additional burden.

I. ii. 195. Ariel describes his behavior at the time
of the event related in scene i. There was, however,
probably no attempt to stage these antics of the spirit.
Though Ariel says he caused amazement, there is no
reference to him or his eccentricities in scene i.

I. ii. 244. Ariel is universally good-natured and
obedient with a willing heart throughout. This mo-
mentary " moodiness " is introduced merely to give
Prospero a chance to tell the elfin's story for the
benefit of the audience.

I. ii. 374. The entrance of Ferdinand marks the
real beginning of the story, or, at least, the main
thread of it.

II. i. The first 180 lines of this scene are mere
by-play. There is more of this sort of writing than
usual in one of Shakespeare's plays — that is, text
that fails to advance the plot or to delineate crucial
points of character.

II. i. 215. What becomes of this conspiracy?

II. ii., III. ii. Caliban, Trinculo, and Stephano
form the low comedy element of the play. What be-
comes of this conspiracy? In fact, should one raise
this question seriously at all? Or should one accept
their antics as a mere comic parody of the other more

THE TEMPEST 289

serious conspiracy, and expect nothing of it? Does,
and if so, why should, Prospero take more pains —
perhaps I should say, more space — to nullify their
efforts than the efforts of the other conspirators?

III. ii. 136. Here and for some time Ariel has
been invisible. How would this fact be suggested on
the Elizabethan stage? In some scenes in the plays
a person is visible to the audience, yet supposed to
be invisible to those on the stage. He has no diffi-
culty in carrying his part. The illusion of the
situation is produced by the behavior of the others.
Again, the invisible person is not on the stage at all,
yet the audience is able easily to infer his presence.
There is reason to believe that on the Elizabethan
stage a conventional color to a garment represented
invisibility. Thus, in Titus Andronicus there is a
point where Lavinia enters after her arms have been
cut off at the elbows. When I have an opportunity to
add an account of this play to the present volume I
shall try to show that the play does not deserve its
usual treatment at the hands of critics regarding its
un-Shakespearian element of cruelty. Lavinia at the
entrance alluded to above probably wears gloves of
this conventional color, thus rendering her hands in
the imagination invisible, that is, cut off. Here Ariel
is probably garbed in a cloak of the same color. He
is undoubtedly present and visible to the audience,
for it is the appearance of the spirit that gives point
to the allusion to the picture of Nobody. Yet Trinculo,
who makes the remark, probably does not see Ariel.

IV. i. 139. Prospero drops the mask and takes up
the matter of the more trivial conspiracy with ex-
treme suddenness. (See the former note on Caliban's.

290 SHAKESPEARE

conspiracy. Is Prospero justified in being so greatly
moved on the present occasion?)

III. Analysis of the Plot

I. i. Alonso and his companions are wrecked in
an enchanted storm off Prospero's island. There are
no forecasting allusions to subsequent portions of the
play, and no names are mentioned.

I. ii. This scene opens by showing that Prospero
raised the storm that figures in scene i.; and Prospero
tells Miranda that no real harm was done by the
storm. Thus both scenes are linked together, and we
catch both the playful and the magical elements.

Prospero outlines to Miranda their early history;
and the same is done in connection with Ariel; and
the same with Caliban.

Then enters Ferdinand, with whom Miranda im-
mediately falls in love. As this could easily have
been prevented by her magical father, we are left to
suppose that it is really the result of his machina-
tions. Here is where the main story in reality begins.
Prospero assumes a harshness towards Ferdinand
which he does not feel.

Note that though some of the other characters
have appeared in scene i., they are not really intro-
duced till II. i. This is unusual.

II. i. The principal survivors enter and talk about
the shipwreck, and are finally put to sleep by Ariel.
Sebastian and Antonio plan the murder of Alonso,
but are prevented by his sudden awakening by Ariel.

