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diff --git a/43435-8.txt b/43435-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c33e9e5..0000000 --- a/43435-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13341 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist, by Richard G. Moulton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist - A Popular Illustration of the Principles of Scientific Criticism - -Author: Richard G. Moulton - -Release Date: August 10, 2013 [EBook #43435] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHAKESPEARE AS A DRAMATIC ARTIST *** - - - - -Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Eleni Christofaki and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's note. - -Minor punctuation inconsistencies have been silently repaired. Variable -spelling has been retained. A list of the changes made can be found at -the end of the book. In the Index of Scenes, clarendon typeface is -indicated as bold. Sidenotes are presented [within square brackets]. - - Mark up: _italic_ - =bold= - - - - -SHAKESPEARE AS A DRAMATIC ARTIST - - -_MOULTON_ - - - - - London - HENRY FROWDE - - [Illustration] - - OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE - AMEN CORNER, E.C. - - - - - SHAKESPEARE AS A DRAMATIC ARTIST - - A POPULAR ILLUSTRATION OF THE PRINCIPLES OF SCIENTIFIC CRITICISM - - - BY RICHARD G. MOULTON, M.A. - - LATE SCHOLAR OF CHRIST'S COLLEGE CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY (EXTENSION) - LECTURER IN LITERATURE - - - Oxford - AT THE CLARENDON PRESS - 1885 - - [_All rights reserved_] - - - - -PREFACE. - - -I HAVE had three objects before me in writing this book. The first -concerns the general reader. 'No one needs assistance in order to -perceive Shakespeare's greatness; but an impression is not uncommonly to -be found, especially amongst English readers, that Shakespeare's -greatness lies mainly in his deep knowledge of human nature, while, as -to the technicalities of Dramatic Art, he is at once careless of them -and too great to need them. I have endeavoured to combat this impression -by a series of Studies of Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist. They are -chiefly occupied with a few master-strokes of art, sufficient to -illustrate the revolution Shakespeare created in the Drama of the -world--a revolution not at once perceived simply because it had carried -the Drama at a bound so far beyond Dramatic Criticism that the -appreciation of Shakespeare's plays was left to the uninstructed public, -while the trained criticism that ought to have recognised the new -departure was engaged in clamouring for other views of dramatic -treatment, which it failed to perceive that Shakespeare had rendered -obsolete. - -While the earlier chapters are taken up with these Studies, the rest of -the work is an attempt, in very brief form, to present Dramatic Criticism -as a regular Inductive Science. If I speak of this as a new branch of -Science I am not ignoring the great works on Shakespeare-Criticism which -already exist, the later of which have treated their subject in an -inductive spirit. What these still leave wanting is a _recognition_ of -method in application to the study of the Drama: my purpose is to claim -for Criticism a position amongst the Inductive Sciences, and to sketch -in outline a plan for the Dramatic side of such a Critical Science. - -A third purpose has been to make the work of use as an educational -manual. Shakespeare now enters into every scheme of liberal education; -but the annotated editions of his works give the student little -assistance except in the explanation of language and allusions; and the -idea, I believe, prevails that anything like the discussion of literary -characteristics or dramatic effect is out of place in an educational -work--is, indeed, too 'indefinite' to be 'examined on.' Ten years' -experience in connection with the Cambridge University Extension, during -which my work has been to teach literature apart from philology, has -confirmed my impression that the subject-matter of literature, its -exposition and analysis from the sides of science, history, and art, is -as good an educational discipline as it is intrinsically valuable in -quickening literary appreciation. - -There are two special features of the book to which I may here draw -attention. Where practicable, I have appended in the margin references -to the passages of Shakespeare on which my discussion is based. (These -references are to the Globe Edition.) I have thus hoped to reduce to a -minimum the element of personal opinion, and to give to my treatment at -least that degree of definiteness which arises when a position stands -side by side with the evidence supporting it. I have also endeavoured to -meet a practical difficulty in the use of Shakespeare-Criticism as an -educational subject. It is usual in educational schemes to name single -plays of Shakespeare for study. Experience has convinced me that -methodical study of the subject-matter is not possible within the -compass of a single play. On the other hand, few persons in the -educational stage of life can have the detailed knowledge of -Shakespeare's plays as a whole which is required for a full treatment of -the subject. The present work is so arranged that it assumes knowledge -of only five plays--_The Merchant of Venice_, _Richard III_, _Macbeth_, -_Julius Cęsar_, and _King Lear_. Not only in the Studies, but also in -the final review, the matter introduced is confined to what can be -illustrated out of these five plays. These are amongst the most familiar -of the Shakespearean Dramas, or they can be easily read before -commencing the book; and if the arrangement is a limitation involving a -certain amount of repetition, yet I believe the gain will be greater -than the loss. For the young student, at all events, it affords an -opportunity of getting what will be the best of all introductions to the -whole subject--a thorough knowledge of five plays. - -In passing the book through the press I have received material -assistance from my brother, Dr. Moulton, Master of the Leys School, and -from my College friend, Mr. Joseph Jacobs. With the latter, indeed, I -have discussed the work in all its stages, and have been under continual -obligation to his stores of knowledge and critical grasp in all -departments of literary study. I cannot even attempt to name the many -friends--chiefly fellow-workers in the University Extension -Movement--through whose active interest in my Shakespeare teaching I -have been encouraged to seek for it publication. - -RICHARD G. MOULTON. - -_April, 1885._ - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - =INTRODUCTION.= - - PLEA FOR AN INDUCTIVE SCIENCE OF LITERARY CRITICISM. - - =PART FIRST.= - - SHAKESPEARE CONSIDERED AS A DRAMATIC ARTIST, _IN TEN STUDIES_. - - I. - THE TWO STORIES SHAKESPEARE BORROWS FOR HIS 'MERCHANT OF VENICE.' - - PAGE - _A Study in the Raw Material of the Romantic Drama_. 43 - - II. - _How Shakespeare Improves the Stories in the Telling_. - _A Study in Dramatic Workmanship_. 58 - - III. - HOW SHAKESPEARE MAKES HIS PLOT MORE COMPLEX IN ORDER TO MAKE IT MORE - SIMPLE. - _A Study in Underplot_. 74 - - IV. - A PICTURE OF IDEAL VILLANY IN 'RICHARD III.' - _A Study in Character-Interpretation_. 90 - - V. - 'RICHARD III': HOW SHAKESPEARE WEAVES NEMESIS INTO HISTORY. - _A Study in Plot_. 107 - - VI. - HOW NEMESIS AND DESTINY ARE INTERWOVEN IN 'MACBETH.' - _A further Study in Plot_. 125 - - VII. - MACBETH, LORD AND LADY. - _A Study in Character-Contrast_. 144 - - VIII. - JULIUS CĘSAR BESIDE HIS MURDERERS AND HIS AVENGER. - _A Study in Character-Grouping_. 168 - - IX. - HOW THE PLAY OF 'JULIUS CĘSAR' WORKS UP TO A CLIMAX - AT THE CENTRE. - _A Study in Passion and Movement_. 185 - - X. - HOW CLIMAX MEETS CLIMAX IN THE CENTRE OF 'LEAR.' - _A Study in more complex Passion and Movement_. 202 - - - =PART SECOND.= - - SURVEY OF DRAMATIC CRITICISM AS AN INDUCTIVE SCIENCE. - - XI. - TOPICS OF DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 227 - - XII. - INTEREST OF CHARACTER. 237 - - XIII. - INTEREST OF PASSION. 246 - - XIV. - INTEREST OF PLOT. 268 - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - -_PLEA FOR AN INDUCTIVE SCIENCE OF LITERARY CRITICISM._ - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -[_Proposition._] - -IN the treatment of literature the proposition which seems to stand most -in need of assertion at the present moment is, _that there is an -inductive science of literary criticism_. As botany deals inductively -with the phenomena of vegetable life and traces the laws underlying -them, as economy reviews and systematises on inductive principles the -facts of commerce, so there is a criticism not less inductive in -character which has for its subject-matter literature. - - * * * * * - -[_Presumption in favour of inductive literary criticism._] - -The presumption is clearly that literary criticism should follow other -branches of thought in becoming inductive. Ultimately, science means no -more than organised thought; and amongst the methods of organisation -induction is the most practical. To begin with the observation of facts; -to advance from this through the arrangement of observed facts; to use -_ą priori_ ideas, instinctive notions of the fitness of things, insight -into far probabilities, only as side-lights for suggesting convenient -arrangements, the value of which is tested only by the actual -convenience in arranging they afford; to be content with the sure -results so obtained as 'theory' in the interval of waiting for still -surer results based on a yet wider accumulation of facts: this is a -regimen for healthy science so widely established in different tracts of -thought as almost to rise to that universal acceptance which we call -common sense. Indeed the whole progress of science consists in winning -fresh fields of thought to the inductive methods. - -[_Current conceptions of criticism coloured by notions other than -inductive._] - -Yet the great mass of literary criticism at the present moment is of a -nature widely removed from induction. The prevailing notions of -criticism are dominated by the idea of _assaying_, as if its function -were to test the soundness and estimate the comparative value of -literary work. Lord Macaulay, than whom no one has a better right to be -heard on this subject, compares his office of reviewer to that of a -king-at-arms, versed in the laws of literary precedence, marshalling -authors to the exact seats to which they are entitled. And, as a matter -of fact, the bulk of literary criticism, whether in popular conversation -or in discussions by professed critics, occupies itself with the merits -of authors and works; founding its estimates and arguments on canons of -taste, which are either assumed as having met with general acceptance, -or deduced from speculations as to fundamental conceptions of literary -beauty. - -[_Criticism judicial and inductive. The two distinguished._] - -It becomes necessary then to recognise two different kinds of literary -criticism, as distinct as any two things that can be called by the same -name. The difference between the two may be summed up as the difference -between the work of a _judge_ and of an _investigator_. The one is the -enquiry into what ought to be, the other the enquiry into what is. -Judicial criticism compares a new production with those already existing -in order to determine whether it is inferior to them or surpasses them; -criticism of investigation makes the same comparison for the purpose of -identifying the new product with some type in the past, or -differentiating it and registering a new type. Judicial criticism has a -mission to watch against variations from received canons; criticism of -investigation watches for new forms to increase its stock of species. -The criticism of taste analyses literary works for grounds of preference -or evidence on which to found judgments; inductive criticism analyses -them to get a closer acquaintance with their phenomena. - -Let the question be of Ben Jonson. Judicial criticism starts by holding -Ben Jonson responsible for the decay of the English Drama. - -Inductive criticism takes objection to the word 'decay' as suggesting -condemnation, but recognises Ben Jonson as the beginner of a new -tendency in our dramatic history. - -But, judicial criticism insists, the object of the Drama is to pourtray -human nature, whereas Ben Jonson has painted not men but caricatures. - -Induction sees that this formula cannot be a sufficient definition of -the Drama, for the simple reason that it does not take in Ben Jonson; -its own mode of putting the matter is that Ben Jonson has founded a -school of treatment of which the law is caricature. - -But Ben Jonson's caricatures are palpably impossible. - -Induction soon satisfies itself that their point lies in their -impossibility; they constitute a new mode of pourtraying qualities of -character, not by resemblance, but by analysing and intensifying -contrasts to make them clearer. - -Judicial criticism can see how the poet was led astray; the bent of his -disposition induced him to sacrifice dramatic propriety to his satiric -purpose. - -Induction has another way of putting the matter: that the poet -has utilised dramatic form for satiric purpose; thus by the -'cross-fertilisation' of two existing literary species he has added to -literature a third including features of both. - -At all events, judicial criticism will maintain, it must be admitted -that the Shakespearean mode of pourtraying is infinitely the higher: a -sign-painter, as Macaulay points out, can imitate a deformity of -feature, while it takes a great artist to bring out delicate shades of -expression. - -Inductive treatment knows nothing about higher or lower, which lie -outside the domain of science. Its point is that science is indebted to -Ben Jonson for a new species; if the new species be an easier form of -art it does not on that account lose its claim to be analysed. - -The critic of merit can always fall back upon taste: who would not -prefer Shakespeare to Ben Jonson? - -But even from this point of view scientific treatment can plead its own -advantages. The inductive critic reaps to the full the interest of Ben -Jonson, to which the other has been forcibly closing his eyes; while, so -far from liking Shakespeare the less, he appreciates all the more keenly -Shakespeare's method of treatment from his familiarity with that which -is its antithesis. - -[_The two criticisms confused:_] - -It must be conceded at once that both these kinds of criticism have -justified their existence. Judicial criticism has long been established -as a favourite pursuit of highly cultivated minds; while the criticism -of induction can shelter itself under the authority of science in -general, seeing that it has for its object to bring the treatment of -literature into the circle of the inductive sciences. [_conception of -critical method limited to judicial method._] It is unfortunate, -however, that the spheres of the two have not been kept distinct. In the -actual practice of criticism the judicial method has obtained an -illegitimate supremacy which has thrown the other into the shade; it has -even invaded the domain of the criticism that claims to be scientific, -until the word _criticism_ itself has suffered, and the methodical -treatment of literature has by tacit assumption become limited in idea -to the judicial method. - -[_Partly a survival of Renaissance influence:_] - -Explanation for this limited conception of criticism is not far to seek. -Modern criticism took its rise before the importance of induction was -recognised: it lags behind other branches of thought in adapting itself -to inductive treatment chiefly through two influences. The first of -these is connected with the revival of literature after the darkness of -the middle ages. The birth of thought and taste in modern Europe was the -Renaissance of classical thought and taste; by Roman and Greek -philosophy and poetry the native powers of our ancestors were trained -till they became strong enough to originate for themselves. It was -natural for their earliest criticism to take the form of applying the -classical standards to their own imitations: [_and its testing by -classical models._] now we have advanced so far that no one would -propose to test exclusively by classical models, but nevertheless the -idea of _testing_ still lingers as the root idea in the treatment of -literature. Other branches of thought have completely shaken off this -attitude of submission to the past: literary criticism differs from the -rest only in being later to move. This is powerfully suggested by the -fact that so recent a writer as Addison couples science in general with -criticism in his estimate of probable progress; laying down the -startling proposition that 'it is impossible for us who live in the -later ages of the world to make observations in criticism, in morality, -_or in any art or science_, which have not been touched upon by others'! - -[_Partly the methods of journalism have invaded systematic criticism._] - -And even for this lateness a second influence goes far to account. The -grand literary phenomenon of modern times is journalism, the huge -apparatus of floating literature of which leading object is to review -literature itself. The vast increase of production consequent upon the -progress of printing has made production itself a phenomenon worthy of -study, and elevated the sifting of production into a prominent literary -occupation; by the aid of book-tasters alone can the ordinary reader -keep pace with production. It is natural enough that the influence of -journalism should pass beyond its natural sphere, and that the review -should tend to usurp the position of the literature for which reviewing -exists. Now in journalism testing and valuation of literary work have a -real and important place. It has thus come about that in the great -preponderance of ephemeral over permanent literature the machinery -adapted to the former has become applied to the latter: methods proper -to journalism have settled the popular conception of systematic -treatment; and the bias already given to criticism by the Renaissance -has been strengthened to resist the tendency of all kinds of thought -towards inductive methods. - -[_The limitation defended: theory of taste as condensed experience._] - -History will thus account for the way in which the criticism of taste -and valuation tends to be identified with criticism in general: but -attempts are not wanting to give the identification a scientific basis. -Literary appreciation, it is said, is a thing of culture. A critic in -the reviewer's sense is one who has the literary faculty both originally -acute and developed by practice: he thus arrives quickly and with -certainty at results which others would reach laboriously and after -temporary misjudgments. Taste, however arbitrary in appearance, is in -reality condensed experience; judicial criticism is a wise economy of -appreciation, the purpose of which is to anticipate natural selection -and universal experience. He is a good critic who, by his keen and -practised judgment, can tell you at once the view of authors and works -which you would yourself come to hold with sufficient study and -experience. - -[_The theory examined. The judicial spirit a limit on appreciation._] - -Now in the first place there is a flaw in this reasoning: it omits to -take into account that the judicial attitude of mind is itself a barrier -to appreciation, as being opposed to that delicacy of receptiveness -which is a first condition of sensibility to impressions of literature -and art. It is a matter of commonest experience that appreciation may be -interfered with by prejudice, by a passing unfavourable mood, or even by -uncomfortable external surroundings. But it is by no means sufficient -that the reader of literature should divest himself of these passive -hindrances to appreciation: poets are pioneers in beauty, and -considerable activity of effort is required to keep pace with them. -Repetition may be necessary to catch effects--passages to be read over -and over again, more than one author of the same school to be studied, -effect to be compared with kindred effect each helping the other. Or an -explanation from one who has already caught the idea may turn the mind -into a receptive attitude. Training again is universally recognised as a -necessity for appreciation, and to train is to make receptive. [_On the -other hand sympathy the great interpreter._] Beyond all these conditions -of perception, and including them, is yet another. It is a foundation -principle in art-culture, as well as in human intercourse, that -_sympathy is the grand interpreter_: secrets of beauty will unfold -themselves to the sunshine of sympathy, while they will wrap themselves -all the closer against the tempest of sceptical questionings. Now a -judicial attitude of mind is highly unreceptive, for it necessarily -implies a restraint of sympathy: every one, remarks Hogarth, is a judge -of painting except the connoisseur. The judicial mind has an appearance -of receptiveness, because it seeks to shut out prejudice: but what if -the idea of judging be itself a prejudice? On this view the very -consciousness of fairness, involving as it does limitation of sympathy, -will be itself unfair. In practical life, where we have to act, the -formation of judgments is a necessity. In art we can escape the -obligation, and here the judicial spirit becomes a wanton addition to -difficulties of appreciation already sufficiently great; the mere notion -of condemning may be enough to check our receptivity to qualities which, -as we have seen, it may need our utmost effort to catch. So that the -judicial attitude of mind comes to defeat its own purpose, and disturbs -unconsciously the impression it seeks to judge; until, as Emerson puts -it, 'if you criticise a fine genius the odds are that you are out of -your reckoning, and instead of the poet are censuring your caricature of -him.' - -[_The theory refuted by experience: the history of criticism a triumph -of authors over critics._] - -But the appeal made is to experience: to experience let it go. It will -be found that, speaking broadly, _the whole history of criticism has -been a triumph of authors over critics_: so long as criticism has meant -the gauging of literature, so long its progress has consisted in the -reversal of critical judgments by further experience. I hesitate to -enlarge upon this part of my subject lest I be inflicting upon the -reader the tedium of a thrice-told tale. But I believe that the ordinary -reader, however familiar with notable blunders of criticism, has little -idea of that which is the essence of my argument--the degree of -regularity, amounting to absolute law, with which criticism, where it -has set itself in opposition to freedom of authorship, has been found in -time to have pronounced upon the wrong side, and has, after infinite -waste of obstructive energy, been compelled at last to accept -innovations it had pronounced impossible under penalty of itself -becoming obsolete. - -[_Case of the Shakespearean Drama: retiring waves of critical -opposition._] - -Shakespeare-criticism affords the most striking illustration. Its -history is made up of wave after wave of critical opposition, each -retiring further before the steady advance of Shakespeare's fame. They -may almost be traced in the varying apologetic tones of the successive -_Variorum_ editors, until Reed, in the edition of 1803, is content to -leave the poet's renown as established on a basis which will 'bid -defiance to the caprices of fashion and the canker of time.' [I. -_Unmeasured attack._] The first wave was one of unmeasured virulent -attack. Rymer, accepted in his own day as the champion of 'regular' -criticism, and pronounced by Pope one of the best critics England ever -had, says that in Tragedy Shakespeare appears quite out of his element: - - His brains are turned; he raves and rambles without any coherence, - any spark of reason, or any rule to control him or set bounds to his - phrensy. - -The shouting and battles of his scenes are necessary to keep the -audience awake, 'otherwise no sermon would be so strong an opiate.' -Again: - - In the neighing of an horse, or in the growling of a mastiff, there - is a meaning, there is as lively an expression, and, may I say, more - humanity, than many times in the tragical flights of Shakespeare. - -The famous Suggestion Scene in _Othello_ has, in Rymer's view, no point -but 'the mops, the mows, the grimace, the grins, the gesticulation.' On -Desdemona's - - O good Iago, - What shall I do to win my lord again? - -he remarks that no woman bred out of a pig-stye would talk so meanly. -Speaking of Portia he says, 'she is scarce one remove from a natural, -she is own cousin-german, of one piece, the very same impertinent flesh -and blood with Desdemona.' And Rymer's general verdict of -_Othello_--which he considers the best of Shakespeare's tragedies--is -thus summed up: - - There is in this play some burlesque, some humour and ramble of - comical wit, some show and some mimicry to divert the spectators: - but the tragical part is plainly none other than a bloody farce, - without salt or savour. - -In the eighteenth century Lord Lansdowne, writing on 'Unnatural Flights -in Poetry,' could refuse to go into the question of Shakespeare's -soliloquies, as being assured that 'not one in all his works could be -excused by reason or nature.' The same tone was still later kept up by -Voltaire, who calls Shakespeare a writer of monstrous farces called -tragedies; says that nature had blended in him all that is most great -and elevating with all the basest qualities that belong to barbarousness -without genius; and finally proceeds to call his poetry the fruit of the -imagination of an intoxicated savage. [2. _The Shakespearean Drama held -inadmissible, yet attractive._]--Meanwhile a second wave of opinion had -arisen, not conceiving a doubt as to the total inadmissibility of the -Shakespearean Drama, yet feeling its attraction. This is perhaps most -exactly illustrated in the forgotten critic Edwards, who ruled that -'poor Shakespeare'--the expression his own--must be excluded from the -number of good tragedians, yet 'as Homer from the Republic of Plato, -with marks of distinction and veneration.' But before this the more -celebrated dramatists of the Restoration had shown the double feeling in -the way they reconstructed Shakespeare's plays, and turned them into -'correct' dramas. Thus Otway made the medięval Capulets and Montagus -presentable by giving them a classical dress as followers of Marius and -Sulla; and even Dryden joined in a polite version of _The Tempest_, with -an original touch for symmetry's sake in the addition to the heroine -Miranda, a maid who had never seen a man, of a suitable hero, a man who -had never seen a maid. [3. _The Shakespearean Drama admitted with -excuses._]--Against loud abuse and patronising reconstruction the silent -power of Shakespeare's works made itself more and more felt, and we -reach a third stage when the Shakespearean Drama is accepted as it -stands, but with excuses. Excuse is made for the poet's age, in which -the English nation was supposed to be struggling to emerge from -barbarism. Heywood's apology for uniting light and serious matter is -allowed, that 'they who write to all must strive to please all.' Pope -points out that Shakespeare was dependent for his subsistence on -pleasing the taste of tradesmen and mechanics; and that his 'wrong -choice of subjects' and 'wrong conduct of incidents,' his 'false -thoughts and forced expressions' are the result of his being forced to -please the lowest of the people and keep the worst of company. Similarly -Theobald considers that he schemed his plots and characters from -romances simply for want of classical information. [4. _The -Shakespearean Drama not felt to need defence as a whole, but praised and -blamed in its parts._]--With the last name we pass to yet another -school, with whom Shakespeare's work as a whole is not felt to need -defence, and the old spirit survives only in their distribution of -praise and blame amongst its different parts. Theobald opens his preface -with the comparison of the Shakespearean Drama to a splendid pile of -buildings, with 'some parts finished up to hit the taste of a -connoisseur, others more negligently put together to strike the fancy of -a common beholder.' Pope--who reflects the most various schools of -criticism, often on successive pages--illustrates this stage in his -remark that Shakespeare has excellences that have elevated him above all -others, and almost as many defects; 'as he has certainly written better -so he has perhaps written worse than any other.' Dr. Johnson sets out by -describing Shakespeare as 'having begun to assume the dignity of an -ancient'--the highest commendation in his eyes. But he goes on to point -out the inferiority of Shakespeare's Tragedy to his Comedy, the former -the outcome of skill rather than instinct, with little felicity and -always leaving something wanting; how he seems without moral purpose, -letting his precepts and axioms drop casually from him, dismissing his -personages without further care, and leaving the examples to operate by -chance; how his plots are so loosely formed that they might easily be -improved, his set speeches cold and weak, his incidents imperfectly told -in many words which might be more plainly described in few. Then in the -progress of his commentary, he irritates the reader, as Hallam points -out, by the magisterial manner in which he dismisses each play like a -schoolboy's exercise. [5. _Finally criticism comes round entirely to -Shakespeare._]--At last comes a revolution in criticism and a new order -of things arises: with Lessing to lead the way in Germany and Coleridge -in England, a school of critics appear who are in complete harmony with -their author, who question him only to learn the secrets of his art. The -new spirit has not even yet leavened the whole of the literary world; -but such names as Goethe, Tieck, Schlegel, Victor Hugo, Ulrici, Gervinus -suggest how many great reputations have been made, and reputations -already great have been carried into a new sphere of greatness, by the -interpretation and unfolding of Shakespeare's greatness: not one critic -has in recent years risen to eminence by attacking Shakespeare. - -[_Other examples._] - -And the Shakespearean Drama is only the most illustrious example of -authors triumphing over the criticism that attempted to judge them. -[_Milton._] It is difficult for a modern reader to believe that even -Rymer could refer to the _Paradise Lost_ as 'what some are pleased to -call a poem'; or that Dr. Johnson could assert of the minor poems of -Milton that they exhibit 'peculiarity as distinguished from excellence,' -'if they differ from others they differ for the worse.' He says of -_Comus_ that it is 'inelegantly splendid and tediously instructive'; -and of _Lycidas_, that its diction is harsh, its rhymes uncertain, its -numbers unpleasing, that 'in this poem there is no nature for there is -no truth, there is no art for there is nothing new,' that it is 'easy, -vulgar, and therefore disgusting,'--after which he goes through the -different parts of the poem to show what Milton should have done in -each. Hallam has pointed out how utterly impotent Dr. Johnson has been -to fix the public taste in the case of these poems; yet even Hallam -could think the verse of the poet who wrote _Paradise Lost_ sufficiently -described by the verdict, 'sometimes wanting in grace and almost always -in ease.' [_Shakespeare's Sonnets._] In the light of modern taste it is -astonishing indeed to find Steevens, with his devotion of a lifetime to -Shakespeare, yet omitting the Sonnets from the edition of 1793, 'because -the strongest Act of Parliament that could be framed would not compel -readers into their service.' [_Spenser._] It is equally astonishing to -find Dryden speaking of Spenser's 'ill choice of stanza,' and saying of -the _Faerie Queene_ that if completed it might have been more of a -piece, but it could not be perfect, because its model was not true: an -example followed up in the next century by a 'person of quality,' who -translated a book of the _Faerie Queene_ out of its 'obsolete language -and manner of verse' into heroic couplets. [_Gray._] I pass over the -crowd of illustrations, such as the fate of Gray at the hands of Dr. -Johnson, [_Keats._] of Keats at the hands of monthly and quarterly -reviewers, [_Waverley Novels._] or of the various Waverley Novels -capriciously selected by different critics as examples of literary -suicide. But we have not yet had time to forget how Jeffrey--one of the -greatest names in criticism--set in motion the whole machinery of -reviewing in order to put down Wordsworth. [_Wordsworth._] Wordsworth's -most elaborate poem he describes as a 'tissue of moral and devotional -ravings,' a 'hubbub of strained raptures and fantastical sublimities': -his 'effusions on ... the physiognomy of external nature' he -characterises as 'eminently fantastic, obscure, and affected.' Then, to -find a climax, he compares different species of Wordsworth's poetry to -the various stages of intoxication: his Odes are 'glorious delirium' and -'incoherent rapture,' his Lyrical Ballads a 'vein of pretty deliration,' -his _White Doe_ is 'low and maudlin imbecility.' Not a whit the less has -the influence of Wordsworth deepened and solidified; and if all are not -yet prepared to accept him as the apostle of a new religion, yet he has -tacitly secured his place in the inner circle of English poets. In fine, -the work of modern criticism is seriously blocked by the perpetual -necessity of revising and reversing what this same Jeffrey calls the -'impartial and irreversible sentences' of criticism in the past. And as -a set-off in the opposite scale only one considerable achievement is to -be noted: [_Robert Montgomery._] that journalism afforded a medium for -Macaulay to quench the light of Robert Montgomery, which, on Macaulay's -own showing, journalism had puffed into a flame. - -[_Defeat of criticism in the great literary questions._] - -It is the same with the great literary questions that have from time to -time arisen, the pitched battles of criticism: as Goldsmith says, there -never has been an unbeaten path trodden by the poet that the critic has -not endeavoured to recall him by calling his attempt an innovation. -[_Blank verse._] Criticism set its face steadily from the first against -blank verse in English poetry. The interlocutors in Dryden's _Essay on -the Drama_ agree that it is vain to strive against the stream of the -people's inclination, won over as they have been by Shakespeare, Ben -Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher; but, as they go on to discuss the rights -of the matter, the most remarkable thing to a modern reader is that the -defence of blank verse is made to rest only on the colloquial character -of dramatic poetry, and neither party seems to conceive the possibility -of non-dramatic poetry other than in rhyme. Before Dryden's _Essay on -Satire_ the _Paradise Lost_ had made its appearance; but so impossible -an idea is literary novelty to the 'father of English criticism' that -Dryden in this Essay refuses to believe Milton's own account of the -matter, saying that, whatever reasons Milton may allege for departing -from rhyme, 'his own particular reason is plainly this, that rhyme was -not his talent, he has neither the ease of doing it nor the graces of -it.' To one so steeped in French fashions as Rymer, poetry that lacks -rhyme seems to lack everything; many of Shakespeare's scenes might, he -says, do better without words at all, or at most the words set off the -action like the drone of a bagpipe. Voltaire estimates blank verse at -about the same rate, and having to translate some of Shakespeare's for -purposes of exact comparison, he remarks that blank verse costs nothing -but the trouble of dictating, that it is not more difficult to write -than a letter. Dr. Johnson finds a theoretic argument in the unmusical -character of English poetry to prove the impossibility of its ever -adapting itself to the conditions of blank verse, and is confident -enough to prophesy: 'poetry may subsist without rhyme, but English -poetry will not often please.' Even Byron is found only one degree more -tolerant than Dryden: he has the grace to except Milton from his dictum -that no one ever wrote blank verse who could rhyme. Thus critical taste, -critical theory, and critical prophecy were unanimous against blank -verse as an English measure: for all that it has become the leading -medium of English poetry, and a doubter of to-day would be more likely -to doubt the permanence of English rhyme than of English blank verse. -[_The 'three unities':_] As to the famous 'three unities,' not only the -principles themselves, but even the refutation of them has now become -obsolete. Yet this stickling for the unities has been merely the chief -amongst many examples of the proneness the critical mind has exhibited -towards limiting literary appreciation and production by single -standards of taste. [_and limitations by still narrower classical -standards._] The same tone of mind that contended for the classical -unities had in an earlier generation contended for the classical -languages as the sole vehicle of literary expression, and the modern -languages of Europe had to assert their rights by hard fighting. In -Latin literature itself a more successful attempt has been made to limit -taste by the writers of a single period, the Augustan age, and so -construct a list of Latin poets which omits Lucretius. And for a short -period of the Renaissance movement the limitation was carried further to -a single one of the Augustan writers, and 'Ciceronianism' struggled hard -against the freedom of style it chose to nickname 'Apuleianism,' till it -fell itself before the laughter of Erasmus. [_Criticism failing to -distinguish the permanent and transitory._] It would seem almost to be a -radical law of the critical temperament that admiration for the past -paralyses faith in the future; while criticism proves totally unable to -distinguish between what has been essential in the greatness of its -idols and what has been as purely accidental as, to use Scott's -illustration, the shape of the drinking-glass is to the flavour of the -wine it contains. And if criticism has thus failed in distinguishing -what is permanent in past literature, it has proved equally mistaken in -what it has assumed to be accidental and transitory. Early commentators -on Shakespeare, whatever scruples they may have had upon other points, -had no misgivings in condemning the irregularities of his English and -correcting his grammar. This was described as obsolete by Dryden half a -century after the poet's death; while it is delicious to hear Steevens, -in the Advertisement to his edition of 1766, mentioning that 'some have -been of opinion that even a particular syntax prevailed in the time of -Shakespeare'--a novel suggestion he promptly rejects. If the two could -have lived each a century later, Dryden would have found Malone laying -down that Shakespeare had been the great purifyer and refiner of our -language, and Steevens would have seen Shakespeare's grammar studied -with the same minuteness and reduced to the same regular form as the -grammar of his commentators and readers; while one of the most -distinguished of our modern grammarians, instituting a comparison -between Elizabethan and nineteenth century English, fancies the -representative of the old-fashioned tongue characterising current speech -in the words of Sebastian: - - Surely - It is a sleepy language! - -[_Critical works where inductive retain their force, where judicial have -become obsolete._] - -The critics may themselves be called as chief witnesses against -themselves. Those parts of their works in which they apply themselves to -analysing and interpreting their authors survive in their full force: -where they judge, find fault, and attempt to regulate, they inevitably -become obsolete. Aristotle, the founder of all criticism, is for the -most part inductive in his method, describing poetry as it existed in -his day, distinguishing its different classes and elements, and -tabulating its usages: accordingly Aristotle's treatise, though more -than two thousand years old, remains the text-book of the Greek Drama. -In some places, however, he diverges from his main purpose, as in the -final chapter, in which he raises the question whether Epic or Tragic is -more excellent, or where he promises a special treatise to discuss -whether Tragedy is yet perfect: here he has for modern readers only the -interest of curiosity. Dr. Johnson's analysis of 'metaphysical poetry,' -Addison's development of the leading effects in _Paradise Lost_, remain -as true and forcible to-day as when they were written: Addison -constructing an order of merit for English poets with Cowley and Sprat -at the head, Dr. Johnson lecturing Shakespeare and Milton as to how they -ought to have written--these are to us only odd anachronisms. It is like -a contest with atomic force, this attempt at using ideas drawn from the -past to mould and limit productive power in the present and future. The -critic peers into the dimness of history, and is found to have been -blind to what was by his side: Boileau strives to erect a throne of -Comedy for Terence, and never suspects that a truer king was at hand in -his own personal friend Moličre. It is in vain for critics to denounce, -their denunciation recoils on themselves: the sentence of Rymer that -the soul of modern Drama was a brutish and not a reasonable soul, or of -Voltaire, that Shakespeare's Tragedy would not be tolerated by the -lowest French mob, can harm none but Rymer and Voltaire. If the critics -venture to prophesy, the sequel is the only refutation of them needed; -if they give reasons, the reasons survive only to explain how the -critics were led astray; if they lay down laws, literary greatness in -the next generation is found to vary directly with the boldness with -which authors violate the laws. If they assume a judicial attitude, the -judgment-seat becomes converted into a pillory for the judge, and a -comic side to literary history is furnished by the mockery with which -time preserves the proportions of things, as seen by past criticism, to -be laid side by side with the true perspective revealed by actual -history. In such wise it has preserved to us the list of 'poets -laureate' who preceded Southey: Shadwell, Tate, Rowe, Eusden, Cibber, -Whitehead, Warton, Pye. It reveals Dryden sighing that Spenser could -only have read the rules of Bossu, or smitten with a doubt whether he -might not after all excuse Milton's use of blank verse 'by the example -of Hannibal Caro'; Rymer preferring Ben Jonson's _Catiline_ to all the -tragedies of the Elizabethan age, and declaring Waller's _Poem on the -Navy Royal_ beyond all modern poetry in any language; Voltaire wondering -that the extravagances of Shakespeare could be tolerated by a nation -that had seen Addison's _Cato_; Pope assigning three-score years and ten -as the limit of posthumous life to 'moderns' in poetry, and celebrating -the trio who had rescued from the 'uncivilised' Elizabethan poetry the -'fundamental laws of wit.' These three are Buckingham, Roscommon, and -Walsh: as to the last of whom if we search amongst contemporary -authorities to discover who he was, we at last come upon his works -described in the _Rambler_ as 'pages of inanity.' - -[_In actual practice criticism is found to have gradually approached -induction._] - -But in the conflict between judicial criticism and science the most -important point is to note how the critics' own ideas of criticism are -found to be gradually slipping away from them. Between the Renaissance -and the present day criticism, as judged by the methods actually -followed by critics, has slowly changed from the form of laying down -laws to authors into the form of receiving laws from authors. [_Five -stages. 1. Idea of judging solely by classical standards._] The process -of change falls into five stages. In its first stage the conception of -criticism was bounded by the notion of comparing whatever was produced -with the masterpieces and trying it by the ideas of Greek and Roman -literature. Boileau objected to Corneille's tragedies, not because they -did not excite admiration, but because admiration was not one of the -tragical passions as laid down by Aristotle. To Rymer's mind it was -clearly a case of classical standards or no standards, and he describes -his opponents as 'a kind of stage-quacks and empirics in poetry who have -got a receipt to please.' And there is a degree of _naļveté_ in the way -in which Bossu betrays his utter unconsciousness of the possibility that -there should be more than one kind of excellence, where, in a passage in -which he is admitting that the moderns have as much spirit and as lucky -fancies as the ancients, he nevertheless calls it 'a piece of injustice -to pretend that our new rules destroy the fancies of the old masters, -and that they must condemn all their works who could not foresee all our -humours.' Criticism in this spirit is notably illustrated by the -Corneille incident in the history of the French Academy. The fashionable -literary world, led by a Scudéry, solemnly impeach Corneille of -originality, and Richelieu insists on the Academy pronouncing judgment; -which they at last do, unwillingly enough, since, as Boileau admitted, -all France was against them. The only one that in the whole incident -retained his sense of humour was the victim himself; who, early in the -struggle, being confronted by critics recognising no merit but that of -obedience to rules, set himself to write his _Clitandre_ as a play -which should obey all the rules of Drama and yet have nothing in it: 'in -which,' he said, 'I have absolutely succeeded.' [2. _Recognition of -modern as illegitimate merit._]--But this reign of simple faith began to -be disturbed by sceptical doubts: it became impossible entirely to -ignore merit outside the pale of classical conformity. Thus we get a -Dennis unable to conceal his admiration for the daring of Milton, as a -man who knew the rules of Aristotle, 'no man better,' and yet violated -them. Literature of the modern type gets discussed as it were under -protest. Dr. Johnson, when he praises Addison's _Cato_ for adhering to -Aristotle's principles 'with a _scrupulousness_ almost unexampled on the -English stage,' is reflecting the constant assumption throughout this -transitional stage, that departure from classical models is the result -of carelessness, and that beauties in such offending writers are lucky -hits. The spirit of this period is distinctly brought out by Dr. Johnson -where he 'readily allows' that the union in one composition of serious -and ludicrous is 'contrary to the rules of criticism,' but, he adds, -'there is always an appeal open from criticism to nature.' [3. _Modern -standards of judging side by side with ancient._]--Once admitted to -examination the force of modern literature could not fail to assert its -equality with the literature of the ancients, and we pass into a third -stage of criticism when critics grasp the conception that there may be -more than one set of rules by which authors may be judged. The new -notion made its appearance early in the country which was the main -stronghold of the opposite view. Perrault in 1687 instituted his -'Parallels' between the ancients and the moderns to the advantage of the -latter; and the question was put in its naked simplicity by Fontenelle, -the 'Nestor of literature,' when he made it depend upon another -question, 'whether the trees that used to grow in our woods were larger -than those which grow now.' Later, and with less distinctness, English -criticism followed the lead. Pope, with his happy indifference to -consistency, after illustrating the first stage where he advises to -write 'as if the Stagirite o'erlooked each line,' and where he contends -that if the classical authors indulge in a licence that licence becomes -a law to us, elsewhere lays down that to apply ancient rules in the -treatment of modern literature is to try by the laws of one country a -man belonging to another. In one notable instance the genius of Dr. -Johnson rises superior to the prejudices of his age, and he vindicates -in his treatment of Shakespeare the conception of a school of Drama in -which the unities of time and place do not apply. But he does it with -trembling: 'I am almost frightened at my own temerity; and when I -estimate the fame and the strength of those who maintain the contrary -opinion, am ready to sink down in reverential silence.' [4. _Conception -of criticism as judging begins to waver:_]--Criticism had set out with -judging by one set of laws, it had come to judge by two: the change -began to shake the notion of _judging_ as the function of criticism, and -the eyes of critics came to be turned more to the idea of literary -beauty itself, as the end for which the laws of literary composition -were merely means. Addison is the great name connected with this further -transitional stage. We find Addison not only arguing negatively that -'there is sometimes a greater judgment shown in deviating from the rules -of art than in adhering to them,' [_changing to the search for -beauties:_] but even laying down as a positive theory that the true -function of a critic is 'to discover the concealed beauties of a -writer'; while the practical illustration of his theory which he gave in -the case of the _Paradise Lost_ is supposed to have revolutionised the -opinion of the fashionable reading-public. [5. _and finally to -investigation of laws in literature as it stands._]--Addison was removed -by a very little from the final stage of criticism, the conception of -which is perhaps most fully brought out by Gervinus, where he declares -his purpose of treating Shakespeare as the 'revealing genius' of his -department of art and of its laws. Thus slowly and by gradual stages has -the conception of criticism been changing in the direction of induction: -starting from judgment by the laws of the ancient classics as standards -beyond which there is no appeal, passing through the transitional stage -of greater and greater toleration for intrinsic worth though of a modern -type, to arrive at the recognition of modern standards of judgment side -by side with ancient; again passing through a further transitional stage -of discrediting judgment altogether as the purpose of criticism in -favour of the search for intrinsic worth in literature as it stands, -till the final conception is reached of analysing literature as it -stands for the purpose of discovering its laws in itself. The later -stages do not universally prevail yet. But the earlier stages have at -all events become obsolete; and there is no reader who will not -acquiesce cheerfully in one of the details Addison gives out for his -ideal theatre, by which Rymer's tragedy _Edgar_ was to be cut up into -snow to make the Storm Scene in Shakespeare's _Lear_. - - * * * * * - -[_Separateness of the two criticisms._] - -It may be well to recall the exact purpose to which the present argument -is intended to lead. The purpose is not to attack journalism and kindred -branches of criticism in the interests of inductive treatment. It would -be false to the principles of induction not to recognise that the -criticism of taste has long since established its position as a fertile -branch of literature. Even in an inductive system journalism would still -have place as a medium for fragmentary and tentative treatment. Moreover -it may be admitted that induction in its formal completeness of system -can never be applied in practical life; and in the intellectual pursuits -of real life trained literary taste may be a valuable acquisition. What -is here attacked is the mistake which has identified the criticism of -taste and valuation with the conception of criticism as a whole; the -intrusion of methods belonging to journalism into treatment that claims -to be systematic. [_Criticism of taste belongs to creative literature:_] -So far from being a standard of method in the treatment of literature, -criticism of the reviewer's order is outside science altogether. It -finds its proper place on the creative side of literature, as a branch -in which literature itself has come to be taken as a theme for literary -writing; it thus belongs to the literature treated, not to the -scientific treatment of it. [_as the lyrics of prose._] Reviews so -placed may be regarded almost as the lyrics of prose: like lyric poems -they have their completeness in themselves, and their interest lies, not -in their being parts of some whole, but in their flashing the -subjectivity of a writer on to a variety of isolated topics; they thus -have value, not as fragments of literary science, but as fragments of -Addison, of Jeffrey, of Macaulay. Nor is the bearing of the present -argument that commentators should set themselves to eulogise the authors -they treat instead of condemning them (though this would certainly be -the safer of two errors). The treatment aimed at is one independent of -praise or blame, one that has nothing to do with merit, relative or -absolute. The contention is for a branch of criticism separate from the -criticism of taste; a branch that, in harmony with the spirit of other -modern sciences, reviews the phenomena of literature as they actually -stand, enquiring into and endeavouring to systematise the laws and -principles by which they are moulded and produce their effects. -Scientific criticism and the criticism of taste have distinct spheres: -and the whole of literary history shows that the failure to keep the two -separate results only in mutual confusion. - -Our present purpose is with inductive criticism. What, by the analogy of -other sciences, is implied in the inductive treatment of literature? - -[_Application of induction to literary subject-matter._] - -The inductive sciences occupy themselves directly with facts, that is, -with phenomena translated by observation into the form of facts; and -soundness of inductive theory is measured by the closeness with which it -will bear confronting with the facts. In the case of literature and art -the facts are to be looked for in the literary and artistic productions -themselves: the dramas, epics, pictures, statues, pillars, capitals, -symphonies, operas--the details of these are the phenomena which the -critical observer translates into facts. A picture is a title for a -bundle of facts: that the painter has united so many figures in such and -such groupings, that he has given such and such varieties of colouring, -and such and such arrangement of light and shade. Similarly the _Iliad_ -is a short name implying a large number of facts characterising the -poem: that its principal personages are Agamemnon and Achilles, that -these personages are represented as displaying certain qualities, doing -certain deeds, and standing in certain relations to one another. - -[_Difficulty: the want of positiveness in literary impressions._] - -Here, however, arises that which has been perhaps the greatest -stumbling-block in the way of securing inductive treatment for -literature. Science deals only with ascertained facts: but the details -of literature and art are open to the most diverse interpretation. They -leave conflicting impressions on different observers, impressions both -subjective and variable in themselves, and open to all manner of -distracting influences, not excepting that of criticism itself. Where in -the treatment of literature is to be found the positiveness of -subject-matter which is the first condition of science? - -[_The difficulty not confined to literature._] - -In the first place it may be pointed out that this want of certainty in -literary interpretation is not a difficulty of a kind peculiar to -literature. The same object of terror will affect the members of a crowd -in a hundred different ways, from presence of mind to hysteria; yet this -has not prevented the science of psychology from inductively discussing -fear. Logic proposes to scientifically analyse the reasoning processes -in the face of the infinite degrees of susceptibility different minds -show to proof and persuasion. It has become proverbial that taste in art -is incapable of being settled by discussion, yet the art of music has -found exact treatment in the science of harmony. In the case of these -well-established sciences it has been found possible to separate the -variable element from that which is the subject-matter of the science: -such a science as psychology really covers two distinct branches of -thought, the psychology that discusses formally the elements of the -human mind, and another psychology, not yet systematised, that deals -with the distribution of these elements amongst different individuals. -It need then be no barrier to inductive treatment that in the case of -literature and art the will and consciousness act as disturbing forces, -refracting what may be called natural effects into innumerable effects -on individual students. It only becomes a question of practical -procedure, in what way the interfering variability is to be eliminated. - -[_The variable element to be eliminated by reference not to taste;_] - -It is precisely at this point that _ą priori_ criticism and induction -part company. The _ą priori_ critic gets rid of uncertainty in literary -interpretation by confining his attention to effects produced upon the -best minds: he sets up _taste_ as a standard by which to try impressions -of literature which he is willing to consider. The inductive critic -cannot have recourse to any such arbitrary means of limiting his -materials; for his doubts he knows no court of appeal except the appeal -to the literary works themselves. [_but to the objective details of the -literature itself._] The astronomer, from the vast distance of the -objects he observes, finds the same phenomenon producing different -results on different observers, and he has thus regularly to allow for -personal errors: but he deals with such discrepancies only by fresh -observations on the stars themselves, and it never occurs to him that he -can get rid of a variation by abstract argument or deference to a -greater observer. In the same way the inductive critic of literature -must settle his doubts by referring them to the literary productions -themselves; to him the question is not of the nobler view or the view in -best taste, but simply what view fits in best with the details as they -stand in actual fact. He quite recognises that it is not the objective -details but the subjective impressions they produce that make literary -effect, but the objective details are the _limit_ on the variability of -the subjective impressions. The character of Macbeth impresses two -readers differently: how is the difference to be settled? The _ą priori_ -critic contends that his conception is the loftier; that a hero should -be heroic; that moreover the tradition of the stage and the greatest -names in the criticism of the past bear him out; or, finally, falls back -upon good taste, which closes the discussion. The inductive critic -simply puts together all the sayings and doings of Macbeth himself, all -that others in the play say and appear to feel about him, and whatever -view of the character is consistent with these and similar facts of the -play, that view he selects; while to vary from it for any external -consideration would seem to him as futile as for an astronomer to make a -star rise an hour earlier to tally with the movements of another star. - -[_Foundation axiom of the inductive criticism: Interpretation of the -nature of an hypothesis._] - -We thus arrive at a foundation axiom of inductive literary criticism: -_Interpretation in literature is of the nature of a scientific -hypothesis, the truth of which is tested by the degree of completeness -with which it explains the details of the literary work as they actually -stand_. That will be the true meaning of a passage, not which is the -most worthy, but which most nearly explains the words as they are; that -will be the true reading of a character which, however involved in -expression or tame in effect, accounts for and reconciles all that is -represented of the personage. The inductive critic will interpret a -complex situation, not by fastening attention on its striking elements -and ignoring others as oversights and blemishes, but by putting together -with business-like exactitude all that the author has given, weighing, -balancing, and standing by the product. He will not consider that he has -solved the action of a drama by some leading plot, or some central idea -powerfully suggested in different parts, but will investigate patiently -until he can find a scheme which will give point to the inferior as well -as to the leading scenes, and in connection with which all the details -are harmonised in their proper proportions. In this way he will be -raising a superstructure of exposition that rests, not on authority -however high, but upon a basis of indisputable fact. - -[_Practical objection: Did the authors intend those interpretations?_] - -In actual operation I have often found that such positive analysis -raises in the popular mind a very practical objection: that the -scientific interpretation seems to discover in literary works much more -in the way of purpose and design than the authors themselves can be -supposed to have dreamed of. Would not Chaucer and Shakespeare, it is -asked, if they could come to life now, be greatly astonished to hear -themselves lectured upon? to find critics knowing their purposes better -than they had known them themselves, and discovering in their works laws -never suspected till after they were dead, and which they themselves -perhaps would need some effort to understand? Deep designs are traced in -Shakespeare's plots, and elaborate combinations in his characters and -passions: is the student asked to believe that Shakespeare really -_intended_ these complicated effects? - -[_Answer: changed meaning of 'design' in science._] - -The difficulty rests largely upon a confusion in words. Such words as -'purpose,' 'intention,' have a different sense when used in ordinary -parlance from that which they bear when applied in criticism and -science. In ordinary parlance a man's 'purpose' means his conscious -purpose, of which he is the best judge; in science the 'purpose' of a -thing is the purpose it actually serves, and is discoverable only by -analysis. Thus science discovers that the 'purpose' of earthworms is to -break up the soil, the 'design' of colouring in flowers is to attract -insects, though the flower is not credited with fore-sight nor the worm -with disinterestedness. In this usage alone can the words 'purpose,' -'intention,' be properly applied to literature and art: science knows no -kind of evidence in the matter of creative purpose so weighty as the -thing it has actually produced. This has been well put by Ulrici: - - The _language_ of the artist is poetry, music, drawing, colouring: - there is no other form in which he can express himself with equal - depth and clearness. Who would ask a philosopher to paint his ideas - in colours? It would be equally absurd to think that because a poet - cannot say with perfect philosophic certainty in the form of - reflection and pure thought what it was that he wished and intended - to produce, that he never thought at all, but let his imagination - improvise at random. - -Nothing is more common than for analysis to discover design in what, so -far as consciousness is concerned, has been purely instinctive. Thus -physiology ascertains that bread contains all the necessary elements of -food except one, which omission happens to be supplied by butter: this -may be accepted as an explanation of our 'purpose' in eating butter with -bread, without the explanation being taken to imply that all who have -ever fed on bread and butter have consciously _intended_ to combine the -nitrogenous and oleaginous elements of food. It is the natural order of -things that the practical must precede the analytic. Bees by instinct -construct hexagonal cells, and long afterwards mensuration shows that -the hexagon is the most economic shape for such stowage; individual -states must rise and fall first before the sciences of history and -politics can come to explain the how and why of their mutations. -Similarly it is in accordance with the order of things that Shakespeare -should produce dramas by the practical processes of art-creation, and -that it should be left for others, his critics succeeding him at long -intervals, to discover by analysis his 'purposes' and the laws which -underlie his effects. The poet, if he could come to life now, would not -feel more surprise at this analysis of his 'motives' and unfolding of -his unconscious 'design' than he would feel on hearing that the beating -of his heart--to him a thing natural enough, and needing no -explanation--had been discovered to have a distinct purpose he could -never have dreamed of in propelling the circulation of his blood, a -thing of which he had never heard. - -[_Three points of contrast between judicial and inductive criticism._] - -There are three leading ideas in relation to which inductive and -judicial criticism are in absolute antagonism: to bring out these -contrasts will be the most effective way of describing the inductive -treatment. - -The first of these ideas is order of merit, together with the kindred -notions of partisanship and hostility applied to individual authors and -works. [1. _Comparisons of merit: these outside science._] The minds of -ordinary readers are saturated with this class of ideas; they are the -weeds of taste, choking the soil, and leaving no room for the purer -forms of literary appreciation. Favoured by the fatal blunder of modern -education, which considers every other mental power to stand in need of -training, but leaves taste and imagination to shift for themselves, -literary taste has largely become confused with a spurious form of it: -the mere taste for competition, comparison of likes and dislikes, gossip -applied to art and called criticism. Of course such likes and dislikes -must always exist, and journalism is consecrated to the office of giving -them shape and literary expression; though it should be led by -experience, if by nothing else, to exercise its functions with a double -reserve, recognising that the judicial attitude of mind is a limit on -appreciation, and that the process of testing will itself be tried by -the test of vitality. But such preferences and comparisons of merit must -be kept rigidly outside the sphere of science. Science knows nothing of -competitive examination: a geologist is not heard extolling old red -sandstone as a model rock-formation, or making sarcastic comments on the -glacial epoch. Induction need not disturb the freedom with which we -attach ourselves to whatever attracts our individual dispositions: -individual partisanship for the wooded snugness of the Rhine or the bold -and bracing Alps is unaffected by the adoption of exact methods in -physical geography. What is to be avoided is the confusion of two -different kinds of interest attaching to the same object. In the study -of the stars and the rocks, which can inspire little or no personal -interest, it is easy to keep science pure; to keep it to 'dry light,' as -Heraclitus calls it, intelligence unclouded by the humours of individual -sentiment, as Bacon interprets. But when science comes to be applied to -objects which can excite emotion and inspire affection, then confusion -arises, and the scientific student of political economy finds his -treatment of pauperism disturbed by the philanthropy which belongs to -him as a man. Still more in so emotional an atmosphere as the study of -beauty, the student must use effort to separate the _beauty_ of an -object, which is a thing of art and perfectly analysable, from his -personal _interest_ in it, which is as distinctly external to the -analysis of beauty as his love for his dog is external to the science of -zoology. The possibility of thus separating interest and perception of -beauty without diminishing either may be sufficiently seen in the case -of music--an art which has been already reduced to scientific form. -Music is as much as any art a thing of tastes and preferences; besides -partialities for particular masters one student will be peculiarly -affected by melody, another is all for dramatic effect, others have a -special taste for the fugue or the sonata. No one can object to such -preferences, but the science of music knows nothing about them; its -exposition deals with modes of treatment or habits of orchestration -distinguishing composers, irrespective of the private partialities they -excite. Mozart and Wagner are analysed as two items in the sum of facts -which make up music; and if a particular expositor shows by a turn in -the sentence that he has a leaning to one or the other, the slip may do -no harm, but for the moment science has been dropped. - -[_Inductive treatment concerned with differences of kind, not of -degree._] - -There is, however, a sort of difference between authors and works, the -constant recognition of which would more than make up to cultured -pleasure for discarding comparisons of merit. Inductive treatment is -concerned with _differences of kind_ as distinguished from differences -of degree. Elementary as this distinction is, the power of firmly -grasping it is no slight evidence of a trained mind: the power, that is, -of clearly seeing that two things are different, without being at the -same time impelled to rank one above the other. The confusion of the two -is a constant obstacle in the way of literary appreciation. It has been -said, by way of comparison between two great novelists, that George -Eliot constructs characters, but Charlotte Brontė creates them. The -description (assuming it to be true) ought to shed a flood of interest -upon both authoresses; by perpetually throwing on the two modes of -treatment the clear light of contrast it ought to intensify our -appreciation of both. As a fact, however, the description is usually -quoted to suggest a preference for Charlotte Brontė on the supposed -ground that creation is 'higher' than construction; and the usual -consequences of preferences are threatened--the gradual closing of our -susceptibilities to those qualities in the less liked of the two which -do not resemble the qualities of the favourite. Yet why should we not be -content to accept such a description (if true) as constituting a -difference of kind, and proceed to recognise 'construction' and -'creation' as two parallel modes of treatment, totally distinct from one -another in the way in which a fern is distinct from a flower, a -distinction allowing no room for preferences because there is no common -ground on which to compare? This separateness once granted, the mind, -instead of having to choose between the two, would have scope for taking -in to the full the detailed effects flowing from both modes of -treatment, and the area of mental pleasure would be enlarged. The great -blunders of criticism in the past, which are now universally admitted, -rest on this inability to recognise differences of kind in literature. -The Restoration poets had a mission to bring the heroic couplet to -perfection: poetry not in their favourite measure they treated, not as -different, but as bad, and rewrote or ignored Spenser and Milton. And -generations of literary history have been wasted in discussing whether -the Greek dramatists or Shakespeare were the higher: now every one -recognises that they constitute two schools different in kind that -cannot be compared. - -[_Distinctions of kind a primary element in appreciation._] - -It is hardly going too far to assert that this sensitiveness to -differences of kind as distinguished from differences of degree is the -first condition of literary appreciation. Nothing can be more essential -to art-perception than receptiveness, and receptiveness implies a change -in the receptive attitude of mind with each variety of art. To -illustrate by an extreme case. Imagine a spectator perfectly familiar -with the Drama, but to whom the existence of the Opera was unknown, and -suppose him to have wandered into an opera-house, mistaking it for a -theatre. At first the mistake under which he was labouring would distort -every effect: the elaborate overture would seem to him a great 'waste' -of power in what was a mere accessory; the opening recitative would -strike him as 'unnaturally' delivered, and he would complain of the -orchestral accompaniment as a 'distraction'; while at the first aria he -would think the actor gone mad. As, however, arias, terzettos, -recitatives succeeded one another, he must at last catch the idea that -the music was an essential element in the exhibition, and that he was -seeing, not a drama, but a drama translated into a different kind of -art. The catching of this idea would at once make all the objectionable -elements fall into their proper places. No longer distracted by the -thought of the ordinary Drama, his mind would have leisure to catch the -special effects of the Opera: he would feel how powerfully a change of -passion could move him when magnified with all the range of expression -an orchestra affords, and he would acknowledge a dramatic touch as the -diabolic spirit of the conspirator found vent in a double D. The -illustration is extreme to the extent of absurdity: but it brings out -how expectation plays an important part in appreciation, and how the -expectation has to be adapted to that on which it is exercised. The -receptive attitude is a sort of mental focus which needs adjusting -afresh to each variety of art if its effects are to be clearly caught; -and to disturb attention when engaged on one species of literature by -the thought of another is as unreasonable as to insist on one -microscopic object appearing definite when looked at with a focus -adjusted to another object. [_Each author a separate species._] This -will be acknowledged in reference to the great divisions of art: but -does it not apply to the species as well as the genera, indeed to each -individual author? Wordsworth has laid down that each fresh poet is to -be tried by fresh canons of taste: this is only another way of saying -that the differences between poets are differences of kind, that each -author is a 'school' by himself, and can be appreciated only by a -receptive attitude formed by adjustment to himself alone. In a -scientific treatment of literature, at all events, an elementary axiom -must be: [_Second axiom of inductive criticism: its function in -distinguishing literary species._] _That inductive criticism is mainly -occupied in distinguishing literary species_. And on this view it will -clearly appear how such notions as order of merit become disturbing -forces in literary appreciation: unconsciously they apply the -_qualitative_ standard of the favourite works to works which must -necessarily be explained by a different standard. They are defended on -the ground of pleasure, but they defeat their own object: no element in -pleasure is greater than variety, and comparisons of merit, with every -other form of the judicial spirit, are in reality arrangements for -appreciating the smallest number of varieties. - -[II. _The 'laws of art': confusion between law external and -scientific._] - -The second is the most important of the three ideas, both for its effect -in the past and for the sharpness with which it brings judicial and -inductive criticism into contrast. It is the idea that there exist -'laws' of art, in the same sense in which we speak of laws in morality -or the laws of some particular state--great principles which have been -laid down, and which are binding on the artist as the laws of God or his -country are binding on the man; that by these, and by lesser principles -deduced from these, the artist's work is to be tried, and praise or -blame awarded accordingly. Great part of formal criticism runs on these -lines; while, next in importance to comparisons of merit, the popular -mind considers literary taste to consist in a keen sensitiveness to the -'faults' and 'flaws' of literary workmanship. - -This attitude to art illustrates the enormous misleading power of the -metaphors that lie concealed in words. The word 'law,' justly applicable -in one of its senses to art, has in practice carried with it the -associations of its other sense; and the mistake of metaphor has been -sufficient to distort criticism until, as Goldsmith remarks, rules have -become the greatest of all the misfortunes which have befallen the -commonwealth of letters. Every expositor has had to point out the -widespread confusion between the two senses of this term. Laws in the -moral and political world are external obligations, restraints of the -will; they exist where the will of a ruler or of the community is -applied to the individual will. In science, on the other hand, law has -to do not with what ought to be, but with what is; scientific laws are -facts reduced to formulę, statements of the habits of things, so to -speak. The laws of the stars in the first sense could only mean some -creative fiat, such as 'Let there be lights in the firmament of heaven'; -in the scientific sense laws of the stars are summaries of their -customary movements. In the act of getting drunk I am violating God's -moral law, I am obeying his law of alcoholic action. So scientific laws, -in the case of art and literature, will mean descriptions of the -practice of artists or the characteristics of their works, when these -will go into the form of general propositions as distinguished from -disconnected details. The key to the distinction is the notion of -external authority. There cannot be laws in the moral and political -sense without a ruler or legislative authority; in scientific laws the -law-giver and the law-obeyer are one and the same, and for the laws of -vegetation science looks no further than the facts of the vegetable -world. [_The 'laws of art' are scientific laws._] In literature and art -the term 'law' applies only in the scientific sense; the laws of the -Shakespearean Drama are not laws imposed by some external authority upon -Shakespeare, but laws of dramatic practice derived from the analysis of -his actual works. Laws of literature, in the sense of external -obligations limiting an author, there are none: if he were voluntarily -to bind himself by such external laws, he would be so far curtailing -art; it is hardly a paradox to say the art is legitimate only when it -does not obey laws. [_The word 'fault' meaningless in inductive -criticism._] What applies to the term 'law' applies similarly to the -term 'fault.' The term is likely always to be used from its extreme -convenience in art-training; but it must be understood strictly as a -term of education and discipline. In inductive criticism, as in the -other inductive sciences, the word 'fault' has no meaning. If an artist -acts contrary to the practice of all other artists, the result is either -that he produces no art-effect at all, in which case there is nothing -for criticism to register and analyse, or else he produces a new effect, -and is thus extending, not breaking, the laws of art. The great clash of -horns in Beethoven's Heroic Symphony was at first denounced as a gross -fault, a violation of the plainest laws of harmony; now, instead of a -'fault,' it is spoken of as a 'unique effect,' and in the difference -between the two descriptions lies the whole difference between the -conceptions of judicial and inductive criticism. Again and again in the -past this notion of faults has led criticism on to wrong tracks, from -which it has had to retrace its steps on finding the supposed faults to -be in reality new laws. Immense energy was wasted in denouncing -Shakespeare's 'fault' of uniting serious with light matter in the same -play as a violation of fundamental dramatic laws; experience showed this -mixture of passions to be the source of powerful art-effects hitherto -shut out of the Drama, and the 'fault' became one of the distinguishing -'laws' in the most famous branch of modern literature. It is necessary -then to insist upon the strict scientific sense of the term 'law' as -used of literature and art; and the purging of criticism from the -confusion attaching to this word is an essential step in its elevation -to the inductive standard. It is a step, moreover, in which it has been -preceded by other branches of thought. At one time the practice of -commerce and the science of economy suffered under the same confusion: -the battle of 'free trade' has been fought, the battle of 'free art' is -still going on. In time it will be recognised that the practice of -artists, like the operations of business, must be left to its natural -working, and the attempt to impose external canons of taste on artists -will appear as futile as the attempt to effect by legislation the -regulation of prices. - -[_Objection as to the moral purpose of literature:_] - -Objections may possibly be taken to this train of argument on very high -grounds, as if the protest against the notion of law-obeying in art were -a sort of antinomianism. Literature, it may be said, has a moral -purpose, to elevate and refine, and no duty can be higher than that of -pointing out what in it is elevating and refining, and jealously -watching against any lowering of its standard. [_this outside inductive -treatment, though intrinsically more important._] Such contention may -readily be granted, and yet may amount to no more than this: that there -are ways of dealing with literature which are more important than -inductive criticism, but which are none the less outside it. Jeremy -Collier did infinite service to our Restoration Drama, but his was not -the service of a scientific critic. The same things take different ranks -as they are tried by the standards of science or morals. An enervating -climate may have the effect of enfeebling the moral character, but this -does not make the geographer's interest in the tropical zone one whit -the less. Economy concerns itself simply with the fact that a certain -subsidence of profits in a particular trade will drive away capital to -other trades. But the details of human experience that are latent in -such a proposition: the chilling effects of unsuccess and the dim colour -it gives to the outlook into the universe, the sifting of character and -separation between the enterprising and the simple, the hard thoughts as -to the mysterious dispensations of human prosperity, the sheer misery of -a wage-class looking on plenty and feeling starvation--this human drama -of failing profits may be vastly more important than the whole science -of economy, but economy none the less entirely and rightly ignores it. - -[_Objection: Art as an arbitrary product not subject to law._] - -To some, I know, it appears that literature is a sphere in which the -strict sense of the word 'law' has no application: that such laws belong -to nature, not to art. The essence, it is contended, of the natural -sciences is the certainty of the facts with which they deal. Art, on the -contrary, is creative; it does not come into the category of objective -phenomena at all, but is the product of some artist's will, and -therefore purely arbitrary. If in a compilation of observations in -natural history for scientific use it became known that the compiler had -at times drawn upon his imagination for his details, the whole -compilation would become useless; and any scientific theories based upon -it would be discredited. But the artist bases his work wholly on -imagination, and caprice is a leading art-beauty: how, it is asked, can -so arbitrary a subject-matter be reduced to the form of positive laws? - -[_Third axiom of inductive criticism: art a part of nature._] - -In view of any such objections, it may be well to set up a third axiom -of inductive criticism: _That art is a part of nature_. Nature, it is -true, is the vaguest of words: but this is a vagueness common to the -objection and the answer. The objection rests really on a false -antithesis, of which one term is 'nature,' while it is not clear what is -the other term; the axiom set up in answer implies that there is no real -distinction between 'nature' and the other phenomena which are the -subject of human enquiry. The distinction is supposed to rest upon the -degree to which arbitrary elements of the mind, such as imagination, -will, caprice, enter into such a thing as art-production. [_Other -arbitrary products subject to inductive treatment._] But there are other -things in which the human will plays as much part as it does in art, and -which have nevertheless proved compatible with inductive treatment. -Those who hold that 'thought is free' do not reject psychology as an -inductive science; actual politics are made up of struggles of will, -exercises of arbitrary power, and the like, and yet there is a political -science. If there is an inductive science of politics, men's voluntary -actions in the pursuit of public life, and an inductive science of -economy, men's voluntary actions in pursuit of wealth, why should there -not be an inductive science of art, men's voluntary actions in pursuit -of the beautiful? The whole of human action, as well as the whole of -external nature, comes within the jurisdiction of science; so far from -the productions of the will and imagination being exempted from -scientific treatment, will and imagination themselves form chapters in -psychology, and caprice has been analysed. - -[III. _Testing by fixed standards inconsistent with inductive -treatment._] - -It remains to notice the third of the three ideas in relation to which -the two kinds of criticism are in complete contrast with one another. It -is a vague notion, which no objector would formulate, but which as a -fact does underlie judicial criticism, and insensibly accompanies its -testing and assaying. It is the idea that the foundations of literary -form have reached their final settlement, the past being tacitly taken -as a standard for the present and future, or the present as a standard -for the past. Thus in the treatment of new literature the idea manifests -itself in a secret antagonism to variations from received models; at the -very least, new forms are called upon to justify themselves, and so the -judicial critic brings his least receptive attitude to the new effects -which need receptiveness most. In opposition to this tacit assumption, -inductive criticism starts with a distinct counter-axiom of the utmost -importance: _That literature is a thing of development_. [_Fourth axiom -of inductive criticism: literature a thing of development._] This axiom -implies that the critic must come to literature as to that in which he -is expecting to find unlimited change and variety; he must keep before -him the fact that production must always be far ahead of criticism and -analysis, and must have carried its conquering invention into fresh -regions before science, like settled government in the wake of the -pioneer, follows to explain the new effects by new principles. No doubt -in name literary development is recognised in all criticism; yet in its -treatment both of old literature and new the _ą priori_ criticism is -false to development in the scientific sense of the term. [_Ignoring of -development in new literature:_] Such systems are apt to begin by laying -down that 'the object of literature is so and so,' or that 'the purpose -of the Drama is to pourtray human nature'; they then proceed to test -actual literature and dramas by the degree in which they carry out these -fundamental principles. Such procedure is the opposite of the inductive -method, and is a practical denial of development in literature. -[_'purpose' in literature continually modifying._] Assuming that the -object of existing literature were correctly described, such a formula -could not bind the literature of the future. Assuming that there was -ever a branch of art which could be reduced to one simple purpose, yet -the inherent tendency of the human mind and its productions to develop -would bring it about that what were at first means towards this purpose -would in time become ends in themselves side by side with the main -purpose, giving us in addition to the simple species a modified variety -of it; external influences, again, would mingle with the native -characteristics of the original species, and produce new species -compound in their purposes and effects. The real literature would be -ever obeying the first principle of development and changing from simple -to complex, while the criticism that tried it by the original standard -would be at each step removed one degree further from the only standard -by which the literature could be explained. [_Development in past -literature confused with improvement._] And if judicial criticism fails -in providing for development in the future and present, it is equally -unfortunate in giving a false twist to development when looked for in -the past. The critic of comparative standards is apt to treat early -stages of literature as elementary, tacitly assuming his own age as a -standard _up to_ which previous periods have developed. Thus his -treatment of the past becomes often an assessment of the degrees in -which past periods have approximated to his own, advancing from literary -pot-hooks to his own running facility. The clearness of an ancient -writer he values at fifty per cent. as compared with modern standards, -his concatenation of sentences is put down as only forty-five. But what -if a certain degree of mistiness be an essential element in the phase -of literary development to which the particular writer belongs, so that -in him modern clearness would become, in judicial phrase, a fault? What -if Plato's concatenation of sentences would simply spoil the flavour of -Herodotus's story-telling, if Jeremy Taylor's prolixity and Milton's -bi-lingual prose be simply the fittest of all dresses for the thought of -their age and individual genius? In fact, the critic of fixed standards -confuses development with _improvement_: a parallel mistake in natural -history would be to understand the statement that man is higher in the -scale of development than the butterfly as implying that a butterfly was -God's failure in the attempt to make man. The inductive critic will -accord to the early forms of his art the same independence he accords to -later forms. Development will not mean to him education for a future -stage, but the perpetual branching out of literary activity into ever -fresh varieties, different in kind from one another, and each to be -studied by standards of its own: the 'individuality' of authors is the -expression in literary parlance which corresponds to the perpetual -'differentiation' of new species in science. Alike, then, in his -attitude to the past and the future, the inductive critic will eschew -the temptation to judgment by fixed standards, which in reality means -opposing lifeless rules to the ever-living variety of nature. He will -leave a dead judicial criticism to bury its dead authors and to pen for -them judicious epitaphs, and will himself approach literature filled -equally with reverence for the unbroken vitality of its past and faith -in its exhaustless future. - -[_Summary._] - -To gather up our results. Induction, as the most universal of scientific -methods, may be presumed to apply wherever there is a subject-matter -reducible to the form of fact; such a subject-matter will be found in -literature where its effects are interpreted, not arbitrarily, but with -strict reference to the details of the literary works as they actually -stand. There is thus an inductive literary criticism, akin in spirit -and methods to the other inductive sciences, and distinct from other -branches of criticism, such as the criticism of taste. This inductive -criticism will entirely free itself from the judicial spirit and its -comparisons of merit, which is found to have been leading criticism -during half its history on to false tracks from which it has taken the -other half to retrace its steps. On the contrary, inductive criticism -will examine literature in the spirit of pure investigation: looking for -the laws of art in the practice of artists, and treating art, like the -rest of nature, as a thing of continuous development, which may thus be -expected to fall, with each author and school, into varieties distinct -in kind from one another, and each of which can be fully grasped only -when examined with an attitude of mind adapted to the special variety -without interference from without. - - * * * * * - -To illustrate the criticism thus described in its application to -Shakespeare is the purpose of the present work. - -The scope of the book is limited to the consideration of Shakespeare in -his character as the great master of the Romantic Drama; and its -treatment of his dramatic art divides itself into two parts. The first -applies the inductive method in a series of Studies devoted to -particular plays, and to single important features of dramatic art which -these plays illustrate. One of the purposes of this first part is to -bring out how the inductive method, besides its scientific interest, has -the further recommendation of assisting more than any other treatment to -enlarge our appreciation of the author and of his achievements. The -second part will use the materials collected in the first part to -present, in the form of a brief survey, Dramatic Criticism as an -inductive science: enumerating, so far as its materials admit, the -leading topics which such a science would treat, and arranging these -topics in the logical connection which scientific method requires. - - - - -PART FIRST. - -SHAKESPEARE CONSIDERED AS A DRAMATIC ARTIST _IN TEN STUDIES_. - - - - -I. - -THE TWO STORIES SHAKESPEARE BORROWS FOR HIS MERCHANT OF VENICE. - -_A Study in the Raw Material of the Romantic Drama_. - - -[_Story as the Raw Materials of the Romantic Drama._] - -THE starting-point in the treatment of any work of literature is its -position in literary history: the recognition of this gives the attitude -of mind which is most favourable for extracting from the work its full -effect. The division of the universal Drama to which Shakespeare belongs -is known as the 'Romantic Drama,' one of its chief distinctions being -that it uses the stories of Romance, together with histories treated as -story-books, as the sources from which the matter of the plays is taken; -Romances are the _raw material_ out of which the Shakespearean Drama is -manufactured. This very fact serves to illustrate the elevation of the -Elizabethan Drama in the scale of literary development: just as the -weaver uses as his raw material that which is the finished product of -the spinner, so Shakespeare and his contemporaries start in their art of -dramatising from Story which is already a form of art. In the -exhibition, then, of Shakespeare as an Artist, it is natural to begin -with the raw material which he worked up into finished masterpieces. For -illustration of this no play could be more suitable than _The Merchant -of Venice_, in which two tales, already familiar in the story form, have -been woven together into a single plot: the Story of the Cruel Jew, who -entered into a bond with his enemy of which the forfeit was to be a -pound of this enemy's own flesh, and the Story of the Heiress and the -Caskets. The present study will deal with the stories themselves, -considering them as if with the eye of a dramatic artist to catch the -points in which they lend themselves to dramatic effect; the next will -show how Shakespeare improves the stories in the telling, increasing -their dramatic force by the very process of working them up; a third -study will point out how, not content with two stories, he has added -others in the development of his plot, making it more complex only in -reality to make it more simple. - -[_Story of The Jew._] - -In the Story of the Jew the main point is its special capability for -bringing out the idea of _Nemesis_, one of the simplest and most -universal of dramatic motives. Described broadly, Nemesis is retribution -as it appears in the world of art. [_Nemesis as a dramatic idea._] In -reality the term covers two distinct conceptions: in ancient thought -Nemesis was an artistic bond between excess and reaction, in modern -thought it is an artistic bond between sin and retribution. The -distinction is part of the general difference between Greek and modern -views of life. [_Ancient conception: artistic connection between excess -and reaction._] The Greeks may be said to be the most artistic nation of -mankind, in the sense that art covered so large a proportion of their -whole personality: it is not surprising to find that they projected -their sense of art into morals. Aristotle was a moral philosopher, but -his system of ethics reads as an artistically devised pattern, in which -every virtue is removed at equal distances from vices of excess and -defect balancing it on opposite sides. The Greek word for law signifies -proportion and distribution, _nomos_; and it is only another form of it -that expresses _Nemesis_ as the power punishing violations of proportion -in things human. Distinct from Justice, which was occupied with crime, -Nemesis was a companion deity to Fortune; and as Fortune went through -the world distributing the good things of life heedlessly without regard -to merit, so Nemesis followed in her steps, and, equally without regard -to merit, delighted in cutting down the prosperity that was high enough -to attract her attention. Polycrates is the typical victim of such -Nemesis: cast off by his firmest ally for no offence but an unbroken -career of good luck, in the reaction from which his ally feared to be -involved; essaying as a forlorn hope to propitiate by voluntarily -throwing in the sea his richest crown-jewel; recognising when this was -restored by fishermen that heaven had refused his sacrifice, and -abandoning himself to his fate in despair. But Nemesis, to the moral -sense of antiquity, could go even beyond visitation on innocent -prosperity, and goodness itself could be carried to a degree that -invited divine reaction. Heroes like Lycurgus and Pentheus perished for -excess of temperance; and the ancient Drama startles the modern reader -with an Hippolytus, whose passionate purity brought down on him a -destruction prophesied beforehand by those to whom religious duty -suggested moderate indulgence in lust. - -[_Modern conception: artistic connection between sin and retribution._] - -Such malignant correction of human inequalities is not a function to -harmonise with modern conceptions of Deity. Yet the Greek notion of -Nemesis has an element of permanency in it, for it represents a -principle underlying human life. It suggests a sort of elasticity in -human experience, a tendency to rebound from a strain; this is the -equilibrium of the moral world, the force which resists departure from -the normal, becoming greater in proportion as departure from the normal -is wider. Thus in commercial speculation there is a safe medium certain -to bring profit in the long run; in social ambition there is a certain -rise though slow: if a man hurries to be rich, or seeks to rise in -public life by leaps and bounds, the spectator becomes aware of a secret -force that has been set in motion, as when the equilibrium of physical -bodies has been disturbed, which force threatens to drag the aspirant -down to the point from which he started, or to debase him lower in -proportion to the height at which he rashly aimed. Such a force is -'risk,' and it may remain risk, but if it be crowned with the expected -fall the whole is recognised as 'Nemesis.' This Nemesis is deeply -embedded in the popular mind and repeatedly crops up in its proverbial -wisdom. Proverbs like 'Grasp all, lose all,' 'When things come to the -worst they are sure to mend,' exactly express moral equilibrium, and the -'golden mean' is its proverbial formula. The saying 'too much of a good -thing' suggests that the Nemesis on departures from the golden mean -applies to good things as well as bad; while the principle is made to -apply even to the observation of the golden mean itself in the proverb -'Nothing venture, nothing have.' Nevertheless, this side of the whole -notion has in modern usage fallen into the background in comparison with -another aspect of Nemesis. The grand distinction of modern thought is -the predominance in it of moral ideas: they colour even its imagination; -and if the Greeks carried their art-sense into morals, modern instincts -have carried morals into art. In particular the speculations raised by -Christianity have cast the shadow of Sin over the whole universe. It has -been said that the conception of Sin is unknown to the ancients, and -that the word has no real equivalent in Latin or Classical Greek. The -modern mind is haunted by it. Notions of Sin have invaded art, and -Nemesis shows their influence: vague conceptions of some supernatural -vindication of artistic proportion in life have now crystallised into -the interest of watching morals and art united in their treatment of -Sin. The link between Sin and its retribution becomes a form of -art-pleasure; and no dramatic effect is more potent in modern Drama than -that which emphasises the principle that whatsoever a man soweth that -shall he also reap. - -[_Dramatic Nemesis latent in the Story of the Jew._] - -Now for this dramatic effect of Nemesis it would be difficult to find a -story promising more scope than the Story of the Cruel Jew. It will be -seen at once to contain a double nemesis, attaching to the Jew himself -and to his victim. The two moreover represent the different conceptions -of Nemesis in the ancient and modern world; Antonio's excess of moral -confidence suffers a nemesis of reaction in his humiliation, and -Shylock's sin of judicial murder finds a nemesis of retribution in his -ruin by process of law. The nemesis, it will be observed, is not merely -two-fold, but double in the way that a double flower is distinct from -two flowers: it is a nemesis _on_ a nemesis; the nemesis which visits -Antonio's fault is the crime for which Shylock suffers his nemesis. -Again, in that which gives artistic character to the reaction and the -retribution the two nemeses differ. Let St. Paul put the difference for -us: 'Some men's sins are evident, going before unto judgment; and some -they follow after.' So in cases like that of Shylock the nemesis is -interesting from its very obviousness and the impatience with which we -look for it; in the case of Antonio the nemesis is striking for the very -opposite reason, that he of all men seemed most secure against it. - -[_Antonio: perfection and self-sufficiency, the Nemesis of Surprise._] - -Antonio must be understood as a perfect character: for we must read the -play in the light of its age, and intolerance was a medięval virtue. But -there is no single good quality that does not carry with it its special -temptation, and the sum of them all, or perfection, has its shadow in -self-sufficiency. It is so with Antonio. Of all national types of -character the Roman is the most self-sufficient, alike incorruptible by -temptation and independent of the softer influences of life: [=iii.= ii. -297.] we find that 'Roman honour' is the idea which Antonio's friends -are accustomed to associate with him. Further the dramatist contrives to -exhibit Antonio to us in circumstances calculated to bring out this -drawback to his perfection. In the opening scene we see the dignified -merchant-prince suffering under the infliction of frivolous visitors, to -which his friendship with the young nobleman exposes him: his tone -throughout the interview is that of the barest toleration, and suggests -that his courtesies are felt rather as what is due to himself than what -is due to those on whom they are bestowed. [=i.= i. 60-64.] When -Salarino makes flattering excuses for taking his leave, Antonio replies, -first with conventional compliment, - - Your worth is very dear in my regard, - -and then with blunt plainness, as if Salarino were not worth the trouble -of keeping up polite fiction: - - I take it, your own business calls on you - And you embrace the occasion to depart. - -[=i.