II. ii. Caliban meets Stephano and Trinculo.
They form a sort of confederacy.

THE TEMPEST 291

III. i. Ferdinand and Miranda disclose their love
for each other.

III. ii. Caliban and his fellows hatch out the comic
conspiracy against Prospero.

III. iii. The banquet which mysteriously vanishes.
Ariel appears in the form of a harpy. Prospero up-
braids Alonso and the rest for their treatment of him.

IV. i. Prospero approves the love of Ferdinand
and Miranda. Then follows the mask, which is en-
tirely an undramatic digression introduced for the
mere purpose of spectacular entertainment. This is
suddenly dropped at its end, after which Caliban and
his fellows are chased off the stage by hounds.

V. i. Prospero reveals himself to the others. All
are happily reconciled. Caliban and his fellow-
conspirators are let off with a merciful neglect.

This complicated plot may be resolved into the fol-
lowing threads :

1. Prospero's banishment, which is eventually the
means of bringing all the characters of the play hap-
pily together at the end.

2. Alonso's wreck, which brings him into contact
with Prospero.

3. The love of Ferdinand and Miranda. This is
the main thread of the story.

4. The plot against Alonso by his equals, suddenly
dropped, however, without being brought to a con-
clusion.

5. The comedy-element plot against Prospero by
Caliban, etc., which is a parody of thread number 4.

6. A mask in celebration of the love of Ferdinand
and Miranda, really a part of thread number 3.

The plot may be graphically represented, as in the

292

SHAKESPEARE

following diagram. The figures in the top line refer
to the thread numbers mentioned above. The numerals
in the left column denote act and scene. The dots
represent the appearance of the particular part of
the story.

1

2

3

4

5

I. i.

•

I. ii.

•

•

II. i.

•

•

II. ii.

•

III. i.

•

III. ii.

•

III. iii.

•

IV. i.

•

•

V. i.

•

•

•

•

Note further. The story begins with 2, which
forms a sort of framework. The second scene brings
in 1, which consists mainly of preliminary material
necessary to the understanding of what follows.

3 is the main story. It is simply told. There is
no opposition or complication save Prospero's mo-
mentary harshness to Ferdinand. Relatively it oc-

THE TEMPEST 293

cupies less space than is usual with the principal
thread.

4 looks for a while as if it were intended to exem-
plify nemesis on Alonso. But it comes to naught
and is left unfinished. What frustrating there is
is due to Prospero, who is heaping coals of fire.

In the last scene all threads are brought together
except 4, which, however, is alluded to as immaterial:
1. Prospero's banishment is over. 2. Alonso recovers
his ship. 3. Ferdinand and Miranda are happily
married. 5. Caliban and his fellows are reproved but
not punished.

IV. The Character of Prospero

Many a man has whiled away an evening in a coun-
try store by telling a good yarn. His purpose is to
pass the time and to please his audience. Perhaps
the same man on another occasion attempts to correct
the follies of his child by relating in familiar guise
the story of the Prodigal Son. To infer from the
latter situation that the former is impossible, that the
elder never speaks without intending some dark and
hidden significance to his words, is to imply, to say
the least, an extraordinary lack of human quality.

There seems to be a tendency on the part of some
persons who have written about the subject-matter
of Shakespeare's plays to deny to the author this
human quality, to deny the possibility of his writing
as so many have written, merely for the purpose of
passing the time with a delightful narrative. There
is a great idea of moral consequence dominating Ham-
let. I can find nothing but a pleasing tale in A Mid-

294 SHAKESPEARE

summer Night's Dream. Nor does the mere fact that
The Tempest is probably the last of Shakespeare's
plays convince me that it contains an abridged ency-
clopedia of all the author's knowledge of all things.
It may be, as a recent critic thinks, that Caliban is
a remarkable embodiment of the supernatural, the
social order of the day, and Elizabethan politics. I
say, it may be true, but it is not clear. To me it is
a monster such as Othello speaks of, such as Shake-
speare read about in the numberless travel narratives
of the day.