= i. 8.] - -The visitors, trying to find explanation for Antonio's seriousness, -suggest that he is thinking of his vast commercial speculations; Antonio -draws himself up: - -[=i.= i. 41.] - - Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, - My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, - Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate - Upon the fortune of this present year: - Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. - -Antonio is saying in his prosperity that _he_ shall never be moved. But -the great temptation to self-sufficiency lies in his contact, not with -social inferiors, but with a moral outcast such as Shylock: confident -that the moral gulf between the two can never be bridged over, Antonio -has violated dignity as well as mercy in the gross insults he has heaped -upon the Jew whenever they have met. [=i.= iii. 99 &c.] In the Bond -Scene we see him unable to restrain his insults at the very moment in -which he is soliciting a favour from his enemy; [=i.= iii. 107-130.] the -effect reaches a climax as Shylock gathers up the situation in a single -speech, reviewing the insults and taunting his oppressor with the -solicited obligation: - - Well then, it now appears you need my help: - Go to, then; you come to me, and you say, - 'Shylock, we would have moneys': you say so; - You, that did void your rheum upon my beard - And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur - Over your threshold: moneys is your suit. - -There is such a foundation of justice for these taunts that for a -moment our sympathies are transferred to Shylock's side. But Antonio, so -far from taking warning, is betrayed beyond all bounds in his defiance; -and in the challenge to fate with which he replies we catch the tone of -infatuated confidence, the _hybris_ in which Greek superstition saw the -signal for the descent of Nemesis. - -[=i.= iii. 131.] - - I am as like to call thee so again, - To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. - If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not - As to thy friends ... - _But lend it rather to thine enemy, - Who, if he break, thou may'st with better face - Exact the penalty_. - -To this challenge of self-sufficiency the sequel of the story is the -answering Nemesis: the merchant becomes a bankrupt, the first citizen of -Venice a prisoner at the bar, the morally perfect man holds his life and -his all at the mercy of the reprobate he thought he might safely insult. - -[_Shylock: malignant justice, the Nemesis of Measure for Measure._] - -So Nemesis has surprised Antonio in spite of his perfectness: but the -malice of Shylock is such as is perpetually crying for retribution, and -the retribution is delayed only that it may descend with accumulated -force. In the case of this second nemesis the Story of the Jew exhibits -dramatic capability in the opportunity it affords for the sin and the -retribution to be included within the same scene. [=iv.= i.] Portia's -happy thought is a turning-point in the Trial Scene on the two sides of -which we have the Jew's triumph and the Jew's retribution; the two sides -are bound together by the principle of measure for measure, and for each -detail of vindictiveness that is developed in the first half of the -scene there is a corresponding item of nemesis in the sequel. [_Charter_ -v. _statute_. =iv.= i. 38; compare 102, 219.] To begin with, Shylock -appeals to the charter of the city. It is one of the distinctions -between written and unwritten law that no flagrant injustice can arise -out of the latter. If the analogy of former precedents would seem to -threaten such an injustice, it is easy in a new case to meet the special -emergency by establishing a new precedent; where, however, the letter of -the written law involves a wrong, however great, it must, nevertheless, -be exactly enforced. Shylock takes his stand upon written law; [compare -=iii.= iii. 26-31.] indeed upon the strictest of all kinds of written -law, for the charter of the city would seem to be the instrument -regulating the relations between citizens and aliens--an absolute -necessity for a free port--which could not be superseded without -international negotiations. But what is the result? As plaintiff in the -cause Shylock would, in the natural course of justice, leave the court, -when judgment had been given against him, with no further mortification -than the loss of his suit. He is about to do so when he is recalled: - - It is enacted in the laws of Venice, &c. - -[=iv.= i. 314.] - -Unwittingly, he has, by the action he has taken, entangled himself with -an old statute law, forgotten by all except the learned Bellario, which, -going far beyond natural law, made the mere attempt upon a citizen's -life by an alien punishable to the same extent as murder. Shylock had -chosen the letter of the law, and by the letter of the law he is to -suffer. [_Humour_ v. _quibble_.] Again, every one must feel that the -plea on which Portia upsets the bond is in reality the merest quibble. -It is appropriate enough in the mouth of a bright girl playing the -lawyer, but no court of justice could seriously entertain it for a -moment: by every principle of interpretation a bond that could justify -the cutting of human flesh must also justify the shedding of blood, -which is necessarily implied in such cutting. But, to balance this, we -have Shylock in the earlier part of the scene refusing to listen to -arguments of justice, and taking his stand upon his 'humour': [=iv.= i. -40-62.] if he has a whim, he pleads, for giving ten thousand ducats to -have a rat poisoned, who shall prevent him? The suitor who rests his -cause on a whim cannot complain if it is upset by a quibble. Similarly, -throughout the scene, every point in Shylock's justice of malice meets -its answer in the justice of nemesis. He is offered double the amount of -his loan: - -[_Offer of double_ v. _refusal of principal._] - - If every ducat in six thousand ducats - Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, - -he answers, he would not accept them in lieu of his bond. [=iv.= i. 318, -336.] The wheel of Nemesis goes round, and Shylock would gladly accept -not only this offer but even the bare principal; but he is denied, on -the ground that he has refused it in open court. They try to bend him to -thoughts of mercy: - -[_Complete security_ v. _total loss._] - - How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none? - -He dares to reply: - - What judgement shall I dread, doing no wrong? - -The wheel of Nemesis goes round, and Shylock's life and all lie at the -mercy of the victim to whom he had refused mercy and the judge to whose -appeal for mercy he would not listen. [_Exultation_ v. _irony._] In the -flow of his success, when every point is being given in his favour, he -breaks out into unseemly exultation: - -[=iv.= i. 223, 246, 250, 301, 304.] - - A Daniel come to judgement! yea, a Daniel! - -The ebb comes, and his enemies catch up the cry and turn it against him: - -[=iv.= i. 313, 317, 323, 333, 340.] - - A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel! - I thank thee, Jew, for _teaching_ me that word. - -Such then is the Story of the Jew, and so it exhibits nemesis clashing -with nemesis, the nemesis of surprise with the nemesis of equality and -intense satisfaction. - - * * * * * - -[_The Caskets Story._] - -In the Caskets Story, which Shakespeare has associated with the Story of -the Jew, the dramatic capabilities are of a totally different kind. In -the artist's armoury one of the most effective weapons is Idealisation: -[_Idealisation:_] inexplicable touches throwing an attractiveness over -the repulsive, uncovering the truth and beauty which lie hidden in the -commonplace, and showing how much can be brought out of how little with -how little change. [_the exhibition of a commonplace experience in a -glorified form._] A story will be excellent material, then, for dramatic -handling which contains at once some experience of ordinary life, and -also the surroundings which can be made to exhibit this experience in a -glorified form: the more commonplace the experience, the greater the -triumph of art if it can be idealised. The point of the Caskets Story to -the eye of an artist in Drama is the opportunity it affords for such an -idealisation of the commonest problem in everyday experience--what may -be called the Problem of Judgment by Appearances. - -[_Problem of Judgment by Appearances._] - -In the choice between alternatives there are three ways in which -judgment may be exercised. The first mode, if it can be called judgment -at all, is to accept the decision of chance--to cast lots, or merely to -drift into a decision. An opposite to this is purely rational choice. -But rational choice, if strictly interpreted as a logical process, -involves great complications. If a man would choose according to the -methods of strict reason, he must, first of all, purge himself of all -passion, for passion and reason are antagonistic. Next, he must examine -himself as to the possibility of latent prejudice; and as prejudice may -be unconsciously inherited, he must include in the sphere of his -examination ancestral and national bias. Then, he must accumulate all -the evidence that can possibly bear upon the question in hand, and -foresee every eventuality that can result from either alternative. When -he has all the materials of choice before him, he must proceed to -balance them against one another, seeing first that the mental faculties -employed in the process have been equally developed by training. All -such preliminary conditions having been satisfied, he may venture to -enquire on which side the balance dips, maintaining his suspense so long -as the dip is undecided. And when a man has done all this he has -attained only that degree of approach to strictly rational choice which -his imperfect nature admits. Such pure reason has no place in real life: -judgment in practical affairs is something between chance and this -strict reason; it attempts to use the machinery of rational choice, but -only so far as practical considerations proper to the matter in hand -allow. This medium choice is what I am here calling Judgment by -Appearances, for it is clear that the antithesis between appearance and -reality will obtain so long as the materials of choice are -scientifically incomplete; the term will apply with more and more -appropriateness as the divergence from perfect conditions of choice is -greater. - -[_This idealised: a maximum in the issue._] - -Judgment by Appearances so defined is the only method of judgment proper -to practical life, and accordingly an exalted exhibition of it must -furnish a keen dramatic interest. How is such a process to be glorified? -Clearly Judgment by Appearances will reach the ideal stage when there is -the maximum of importance in the issue to be decided and the minimum of -evidence by which to decide it. These two conditions are satisfied in -the Caskets Story. In questions touching the individual life, that of -marriage has this unique importance, that it is bound up with wide -consequences which extend beyond the individual himself to his -posterity. With the suitors of Portia the question is of marriage with -the woman who is presented as supreme of her age in beauty, in wealth -and in character; [=ii.= i. 40, &c.] moreover, the other alternative is -a vow of perpetual celibacy. So the question at issue in the Caskets -Story concerns the most important act of life in the most important form -in which it can be imagined to present itself. [_and a minimum in the -evidence._] When we turn to the evidence on which this question is to be -decided we find that of rational evidence there is absolutely none. The -choice is to be made between three caskets distinguished by their metals -and by the accompanying inscriptions: - -[=ii.= vii. 5-9.] - - Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire. - Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves. - Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath. - -However individual fancies may incline, it is manifestly impossible to -set up any train of _reasoning_ which should discover a ground of -preference amongst the three. And it is worth noting, as an example of -Shakespeare's nicety in detail, that the successful chooser reads in the -scroll which announces his victory, - -[=iii.= ii. 132.] - - You that choose not by the view, - Chance _as_ fair, and choose _as_ true: - -Shakespeare does not say '_more_ fair,' '_more_ true.' [=i.= ii. 30-36.] -This equal balancing of the alternatives will appear still clearer when -we recollect that it is an intentional puzzle with which we are dealing, -and accordingly that even if ingenuity could discover a preponderance of -reason in favour of any one of the three, there would be the chance that -this preponderance had been anticipated by the father who set the -puzzle. The case becomes like that of children bidden to guess in which -hand a sweetmeat is concealed. They are inclined to say the right hand, -but hesitate whether that answer may not have been foreseen and the -sweetmeat put in the left hand; and if on this ground they are tempted -to be sharp and guess the left hand, there is the possibility that this -sharpness may have been anticipated, and the sweetmeat kept after all in -the right hand. If then the Caskets Story places before us three -suitors, going through three trains of intricate reasoning for guidance -in a matter on which their whole future depends, whereas we, the -spectators, can see that from the nature of the case no reasoning can -possibly avail them, we have clearly the Problem of Judgment by -Appearances drawn out in its ideal form; and our sympathies are -attracted by the sight of a process, belonging to our everyday -experience, yet developed before us in all the force artistic setting -can bestow. - -[_Solution of the problem: the characters of the choosers determine -their fates._] - -But is this all? Does Shakespeare display before us the problem, yet -give no help towards its solution? The key to the suitors' fates is not -to be found in the trains of reasoning they go through. [=iii.= ii, from -43; esp. 61.] As if to warn us against looking for it in this -direction. Shakespeare contrives that we never hear the reasonings of -the successful suitor. By a natural touch Portia, who has chosen -Bassanio in her heart, is represented as unable to bear the suspense of -hearing him deliberate, and calls for music to drown his meditations; it -is only the conclusion to which he has come that we catch as the music -closes. The particular song selected on this occasion points dimly in -the direction in which we are to look for the true solution of the -problem: - -[=iii.= ii. 63.] - - Tell me where is fancy bred, - Or in the heart or in the head? - -'Fancy' in Shakespearean English means 'love'; and the discussion, -whether love belongs to the head or the heart, is no inappropriate -accompaniment to a reality which consists in this--that the success in -love of the suitors, which they are seeking to compass by their -reasonings, is in fact being decided by their characters. - -To compare the characters of the three suitors, it will be enough to -note the different form that pride takes in each. [=ii.= i, vii.] The -first suitor is a prince of a barbarian race, who has thus never known -equals, but has been taught to consider himself half divine; as if made -of different clay from the rest of mankind he instinctively shrinks from -'lead.' [=ii.= vii. 20.] Yet modesty mingles with his pride, and though -he feels truly that, so far [=ii.= vii. 24-30.] as the estimation of him -by others is concerned, he might rely upon 'desert,' yet he doubts if -desert extends as far as Portia. [=ii.= vii, from 36.] What seizes his -attention is the words, 'what many men desire'; and he rises to a flight -of eloquence in picturing wildernesses and deserts become thoroughfares -by the multitude of suitors flocking to Belmont. But he is all the while -betraying a secret of which he was himself unconscious: he has been led -to seek the hand of Portia, not by true love, but by the feeling that -what all the world is seeking the Prince of Morocco must not be slow to -claim. Very different is the pride of Arragon. [=ii.= ix.] He has no -regal position, but rather appears to be one who has fallen in social -rank: [compare =ii.= ix. 47-9.] he makes up for such a fall by intense -pride of family, and is one of those who complacently thank heaven that -they are not as other men. The 'many men' which had attracted Morocco -repels Arragon: - -[=ii.= ix. 31.] - - I will not choose what many men desire, - Because I will not jump with common spirits, - And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. - -[=ii.= ix, from 36.] He is caught by the bait of 'desert.' It is true he -almost deceives us with the lofty tone in which he reflects how the -world would benefit if dignities and offices were in all cases purchased -by the merit of the wearer; yet there peeps through his sententiousness -his real conception of merit--the sole merit of family descent. His -ideal is that the 'true seed of honour' should be 'picked from the chaff -and ruin of the times,' and wrest greatness from the 'low peasantry' who -had risen to it. He accordingly rests his fate upon desert: and he finds -in the casket of his choice a fool's head. [=iii.= ii, from 73.] Of -Bassanio's soliloquy we hear enough to catch that his pride is the pride -of the soldier, who will yield to none the post of danger, [compare =i.= -ii. 124.] and how he is thus attracted by the 'threatening' of the -leaden casket: - - thou meagre lead, - Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught, - Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence. - -Moreover, he is a lover, and the threatening is a challenge to show what -he will risk for love: his true heart finds its natural satisfaction in -'giving and hazarding' his all. This is the pride that is worthy of -Portia; and thus the ingenious puzzle of the 'inspired' father has -succeeded in piercing through the outer defence of specious reasoning, -and carrying its repulsion and attraction to the inmost characters of -the suitors. - -[_General principle: character as an element in judgment._] - -Such, then, is Shakespeare's treatment of the Problem of Judgment by -Appearances: while he draws out the problem itself to its fullest extent -in displaying the suitors elaborating trains of argument for a -momentous decision in which we see that reason can be of no avail, he -suggests for the solution that, besides reason, there is in such -judgments another element, character, and that in those crises in which -reason is most fettered, character is most potent. An important solution -this is; for what is character? A man's character is the shadow of his -past life; it is the grand resultant of all the forces from within and -from without that have been operating upon him since he became a -conscious agent. Character is the sandy footprint of the commonplace -hardened into the stone of habit; it is the complexity of daily tempers, -judgments, restraints, impulses, all focussed into one master-passion -acting with the rapidity of an instinct. To lay down then, that where -reason fails as an element in judgment, character comes to its aid, is -to bind together the exceptional and the ordinary in life. In most of -the affairs of life men have scope for the exercise of commonplace -qualities, but emergencies do come where this is denied them; in these -cases, while they think, like the three suitors, that they are moving -voluntarily in the direction in which they are judging fit at the -moment, in reality the weight of their past lives is forcing them in the -direction in which their judgment has been accustomed to take them. Thus -in the moral, as in the physical world, nothing is ever lost: not a -ripple on the surface of conduct but goes on widening to the outermost -limit of experience. Shakespeare's contribution to the question of -practical judgment is that by the long exercise of commonplace qualities -we are building up a character which, though unconsciously, is the -determining force in the emergencies in which commonplace qualities are -impossible. - - - - -II. - -HOW SHAKESPEARE IMPROVES THE STORIES IN THE TELLING. - -_A Study in Dramatic Workmanship._ - - -[_Two points of Dramatic Mechanism._] - -IN treating the Story as the raw material of the Romantic Drama it has -already been shown, in the case of the stories utilised for _The -Merchant of Venice_, what natural capacities these exhibit for dramatic -effect. The next step is to show how the artist increases their dramatic -force in the process of working them up. Two points will be illustrated -in the present study: first, how Shakespeare meets the difficulties of a -story and reduces them to a minimum; secondly, how he improves the two -tales by weaving them together so that they assist one another's effect. - -[_Reduction of difficulties specially important in Drama._] - -The avoidance or reduction of difficulties in a story is an obvious -element in any kind of artistic handling; it is of special importance in -Drama in proportion as we are more sensitive to improbabilities in what -is supposed to take place before our eyes than in what we merely hear of -by narrative. This branch of art could not be better illustrated than in -the Story of the Jew: never perhaps has an artist had to deal with -materials so bristling with difficulties of the greatest magnitude, and -never, it may be added, have they been met with greater ingenuity. The -host of improbabilities gathering about such a detail as the pound of -flesh must strike every mind. [_First difficulty: monstrosity of the -Jew's character._] There is, however, preliminary to these, another -difficulty of more general application: the difficulty of painting a -character bad enough to be the hero of the story. It might be thought -that to paint excess of badness is comparatively easy, as needing but a -coarse brush. On the contrary, there are few severer tests of creative -power than the treatment of monstrosity. To be told that there is -villainy in the world and tacitly to accept the statement may be easy; -it is another thing to be brought into close contact with the villains, -to hear them converse, to watch their actions and occasionally to be -taken into their confidence. We realise in Drama through our sympathy -and our experience: in real life we have not been accustomed to come -across monsters and are unfamiliar with their behaviour; in proportion -then as the badness of a character is exaggerated it is carried outside -the sphere of our experience, the naturalness of the scene is -interrupted and its human interest tends to decline. So, in the case of -the story under consideration, the dramatist is confronted with this -dilemma: he must make the character of Shylock absolutely bad, or the -incident of the bond will appear unreal; he must not make the character -extraordinarily bad, or there is danger of the whole scene appearing -unreal. - -[_Its repulsiveness counteracted by sympathy with his wrongs._] - -Shakespeare meets a difficulty of this kind by a double treatment. On -the one hand, he puts no limits to the blackness of the character -itself; on the other hand, he provides against repulsiveness by giving -it a special attraction of another kind. In the present case, while -painting Shylock as a monster, he secures for him a hold upon our -sympathy by representing him as a victim of intolerable ill-treatment -and injustice. The effect resembles the popular sympathy with criminals. -The men themselves and their crimes are highly repulsive; but if some -slight irregularity occurs in the process of bringing them to -justice--if a counsel shows himself unduly eager, or a judge appears for -a moment one-sided, a host of volunteer advocates espouse their cause. -These are actuated no doubt by sensitiveness to purity of justice; but -their protests have a ring that closely resembles sympathy with the -criminals themselves, whom they not unfrequently end by believing to be -innocent and injured. [e.g. in =iii.= i, iii; =iv.= i; =ii.= 5.] In the -same way Shakespeare shows no moderation in the touches of -bloodthirstiness, of brutality, of sordid meanness he heaps together in -the character of Shylock; but he takes equal pains to rouse our -indignation at the treatment he is made to suffer. [e.g. =iii.= i.; -=iv.= i, &c.] Personages such as Gratiano, Salanio, Salarino, Tubal, -serve to keep before us the medięval feud between Jew and Gentile, and -the persecuting insolence with which the fashionable youth met the -money-lenders who ministered to their necessities. [=i.= iii. 107-138.] -Antonio himself has stepped out of his natural character in the -grossness of his insults to his enemy. [=iii.= i. 57, 133; =iii.= iii. -22; and =i.= iii. 45.] Shylock has been injured in pocket as well as in -sentiment, Antonio using his wealth to disturb the money-market and -defeat the schemes of the Jew; according to Shylock Antonio has hindered -him of half-a-million, and were he out of Venice the usurer could make -what merchandise he would. Finally, our sense of deliverance in the -Trial Scene cannot hinder a touch of compunction for the crushed -plaintiff, as he appeals against the hard justice meted out to him:--the -loss of his property, the acceptance of his life as an act of grace, the -abandonment of his religion and race, which implies the abandonment of -the profession by which he makes his living. - -[=iv.= i. 374.] - - Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that: - You take my house when you do take the prop - That doth sustain my house; you take my life - When you do take the means whereby I live. - -By thus making us resent the harsh fate dealt to Shylock the dramatist -recovers in our minds the fellow-feeling we have lost in contemplating -the Jew himself. [_Dramatic Hedging._] A name for such double treatment -might be 'Dramatic Hedging': as the better covers a possible loss by a -second bet on the opposite side, so, when the necessities of a story -involve the creation of a monster, the dramatic artist 'hedges' against -loss of attractiveness by finding for the character human interest in -some other direction. So successful has Shakespeare been in the present -instance that a respectable minority of readers rise from the play -partisans of Shylock. - -[_Difficulties connected with the pound of flesh._] - -We pass on to the crop of difficulties besetting the pound of flesh as a -detail in the bond. That such a bond should be proposed, that when -proposed it should be accepted, that it should be seriously entertained -by a court of justice, that if entertained at all it should be upset on -so frivolous a pretext as the omission of reference to the shedding of -blood: these form a series of impossible circumstances that any -dramatist might despair of presenting with even an approach to -naturalness. Yet if we follow the course of the story as moulded by -Shakespeare we shall find all these impossibilities one after another -evaded. - -[_Proposal of the bond._] - -At the end of the first scene Antonio had bidden Bassanio go forth and -try what his credit could do in Venice. [=i.= i. 179.] Armed with this -blank commission Bassanio hurries into the city. As a gay young nobleman -he knows nothing of the commercial world except the money-lenders; and -now proceeds to the best-known of them, apparently unaware of what any -gossip on the Rialto could have told him, the unfortunate relations -between this Shylock and his friend Antonio. [compare =i.= iii. 1-40.] -At the opening of the Bond Scene we find Bassanio and Shylock in -conversation, Bassanio impatient and irritated to find that the famous -security he has to offer seems to make so little impression on the -usurer. [=i.= iii. 41.] At this juncture Antonio himself falls[1] in -with them, sees at a glance to what his rash friend has committed him, -but is too proud to draw back in sight of his enemy. Already a minor -difficulty is surmounted, as to how Antonio comes to be in the position -of asking an obligation of Shylock. Antonio is as impatient as dignity -will permit to bring an awkward business to a conclusion. Shylock, on -the contrary, to whom the interview itself is a triumph, in which his -persecutor is appearing before him in the position of a client, casts -about to prolong the conversation to as great a length as possible. Any -topic would serve his purpose; but what topic more natural than the -question at the root of the feud between the two, the question of -lending money on interest? It is here we reach the very heart of our -problem, how the first mention of the pound of flesh is made without a -shock of unreality sufficient to ruin the whole scene. Had Shylock asked -for a forfeiture of a million per cent., or in any other way thrown into -a commercial form his purpose of ruining Antonio, the old feud and the -present opportunity would be explanation sufficient: the real difficulty -is the total incongruity between such an idea as a pound of human flesh -and commercial transactions of any kind. [_The proposal led up to by the -discourse on interest._] This difficulty Shakespeare has met by one of -his greatest triumphs of mechanical ingenuity: his leading up to the -proposal of the bond by the discussion on interest. The effect of this -device a modern reader is in danger of losing: [=i.= iii, from 69.] we -are so familiar with the idea of interest at the present day that we are -apt to forget what the difficulty was to the ancient and medięval mind, -which for so many generations kept the practice of taking interest -outside the pale of social decency. This prejudice was one of the -confusions arising out of the use of a metal currency. The ancient mind -could understand how corn put into the ground would by the agency of -time alone produce twentyfold, thirtyfold, or a hundredfold; they could -understand how cattle left to themselves would without human assistance -increase from a small to a large flock: but how could metal grow? how -could lifeless gold and silver increase and multiply like animals and -human beings? The Greek word for interest, _tokos_, is the exact -equivalent of the English word _breed_, and the idea underlying the two -was regularly connected with that of interest in ancient discussions. -The same idea is present throughout the dispute between Antonio and -Shylock. Antonio indignantly asks: - -[=i.= iii. 134.] - - when did friendship take - A _breed_ for _barren metal_ of his friend? - -[=i.= iii. 72.] - -Shylock illustrates usury by citing the patriarch Jacob and his clever -trick in cattle-breeding; showing how, at a time when cattle were the -currency, the natural rate of increase might be diverted to private -advantage. Antonio interrupts him: - -[=i.= iii. 96.] - - Is your gold and silver ewes and rams? - -Shylock answers: - - I cannot tell; I make it _breed_ as fast; - -both parties thus showing that they considered the distinction between -the using of flesh and metal for the medium of wealth to be the -essential point in their dispute. With this notion then of flesh -_versus_ money floating in the air between them the interview goes on to -the outbursts of mutual hatred which reach a climax in Antonio's -challenge to Shylock to do his worst; [=i.= iii, from 138.] this -challenge suddenly combines with the root idea of the conversation to -flash into Shylock's mind the suggestion of the bond. In an instant he -smoothes his face and proposes friendship. He will lend the money -without interest, in pure kindness, nay more, he will go to that extent -of good understanding implied in joking, and will have a merry bond; -while as to the particular joke (he says in effect), since you -Christians cannot understand interest in the case of money while you -acknowledge it in the case of flesh and blood, suppose I take as my -interest in this bond a pound of your own flesh. In such a context the -monstrous proposal sounds almost natural. It has further been ushered -in a manner which makes it almost impossible to decline it. When one who -is manifestly an injured man is the first to make advances, a generous -adversary finds it almost impossible to hold back. A sensitive man, -again, will shrink from nothing more than from the ridicule attaching to -those who take serious precautions against a jest. And the more -incongruous Shylock's proposal is with commercial negotiations the -better evidence it is of his non-commercial intentions. In a word, the -essence of the difficulty was the incongruity between human flesh and -money transactions: it has been surmounted by a discussion, flowing -naturally from the position of the two parties, of which the point is -the relative position of flesh and money as the medium of wealth in the -past. - -[_Difficulty of legally recognising the bond evaded:_] - -The bond thus proposed and accepted, there follows the difficulty of -representing it as entertained by a court of justice. With reference to -Shakespeare's handling of this point it may be noted, first, that he -leaves us in doubt whether the court would have entertained it: [=iv.= -i. 104.] the Duke is intimating an intention of adjourning at the moment -when the entrance of Portia gives a new turn to the proceedings. [=iv.= -i. 17.] Again, at the opening of the trial, the Duke gives expression to -the universal opinion that Shylock's conduct was intelligible only on -the supposition that he was keeping up to the last moment the -appearance of insisting on his strange terms, in order that before the -eyes of the whole city he might exhibit his enemy at his mercy, and then -add to his ignominy by publicly pardoning him: a fate which, it must be -admitted, was no more than Antonio justly deserved. This will explain -how Shylock comes to have a hearing at all: when once he is admitted to -speak it is exceedingly difficult to resist the pleas Shakespeare puts -into his mouth. [=iv.= i. 38.] He takes his stand on the city's charter -and the letter of the law, and declines to be drawn into any discussion -of natural justice; [=iv.