The Tempest, I take it, is one of the pleasantest
stories ever written for the stage. There is a kindly
geniality about it, the loveliness of serene maturity.
And if there be an underlying moral lesson, is it
more than that one does well to forget an injury, to
turn away wrath with a soft answer? to disarm an
enemy by turning to him the unstricken cheek ? This,
at least, is the example of the play, and it is acted
out most significantly in the character of Prospero.

He is a man of high social rank, a lover of books,
and so well trained and educated that he can teach
his daughter Miranda all that she needs to know.
With it all he has acquired the art of magic, through
the possession of which he works a bad beginning into
a good end.

Though he has been badly treated, there is no
malice in his nature. He is quick to affirm that no
harm will come of the shipwreck. He has his old
enemies in his power. His first thought, however, is
not to punish them, or revenge himself, but to reform
them, and to bring good results out of the chance
meeting.

THE TEMPEST 295

It is easy to comprehend why the common people
of Naples loved him. He is kindly and genial to all.
Careful of details for others' good, his main interest
is in the welfare of his child. When Ariel exas-
perates him he is, for a moment, petulant, but it is
only a momentary rebuke that follows. Ariel is soon
pleased again and ardent to do his master's bidding.
Prospero never fails to praise a well-done task. Even
his relations to Caliban, harsh as his words some-
times are, are illustrative of his forgiving nature and
his forbearance. And when he treats Ferdinand
harshly for the sake of future benefit he does it with
a naive clumsiness, as if the role were unfamiliar.

Most notable among Prospero's characteristics is
his treatment of his enemies. He has been harshly
treated himself, but there is no lingering desire for
revenge in his composition. When his enemies come
unbidden to his door his one impulse is to make them
friends. He entertains no ill feeling against Ferdi-
nand. He keeps a supernatural watch which frus-
trates the attack upon Alonso, which is so like the
earlier conspiracy against himself, and which Alonso
so justly merits. He does not scruple to expose the
conspirators' wickedness, but he does so gently, and
magnanimously refuses to reveal the plot of the
traitors now that it has come to naught and their
hearts have changed.

Prospero is throughout the great, genial, lovable,
and loving man, who works miracles by the power of
his gentle personality.

296 SHAKESPEARE

V. The Elizabethan Staging

The play requires in reality but two sets. One is
used in the first scene, and not used again. The
other is used throughout the rest of the play.

1. The shipwreck would probably be set as sug-
gested by Mr. Corbin. (See Century Magazine, De-
cember, 191 1.)

2. The other set is arranged so that it can be used
in two ways. The outer stage is bare. Properties
are introduced on the middle stage to suggest out-of-
doors on the island. These are probably brought in
while the traverse is drawn during the first 185 lines
of II. i. The inner stage is concealed by a drop
helping the illusion of " out of doors." Behind this
Prospero's cell is set up on the inner stage. Raising
and lowering this drop accommodates all the succeed-
ing scenes.

INDEX

Act division, 71

Acting, 106

Actor, Shakespeare as, 5

Actors, companies of, 4,
25; customs of, 29; of
women's parts, 179; boy,
179

Acts, music between, 34

Admiral's Men, 4

Admission to theaters, 29

Alleyn, 4

Anachronisms, 226, 242

Antic disposition passage,
222

Audience, 30; seating, 31;
on the stage, 40; charac-
ter of, 42

Balcony scene of Romeo

and Juliet, 158
Bale's King Johan, 87
Bankside, 26

Battle scenes, 107, 108, 149
Bear Garden, the, 28
Beginning and end of a

play, 66
Bible as known to Shake-
speare, 2
Blackfriars, the, 29
Blank verse, 56, 156
Bolingbroke, character of,

130
Boy actors, 179
Brutus, structural relation

to Julius Caesar, 191
Buckingham, character of,

108
Bugle call at the beginning

of a play, 33

Burbage, James, builder of
The Theater, 26

Caesar, Julius, notes on the
text, 190; structural re-
lation of Brutus in, 191

Catastrophe, the, 68, 70

Character drawing, Shake-
speare's method of, 177

Character study, 108

Children in Shakespeare's
plays, 104

Chorus, 143, 144

Chronicle play. See His-
tory plays.