= i. 90.] yet even as a question of natural -justice what answer can be found when he casually points to the -institution of slavery, which we must suppose to have existed in Venice -at the period? Shylock's only offence is his seeking to make Antonio's -life a matter of barter: what else is the accepted institution of -slavery but the establishment of power over human flesh and blood and -life, simply because these have been bought with money, precisely as -Shylock has given good ducats for his rights over the flesh of Antonio? -No wonder the perplexed Duke is for adjourning. - -[_Difficulty as to the traditional mode of upsetting the bond met._] - -There remains one more difficulty, the mode in which, according to the -traditional story, the bond is upset. It is manifest that the agreement -as to the pound of flesh, if it is to be recognised by a court of -justice at all, cannot without the grossest perversion of justice be -cancelled on the ground of its omitting to mention blood. Legal evasion -can go to great lengths. It is well known that an Act requiring cabs to -carry lamps at night has been evaded through the omission of a direction -that the lamps were to be lighted; and that importers have escaped a -duty on foreign gloves at so much the pair by bringing the right-hand -and left-hand gloves over in different ships. But it is perfectly -possible to carry lamps without lighting them, while it is a clear -impossibility to cut human flesh without shedding blood. Nothing of -course would be easier than to upset the bond on rational -grounds--indeed the difficulty is rather to imagine it receiving -rational consideration at all; but on the other hand no solution of the -perplexity could be half so dramatic as the one tradition has preserved. -The dramatist has to choose between a course of procedure which shall be -highly dramatic but leave a sense of injustice, and one that shall be -sound and legal but comparatively tame. Shakespeare contrives to secure -both alternatives. He retains the traditional plea as to the blood, but -puts it into the mouth of one known to his audience to be a woman -playing the lawyer for the nonce; [=iv.= i. 314, 347.] and again, before -we have time to recover from our surprise and feel the injustice of the -proceeding, he follows up the brilliant evasion by a sound legal plea, -the suggestion of a real lawyer. Portia has come to the court from a -conference with her cousin Bellario, the most learned jurist of Venice. -[=iii.= iv. 47; =iv.= i. 143.] Certainly it was not this doctor who hit -upon the idea of the blood being omitted. His contribution to the -interesting consultation was clearly the old statute of Venice, which -every one else seems to have forgotten, which made the mere attempt on -the life of a citizen by an alien punishable with death and loss of -property: according to this piece of statute law not only would -Shylock's bond be illegal, but the demand of such security constituted a -capital offence. Thus Shakespeare surmounts the final difficulty in the -story of the Jew in a mode which retains dramatic force to the full, yet -does this without any violation of legal fairness. - - * * * * * - -[_The interweaving of the two stories._] - -The second purpose of the present study is to show how Shakespeare has -improved his two stories by so weaving them together that they assist -one another's effect. - -First, it is easy to see how the whole movement of the play rises -naturally out of the union of the two stories. One of the main -distinctions between the progress of events in real life or history and -in Drama is that the movement of a drama falls into the form technically -known as Complication and Resolution. [_Complication and Resolution._] -A dramatist fastens our attention upon some train of events: then he -sets himself to divert this train of events from its natural course by -some interruption; this interruption is either removed, and the train of -events returns to its natural course, or the interruption is carried on -to some tragic culmination. In _The Merchant of Venice_ our interest is -at the beginning fixed on Antonio as rich, high-placed, the protector -and benefactor of his friends. By the events following upon the incident -of the bond we see what would seem the natural life of Antonio diverted -into a totally different channel; in the end the old course is restored, -and Antonio becomes prosperous as before. Such interruption of a train -of incidents is its Complication, and the term Complication suggests a -happy Resolution to follow. Complication and Resolution are essential to -dramatic movement, as discords and their 'resolution' into concords -constitute the essence of music. [_The one story complicated and -resolved by the other._] The Complication and Resolution in the story of -the Jew serve for the Complication and Resolution of the drama as a -whole; and my immediate point is that these elements of movement in the -one story spring directly out of its connection with the other. [=i.= i, -from 122; =i.= iii.] But for Bassanio's need of money and his blunder in -applying to Shylock the bond would never have been entered into, and the -change in Antonio's fortunes would never have come about: thus the cause -for all the Complication of the play (technically, the Complicating -Force) is the happy lover of the Caskets Story. Similarly Portia is the -means by which Antonio's fortunes are restored to their natural flow: in -other words, the source of the Resolution (or Resolving Force) is the -maiden of the Caskets Story. The two leading personages of the one tale -are the sources respectively of the Complication and Resolution in the -other tale, which carry the Complication and Resolution of the drama as -a whole. Thus simply does the movement of the whole play flow from the -union of the two stories. - -[_The whole play symmetrical about its central scene._] - -One consequence flowing from this is worth noting; that the scene in -which Bassanio makes his successful choice of the casket is the Dramatic -Centre of the whole play, as being the point in which the Complicating -and Resolving Forces meet. This Dramatic Centre is, according to -Shakespeare's favourite custom, placed in the exact mechanical centre of -the drama, covering the middle of the middle Act. There is again an -amount of poetic splendour lavished upon this scene which throws it up -as a poetic centre to the whole. More than this, it is the real crisis -of the play. Looking philosophically upon the whole drama as a piece of -history, we must admit that the true turning-point is the success of -Bassanio; the apparent crisis is the Trial Scene, but this is in reality -governed by the scene of the successful choice, and if Portia and -Bassanio had not been united in the earlier scene no lawyer would have -interposed to turn the current of events in the trial. There is yet -another sense in which the same scene may be called central. Hitherto I -have dealt with only two tales; the full plot however of _The Merchant -of Venice_ involves two more, the Story of Jessica and the Episode of -the Rings: it is to be observed that all four stories meet in the scene -of the successful choice. This scene is the climax of the Caskets Story. -[=iii.= ii, from 221.] It is connected with the catastrophe in the Story -of the Jew: Bassanio, at the moment of his happiness, learns that the -friend through whom he has been able to contend for the prize has -forfeited his life to his foe as the price of his liberality. The scene -is connected with the Jessica Story: for Jessica and her husband are the -messengers who bring the sad tidings, and thus link together the bright -and gloomy elements of the play. [=iii.= ii. 173-187.] Finally, the -Episode of the Rings, which is to occupy the end of the drama, has its -foundation in this scene, in the exchange of the rings which are -destined to be the source of such ironical perplexity. Such is the -symmetry with which the plot of _The Merchant of Venice_ has been -constructed: the incident which is technically its Dramatic Centre is at -once its mechanical centre, its poetic centre, and, philosophically -considered, its true turning-point; while, considering the play as a -Romantic drama with its union of stories, we find in the same central -incident all the four stories dovetailed together. - -[_Shakespeare as a master of Plot_.] - -These points may appear small and merely technical. But is a constant -purpose with me in the present exposition of Shakespeare as a Dramatic -Artist to combat the notion, so widely prevalent amongst ordinary -readers, that Shakespeare, though endowed with the profoundest grasp of -human nature, is yet careless in the construction of his plots: a notion -in itself as improbable as it would be that a sculptor could be found to -produce individual figures exquisitely moulded and chiselled, yet -awkwardly and clumsily grouped. It is the minuter points that show the -finish of an artist; and such symmetry of construction as appears in -_The Merchant of Venice_ is not likely to characterise a dramatist who -sacrifices plot to character-painting. - -[_The union of a light with a serious story._] - -There remains another point, which no one will consider small or -technical, connected with the union of the two stories: the fact that -Shakespeare has thus united a light and a serious story, that he has -woven together gloom and brightness. This carries us to one of the great -battlefields of dramatic history; no feature is more characteristic of -the Romantic Drama than this mingling of light and serious in the same -play, and at no point has it been more stoutly assailed by critics -trained in an opposite school. I say nothing of the wider scope this -practice gives to the dramatist, nor the way in which it brings the -world of art nearer to the world of reality; my present purpose is to -review the dramatic effects which flow from the mingling of the two -elements in the present play. - -[_Dramatic effects arising out of this union._] - -In general human interest the stories are a counterpoise to one -another, so different in kind, so equal in the degree of interest their -progress continues to call forth. The incidents of the two tales gather -around Antonio and Portia respectively; [_Effects of Human Interest._] -each of these is a full and rounded character, and they are both centres -of their respective worlds. [=i.= i. 1.] The stories seem to start from -a common point. The keynote to the story of the Jew is the strange -'sadness'--the word implies no more than seriousness--which overpowers -Antonio, and which seems to be the shadow of his coming trouble. Compare -with this the first words we hear of Portia: - -[=i.= ii. 1.] - - By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this great world. - -Such a humorous languor is a fitting precursor to the excitement and -energy of the scenes which follow. But from this common starting-point -the stories move in opposite directions; the spectator's sympathies are -demanded alternately for two independent chains of circumstances, for -the fortunes of Antonio sinking lower and lower, and the fortunes of -Portia rising higher and higher. He sees the merchant and citizen become -a bankrupt prisoner, the lordly benefactor of his friends a wretch at -the mercy of his foe. He sees Portia, already endowed with beauty, -wealth, and character, attain what to her heart is yet higher, the power -to lay all she has at the feet of the man she loves. Then, when they are -at the climax of their happiness and misery, when Portia has received -all that this world can bestow, and Antonio has lost all that this world -can take away, for the first time these two central personages meet face -to face in the Trial Scene. [_Effects of Plot._] And if from general -human interest we pass on to the machinery of plot, we find this also -governed by the same combination: a half-serious frolic is the medium in -which a tragic crisis finds its solution. - -[_Emotional effects: increase of tragic passion;_] - -But it is of course passion and emotional interest which are mainly -affected by the union of light and serious: these we shall appreciate -chiefly in connection with the Trial Scene, where the emotional threads -of the play are gathered into a knot, and the two personages who are the -embodiments of the light and serious elements face one another as judge -and prisoner. [=iv.= i, from 225.] In this scene it is remarkable how -Portia takes pains to prolong to the utmost extent the crisis she has -come to solve; she holds in her fingers the threads of the tangled -situation, and she is strong enough to play with it before she will -consent to bring it to an end. [178.] She has intimated her opinion that -the letter of the bond must be maintained, [184-207.] she has made her -appeal to Shylock for mercy and been refused, she has heard Bassanio's -appeal to wrest the law for once to [214-222.] her authority and has -rejected it; there remains nothing but to pronounce the decree. [225.] -But at the last moment she asks to see the bond, and every spectator in -court holds his breath and hears his heart beat as he follows the -lawyer's eye down line after line. [227-230.] It is of no avail; at the -end she can only repeat the useless offer of thrice the loan, with the -effect of drawing from Shylock an oath that he will not give way. -[230-244.] Then Portia admits that the bond is forfeit, with a needless -reiteration of its horrible details; yet, as if it were some evenly -balanced question, in which after-thoughts were important, she once more -appeals to Shylock to be merciful and bid her tear the bond, and evokes -a still stronger asseveration from the malignant victor, until even -Antonio's stoicism begins to give way, and he begs for a speedy -judgment. [243.] Portia then commences to pass her judgment in language -of legal prolixity, which sounds like a recollection of her hour with -Bellario:-- - - For the intent and purpose of the law - Hath full relation to the penalty, - Which here appeareth due upon the bond, &c. - -[255-261.] - -Next she fads about the details of the judicial barbarity, the balance -to weigh the flesh, a surgeon as a forlorn hope; and when Shylock demurs -to the last, stops to argue that he might do this for charity. At last -surely the intolerable suspense will come to a termination. [263.] But -our lawyer of half-an-hour's standing suddenly remembers she has -forgotten to call on the defendant in the suit, and the pathos is -intensified by the dying speech of Antonio, calmly welcoming death for -himself, anxious only to soften Bassanio's remorse, his last human -passion a rivalry with Portia for the love of his friend. - -[=iv.= i. 276.] - - Bid her be judge - Whether Bassanio had not once a love. - -[=iv.= i, from 299.] - -When the final judgment can be delayed no longer its opening sentences -are still lengthened out by the jingling repetitions of judicial -formality, - - The law allows it, and the court awards it, &c. - -Only when every evasion has been exhausted comes the thunderstroke which -reverses the whole situation. Now it is clear that had this situation -been intended to have a tragic termination this prolonging of its -details would have been impossible; thus to harrow our feelings with -items of agony would be not art but barbarity. It is because Portia -knows what termination she is going to give to the scene that she can -indulge in such boldness; it is because the audience have recognised in -Portia the signal of deliverance that the lengthening of the crisis -becomes the dramatic beauty of suspense. It appears then that, if this -scene be regarded only as a crisis of tragic passion, the dramatist has -been able to extract more _tragic_ effect out of it by the device of -assisting the tragic with a light story. - -[_reaction and comic effect;_] - -Again, it is a natural law of the human mind to pass from strain to -reaction, and suspense relieved will find vent in vehement exhilaration. -By giving Portia her position in the crisis scene the dramatist is -clearly furnishing the means for a reaction to follow, and the reaction -is found in the [=iv.= i, from 425.] Episode of the Rings, by which the -disguised wives entangle their husbands in a perplexity affording the -audience the bursts of merriment needed as relief from the tension of -the Trial Scene. The play is thus brought into conformity with the laws -of mental working, and the effect of the reaction is to make the -serious passion more keen because more healthy. - -[_effects of mixed passion._] - -Finally, there are the effects of mixed passion, neither wholly serious -nor wholly light, but compounded of the two, which are impossible to a -drama that can admit only a single tone. The effect of Dramatic Irony, -which Shakespeare inherited from the ancient Drama, but greatly modified -and extended, is powerfully illustrated at the most pathetic point of -the Trial Scene, [=iv.= i. 273-294.] when Antonio's chance reference to -Bassanio's new wife calls from Bassanio and his followers agonised vows -to sacrifice even their wives if this could save their patron--little -thinking that these wives are standing by to record the vow. But there -is an effect higher than this. [=iv.= i. 184-202.] Portia's outburst on -the theme of mercy, considered only as a speech, is one of the noblest -in literature, a gem of purest truth in a setting of richest music. But -the situation in which she speaks it is so framed as to make Portia -herself the embodiment of the mercy she describes. How can we imagine a -higher type of mercy, the feminine counterpart of justice, than in the -bright woman, at the moment of her supreme happiness, appearing in the -garb of the law to deliver a righteous unfortunate from his one error, -and the justice of Venice from the insoluble perplexity of having to -commit a murder by legal process? And how is this situation brought -about but by the most intricate interweaving of a story of brightness -with a story of trouble? - -In all branches then of dramatic effect, in Character, in Plot and in -Passion, the union of a light with a serious story is found to be a -source of power and beauty. The fault charged against the Romantic Drama -has upon a deeper view proved a new point of departure in dramatic -progress; and in this particular case the combination of tales so -opposite in character must be regarded as one of the leading points in -which Shakespeare has improved the tales in the telling. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] No commentator has succeeded in making intelligible the line - -[=i.= iii. 42.] - - How like a fawning publican he looks! - -as it stands in the text at the opening of Shylock's soliloquy. The -expression 'fawning publican' is so totally the opposite of all the -qualities of Antonio that it could have no force even in the mouth of a -satirist. It is impossible not to be attracted by the simple change in -the text that would not only get over this difficulty, but add a new -effect to the scene: the change of assigning this single line to -Antonio, reserving, of course, the rest of the speech for Shylock. The -passage would then read thus [the stage direction is my own]: - - _Enter_ ANTONIO. - - _Bass._ This is Signior Antonio. - - _Ant._ [_Aside_]. How like a fawning publican he looks-- - - [BASSANIO _whispers_ ANTONIO _and brings him to_ SHYLOCK. - - _Shy._ [_Aside_]. I hate him, for he is a Christian, But more, &c. - -Both the terms 'fawning' and 'publican' are literally applicable to -Shylock, and are just what Antonio would be likely to say of him. It is -again a natural effect for the two foes on meeting for the first time in -the play to exchange scowling defiance. Antonio's defiance is cut short -at the first line by Bassanio's running up to him, explaining what he -has done, and bringing Antonio up to where Shylock is standing; the time -occupied in doing this gives Shylock scope for his longer soliloquy. - - - - -III. - -HOW SHAKESPEARE MAKES HIS PLOT MORE COMPLEX IN ORDER TO MAKE IT MORE -SIMPLE. - -_A Study in Underplot._ - - -[_Paradox of simplicity by means of increased complexity._] - -THE title of the present study is a paradox: that Shakespeare makes a -plot more complex[2] in order to make it more simple. It is however a -paradox that finds an illustration from the material world in every open -roof. The architect's problem has been to support a heavy weight without -the assistance of pillars, and it might have been expected that in -solving the problem he would at least have tried every means in his -power for diminishing the weight to be supported. On the contrary, he -has increased this weight by the addition of massive cross-beams and -heavy iron-girders. Yet, if these have been arranged according to the -laws of construction, each of them will bring a supporting power -considerably greater than its own weight; and thus, while in a literal -sense increasing the roof, for all practical purposes they may be said -to have diminished it. Similarly a dramatist of the Romantic school, -from his practice of uniting more than one story in the same plot, has -to face the difficulty of complexity. This difficulty he solves not by -seeking how to reduce combinations as far as possible, but, on the -contrary, by the addition of more and inferior stories; yet if these new -stories are so handled as to emphasise and heighten the effect of the -main stories, the additional complexity will have resulted in increased -simplicity. In the play at present under consideration, Shakespeare has -interwoven into a common pattern two famous and striking tales; his -plot, already elaborate, he has made yet more elaborate by the addition -of two more tales less striking in their character--the Story of Jessica -and the Episode of the Rings. [_The Jessica Story and the Rings Episode -assist the main stories._] If it can be shown that these inferior -stories have the effect of assisting the main stories, smoothing away -their difficulties and making their prominent points yet more prominent, -it will be clear that he has made his plot more complex only in reality -to make it more simple. The present study is devoted to noticing how the -Stories of Jessica and of the Rings minister to the effects of the Story -of the Jew and the Caskets Story. - -[_The Jessica Story. It serves as Underplot for mechanical personages._] - -To begin with: it may be seen that in many ways the mechanical working -out of the main stories is assisted by the Jessica story. In the first -place it relieves them of their superfluous personages. Every drama, -however simple, must contain 'mechanical' personages, who are introduced -into the play, not for their own sake, but to assist in presenting -incidents or other personages. The tendency of Romantic Drama to put a -story as a whole upon the stage multiplies the number of such mechanical -personages: and when several such stories come to be combined in one, -there is a danger of the stage being crowded with characters which -intrinsically have little interest. Here the Underplots become of -service and find occupation for these inferior personages. In the -present case only four personages are essential to the main -plot--Antonio, Shylock, Bassanio, Portia. But in bringing out the -unusual tie that binds together a representative of the city and a -representative of the nobility, [e.g. =i.= i; =iii.= iii; =iv.= i.] and -upon which so much of the plot rests, it is an assistance to introduce -the rank and file of gay society and depict these paying court to the -commercial magnate. The high position of Antonio and Bassanio in their -respective spheres will come out still clearer if these lesser social -personages are graduated. [=i.= i; compare =iii.= i. esp. 14-18.] -Salanio, Salerio, and Salarino are mere parasites; [=i.= i. 74-118. =i.= -ii. 124. =v.= i, &c. =i.= ii, &c. =iii.= i. 80, &c.] Gratiano has a -certain amount of individuality in his wit; while, seeing that Bassanio -is a scholar as well as a nobleman and soldier, it is fitting to give -prominence amongst his followers to the intellectual and artistic -Lorenzo. Similarly the introduction of Nerissa assists in presenting -Portia fully; Shylock is seen in his relations with his race by the aid -of Tubal, his family life is seen in connection with Jessica, and his -behaviour to dependants in connection with Launcelot; Launcelot himself -is set off by Gobbo. Now the Jessica story is mainly devoted to these -inferior personages, and the majority of them take an animated part in -the successful elopement. It is further to be noted that the Jessica -Underplot has itself an inferior story attached to it, [=ii.= ii. iii; -=iii.= v.] that of Launcelot, who seeks scope for his good nature by -transferring himself to a Christian master, just as his mistress seeks a -freer social atmosphere in union with a Christian husband. And, -similarly, side by side with the Caskets Story, which unites Portia and -Bassanio, [=iii.= ii. 188, &c.] we have a faintly-marked underplot which -unites their followers, Nerissa and Gratiano. In one or other of these -inferior stories the mechanical personages find attachment to plot; and -the multiplication of individual figures, instead of leaving an -impression of waste, is made to minister to the sense of Dramatic -Economy. - -[_It assists mechanical development: occupying the three months' -interval,_] - -Again: as there are mechanical personages so there are mechanical -difficulties--difficulties of realisation which do not belong to the -essence of a story, but which appear when the story comes to be worked -out upon the stage. The Story of the Jew involves such a mechanical -difficulty in the interval of three months which elapses between the -signing of the bond and its forfeiture. In a classical setting this -would be avoided by making the play begin on the day the bond falls due; -such treatment, however, would shut out the great dramatic opportunity -of the Bond Scene. The Romantic Drama always inclines to exhibiting the -whole of a story; it must therefore in the present case _suppose_ a -considerable interval between one part of the story and another, and -such suppositions tend to be weaknesses. The Jessica Story conveniently -bridges over this interval. The first Act is given up to bringing about -the bond, which at the beginning of the third Act appears to be broken. -The intervening Act consists of no less than nine scenes, and while -three of them carry on the progress of the Caskets Story, the other six -are devoted to the elopement of Jessica: the bustle and activity implied -in such rapid change of scene indicating how an underplot can be used to -keep the attention of the audience just where the natural interest of -the main story would flag. - -[_and so breaking gradually the news of Antonio's losses._] - -The same use of the Jessica Story to bridge over the three months' -interval obviates another mechanical difficulty of the main plot. The -loss of all Antonio's ships, the supposition that all the commercial -ventures of so prudent a merchant should simultaneously miscarry, is so -contrary to the chances of things as to put some strain upon our sense -of probability; and this is just one of the details which, too -unimportant to strike us in an anecdote, become realised when a story is -presented before our eyes. The artist, it must be observed, is not bound -to find actual solutions for every possible difficulty; he has merely to -see that they do not interfere with dramatic effect. Sometimes he so -arranges his incidents that the difficulty is met and vanishes; -sometimes it is kept out of sight, the portion of the story which -contains it going on behind the scenes; at other times he is content -with reducing the difficulty in amount. In the present instance the -improbability of Antonio's losses is lessened by the gradual way in -which the news is broken to us, distributed amongst the numerous scenes -of the three months' interval. [=ii.= viii. 25.] We get the first hint -of it in a chance conversation between Salanio and Salarino, in which -they are chuckling over the success of the elopement and the fury of the -robbed father. Salanio remarks that Antonio must look that he keep his -day; this reminds Salarino of a ship he has just heard of as lost -somewhere in the English Channel: - - I thought upon Antonio when he told me; - And wish'd in silence that it were not his. - -[=iii.= i.] In the next scene but one the same personages meet, and one -of them, enquiring for the latest news, is told that the rumour yet -lives of Antonio's loss, and now the exact place of the wreck is -specified as the Goodwin Sands; Salarino adds: 'I would it might prove -the end of his losses.' Before the close of the scene Shylock and Tubal -have been added to it. Tubal has come from Genoa and gives Shylock the -welcome news that at Genoa it was _known_ that Antonio had lost an -argosy coming from Tripolis; while on his journey to Venice Tubal had -travelled with creditors of Antonio who were speculating upon his -bankruptcy as a certainty. [=iii.= ii.] Then comes the central scene in -which the full news reaches Bassanio at the moment of his happiness: all -Antonio's ventures failed-- - - From Tripolis, from Mexico and England, - From Lisbon, Barbary, and India, - -not one escaped. [=iii.= iii.] In the following scene we see Antonio in -custody. - -[_The Jessica Story assists Dramatic Hedging in regard to Shylock._] - -These are minor points such as may be met with in any play, and the -treatment of them belongs to ordinary Dramatic Mechanism. But we have -already had to notice that the Story of the Jew contains special -difficulties which belong to the essence of the story, and must be met -by special devices. One of these was the monstrous character of the Jew -himself; and we saw how the dramatist was obliged to maintain in the -spectators a double attitude to Shylock, alternately letting them be -repelled by his malignity and again attracting their sympathy to him as -a victim of wrong. Nothing in the play assists this double attitude so -much as the Jessica Story. Not to speak of the fact that Shylock shows -no appreciation for the winsomeness of the girl who attracts every one -else in the drama, nor of the way in which this one point of brightness -in the Jewish quarter throws up the sordidness of all her surroundings, -[=ii.= iii. 2.] we hear the Jew's own daughter reflect that his house is -a 'hell,' and we see enough of his domestic life to agree with her. -[e.g. =ii.= v.] A Shylock painted without a tender side at all would be -repulsive; he becomes much more repulsive when he shows a tenderness for -one human being, and yet it appears how this tenderness has grown hard -and rotten with the general debasement of his soul by avarice, until, in -his ravings over his loss, [=iii.= i, from 25.] his ducats and his -daughter are ranked as equally dear. - - [=iii.= i. 92.] I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the - jewels in her ear! Would she were hearsed at my foot, and the ducats - in her coffin! - -For all this we feel that he is hardly used in losing her. Paternal -feeling may take a gross form, but it is paternal feeling none the less, -and cannot be denied our sympathy; bereavement is a common ground upon -which not only high and low, but even the pure and the outcast, are -drawn together. Thus Jessica at home makes us hate Shylock: with Jessica -lost we cannot help pitying him. The perfection of Dramatic Hedging lies -in the equal balancing of the conflicting feelings, and one of the most -powerful scenes in the whole play is devoted to this twofold display of -Shylock. Fresh from the incident of the elopement, he is encountered by -the parasites and by Tubal: these amuse themselves with alternately -'chaffing' him upon his losses, and 'drawing' him in the matter of the -expected gratification of his vengeance, while his passions rock him -between extremes of despair and fiendish anticipation. [_Jessica -Shakespeare's compensation to Shylock._] We may go further. Great -creative power is accompanied by great attachment to the creations and -keen sense of justice in disposing of them. Looked at as a whole, the -Jessica Story is Shakespeare's compensation to Shylock. [=iv.= i. -348-394.] The sentence on Shylock, which the necessities of the story -require, is legal rather than just; yet large part of it consists in a -requirement that he shall make his daughter an heiress. And, to put it -more generally, the repellent character and hard fate of the father have -set against them the sweetness and beauty of the daughter, together with -the full cup of good fortune which her wilful rebellion brings her in -the love of Lorenzo and the protecting friendship of Portia. Perhaps the -dramatist, according to his wont, is warning us of this compensating -treatment when he makes one of the characters early in the play exclaim: -[=ii.= iv. 34.] - - If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, - It will be for his gentle daughter's sake. - -[_The Jessica Story explains Shylock's unyieldingness._] - -The other main source of difficulty in the Story of the Jew is, as we -have seen, the detail concerning the pound of flesh, which throws -improbability over every stage of its progress. In one at least of these -stages the difficulty is directly met by the aid of the Jessica Story: -it is this which explains Shylock's resolution not to give way. When we -try in imagination to realise the whole circumstances, common sense must -take the view taken in the play itself by the Duke: - -[=iv.= i. 17.] - - Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, - That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice - To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought - Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange - Than is thy strange apparent cruelty. - -A life-long training in avarice would not easily resist an offer of nine -thousand ducats. But further, the alternatives between which Shylock has -to choose are not so simple as the alternatives of Antonio's money or -his life. On the one hand, Shylock has to consider the small chance that -either the law or the mob would actually suffer the atrocity to be -judicially perpetrated, and how his own life would be likely to be lost -in the attempt. Again, turning to the other alternative, Shylock is -certainly deep in his schemes of vengeance, and the finesse of malignity -must have suggested to him how much more cruel to a man of Antonio's -stamp it would be to fling him a contemptuous pardon before the eyes of -Venice than to turn him into a martyr, even supposing this to be -permitted. But at the moment when the choice becomes open to Shylock he -has been maddened by the loss of his daughter, who, with the wealth she -has stolen, has gone to swell the party of his deadly foe. It is fury, -not calculating cruelty, that makes Shylock with a madman's tenacity -cling to the idea of blood, while this passion is blinding him to a more -keenly flavoured revenge, and risking the chance of securing any -vengeance at all[3]. - -[_The Jessica Story assists the interweaving of the main stories._] - -From the mechanical development of the main plot and the reduction of -its difficulties, we pass to the interweaving of the two principal -stories, which is so leading a feature of the play. In the main this -interweaving is sufficiently provided for by the stories themselves, and -we have already seen how the leading personages in the one story are the -source of the whole movement in the other story. But this interweaving -is drawn closer still by the affair of Jessica: [_It is thus a Link -Action,_] technically described the position in the plot of Jessica's -elopement is that of a Link Action between the main stories. This -linking appears in the way in which Jessica and her suite are in the -course of the drama transferred from the one tale to the other. At the -opening of the play they are personages in the Story of the Jew, and -represent its two antagonistic sides, Jessica being the daughter of the -Jew and Lorenzo a friend and follower of Bassanio and Antonio. First the -contrivance of the elopement assists in drawing together these opposite -sides of the Jew Story, and aggravating the feud on which it turns. -[=iii.= ii, from 221.] Then, as we have seen, Jessica and her husband in -the central scene of the whole play come into contact with the Caskets -Story at its climax. From this point they become adopted into the -Caskets Story, and settle down in the house and under the protection of -Portia. [_helping to restore the balance between the main stories,_] -This transference further assists the symmetry of interweaving by -helping to adjust the balance between the two main stories. In its -_mass_, if the expression may be allowed, the Caskets tale, with its -steady progress to a goal of success, is over-weighted by the tale of -Antonio's tragic peril and startling deliverance: the Jessica episode, -withdrawn from the one and added to the other, helps to make the two -more equal. Once more, the case, we have seen, is not merely that of a -union between stories, but a union between stories opposite in kind, a -combination of brightness with gloom. [_and a bond between their bright -and dark climaxes._] The binding effect of the Jessica Story extends to -the union between these opposite tones. We have already had occasion to -notice how the two extremes meet in the central scene, how from the -height of Bassanio's bliss we pass in an instant to the total ruin of -Antonio, which we then learn in its fulness for the first time: the link -which connects the two is the arrival of Jessica and her friends as -bearers of the news. - -[_Character effects. Character of Jessica._] - -So far, the points considered have been points of Mechanism and Plot; in -the matter of Character-Interest the Jessica episode is to an even -greater degree an addition to the whole effect of the play, Jessica and -Lorenzo serving as a foil to Portia and Bassanio. The characters of -Jessica and Lorenzo are charmingly sketched, though liable to -misreading unless carefully studied. To appreciate Jessica we must in -the first place assume the grossly unjust medięval view of the Jews as -social outcasts. [=ii.= v.] The dramatist has vouchsafed us a glimpse of -Shylock at home, and brief as the scene is it is remarkable how much of -evil is crowded into it. The breath of home life is trust, yet the one -note which seems to pervade the domestic bearing of Shylock is the -lowest suspiciousness. [12, 16, 36.] Three times as he is starting for -Bassanio's supper he draws back to question the motives for which he has -been invited. He is moved to a shriek of suspicion by the mere fact of -his servant joining him in shouting for the absent Jessica, [7.] by the -mention of masques, by the sight of the servant whispering to his -daughter [28, 44.]. Finally, he takes his leave with the words - -[52.] - - Perhaps I will return immediately, - -a device for keeping order in his absence which would be a low one for a -nurse to use to a child, but which he is not ashamed of using to his -grown-up daughter and the lady of his house. The short scene of -fifty-seven lines is sufficient to give us a further reminder of -Shylock's sordid house-keeping, which is glad to get rid of the -good-natured Launcelot as a 'huge feeder'; [3, 46.] and his aversion to -any form of gaiety, which leads him to insist on his shutters being put -up when he hears that there is a chance of a pageant in the streets -[28.]. Amidst surroundings of this type Jessica has grown up, a -motherless girl, mingling only with harsh men (for we nowhere see a -trace of female companionship for her): [=ii.= iii. 20.] it can hardly -be objected against her that she should long for a Christian atmosphere -in which her affections might have full play. Yet even for this natural -reaction she feels compunction: - -[=ii.= iii. 16.] - - Alack, what heinous sin is it in me - To be ashamed to be my father's child! - But though I am a daughter to his blood, - I am not to his manners. - -Formed amidst such influences it would be a triumph to a character if it -escaped repulsiveness; Jessica, on the contrary, is full of attractions. -She has a simplicity which stands to her in the place of principle. More -than this she has a high degree of feminine delicacy. Delicacy will be -best brought out in a person who is placed in an equivocal situation, -and we see Jessica engaged, not only in an elopement, but in an -elopement which, [=ii.= iv. 30.] it appears, has throughout been planned -by herself and not by Lorenzo. Of course a quality like feminine -delicacy is more conveyed by the bearing of the actress than by positive -words; we may however notice the impression which Jessica's part in the -elopement scenes makes upon those who are present. [=ii.= iv. 30-40.] -When Lorenzo is obliged to make a confidant of Gratiano, and tell him -how it is Jessica who has planned the whole affair, instead of feeling -any necessity of apologising for her the thought of her childlike -innocence moves him to enthusiasm, and it is here that he exclaims: - - If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, - It will be for his gentle daughter's sake. - -[=ii.= vi.] - -In the scene of the elopement itself, Jessica has steered clear of both -prudishness and freedom, and when after her pretty confusion she has -retired from the window, even Gratiano breaks out: - -[=ii.= vi. 51.] - - Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew; - -while Lorenzo himself has warmed to see in her qualities he had never -expected: - -[=ii.= vi. 52.] - - Beshrew me but I love her heartily; - For she is wise, if I can judge of her, - And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true, - And true she is, as she has proved herself, - And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true, - Shall she be placed in my constant soul. - -So generally, all with whom she comes into contact feel her spell: -[=ii.= iii. 10.] the rough Launcelot parts from her with tears he is -ashamed of yet cannot keep down; [=iii.= i. 41.] Salarino--the last of -men to take high views of women--resents as a sort of blasphemy -Shylock's claiming her as his flesh and blood; [=iii.= iv, v; =v.= i.] -while between Jessica and Portia there seems to spring in an instant an -attraction as mysterious as is the tie between Antonio and Bassanio. - -[_Character of Lorenzo._] - -Lorenzo is for the most part of a dreamy inactive nature, as may be seen -in his amused tolerance of Launcelot's word-fencing [=iii.= v. -44-75.]--word-fencing being in general a challenge which none of -Shakespeare's characters can resist; similarly, Jessica's enthusiasm on -the subject of Portia, which in reality he shares, he prefers to meet -with banter [=iii.= v. 75-89.]: - - Even such a husband - Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. - -But the strong side of his character also is shown us in the play: [=v.= -i. 1-24, 54-88.] he has an artist soul, and to the depth of his passion -for music and for the beauty of nature we are indebted for some of the -noblest passages in Shakespeare. This is the attraction which has drawn -him to Jessica, her outer beauty is the index of artistic sensibility -within: [=v.= i. 69, 1-24.] 'she is never merry when she hears sweet -music,' and the soul of rhythm is awakened in her, just as much as in -her husband, by the moonlight scene. Simplicity again, is a quality they -have in common, as is seen by their ignorance in money-matters, [=iii.= -i. 113, 123.] and the way a valuable turquoise ring goes for a -monkey--if, at least, Tubal may be believed: a carelessness of money -which mitigates our dislike of the free hand Jessica lays upon her -father's ducats and jewels. On the whole, however, Lorenzo's dreaminess -makes a pretty contrast to Jessica's vivacity. And Lorenzo's inactivity -is capable of being roused to great things. This is seen by the -elopement itself: [esp. =ii.= iv. 20, 30; =ii.= vi. 30. &c.] for the -suggestion of its incidents seems to be that Lorenzo meant at first no -more than trifling with the pretty Jewess, and that he rose to the -occasion as he found and appreciated Jessica's higher tone and -attraction. [=iii.= iv. 24, 32.] Finally, we must see the calibre of -Lorenzo's character through the eyes of Portia, who selects him at -first sight as the representative to whom to commit her household in her -absence, of which commission she will take no refusal. - -[_Jessica and Lorenzo a foil to Portia and Bassanio._] - -So interpreted the characters of Jessica and Lorenzo make the whole -episode of the elopement an antithesis to the main plot. To a wedded -couple in the fresh happiness of their union there can hardly fall a -greater luxury than to further the happiness of another couple; this -luxury is granted to Portia and Bassanio, and in their reception of the -fugitives what picturesque contrasts are brought together! The two pairs -are a foil to one another in kind, and set one another off like gold and -gems. Lorenzo and Jessica are negative characters with the one positive -quality of intense capacity for enjoyment; Bassanio and Portia have -everything to enjoy, yet their natures appear dormant till roused by an -occasion for daring and energy. The Jewess and her husband are -distinguished by the bird-like simplicity that so often goes with -special art-susceptibility; Portia and Bassanio are full and rounded -characters in which the whole of human nature seems concentrated. The -contrast is of degree as well as kind: the weaker pair brought side by -side with the stronger throw out the impression of their strength. -Portia has a fulness of power which puts her in her most natural -position when she is extending protection to those who are less able to -stand by themselves. Still more with Bassanio: he has so little scope in -the scenes of the play itself, which from the nature of the stories -present him always in situations of dependence on others, that we see -his strength almost entirely by the reflected light of the attitude -which others hold to him; in the present instance we have no difficulty -in catching the intellectual power of Lorenzo, and Lorenzo looks up to -Bassanio as a superior. And the couples thus contrasted in character -present an equal likeness and unlikeness in their fortunes. Both are -happy for ever, and both have become so through a bold stroke. Yet in -the one instance it is blind obedience, in face of all temptations, to -the mere whims of a good parent, who is dead, that has been guided to -the one issue so passionately desired; in the case of the other couple -open rebellion, at every practical risk, against the legitimate -authority of an evil father, still living, has brought them no worse -fate than happiness in one another, and for their defenceless position -the best of patrons. - -It seems, then, that the introduction of the Jessica Story is justified, -not only by the purposes of construction which it serves, but by the -fact that its human interest is at once a contrast and a supplement to -the main story, with which it blends to produce the ordered variety of a -finished picture. - -[_The Rings Episode assists the mechanism of the main stories,_] - -A few words will be sufficient to point out how the effects of the main -plot are assisted by the Rings Episode, which, though rich in fun, is of -a slighter character than the Jessica Story, and occupies a much smaller -space in the field of view. The dramatic points of the two minor stories -are similar. Like the Jessica Story the Rings Episode assists the -mechanical working out of the main plot. An explanation must somehow be -given to Bassanio that the lawyer is Portia in disguise; mere mechanical -explanations have always an air of weakness, but the affair of the rings -utilises the explanation in the present case as a source of new dramatic -effects. This arrangement further assists, to a certain extent, in -reducing the improbability of Portia's project. The point at which the -improbability would be most felt would be, not the first appearance of -the lawyer's clerk, for then we are engrossed in our anxiety for -Antonio, but when the explanation of the disguise came to be made; there -might be a danger lest here the surprise of Bassanio should become -infectious, and the audience should awake to the improbability of the -whole story: as it is, their attention is at the critical moment -diverted to the perplexity of the penitent husbands. [_and their -interweaving;_] The Story of the Rings, like that of Jessica, assists -the interweaving of the two main stories with one another, its subtlety -suggesting to what a degree of detail this interlacing extends. Bassanio -is the main point which unites the Story of the Jew and the Caskets -Story; in the one he occupies the position of friend, in the other of -husband. [=iv.= i. 425-454.] The affair of the rings, slight as it is, -is so managed by Portia that its point becomes a test as between his -friendship and his love; and so equal do these forces appear that, -though his friendship finally wins and he surrenders his betrothal ring, -yet it is not until after his wife has given him a hint against herself: - - An if your wife be not a mad-woman, - And know how well I have deserved the ring, - She would not hold out enemy for ever - For giving it to me. - -The Rings Episode, even more than the Jessica Story, assists in -restoring the balance between the main tales. The chief inequality -between them lies in the fact that the Jew Story is complicated and -resolved, while the Caskets Story is a simple progress to a goal; when, -however, there springs from the latter a sub-action which has a highly -comic complication and resolution the two halves of the play become -dramatically on a par. And the interweaving of the dark and bright -elements in the play is assisted by the fact that the Episode of the -Rings not only provides a comic reaction to relieve the tragic crisis, -but its whole point is a Dramatic Irony in which serious and comic are -inextricably mixed. - -[_and assists in the development of Portia's character._] - -Finally, as the Jessica Story ministers to Character effect in -connection with the general ensemble of the personages, so the Episode -of the Rings has a special function in bringing out the character of -Portia. The secret of the charm which has won for Portia the suffrages -of all readers is the perfect balance of qualities in her character: she -is the meeting-point of brightness, force, and tenderness. And, to crown -the union, Shakespeare has placed her at the supreme moment of life, on -the boundary line between girlhood and womanhood, when the wider aims -and deeper issues of maturity find themselves in strange association -with the abandon of youth. The balance thus becomes so perfect that it -quivers, and dips to one side and the other. [=i.= ii. 39.] Portia is -the saucy child as she sprinkles her sarcasms over Nerissa's enumeration -of the suitors: in the trial she faces the world of Venice as a heroine. -[=iii.= ii. 150.] She is the ideal maiden in the speech in which she -surrenders herself to Bassanio: [=iv.= i. 184.] she is the ideal woman -as she proclaims from the judgment seat the divinity of mercy. Now the -fourth Act has kept before us too exclusively one side of this -character. Not that Portia in the lawyer's gown is masculine: but the -dramatist has had to dwell too long on her side of strength. He will not -dismiss us with this impression, but indulges us in one more daring feat -surpassing all the madcap frolics of the past. Thus the Episode of the -Rings is the last flicker of girlhood in Portia before it merges in the -wider life of womanhood. We have rejoiced in a great deliverance wrought -by a noble woman: our enjoyment rises higher yet when the Rings Episode -reminds us that this woman has not ceased to be a sportive girl. - -It has been shown, then, that the two inferior stories in _The Merchant -of Venice_ assist the main stories in the most varied manner, smoothing -their mechanical working, meeting their special difficulties, drawing -their mutual interweaving yet closer, and throwing their character -effects into relief: the additional complexity they have brought has -resulted in making emphatic points yet more prominent, and the total -effect has therefore been to increase clearness and simplicity. Enough -has now been said on the building up of Dramas out of Stories, which is -the distinguishing feature of the Romantic Drama; the studies that -follow will be applied to the more universal topics of dramatic -interest, Character, Plot, and Passion. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[2] It is a difficulty of literary criticism that it has to use as -technical terms words belonging to ordinary conversation, and therefore -more or less indefinite in their significations. In the present work I -am making a distinction between 'complex' and 'complicated': the latter -is applied to the diverting a story out of its natural course with a -view to its ultimate 'resolution'; 'complex' is reserved for the -interweaving of stories with one another. Later on 'single' will be -opposed to 'complex,' and 'simple' to 'complicated.' - -[3] This seems to me a reasonable view notwithstanding what Jessica says -to the contrary (iii. ii. 286), that she has often heard her father -swear he would rather have Antonio's flesh than twenty times the value -of the bond. It is one thing to swear vengeance in private, another -thing to follow it up in the face of a world in opposition. A man of -overbearing temper surrounded by inferiors and dependants often utters -threats, and seems to find a pleasure in uttering them, which both he -and his hearers know he will never carry out. - - - - -IV. - -A PICTURE OF IDEAL VILLAINY IN RICHARD III. - -_A Study in Character-Interpretation._ - - -[_Villainy as a subject for art-treatment._] - -I HOPE that the subject of the present study will not be considered by -any reader forbidding. On the contrary, there is surely attractiveness -in the thought that nothing is so repulsive or so uninteresting in the -world of fact but in some way or other it may be brought under the -dominion of art-beauty. The author of _L'Allegro_ shows by the companion -poem that he could find inspiration in a rainy morning; and the great -master in English poetry is followed by a great master in English -painting who wins his chief triumphs by his handling of fog and mist. -Long ago the masterpiece of Virgil consecrated agricultural toil; -Murillo's pictures have taught us that there is a beauty in rags and -dirt; rustic commonplaces gave a life passion to Wordsworth, and were -the cause of a revolution in poetry; while Dickens has penetrated into -the still less promising region of low London life, and cast a halo -around the colourless routine of poverty. Men's evil passions have given -Tragedy to art, crime is beautified by being linked to Nemesis, meanness -is the natural source for brilliant comic effects, ugliness has reserved -for it a special form of art in the grotesque, and pain becomes -attractive in the light of the heroism that suffers and the devotion -that watches. In the infancy of modern English poetry Drayton found a -poetic side to topography and maps, and Phineas Fletcher idealised -anatomy; while of the two greatest imaginations belonging to the modern -world Milton produced his masterpiece in the delineation of a fiend, and -Dante in a picture of hell. The final triumph of good over evil seems to -have been already anticipated by art. - -[_The villainy of Richard ideal in its scale,_] - -The portrait of Richard satisfies a first condition of ideality in the -scale of the whole picture. The sphere in which he is placed is not -private life, but the world of history, in which moral responsibility is -the highest: if, therefore, the quality of other villainies be as fine, -here the issues are deeper. [_and in its fulness of development._] As -another element of the ideal, the villainy of Richard is presented to us -fully developed and complete. Often an artist of crime will rely--as -notably in the portraiture of Tito Melema--mainly on the succession of -steps by which a character, starting from full possession of the -reader's sympathies, arrives by the most natural gradations at a height -of evil which shocks. In the present case all idea of growth is kept -outside the field of this particular play; the opening soliloquy -announces a completed process: - -[=i.= i. 30.] - - I am determined to prove a villain. - -What does appear of Richard's past, seen through the favourable medium -of a mother's description, only seems to extend the completeness to -earlier stages: - -[=iv.= iv. 167.] - - A grievous burthen was thy birth to me; - Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy; - Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious, - Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous, - Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, bloody, treacherous, - More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred. - -So in the details of the play there is nowhere a note of the hesitation -that betrays tentative action. When even Buckingham is puzzled as to -what can be done if Hastings should resist, Richard answers: - -[=iii.= i. 193.] - - Chop off his head, man; somewhat we will do. - -His choice is only between different modes of villainy, never between -villainy and honesty. - -[_It has no sufficient motive._] - -Again, it is to be observed that there is no suggestion of impelling -motive or other explanation for the villainy of Richard. He does not -labour under any sense of personal injury, such as Iago felt in -believing, however groundlessly, [_Othello_: =i.= iii. 392, &c.] that -his enemies had wronged him through his wife; [_Lear_: =i.= ii. 1-22.] -or Edmund, whose soliloquies display him as conscious that his birth has -made his whole life an injury. Nor have we in this case the morbid -enjoyment of suffering which we associate with Mephistopheles, and which -Dickens has worked up into one of his most powerful portraits in Quilp. -Richard never turns aside to gloat over the agonies of his victims; it -is not so much the details as the grand schemes of villainy, the -handling of large combinations of crime, that have an interest for him: -he is a strategist in villainy, not a tactician. Nor can we point to -ambition as a sufficient motive. He is ambitious in a sense which -belongs to all vigorous natures; he has the workman's impulse to rise by -his work. But ambition as a determining force in character must imply -more than this; it is a sort of moral dazzling, its symptom is a -fascination by ends which blinds to the ruinous means leading up to -these ends. Such an ambition was Macbeth's; but in Richard the symptoms -are wanting, and in all his long soliloquies he is never found dwelling -upon the prize in view. A nearer approach to an explanation would be -Richard's sense of bodily deformity. Not only do all who come in contact -with him shrink from the 'bottled spider,' [=i.= iii. 242, 228; =iv.= -iv. 81, &c.] but he himself gives a conspicuous place in his meditations -to the thought of his ugliness; from the outset he connects his criminal -career with the reflection that he 'is not shaped for sportive tricks' -[=i.= i. 14.]: - - Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time - Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, - And that so lamely and unfashionable - That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; - Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, - Have no delight to pass away the time, - Unless to spy my shadow in the sun - And descant on mine own deformity. - -Still, it would be going too far to call this the motive of his crimes: -the spirit of this and similar passages is more accurately expressed by -saying that he has a morbid pleasure in contemplating physical ugliness -analogous to his morbid pleasure in contemplating moral baseness. [esp. -=i.= ii. 252-264.] - -[_Villainy has become to Richard an end in itself._] - -There appears, then, no sufficient explanation and motive for the -villainy of Richard: the general impression conveyed is that to Richard -villainy has become an end in itself needing no special motive. This is -one of the simplest principles of human development--that a means to an -end tends to become in time an end in itself. The miser who began -accumulating to provide comforts for his old age finds the process -itself of accumulating gain firmer and firmer hold upon him, until, when -old age has come, he sticks to accumulating and foregoes comfort. So in -previous plays Gloster may have been impelled by ambition to his crimes: -[compare _3 Henry VI:_ =iii.= ii. 165-181.] by the time the present play -is reached crime itself becomes to him the dearer of the two, and the -ambitious end drops out of sight. This leads directly to one of the two -main features of Shakespeare's portrait: Richard is an _artist in -villainy_. [_Richard an artist in villainy._] What form and colour are -to the painter, what rhythm and imagery are to the poet, that crime is -to Richard: it is the medium in which his soul frames its conceptions of -the beautiful. The gulf that separates between Shakespeare's Richard and -the rest of humanity is no gross perversion of sentiment, nor the -development of abnormal passions, nor a notable surrender in the -struggle between interest and right. It is that he approaches villainy -as a thing of pure intellect, a region of moral indifference in which -sentiment and passion have no place, attraction to which implies no more -motive than the simplest impulse to exercise a native talent in its -natural sphere. - -[_Richard lacks the emotions naturally attending crime._] - -Of the various barriers that exist against crime, the most powerful are -the checks that come from human emotions. It is easier for a criminal -to resist the objections his reason interposes to evildoing than to -overcome these emotional restraints: either his own emotions, woven by -generations of hereditary transmission into the very framework of his -nature, which make his hand tremble in the act of sinning; or the -emotions his crimes excite in others, such as will cause hardened -wretches, who can die calmly on the scaffold, to cower before the -menaces of a mob. Crime becomes possible only because these emotions can -be counteracted by more powerful emotions on the other side, by greed, -by thirst for vengeance, by inflamed hatred. In Richard, however, when -he is surveying his works, we find no such evil emotions raised, no -gratified vengeance or triumphant hatred. The reason is that there is in -him no restraining emotion to be overcome. Horror at the unnatural is -not subdued, but absent; [=i.= ii.] his attitude to atrocity is the -passionless attitude of the artist who recognises that the tyrant's -cruelty can be set to as good music as the martyr's heroism. Readers are -shocked at the scene in which Richard wooes Lady Anne beside the bier of -the parent he has murdered, and wonder that so perfect an intriguer -should not choose a more favourable time. But the repugnance of the -reader has no place in Richard's feelings: the circumstances of the -scene are so many _objections_, to be met by so much skill of treatment. -A single detail in the play illustrates perfectly this neutral attitude -to horror. Tyrrel comes to bring the news of the princes' murder; -Richard answers: - -[=iv.= iii. 31.] - - Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper, - And thou shalt tell the process of their death. - -Quilp could not have waited for his gloating till after supper; other -villains would have put the deed out of sight when done; the epicure in -villainy reserves his _bonbouche_ till he has leisure to do it justice. -Callous to his own emotions, he is equally callous to the emotions he -rouses in others. When Queen Margaret is pouring a flood of curses which -make the innocent courtiers' hair stand on end, and the heaviest curse -of all, which she has reserved for Richard himself, [=i.= iii. 216-239.] -is rolling on its climax, - - Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb! - Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins! - Thou rag of honour! thou detested-- - -he adroitly slips in the word 'Margaret' in place of the intended -'Richard,' and thus, with the coolness of a schoolboy's small joke, -disconcerts her tragic passion in a way that gives a moral wrench to the -whole scene. [=iv.= iv, from 136.] His own mother's curse moves him not -even to anger; he caps its clauses with bantering repartees, until he -seizes an opportunity for a pun, and begins to move off: [=ii.= ii. -109.] he treats her curse, as in a previous scene he had treated her -blessing, with a sort of gentle impatience as if tired of a fond yet -somewhat troublesome parent. Finally, there is an instinct which serves -as resultant to all the complex forces, emotional or rational, which -sway us between right and wrong; this instinct of conscience is formally -disavowed by Richard: - -[=v.= iii. 309.] - - Conscience is but a word that cowards use, - Devised at first to keep the strong in awe. - -[_But he regards villainy with the intellectual enthusiasm of the -artist._] - -But, if the natural heat of emotion is wanting, there is, on the other -hand, the full intellectual warmth of an artist's enthusiasm, whenever -Richard turns to survey the game he is playing. He reflects with a -relish how he does the wrong and first begins the brawl, how he sets -secret mischief abroach and charges it on to others, beweeping his own -victims to simple gulls, and, [=i.= iii, from 324.] when these begin to -cry for vengeance, quoting Scripture against returning evil for evil, -and thus seeming a saint when most he plays the devil. The great master -is known by his appreciation of details, in the least of which he can -see the play of great principles: so the magnificence of Richard's -villainy does not make him insensible to commonplaces of crime. When in -the long usurpation conspiracy there is a moment's breathing space just -before the Lord Mayor enters, [=iii.= vi. 1-11.] Richard and Buckingham -utilise it for a burst of hilarity over the deep hypocrisy with which -they are playing their parts; how they can counterfeit the deep -tragedian, murder their breath in the middle of a word, tremble and -start at wagging of a straw:--here we have the musician's flourish upon -his instrument from very wantonness of skill. Again: - -[=i.= i. 118.] - - Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so - That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven-- - -is the composer's pleasure at hitting upon a readily workable theme. -Richard appreciates his murderers as a workman appreciates good tools: - -[=i.= iii. 354.] - - Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears: - I like you, lads. - -[=i.= ii, from 228.] - -And at the conclusion of the scene with Lady Anne we have the artist's -enjoyment of his own masterpiece: - - Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? - Was ever woman in this humour won?... - What! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, - To take her in her heart's extremest hate, - With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, - The bleeding witness of her hatred by; - Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, - And I nothing to back my suit at all, - But the plain devil and dissembling looks, - And yet to win her, all the world to nothing! - -The tone in this passage is of the highest: it is the tone of a musician -fresh from a triumph of his art, the sweetest point in which has been -that he has condescended to no adventitious aids, no assistance of -patronage or concessions to popular tastes; it has been won by pure -music. So the artist in villainy celebrates a triumph of _plain devil_! - -[_The villainy ideal in success: a fascination of irresistibility in -Richard._] - -This view of Richard as an artist in crime is sufficient to explain the -hold which villainy has on Richard himself: but ideal villainy must be -ideal also in its success; and on this side of the analysis another -conception in Shakespeare's portraiture becomes of first importance. It -is obvious enough that Richard has all the elements of success which can -be reduced to the form of skill: but he has something more. No theory of -human action will be complete which does not recognise a dominion of -will over will operating by mere contact, without further explanation so -far as conscious influence is concerned. What is it that takes the bird -into the jaws of the serpent? No persuasion or other influence on the -bird's consciousness, for it struggles to keep back; we can only -recognise the attraction as a force, and give it a name, fascination. In -Richard there is a similar Fascination of Irresistibility, which also -operates by his mere presence, and which fights for him in the same way -in which the idea of their invincibility fought for conquerors like -Napoleon, and was on occasions as good to them as an extra twenty or -thirty thousand men. A consideration like this will be appreciated in -the case of _tours de force_ like the Wooing of Lady Anne, which is a -stumblingblock to many readers--a widow beside the bier of her murdered -husband's murdered father wooed and won by the man who makes no secret -that he is the murderer of them both. The analysis of ordinary human -motives would make it appear that Anne would not yield at points at -which the scene represents her as yielding; some other force is wanted -to explain her surrender, and it is found in this secret force of -irresistible will which Richard bears about with him. But, it will be -asked, in what does this fascination appear? The answer is that the idea -of it is furnished to us by the other scenes of the play. Such a -consideration illustrates the distinction between real and ideal. An -ideal incident is not an incident of real life simply clothed in beauty -of expression; nor, on the other hand, is an ideal incident divorced -from the laws of real possibility. Ideal implies that the transcendental -has been made possible by treatment: that an incident (for example) -which might be impossible in itself becomes possible through other -incidents with which it is associated, just as in actual life the action -of a public personage which may have appeared strange at the time -becomes intelligible when at his death we can review his life as a -whole. Such a scene as the Wooing Scene might be impossible as a -fragment; it becomes possible enough in the play, where it has to be -taken in connection with the rest of the plot, throughout which the -irresistibility of the hero is prominent as one of the chief threads of -connection. [_The fascination is to be conveyed in the acting._] Nor is -it any objection that the Wooing Scene comes early in the action. The -play is not the book, but the actor's interpretation on the stage, and -the actor will have collected even from the latest scenes elements of -the interpretation he throws into the earliest: the actor is a lens for -concentrating the light of the whole play upon every single detail. The -fascination of irresistibility, then, which is to act by instinct in -every scene, may be arrived at analytically when we survey the play as a -whole--when we see how by Richard's innate genius, by the reversal in -him of the ordinary relation of human nature to crime, especially by his -perfect mastery of the successive situations as they arise, the -dramatist steadily builds up an irresistibility which becomes a secret -force clinging to Richard's presence, and through the operation of which -his feats are half accomplished by the fact of his attempting them. - -[_The irresistibility analysed. Unlikely means._] - -To begin with: the sense of irresistible power is brought out by the way -in which the unlikeliest things are continually drawn into his schemes -and utilised as means. [=i.