Cloths, painted, 33

Comedy, structure of, 180;
mixed with tragedy, 219

Companies of players, 4, 5;
of actors, 25

Construction of Romeo and
Juliet, 114

Contradictions, apparent,
274

Costume, stage, 36, 193

Cruelty of the time, 262,
282

Cumberland passage, Prince
of, 268

Curtain, The, 27

Curtain, traverse, 33

Darkening the stage, 47,

188, 245, 264
Declamations, 108, 143, 144,

158, 175
Derby's actors, 4
Devil lore, 220

297

298

INDEX

Division scenes, 73, 104, 116,

179, 271
Dog's name, 159
Dominant idea, 65
Dumb-show in Hamlet, 235,

281
Duration of performance,

183

Edward the Second com-
pared with Richard the
Second, 112
Elizabethan fools, 259
End, structural, of Romeo
and Juliet, 129; of Mer-
chant of Venice, 182
Exciting force, 67, 69, 117
Experimental nature of
Shakespeare's early plays,
137

Falconry, 170, 225
Falling action, 68, 70
Falstaff, absent from Henry

the Fifth, 135
Flagstaff, 27, 29
Folio, 51; reprints of, 54
Fool, the, in King Lear,

259
Fortune, The, 28

Ghost-lore, 216
Globe, The, 27

Hal, Prince, character of,
140, 146

Hamlet, character of, 248

Hamlet's Mouse-trap, 227;
madness, 246

Hamlet, early history, 207;
Quarto of, 207; relation
to Kyd, 208; notes on the
text, 216; stage setting,
234, 243; structure of, 237

Hawking, 170, 225

Heavens. 32

Henley Street, Stratford, 1

Henry the Fifth, character
of, 141, 146, 147

Henry the Fifth, relation
to other plays, 134; notes
on the text, 138; date of,
139; stage setting, 149

Henslowe, 4

Hentzner, 8

History plays, 85; Shake-
speare's improvements in,
93; by Shakespeare clas-
sified, 94; relation to
Shakespeare's work, 136

Hunsden's actors, 5

Hut in theaters, 31

Indefinite characters, 104,

277
Induction, 158
Inner and outer scenes, 39
Inner stage, 38
Inter-act music, 34
Introduction of play, 67, 68;

of Richard the Second,

114
Invisibility, how represented

on the stage, 289
Italian crime, the, 241

Jew of Malta compared

with Shylock, 176
Jig at end of play, 35, 182
Johan, King, 87
John, King, 92
John, Troublesome Reign of

King, 90

Kenilworth, Shakespeare at,

2
King Johan, 87
King John, 92
King John, Troublesome

Reign of, 90
King Lear, cruelty in, 262;

INDEX

299

the fool in, 259; method

of study, 250
King's Men, 5
Kyd, see Spanish Tragedy,

relation of Hamlet, 208

Lancaster plays, 95

Lear, King, method of
study, 250; the fool in,
259; cruelty in, 262

Leicester's Men, 4

Literary piracy, 209

London, importance and ex-
tent of, 7, 8

Love scenes, 158

Lucy, Sir Thomas, 4

Macbeth, character of, 272
Macbeth, notes on the

text, 264; state of text,

264
Madness of Hamlet, 246
Marlowe's Edward the

Second, 112
Marlowe and Shakespeare,

97, 112; Jew of Malta

compared to Shy lock, 176
Merchant of Venice, The,

notes on the text, 174;

plot analysis, 182; stage

setting, 183
Meter, 56, 58
Mouse-trap, 227
Music between acts, 34

Naming of players, 156
Nemesis, 131, 254

Painted cloths, 33
Patriotism, 121
Performance, duration of,

183
Piracy, literary, 209
Playhouses. See Theaters.
Plot analysis of The Mer-

chant of Venice, 182; of

The Tempest, 290
Poison, use of, 241
Presentation of a play, 33
Prince Hal, 140, 146
Prologue, 33, 138, 139, 156
Pronunciation, 58, 159
Properties, 35
Prose, use of, 55
Prospero, character of, 293
Publication of plays, 49, 51,