= i, from 42.] Not to speak of his regular -affectation of blunt sincerity, he makes use of the simple brotherly -confidence of Clarence as an engine of fratricide, [=iii.= iv; esp. 76 -compared with =iii.= i. 184.] and founds on the frank familiarity -existing between himself and Hastings a plot by which he brings him to -the block. The Queen's compunction at the thought of leaving Clarence -out of the general reconciliation around the dying king's bedside is -the fruit of a conscience tenderer than her neighbours': [=ii.= i, from -73: cf. 134.] Richard adroitly seizes it as an opportunity for shifting -on to the Queen and her friends the suspicion of the duke's murder. -[=iii.= i. 154.] The childish prattle of little York Richard manages to -suggest to the bystanders as dangerous treason; [=ii.= i. 52-72.] the -solemnity of the king's deathbed he turns to his own purposes by -outdoing all the rest in Christian forgiveness and humility; [=iii.= v. -99, &c.] and he selects devout meditation as the card to play with the -Lord Mayor and citizens. On the other hand, amongst other devices for -the usurpation conspiracy, he starts a slander upon his own mother's -purity; [=iii.= v. 75-94.] and further--by one of the greatest strokes -in the whole play--makes capital in the Wooing Scene out of his own -heartlessness, [=i.= ii. 156-167.] describing in a burst of startling -eloquence the scenes of horror he has passed through, the only man -unmoved to tears, in order to add: - - And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, - Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. - -There are things which are too sacred for villainy to touch, and there -are things which are protected by their own foulness: both alike are -made useful by Richard. - -[_The sensation produced by one crime made to bring about others._] - -Similarly it is to be noticed how Richard can utilise the very sensation -produced by one crime as a means to bring about more; as when he -interrupts the King's dying moments to announce the death of Clarence in -such a connection as must give a shock to the most unconcerned -spectator, [=ii.= i, from 77; cf. 134.] and then draws attention to the -pale faces of the Queen's friends as marks of guilt. He thus makes one -crime beget another without further effort on his part, reversing the -natural law by which each criminal act, through its drawing more -suspicion to the villain, tends to limit his power for further mischief. -[_Richard's own plans foisted on to others._] It is to the same purpose -that Richard chooses sometimes instead of acting himself to foist his -own schemes on to others; as when he inspires Buckingham with the idea -of the young king's arrest, and, when Buckingham seizes the idea as his -own, meekly accepts it from him: - -[=ii.= ii. 112-154; esp. 149.] - - I, like a child, will go by thy direction. - -There is in all this a dreadful _economy_ of crime: not the economy of -prudence seeking to reduce its amount, but the artist's economy which -delights in bringing the largest number of effects out of a single -device. Such skill opens up a vista of evil which is boundless. - -[_No signs of effort in Richard: imperturbability of mind._] - -The sense of irresistible power is again brought out by his perfect -imperturbability of mind: villainy never ruffles his spirits. He never -misses the irony that starts up in the circumstances around him, and -says to Clarence: - -[=i.= i. 111.] - - This deep disgrace in brotherhood - _Touches_ me deeply. - -While taking his part in entertaining the precocious King he treats us -to continual asides-- - -[=iii.= i. 79, 94.] - - So wise so young, they say, do never live long-- - -showing how he can stop to criticise the scenes in which he is an actor. -[=iii.= iv. 24.] He can delay the conspiracy on which his chance of the -crown depends by coming late to the council, [=iii.= iv. 32.] and then -while waiting the moment for turning upon his victim is cool enough to -recollect the Bishop of Ely's strawberries. [_humour;_] But more than -all these examples is to be noted Richard's _humour_. This is _par -excellence_ the sign of a mind at ease with itself: scorn, contempt, -bitter jest belong to the storm of passion, but humour is the sunshine -of the soul. Yet Shakespeare has ventured to endow Richard with -unquestionable humour. [=i.= i. 151-156.] Thus, in one of his earliest -meditations, he prays, 'God take King Edward to his mercy,' for then he -will marry Warwick's youngest daughter: - - What though I kill'd her husband and her father! - The readiest way to make the wench amends - Is to become her husband and her father! - -[e.g. =i.= i. 118; =ii.= ii. 109; =iv.= iii. 38, 43; =i.= iii. 142; -=ii.= i. 72; =iii.= vii. 51-54, &c.] - -And all through there perpetually occur little turns of language into -which the actor can throw a tone of humorous enjoyment; notably, when he -complains of being 'too childish-foolish for this world,' and where he -nearly ruins the effect of his edifying penitence in the Reconciliation -Scene, by being unable to resist one final stroke: - - I thank my God for my humility! - -[_freedom from prejudice._] - -Of a kindred nature is his perfect frankness and fairness to his -victims: villainy never clouds his judgment. Iago, astutest of -intriguers, was deceived, as has been already noted, by his own morbid -acuteness, and firmly believed--what the simplest spectator can see to -be a delusion--that Othello has tampered with his wife. Richard, on the -contrary, is a marvel of judicial impartiality; he speaks of King Edward -in such terms as these-- - -[=i.= i. 36.] - - If King Edward be as true and just - As I am subtle, false and treacherous; - -and weighs elaborately the superior merit of one of his victims to his -own: - -[=i.= ii. from 240.] - - Hath she forgot already that brave prince, - Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since, - Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury? - A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, - Framed in the prodigality of nature, - Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal, - The spacious world cannot again afford: - And will she yet debase her eyes on me, - That cropped the golden prime of this sweet prince, - And made her widow to a woful bed? - On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety? - -Richard can rise to all his height of villainy without its leaving on -himself the slightest trace of struggle or even effort. - -[_A recklessness suggesting boundless resources._] - -Again, the idea of boundless resource is suggested by an occasional -recklessness, almost a slovenliness, in the details of his intrigues. -Thus, in the early part of the Wooing Scene he makes two blunders of -which a tyro in intrigue might be ashamed. [=i.= ii. 91.] He denies that -he is the author of Edward's death, to be instantly confronted with the -evidence of Margaret as an eye-witness. Then a few lines further on he -goes to the opposite extreme: - -[=i.= ii. 101.] - - _Anne._ Didst thou not kill this king? - - _Glouc._ I grant ye. - - _Anne_. Dost grant me, hedgehog? - -The merest beginner would know better how to meet accusations than by -such haphazard denials and acknowledgments. But the crack -billiard-player will indulge at the beginning of the game in a little -clumsiness, giving his adversaries a prospect of victory only to have -the pleasure of making up the disadvantage with one or two brilliant -strokes. And so Richard, essaying the most difficult problem ever -attempted in human intercourse, lets half the interview pass before he -feels it worth while to play with caution. - -[_General character of Richard's intrigue: inspiration rather than -calculation._] - -The mysterious irresistibility of Richard, pointed to by the succession -of incidents in the play, is assisted by the very improbability of some -of the more difficult scenes in which he is an actor. Intrigue in -general is a thing of reason, and its probabilities can be readily -analysed; but the genius of intrigue in Richard seems to make him avoid -the caution of other intriguers, and to give him a preference for feats -which seem impossible. The whole suggests how it is not by calculation -that he works, but he brings the _touch_ of an artist to his dealing -with human weakness, and follows whither his artist's inspiration leads -him. If, then, there is nothing so remote from evil but Richard can make -it tributary; if he can endow crimes with power of self-multiplying; if -he can pass through a career of sin without the taint of distortion on -his intellect and with the unruffled calmness of innocence; if Richard -accomplishes feats no other would attempt with a carelessness no other -reputation would risk, even slow reason may well believe him -irresistible. When, further, such qualifications for villainy become, -by unbroken success in villainy, reflected in Richard's very bearing; -when the only law explaining his motions to onlookers is the lawlessness -of genius whose instinct is more unerring than the most laborious -calculation and planning, it becomes only natural that the _opinion_ of -his irresistibility should become converted into a mystic _fascination_, -making Richard's very presence a signal to his adversaries of defeat, -chilling with hopelessness the energies with which they are to face his -consummate skill. - -The two main ideas of Shakespeare's portrait, the idea of an artist in -crime and the fascination of invincibility which Richard bears about -with him, are strikingly illustrated in the wooing of Lady Anne. [=i.= -ii.] For a long time Richard will not put forth effort, but meets the -loathing and execration hurled at him with repartee, saying in so many -words that he regards the scene as a 'keen encounter of our wits.' -[115.] All this time the mysterious power of his presence is operating, -the more strongly as Lady Anne sees the most unanswerable cause that -denunciation ever had to put produce no effect upon her adversary, and -feels her own confidence in her wrongs recoiling upon herself. [from -152.] When the spell has had time to work then he assumes a serious -tone: suddenly, as we have seen, turning the strong point of Anne's -attack, his own inhuman nature, into the basis of his plea--he who never -wept before has been softened by love to her. From this point he urges -his cause with breathless speed; [175.] he presses a sword into her hand -with which to pierce his breast, knowing that she lacks the nerve to -wield it, and seeing how such forbearance on her part will be a -starting-point in giving way. [from 193.] We can trace the sinking of -her will before the unconquerable will of her adversary in her feebler -and feebler refusals, while as yet very shame keeps her to an outward -defiance. Then, when she is wishing to yield, he suddenly finds her an -excuse by declaring that all he desires at this moment is that she -should leave the care of the King's funeral - - To him that hath more cause to be a mourner. - -By yielding this much to penitence and religion we see she has commenced -a downward descent from which she will never recover. Such consummate -art in the handling of human nature, backed by the spell of an -irresistible presence, the weak Anne has no power to combat. [=iv.= i. -66-87.] To the last she is as much lost in amazement as the reader at -the way it has all come about: - - Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, - Even in so short a space, my woman's heart - Grossly grew captive to his honey words. - -[_Ideal_ v. _real villainy_] - -To gather up our results. A dramatist is to paint a portrait of ideal -villainy as distinct from villainy in real life. In real life it is a -commonplace that a virtuous life is a life of effort; but the converse -is not true, that he who is prepared to be a villain will therefore lead -an easy life. On the contrary, 'the _way_ of transgressors is hard.' The -metaphor suggests a path, laid down at first by the Architect of the -universe, beaten plain and flat by the generations of men who have since -trodden it: he who keeps within this path of rectitude will walk, not -without effort, yet at least with safety; but he who 'steps aside' to -the right or left will find his way beset with pitfalls and -stumblingblocks. In real life a man sets out to be a villain, but his -mental power is deficient, and he remains a villain only in intention. -Or he has stores of power, but lacks the spark of purpose to set them -aflame. Or, armed with both will to plan and mind to execute, yet his -efforts are hampered by unfit tools. Or, if his purpose needs reliance -alone on his own clear head and his own strong arm, yet in the critical -moment the emotional nature he has inherited with his humanity starts -into rebellion and scares him, like Macbeth, from the half-accomplished -deed. Or, if he is as hardened in nature as corrupt in mind and will, -yet he is closely pursued by a mocking fate, which crowns his well-laid -plans with a mysterious succession of failures. Or, if there is no other -limitation on him from within or from without, yet he may move in a -world too narrow to give him scope: the man with a heart to be the -scourge of his country proves in fact no more than the vagabond of a -country side.--But in Shakespeare's portrait we have infinite capacity -for mischief, needing no purpose, for evil has become to it an end in -itself; we have one who for tools can use the baseness of his own nature -or the shame of those who are his nearest kin, while at his touch all -that is holiest becomes transformed into weapons of iniquity. We have -one whose nature in the past has been a gleaning ground for evil in -every stage of his development, and who in the present is framed to look -on unnatural horror with the eyes of interested curiosity. We have one -who seems to be seconded by fate with a series of successes, which -builds up for him an irresistibility that is his strongest safeguard; -and who, instead of being cramped by circumstances, has for his stage -the world of history itself, in which crowns are the prize and nations -the victims. In such a portrait is any element wanting to arrive at the -ideal of villainy? - -[_Ideal villainy_ v. _monstrosity._] - -The question would rather be whether Shakespeare has not gone too far, -and, passing outside the limits of art, exhibited a monstrosity. Nor is -it an answer to point to the 'dramatic hedging' by which Richard is -endowed with undaunted personal courage, unlimited intellectual power, -and every good quality not inconsistent with his perfect villainy. The -objection to such a portrait as the present study presents is that it -offends against our sense of the principles upon which the universe has -been constructed; we feel that before a violation of nature could attain -such proportions nature must have exerted her recuperative force to -crush it. If, however, the dramatist can suggest that such reassertion -of nature is actually made, that the crushing blow is delayed only while -it is accumulating force: in a word, if the dramatist can draw out -before us a _Nemesis_ as ideal as the villainy was ideal, then the full -demands of art will be satisfied. The Nemesis that dominates the whole -play of _Richard III_ will be the subject of the next study. - - - - -V. - -RICHARD III: HOW SHAKESPEARE WEAVES NEMESIS INTO HISTORY. - -_A Study in Plot._ - - -[_Richard III: from the Character side a violation of Nemesis;_] - -I HAVE alluded already to the dangerous tendency, which, as it appears -to me, exists amongst ordinary readers of Shakespeare, to ignore plot as -of secondary importance, and to look for Shakespeare's greatness mainly -in his conceptions of character. But the full character effect of a -dramatic portrait cannot be grasped if it be dissociated from the plot; -and this is nowhere more powerfully illustrated than in the play of -_Richard III_. The last study was devoted exclusively to the Character -side of the play, and on this confined view the portrait of Richard -seemed a huge offence against our sense of moral equilibrium, rendering -artistic satisfaction impossible. Such an impression vanishes when, as -in the present study, the drama is looked at from the side of Plot. -[_from the side of Plot, the transformation of history into Nemesis._] -The effect of this plot is, however, missed by those who limit their -attention in reviewing it to Richard himself. These may feel that there -is nothing in his fate to compensate for the spectacle of his crimes: -man must die, and a death in fulness of energy amid the glorious stir of -battle may seem a fate to be envied. But the Shakespearean Drama with -its complexity of plot is not limited to the individual life and fate in -its interpretation of history; and when we survey all the distinct -trains of interest in the play of _Richard III_, with their blendings -and mutual influence, we shall obtain a sense of dramatic satisfaction -amply counterbalancing the monstrosity of Richard's villainy. Viewed as -a study in character the play leaves in us only an intense craving for -Nemesis: when we turn to consider the plot, this presents to us the -world of history transformed into an intricate design of which the -recurrent pattern is Nemesis. - -[_The underplot: a set of separate Nemesis Actions._] - -This notion of tracing a pattern in human affairs is a convenient key to -the exposition of plot. Laying aside for the present the main interest -of Richard himself, we may observe that the bulk of the drama consists -in a number of minor interests--single threads of the pattern--each of -which is a separate example of Nemesis. [_Clarence._] The first of these -trains of interest centres around the Duke of Clarence. He has betrayed -the Lancastrians, to whom he had solemnly sworn fealty, for the sake of -the house of York; [=i.= iv. 50, 66.] this perjury is his bitterest -recollection in his hour of awakened conscience, and is urged home by -the taunts of his murderers; while his only defence is that he did it -all for his brother's love. [=ii.= i. 86.] Yet his lot is to fall by a -treacherous death, the warrant for which is signed by this brother, the -King and head of the Yorkist house, [=i.= iv. 250.] while its execution -is procured by the bulwark of the house, the intriguing Richard. [_The -King._] The centre of the second nemesis is the King, who has thus -allowed himself in a moment of suspicion to be made a tool for the -murder of his brother, seeking to stop it when too late. [=ii.= i. -77-133.] Shakespeare has contrived that this death of Clarence, -announced as it is in so terrible a manner beside the King's sick bed, -gives him a shock from which he never rallies, and he is carried out to -die with the words on his lips: - - O God, I fear Thy justice will take hold - On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this. - -[_The Queen and her kindred._] - -In this nemesis on the King are associated the Queen and her kindred. -They have been assenting parties to the measures against Clarence -(however little they may have contemplated the bloody issue to which -those measures have been brought by the intrigues of Gloster). [=ii.= -ii. 62-65.] This we must understand from the introduction of Clarence's -children, who serve no purpose except to taunt the Queen in her -bereavement: - - _Boy._ Good aunt, you wept not for our father's death; - How can we aid you with our kindred tears? - - _Girl._ Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd; - Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept! - -[=ii.= ii. 74, &c.] - -The death of the King, so unexpectedly linked to that of Clarence, -removes from the Queen and her kindred the sole bulwark to the hated -Woodville family, and leaves them at the mercy of their enemies. -[_Hastings._] A third nemesis Action has Hastings for its subject. [=i.= -i. 66; =iii.= ii. 58, &c.] Hastings is the head of the court-faction -which is opposed to the Queen and her allies, and he passes all bounds -of decency in his exultation at the fate which overwhelms his -adversaries: - - But I shall laugh at this a twelvemonth hence, - That they who brought me in my master's hate, - I live to look upon their tragedy. - -He even forgets his dignity as a nobleman, and stops on his way to the -Tower to chat with a mere officer of the court, [=iii.= ii. 97.] in -order to tell him the news of which he is full, that his enemies are to -die that day at Pomfret. Yet this very journey of Hastings is his -journey to the block; the same cruel fate which had descended upon his -opponents, from the same agent and by the same unscrupulous doom, is -dealt out to Hastings in his turn. [_Buckingham._] In this treacherous -casting off of Hastings when he is no longer useful, Buckingham has been -a prime agent. [=iii.= ii, from 114.] Buckingham amused himself with the -false security of Hastings, adding to Hastings's innocent expression of -his intention to stay dinner at the Tower the aside - - And supper too, although thou know'st it not; - -while in the details of the judicial murder he plays second to Richard. -By precisely similar treachery he is himself cast off when he hesitates -to go further with Richard's villainous schemes; [=iv.= ii, from 86.] -and in precisely similar manner the treachery is flavoured with -contempt. - - _Buck._ I am thus bold to put your grace in mind - Of what you promised me. - - _K. Rich._ Well, but what's o'clock? - - _Buck._ Upon the stroke of ten. - - _K. Rich._ Well, let it strike. - - _Buck._ Why let it strike? - - _K. Rich._ Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke - Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. - I am not in the giving vein to-day. - - _Buck._ Why, then resolve me whether you will or no. - - _K. Rich._ Tut, tut. - Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. - - [_Exeunt all but Buckingham._ - - _Buck._ Is it even so? rewards he my true service - With such deep contempt? made I him king for this? - O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone - To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on! - -[_The four nemeses formed into a system by nemesis as a link._] - -These four Nemesis Actions, it will be observed, are not separate trains -of incident going on side by side, they are linked together into a -system, the law of which is seen to be that those who triumph in one -nemesis become the victims of the next; so that the whole suggests a -'chain of destruction,' like that binding together the orders of the -brute creation which live by preying upon one another. When Clarence -perished it was the King who dealt the doom and the Queen's party who -triumphed: the wheel of Nemesis goes round and the King's death follows -the death of his victim, the Queen's kindred are naked to the vengeance -of their enemies, and Hastings is left to exult. Again the wheel of -Nemesis revolves, and Hastings at the moment of his highest exultation -is hurled to destruction, while Buckingham stands by to point the moral -with a gibe. Once more the wheel goes round, and Buckingham hears -similar gibes addressed to himself and points the same moral in his own -person. Thus the portion of the drama we have so far considered yields -us a pattern within a pattern, a series of Nemesis Actions woven into a -complete underplot by a connecting-link which is also Nemesis. - -[_The 'Enveloping Action' a nemesis._] - -Following out the same general idea we may proceed to notice how the -dramatic pattern is surrounded by a fringe or border. The picture of -life presented in a play will have the more reality if it be connected -with a life wider than its own. There is no social sphere, however -private, but is to some extent affected by a wider life outside it, this -by one wider still, until the great world is reached the story of which -is History. The immediate interest may be in a single family, but it -will be a great war which, perhaps, takes away some member of this -family to die in battle, or some great commercial crisis which brings -mutation of fortune to the obscure home. The artists of fiction are -solicitous thus to suggest connections between lesser and greater; it is -the natural tendency of the mind to pass from the known to the unknown, -and if the artist can derive the movements in his little world from the -great world outside, he appears to have given his fiction a basis of -admitted truth to rest on. This device of enclosing the incidents of the -actual story in a framework of great events--technically, the -'Enveloping Action'--is one which is common in Shakespeare; it is enough -to instance such a case as _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, in which play a -fairy story has a measure of historic reality given to it by its -connection with the marriage of personages so famous as Theseus and -Hippolyta. In the present case, the main incidents and personages belong -to public life; nevertheless the effect in question is still secured, -and the contest of factions with which the play is occupied is -represented as making up only a few incidents in the great feud of -Lancaster and York. This Enveloping Action of the whole play, the War of -the Roses, is marked with special clearness: two personages are -introduced for the sole purpose of giving it prominence. [=ii.= ii. 80.] -The Duchess of York is by her years and position the representative of -the whole house; the factions who in the play successively triumph and -fall are all descended from herself; she says: - - Alas, I am the mother of these moans! - Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general. - -[=i.= iii, from 111; and =iv.= iv. 1-125.] - -And probabilities are forced to bring in Queen Margaret, the head and -sole rallying-point of the ruined Lancastrians: when the two aged women -are confronted the whole civil war is epitomised. It is hardly necessary -to point out that this Enveloping Action is itself a Nemesis Action. All -the rising and falling, the suffering and retaliation that we actually -see going on between the different sections of the Yorkist house, -constitute a detail in a wider retribution: [esp. =ii.= ii; =iv.= i; -=iv.= iv.] the presence of the Duchess gives to the incidents a unity, -[=ii.= iii; and =iv.= iv.] Queen Margaret's function is to point out -that this unity of woe is only the nemesis falling on the house of York -for their wrongs to the house of Lancaster. Thus the pattern made up of -so many reiterations of nemesis is enclosed in a border which itself -repeats the same figure. - -[_The Enveloping Nemesis carried on into indefiniteness._] - -The effect is carried further. Generally the Enveloping Action is a sort -of curtain by which our view of a drama is bounded; in the present case -the curtain is at one point lifted, and we get a glimpse into the world -beyond. Queen Margaret has surprised the Yorkist courtiers, and her -prophetic denunciations are still ringing, in which she points to the -calamities her foes have begun to suffer as retribution for the woes of -which her fallen greatness is the representative--[=i.= iii. 174-194.] -when Gloster suddenly turns the tables upon her. - - The curse my noble father laid on thee, - When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper - And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes, - And then, to dry them, gavest the duke a clout - Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland,-- - His curses, then from bitterness of soul - Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee; - And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed. - -And the new key-note struck by Gloster is taken up in chorus by the -rest, who find relief from the crushing effect of Margaret's curses by -pressing the charge home upon her. This is only a detail, but it is -enough to carry the effect of the Enveloping Action a degree further -back in time: the events of the play are nemesis on York for wrongs done -to Lancaster, but now, it seems, these old wrongs against Lancaster were -retribution for yet older crimes Lancaster had committed against York. -As in architecture the vista is contrived so as to carry the general -design of the building into indefiniteness, so here, while the grand -nemesis, of which Margaret's presence is the representative, shuts in -the play like a veil, the momentary lifting of the veil opens up a vista -of nemeses receding further and further back into history. - -[_The one attempt to reverse the nemesis confirms it._] - -Once more. All that we have seen suggests it as a sort of law to the -feud of York and Lancaster that each is destined to wreak vengeance on -the other, and then itself suffer in turn. [=i.= ii.] But at one notable -point of the play an attempt is made to evade the hereditary nemesis by -the marriage of Richard and Lady Anne. Anne, daughter to Warwick--the -grand deserter to the Lancastrians and martyr to their cause--widow to -the murdered heir of the house and chief mourner to its murdered head, -is surely the greatest sufferer of the Lancastrians at the hands of the -Yorkists. Richard is certainly the chief avenger of York upon Lancaster. -When the chief source of vengeance and the chief sufferer are united in -the closest of all bonds, the attempt to evade Nemesis becomes ideal. -Yet what is the consequence? This attempt of Lady Anne to evade the -hereditary curse proves the very channel by which the curse descends -upon herself. [=iv.= i. 66-87.] We see her once more: she is then on her -way to the Tower, and we hear her tell the strange story of her wooing, -and wish the crown were 'red hot steel to sear her to the brain'; never, -she says, since her union with Richard has she enjoyed the golden dew -of sleep; she is but waiting for the destruction, by which, no doubt, -Richard will shortly rid himself of her. - -[_To counteract the effect of repetition the nemeses are specially -emphasised:_] - -An objection may, however, here present itself, that continual -repetition of an idea like Nemesis, tends to weaken its artistic effect, -until it comes to be taken for granted. No doubt it is a law of taste -that force may be dissipated by repetition if carried beyond a certain -point. But it is to be noted, on the other hand, what pains Shakespeare -has taken to counteract the tendency in the present instance. The force -of a nemesis may depend upon a fitness that addresses itself to the -spectator's reflection, or it may be measured by the degree to which the -nemesis is brought into prominence in the incidents themselves. [_by -recognition,_] In the incidents of the present play special means are -adopted to make the recognition of the successive nemeses as they arise -emphatic. In the first place the nemesis is in each case pointed out at -the moment of its fulfilment. [=i.= iv, from 18.] In the case of -Clarence his story of crime and retribution is reflected in his dream -before it is brought to a conclusion in reality; and wherein the -bitterness of this review consists, we see when he turns to his -sympathising jailor and says: - -[=i.= iv. 66.] - - O Brackenbury, I have done those things, - Which now bear evidence against my soul, - For Edward's sake: and see how he requites me! - -The words have already been quoted in which the King recognises how -God's justice has overtaken him for his part in Clarence's death, and -those in which the children of Clarence taunt the Queen with her having -herself to bear the bereavement she has made them suffer. As the Queen's -kindred are being led to their death, one of them exclaims: - -[=iii.= iii. 15.] - - Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads - For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son. - -Hastings, when his doom has wakened him from his infatuation, recollects -a priest he had met on his way to the Tower, with whom he had stopped -to talk about the discomfiture of his enemies: - -[=iii.= iv. 89.] - - O, now I want the priest that spake to me! - -Buckingham on his way to the scaffold apostrophises the souls of his -victims: - -[=v.= i. 7.] - - If that your moody discontented souls - Do through the clouds behold this present hour, - Even for revenge mock my destruction. - -[=iv.= iv. 1, 35.] And such individual notes of recognition are -collected into a sort of chorus when Margaret appears the second time to -point out the fulfilment of her curses, and sits down beside the old -Duchess and her daughter-in-law to join in the 'society of sorrow' and -'cloy her' with beholding the revenge for which she has hungered. - -[_by prophecy,_] - -Again, the nemeses have a further emphasis given to them by prophecy. -[=i.= iii, from 195.] As Queen Margaret's second appearance is to mark -the fulfilment of a general retribution, so her first appearance -denounced it beforehand in the form of curses. And the effect is carried -on in individual prophecies: the Queen's friends as they suffer foresee -that the turn of the opposite party will come: - -[=iii.