209
Puns, 121, 274

Quartos, list of, 50; of
Hamlet, 207

Repetition in Borneo and
Juliet, 156, 160

Richard the Second com-
pared with Edward the
Second, 112; notes on the
text, 113; construction of,
114; introduction, 114;
character of the king, 118

Richard the Third, Shake-
speare's picture of, 86

Richard the Third, notes on
the text, 98; plausibility
of the wooing scene, 100;
setting of the battle scene,
108

Rising action, 67, 69

Romeo and Juliet, style of,
155; notes on the text,
156 ; tragic conclusion,
158, 165; balcony scene,
158; comic suggestions,
161, 162, 164

Rooms in theaters, 30

Rose, The, 27, 28

Scansion of Shakespeare's

meter, 58
Scene, use of a title, 34
Scenery (see Properties,

300

INDEX

Stage setting, Darkening
the stage), use of, 36; in
Henry the Fifth, 149

Scenes, battle, 107, 149; di-
vision, 72, 104, 116, 271;
inner and outer, 39; love,
158; structure of, 181

Shadow, the, 32

Shakespeare, John, 1, 2

Shakespeare, William,
birth of, 1; at school, 1;
at Kenilworth, 2; and the
Bible, 2; marriage, 3; ed-
ucation, 2, 3; leaves Strat-
ford, 4; in London, 4, 5
as an actor, 5; works, 6
property in Stratford, 6
income, 6; as a history-
student, 86; improvements
in history play, 93, 136;
and Marlowe, 97, 112, 176;
method of character
drawing, 177

Shorthand, 209

Shrew, Taming of the, notes
on the text, 158; idea of
the play, 172

Shylock compared with the
Jew of Malta, 176

Snitterfield, 1

Soliloquy, 98, 194, 195, 278

Spanish Tragedy, relation to
Hamlet, 208, 210

Stage, audience on, 40; con-
struction, 30, 31; cos-
tume, 36, 193; darkening
of, 47, 188, 245, 264; in-
ner, 38; properties, 35;
setting of plays, 149, 183,
234, 243, 286, 296; upper,
31, 108, 169

Storms on the stage, 274

Strange's Men, 4

Stratford, 1, 4, 6

Street, Peter, 28

Structure of a comedy, 180;

of Julius Caesar, 190; of

Hamlet, 218
Style of Borneo and Juliet,

155; of The Tempest, 287
Sub-stage effects, 33
Superstition, 101, 120, 194,

216, 220, 228
Swan, The, 28

Taverns, used as theaters,
25, 26

Tempest, The, source of,
285; notes on the text,
286; staging of, 286; an-
alysis of the plot, 290;
stage setting of, 296

Theater, The, 26

Theaters, the flagstaff, 27,
29; admission, 29; con-
struction, 30 ; audience,
30; rooms, 30; seats, 30;
the yard, 30

Time of performance, 183

Title of scene, 34

Topical allusions, 176

Tragedy mixed with com-
edy, 219

Tragic conclusion of Ro-
meo and Juliet, 165

Traverse curtain, 33

Troublesome Reign of King
John, The, 90

Turning-point, 68, 69, 124,
127

Upper stage, 31, 108, 169,
234

Witchcraft, influence of, 101
Women's parts, 179
Wooing scene in Richard

the Third, plausibility of,

100

Yard of theater, 30
York plays, 95

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