= iii. 7.] - - You live that shall cry woe for this hereafter; - -and Hastings prophesies Buckingham's doom: - -[=iii.= iv. 109.] - - They smile at me that shortly shall be dead. - -It is as if the atmosphere cleared for each sufferer with the approach -of death, and they then saw clearly the righteous plan on which the -universe is constructed, and which had been hidden from them by the dust -of life. - -[_and especially by irony._] - -But there is a third means, more powerful than either recognition or -prophecy, which Shakespeare has employed to make his Nemesis Actions -emphatic. The danger of an effect becoming tame by repetition he has met -by giving to each train of nemesis a flash of irony at some point of its -course. In the case of Lady Anne we have already seen how the exact -channel Nemesis chooses by which to descend upon her is the attempt she -made to avert it. She had bitterly cursed her husband's murderer: - -[=iv.= i. 75.] - - And be thy wife--if any be so mad-- - As miserable by the life of thee - As thou hast made me by my dear lord's death! - -In spite of this she had yielded to Richard's mysterious power, and so, -as she feels, proved the _subject of her own heart's curse_. Again, it -was noticed in the preceding study how the Queen, less hard than the -rest in that wicked court, or perhaps softened by the spectacle of her -dying husband, essayed to reverse, when too late, what had been done -against Clarence; [=ii.= i. 134.] Gloster skilfully turned this -compunction of conscience into a ground of suspicion on which he traded -to bring all the Queen's friends to the block, and thus a moment's -relenting was made into a means of destruction. [=i.= iv. 187, 199, 200, -206.] In Clarence's struggle for life, as one after another the threads -of hope snap, as the appeal to law is met by the King's command, the -appeal to heavenly law by the reminder of his own sin, [=i.= iv. 232.] -he comes to rest for his last and surest hope upon his powerful brother -Gloster--and the very murderers catch the irony of the scene: - - _Clar._ If you be hired for meed, go back again, - And I will send you to my brother Gloster, - Who shall reward you better for my life - Than Edward will for tidings of my death. - - _Sec. Murd._ You are deceived, your brother Gloster hates you. - - _Clar._ O, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear: - Go you to him from me. - - _Both._ Ay, so we will. - - _Clar._ Tell him, when that our princely father York - Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, - And charg'd us from his soul to love each other, - He little thought of this divided friendship: - Bid Gloster think of this, and he will weep. - - _First Murd._ Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to weep. - - _Clar._ O, do not slander him, for he is kind. - - _First Murd._ Right, - As snow in harvest. Thou deceivest thyself: - 'Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter thee. - - _Clar._ It cannot be; for when I parted with him, - He hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs, - That he would labour my delivery. - - _Sec. Murd._ Why, so he doth, now he delivers thee - From this world's thraldom to the joys of heaven. - -[=ii.= i. 95.] - -In the King's case a special incident is introduced into the scene to -point the irony. Before Edward can well realise the terrible -announcement of Clarence's death, the decorum of the royal chamber is -interrupted by Derby, who bursts in, anxious not to lose the portion of -the king's life that yet remains, in order to beg a pardon for his -follower. The King feels the shock of contrast: - - Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death, - And shall the same give pardon to a slave? - -The prerogative of mercy that exists in so extreme a case as the murder -of a 'righteous gentleman,' and is so passionately sought by Derby for a -servant, is denied to the King himself for the deliverance of his -innocent brother. [=iii.= ii, from 41.] The nemesis on Hastings is -saturated with irony; he has the simplest reliance on Richard and on -'his servant Catesby,' who has come to him as the agent of Richard's -treachery; and the very words of the scene have a double significance -that all see but Hastings himself. - - _Hast._ I tell thee, Catesby,-- - - _Cate._ What, my lord? - - _Hast._ Ere a fortnight make me elder - I'll send some packing that yet think not on it. - - _Cate._ 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, - When men are unprepared, and look not for it. - - _Hast._ O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out - With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill do - With some men else, who think themselves as safe - As thou and I. - -As the scenes with Margaret constituted a general summary of the -individual prophecies and recognitions, [=ii.= i.] so the Reconciliation -Scene around the King's dying bed may be said to gather into a sort of -summary the irony distributed through the play; for the effect of the -incident is that the different parties pray for their own destruction. -[=ii.= i. 32.] In this scene Buckingham has taken the lead and struck -the most solemn notes in his pledge of amity; [=v.= i, from 10.] when -Buckingham comes to die, his bitterest thought seems to be that the day -of his death is All Souls' Day. - - _This is the day_ that, in King Edward's time, - I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found - False to his children or his wife's allies; - This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall - By the false faith of him I trusted most; ... - That high All-Seer that I dallied with - Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head - And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest. - -By devices, then, such as these; by the sudden revelation of a remedy -when it is just too late to use it; by the sudden memory of clear -warnings blindly missed; by the spectacle of a leaning for hope upon -that which is known to be ground for despair; by attempts to retreat or -turn aside proving short cuts to destruction; above all by the -sufferer's perception that he himself has had a chief share in bringing -about his doom:--by such irony the monotony of Nemesis is relieved, and -fatality becomes flavoured with mockery. - -[_This multiplication of Nemesis a dramatic background for the villainy -of Richard._] - -Dramatic design, like design which appeals more directly to the eye, has -its perspective: to miss even by a little the point of view from which -it is to be contemplated is enough to throw the whole into distortion. -So readers who are not careful to watch the harmony between Character -and Plot have often found in the present play nothing but wearisome -repetition. Or, as there is only a step between the sublime and the -ridiculous, this masterpiece of Shakespearean plot has suggested to them -only the idea of Melodrama,--that curious product of dramatic feeling -without dramatic inventiveness, with its world in which poetic justice -has become prosaic, in which conspiracy is never so superhumanly secret -but there comes a still more superhuman detection, and however -successful villainy may be for a moment the spectator confidently relies -on its being eventually disposed of by a summary 'off with his head.' -The point of view thus missed in the present play is that this network -of Nemesis is all needed to give dramatic reality to the colossal -villainy of the principal figure. When isolated, the character of -Richard is unrealisable from its offence against an innate sense of -retribution. Accordingly Shakespeare projects it into a world of which, -in whatever direction we look, retribution is the sole visible pattern; -in which, as we are carried along by the movement of the play, the -unvarying reiteration of Nemesis has the effect of _giving rhythm to -fate_. - -[_The motive force of the whole play is another nemesis: the Life and -Death of Richard._] - -What the action of the play has yielded so far to our investigation has -been independent of the central personage: we have now to connect -Richard himself with the plot. Although the various Nemesis Actions have -been carried on by their own motion and by the force of retribution as a -principle of moral government, yet there is not one of them which -reaches its goal without at some point of its course receiving an -impetus from contact with Richard. Richard is thus the source of -movement to the whole drama, communicating his own energy through all -parts. It is only fitting that the motive force to this system of -nemeses should be itself a grand Nemesis Action, the _Life and Death_, -or crime and retribution, _of Richard III_. The hero's rise has been -sufficiently treated in the preceding study; it remains to trace his -fall. - -[_The fall of Richard: not a shock but a succession of stages._] - -This fall of Richard is constructed on Shakespeare's favourite plan; its -force is measured, not by suddenness and violence, but by protraction -and the perception of distinct stages--the crescendo in music as -distinguished from the fortissimo. Such a fall is not a mere passage -through the air--one shock and then all is over--but a slipping down the -face of the precipice, with desperate clingings and consciously -increasing impetus: its effect is the one inexhaustible emotion of -suspense. If we examine the point at which the fall begins we are -reminded that the nemesis on Richard is different in its type from the -others in the play. [_Not a nemesis of equality but of sureness._] These -are (like that on Shylock) of the _equality_ type, of which the motto is -measure for measure: [=iii.= iii. 15.] and, with his usual exactness, -Shakespeare gives us a turning-point in the precise centre of the play, -where, as the Queen's kindred are being borne to their death, we get the -first recognition that the general retribution denounced by Margaret has -begun to work. But the turning-point of Richard's fate is reserved till -long past the centre of the play; his is the nemesis of _sureness_, in -which the blow is delayed that it may accumulate force. Not that this -turning-point is reserved to the very end; [_The turning-point: irony of -its delay._] the change of fortune appears just when Richard has -_committed himself_ to his final crime in the usurpation--the murder of -the children--the crime from which his most unscrupulous accomplice has -drawn back. [=iv.= ii, from 46.] The effect of this arrangement is to -make the numerous crimes which follow appear to come by necessity; he is -'so far in blood that sin will pluck on sin'; he is forced to go on -heaping up his villainies with Nemesis full in his view. This -turning-point appears in the simple announcement that 'Dorset has fled -to Richmond.' There is an instantaneous change in Richard to an attitude -of defence, which is maintained to the end. His first instinct is -action: but as soon as we have heard the rapid scheme of measures--most -of them crimes--by which he prepares to meet his dangers, then he can -give himself up to meditation; [from 98.] and we now begin to catch the -significance of what has been announced. The name of Richmond has been -just heard for the first time in this play. But as Richard meditates we -learn how Henry VI prophesied that Richmond should be a king while he -was but a peevish boy. Again, Richard recollects how lately, while -viewing a castle in the west, the mayor, who showed him over it, -mispronounced its name as 'Richmond'--and he had started, for a bard of -Ireland had told him he should not live long after he had seen Richmond. -Thus the irony that has given point to all the other retributions in the -play is not wanting in the chief retribution of all: Shakespeare -compensates for so long keeping the grand Nemesis out of sight by thus -representing Richard as gradually realising that _the finger of Nemesis -has been pointing at him all his life and he has never seen it_! - -[_Tantalising mockery in Richard's fate._] - -From this point fate never ceases to tantalise and mock Richard. He -engages in his measures of defence, and with their villainy his spirits -begin to recover: - -[=iv.= iii. 38.] - - The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, - And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night; - -young Elizabeth is to be his next victim, and - - To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer. - -[comp. 49. =iv.= iii. 45.] - -Suddenly the Nemesis appears again with the news that Ely, the shrewd -bishop he dreads most of all men, is with Richmond, and that Buckingham -has raised an army. Again, his defence is completing, and the wooing of -Elizabeth--his masterpiece, since it is the second of its kind--has been -brought to an issue that deserves his surprised exultation: - -[=iv.= iv. 431.] - - Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman! - -Suddenly the Nemesis again interrupts him, and this time is nearer: a -puissant navy has actually appeared on the west. And now his equanimity -begins at last to be disturbed. [_His equanimity affected._] He storms -at Catesby for not starting, forgetting that he has given him no message -to take. [=iv.= iv. 444-540.] More than this, a little further on -_Richard changes his mind_! Through the rest of the long scene destiny -is openly playing with him, giving him just enough hope to keep the -sense of despair warm. Messenger follows messenger in hot haste: -Richmond is on the seas--Courtenay has risen in Devonshire--the -Guildfords are up in Kent.--But Buckingham's army is dispersed--But -Yorkshire has risen.--But, a gleam of hope, the Breton navy is -dispersed--a triumph, Buckingham is taken.--Then, finally, Richmond has -landed! The suspense is telling upon Richard. In this scene he strikes a -messenger before he has time to learn that he brings good tidings. [=v.= -iii. 2, 5, 8, &c.] When we next see him he wears a forced gaiety and -scolds his followers into cheerfulness; but with the gaiety go sudden -fits of depression: - - Here will I lie to-night; - But where to-morrow? - -[=v.= iii, from 47.] - -A little later he becomes nervous, and we have the minute attention to -details of the man who feels that his all depends upon one cast; he will -not sup, but calls for ink and paper to plan the morrow's fight, he -examines carefully as to his beaver and his armour, selects White Surrey -to ride, and at last calls for wine and _confesses_ a change in himself: - - I have not that alacrity of spirit, - Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. - -[_Climax of Richard's fate: significance of the apparitions._] - -Then comes night, and with it the full tide of Nemesis. By the device of -the apparitions the long accumulation of crimes in Richard's rise are -made to have each its due representation in his fall. It matters not -that they are only apparitions. [=v.= iii, from 118.] Nemesis itself is -the ghost of sin: its sting lies not in the physical force of the blow, -but in the close _connection_ between a sin and its retribution. So -Richard's victims rise from the dead only to secure that the weight of -each several crime shall lie heavy on his soul in the morrow's doom. -This point moreover must not be missed--that the climax of his fate -comes to Richard in his _sleep_. [_Significance of Richard's sleep._] -The supreme conception of resistance to Deity is reached when God is -opposed by God's greatest gift, the freedom of the will. God, so it is -reasoned, is omnipotent, but God has made man omnipotent in setting no -bounds to his will; and God's omnipotence to punish may be met by man's -omnipotence to endure. Such is the ancient conception of Prometheus, -and such are the reasonings Milton has imagined for his Satan: to whom, -though heaven be lost, - - All is not lost, the unconquerable will ... - And courage never to submit or yield. - -But when that strange bundle of greatness and littleness which makes up -man attempts to oppose with such weapons the Almighty, how is he to -provide for those states in which the will is no longer the governing -force in his nature; for the sickness, in which the mind may have to -share the feebleness of the body, or for the daily suspension of will in -sleep? Richard can to the last preserve his will from faltering. But, -like all the rest of mankind, he must some time sleep: that which is the -refuge of the honest man, when he may relax the tension of daily care, -sleep, is to Richard his point of weakness, when the safeguard of -invincible will can protect him no longer. It is, then, this weak moment -which a mocking fate chooses for hurling upon Richard the whole -avalanche of his doom; as he starts into the frenzy of his half-waking -soliloquy we see him, as it were, tearing off layer after layer of -artificial reasonings with which the will-struggles of a lifetime have -covered his soul against the touch of natural remorse. With full waking -his will is as strong as ever: but meanwhile his physical nature has -been shattered to its depths, and it is only the wreck of Richard that -goes to meet his death on Bosworth Field. - -[_Remaining stages of the fall._] - -There is no need to dwell on the further stages of the fall: to the last -the tantalising mockery continues. [=v.= iii. 303.] Richard's spirits -rise with the ordering of the battle, and there comes the mysterious -scroll to tell him he is bought and sold. [=v.= iii. 342.] His spirits -rise again as the fight commences, and news comes of Stanley's long -feared desertion. [=v.= iv. 11.] Five times in the battle he has slain -his foe, and five times it proves a false Richmond. Thus slowly the cup -is drained to its last dregs and Richard dies. [=i.= i, from 1.] The -play opened with the picture of peace, the peace which led Richard's -turbid soul, no longer finding scope in physical warfare, to turn to -the moral war of villainy; from that point through all the crowded -incidents has raged the tumultuous battle between Will and Nemesis; with -Richard's death it ceases, and the play may return to its keynote: - -[=v.= v. 40.] - - Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again. - - - - -VI. - -HOW NEMESIS AND DESTINY ARE INTERWOVEN IN MACBETH. - -_A further Study in Plot._ - - -[_Macbeth as a study of subtlety in Plot._] - -THE present study, like the last, is a study in Plot. The last -illustrated Shakespeare's grandeur of conception, how a single principle -is held firm amidst the intricacies of history, and reiterated in every -detail. The present purpose is to give an example of Shakespeare's -_subtlety_, and to exhibit the incidents of a play bound together not by -one, [_Its threefold action._] but by three, distinct threads of -connection--or, if a technical term may be permitted, three Forms of -Dramatic Action--all working harmoniously together into a design equally -involved and symmetrical. One of these forms is Nemesis; the other two -are borrowed from the ancient Drama: it thus becomes necessary to -digress for a moment, in order to notice certain differences between the -ancient and modern Drama, and between the ancient and modern thought of -which the Drama is the expression. - -[_In the passage from ancient to modern, Destiny changes into -Providence._] - -In the ancient Classical Drama the main moral idea underlying its action -is the idea of Destiny. The ancient world recognised Deity, but their -deities were not supreme in the universe; Zeus had gained his position -by a revolution, and in his turn was to be overthrown by revolution; -there was thus, in ancient conception, behind Deity a yet higher force -to which Deity itself was subject. The supreme force of the universe has -by a school of modern thought been defined as a stream of tendency in -things not ourselves making for righteousness: if we attempt to adapt -this formula to the ideas of antiquity the difficulty will be in finding -anything to substitute for the word 'righteousness.' Sometimes the sum -of forces in the universe did seem, in the conception of the ancients, -to make for righteousness, and Justice became the highest law. At other -times the world seemed to them governed by a supernatural Jealousy, and -human prosperity was struck down for no reason except that it was -prosperity. In such philosophy as that of Lucretius, again, the tendency -of all things was towards Destruction; while in the handling of legends -such as that of Hippolytus there is a suggestion of a dark interest to -ancient thought in conceiving Evil itself as an irresistible force. It -appears, then, that the ancient mind had caught the idea of _force_ in -the universe, without adding to it the further idea of a motive by which -that force was guided: _blind_ fate was the governing power over all -other powers. With this simple conception of force as ruling the world, -modern thought has united as a motive righteousness or law: the -transition from ancient to modern thought may be fairly described by -saying that Destiny has become changed into Providence as the supreme -force of the universe. [_The change reflected in ancient and modern -Nemesis._] The change may be well illustrated by comparing the ancient -and modern conception of Nemesis. To ancient thought Nemesis was simply -one phase of Destiny; the story of Polycrates has been quoted in a -former study to illustrate how Nemesis appeared to the Greek mind as -capricious a deity as Fortune, a force that might at any time, heedless -of desert, check whatever happiness was high enough to attract its -attention. But in modern ideas Nemesis and justice are strictly -associated: Nemesis may be defined as the artistic side of justice. - -So far as Nemesis then is concerned, it has, in modern thought, passed -altogether out of the domain of Destiny and been absorbed into the -domain of law: it is thus fitted to be one of the regular forms into -which human history may be represented as falling, in harmony with our -modern moral conceptions. But even as regards Destiny itself, while the -notion as a whole is out of harmony with the modern notion of law and -Providence as ruling forces of the world, yet certain minor phases of -Destiny as conceived by antiquity have survived into modern times and -been found not irreconcilable with moral law. [_Nemesis and Destiny -interwoven in the plot of Macbeth_.] Two of these minor phases of -Destiny are, it will be shown, illustrated in _Macbeth_: and we may thus -take as a general description of its plot, the interweaving of Destiny -with Nemesis. - -[_The whole plot a Nemesis Action,_] - -That the career of Macbeth is an example of Nemesis needs only to be -stated. As in the case of _Richard III_, we have the rise and fall of a -leading personage; the rise is a crime of which the fall is the -retribution. Nemesis has just been defined as the artistic aspect of -justice; we have in previous studies seen different artistic elements in -different types of Nemesis. Sometimes, as with Richard III, the -retribution becomes artistic through its sureness; its long delay -renders the effect of the blow more striking when it does come. [_of the -type of equality._] More commonly the artistic element in Nemesis -consists in the perfect equality between the sin and its retribution; -and of the latter type the Nemesis in the play of _Macbeth_ is perhaps -the most conspicuous illustration. The rise and fall of Macbeth, to -borrow the illustration of Gervinus, constitute a perfect arch, with a -turning-point in the centre. Macbeth's series of successes is unbroken -till it ends in the murder of Banquo; his series of failures is unbroken -from its commencement in the escape of Fleance. Success thus -constituting the first half and failure the second half of the play, the -transition from the one to the other is the expedition against Banquo -and Fleance, in which success and failure are mingled: [=iii.= iii.] and -this expedition, the keystone to the arch, is found to occupy the exact -middle of the middle Act. - -But this is not all: not only the play as a whole is an example of -nemesis, but if its two halves be taken separately they will be found to -constitute each a nemesis complete in itself. [_The rise of Macbeth a -separate Nemesis action._] To begin with the first half, that which is -occupied with the rise of Macbeth. If the plan of the play extended no -further than to make the hero's fall the retribution upon his rise, it -might be expected that the turning-point of the action would be reached -upon Macbeth's elevation to the throne. As a fact, however, Macbeth's -rise does not stop here; he still goes on to win one more success in his -attempt upon the life of Banquo. What the purpose of this prolonged flow -of fortune is will be seen when it is considered that this final success -of the hero is in reality the source of his ruin. In Macbeth's progress -to the attainment of the crown, while of course it was impossible that -crimes so violent as his should not incur suspicion, yet circumstances -had strangely combined to soothe these suspicions to sleep. But--so -Shakespeare manipulates the story--when Macbeth, seated on the throne, -goes on to the attempt against Banquo, this additional crime not only -brings its own punishment, but has the further effect of unmasking the -crimes that have gone before. This important point in the plot is -brought out to us in a scene, specially introduced for the purpose, in -which Lennox and another lord represent the opinion of the court. - -[=iii.= vi. i.] - - _Lennox._ My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, - Which can interpret further: only, I say, - Things have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan - Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead: - And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late; - Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd, - For Fleance fled: men must not walk too late. - Who cannot want the thought how monstrous - It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain - To kill their gracious father? damned fact! - How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight - In pious rage the two delinquents tear, - That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? - Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too; - For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive - To hear the men deny't. So that, I say, - He has borne all things well: and I do think - That had he Duncan's sons under his key-- - As, an't please heaven, he shall not--they should find - What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance. - -Under the bitter irony of this speech we can see clearly enough that -Macbeth has been exposed by his _series_ of suspicious acts; he has -'done all things well;' and in particular by peculiar resemblances -between this last incident of Banquo and Fleance and the previous -incident of Duncan and his son. It appears then that Macbeth's last -successful crime proves the means by which retribution overtakes all his -other crimes; the latter half of the play is needed to develop the steps -of the retribution, but, in substance, Macbeth's fall is latent in the -final step of his rise. Thus the first half of the play, that which -traces the rise of Macbeth, is a complete Nemesis Action--a career of -sins in which the last sin secures the punishment of all. - -[_The fall of Macbeth a separate Nemesis Action._] - -The same reasoning applies to the latter half of the play: the fall of -Macbeth not only serves as the retribution for his rise, but further -contains in itself a crime and its nemesis complete. What Banquo is to -the first half of the play Macduff is to the latter half; the two -balance one another as, in the play of _Julius Cęsar_, Cęsar himself is -balanced by Antony; and Macduff comes into prominence upon Banquo's -death as Antony upon the fall of Cęsar. Now Macduff, when he finally -slays Macbeth, is avenging not only Scotland, but also his own wrongs; -and the tyrant's crime against Macduff, with its retribution, just gives -unity to the second half of the play, in the way in which the first half -was made complete by the association between Macbeth and Banquo, [=iii.= -i. 57-72.] from their joint encounter with the Witches on to the murder -of Banquo as a consequence of the Witches' prediction. Accordingly we -find that no sooner has Macbeth, by the appearance of the Ghost at the -banquet, realised the turn of fate, than his first thoughts are of -Macduff: - -[=iii.= iv. 128.] - - _Macbeth._ How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person - At our great bidding? - - _Lady M._ Did you send to him, sir? - - _Macbeth._ I hear it by the way; but I will send. - -When the Apparitions bid Macbeth 'beware Macduff,' he answers, - -[=iv.= i. 74.] - - Thou hast harp'd my fear aright! - -[=iv.= i, from 139.] On the vanishing of the Apparition Scene, the first -thing that happens is the arrival of news that Macduff has fled to -England, and is out of his enemy's power; then Macbeth's bloody thoughts -devise a still more cruel purpose of vengeance to be taken on the -fugitive's family. - - Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits: - The flighty purpose never is o'ertook - Unless the deed go with it.... - The castle of Macduff I will surprise; - Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword - His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls - That trace him in his line. - -[=iv.= ii, iii.] In succeeding scenes we have this diabolical massacre -carried out, and see the effect which the news of it has in rousing -Macduff to his revenge; [=v.= vii. 15.] until in the final scene of all -he feels that if Macbeth is slain and by no stroke of his, his wife and -children's ghosts will for ever haunt him. Thus Macduff's function in -the play is to be the agent not only of the grand nemesis which -constitutes the whole plot, but also of a nemesis upon a private wrong -which occupies the latter half of the play. And, putting our results -together, we find that a Nemesis Action is the description alike of the -whole plot and of the rise and fall which are its two halves. - -[_The Oracular as one phase of Destiny: its partial revelation._] - -With Nemesis is associated in the play of _Macbeth_ Destiny in two -distinct phases. The first of these is _the Oracular_. In ancient -thought, as Destiny was the supreme governor of the universe, so oracles -were the revelation of Destiny; and thus the term 'the Oracles of God' -is appropriately applied to the Bible as the Christian revelation. With -the advent of Christianity the oracles became dumb. But the triumph of -Christianity was for centuries incomplete; heathen deities were not -extirpated, but subordinated to the supernatural personages of the new -religion; [_A minor form of the Oracular in modern oracular beings._] -and the old oracles declined into oracular beings such as witches and -wizards, and oracular superstitions, such as magic mirrors, dreams, -apparitions--all means of dimly revealing hidden destiny. Shakespeare is -never wiser than the age he is pourtraying; and accordingly he has -freely introduced witches and apparitions into the machinery of -_Macbeth_, though in the principles that govern the action of this, as -of all his other plays, he is true to the modern notions of Providence -and moral law. [_The Oracular Action: Destiny working from mystery to -clearness;_] An oracle and its fulfilment make up a series of events -eminently fitted to constitute a dramatic interest; and no form of -ancient Drama and Story is more common than this of the 'Oracular -Action.' Its interest may be formulated as Destiny working from mystery -to clearness. At the commencement of an oracular story the fated future -is revealed indeed, but in a dress of mystery, as when the Athenians are -bidden to defend themselves with only wooden walls; but as the story of -Themistocles develops itself, the drift of events is throwing more and -more light on to the hidden meaning of the oracle, until by the naval -victory over the Persians the oracle is at once clear and fulfilled. - -The Oracular Action is so important an element in plot, that it may be -worth while to prolong the consideration of it by noting the three -principal varieties into which it falls, all of which are illustrated in -the play of _Macbeth_. In each case the interest consists in tracing the -working of Destiny out of mystery into clearness: the distinction -between the varieties depends upon the agency by which Destiny works, -and the relation of this agency to the original oracle. [(1) _by the -agency of blind obedience;_] In the first variety Destiny is fulfilled -by the agency of blind obedience. The Spartans, unfortunate in their -war with the Messenians, enquire of an oracle, and receive the strange -response that they must apply for a general to the Athenians, their -hereditary enemies. But they resolve to obey the voice of Destiny, -though to all appearance they obey at their peril; and the Athenians -mock them by selecting the most unfit subject they can find--a man whose -bodily infirmities had excluded him from the military exercises -altogether. Yet in the end the faith of the Spartans is rewarded. It had -been no lack of generalship that had caused their former defeats, but -discord and faction in their ranks; now Tyrtęus turned out to be a lyric -poet, whose songs roused the spirit of the Spartans and united them as -one man, and when united, their native military talent led them to -victory. Thus in its fulfilment the hidden meaning of the oracle breaks -out into clearness: and blind obedience to the oracle is the agency by -which it has been fulfilled. - -[(2) _by the agency of free will;_] - -In the second variety the oracle is fulfilled by the agency of -indifference and free will: it is neither obeyed nor disobeyed, but -ignored. One of the best illustrations is to be found in the plot of Sir -Walter Scott's novel, _The Betrothed_. Its heroine, more rational than -her age, resists the family tradition that would condemn her to sleep in -the haunted chamber; overborne, however, by age and authority, she -consents, and the lady of the bloody finger appears to pronounce her -doom: - - Widow'd wife, and wedded maid; - Betrothed, Betrayer, and Betrayed. - -This seems a mysterious destiny for a simple and virtuous girl. The -faithful attendant Rose declares in a burst of devotion that betrayed -her mistress may be, but betrayer never; the heroine herself braces her -will to dismiss the foreboding from her thoughts, and resolves that she -will not be influenced by it on the one side or on the other. Yet it all -comes about. Gratitude compels her to give her hand to the elderly -Constable, who on the very day of betrothal is summoned away to the -Crusade, from which, as it appears, he is never to return, leaving his -spouse at once a widowed wife and a wedded maid. In the troubles of that -long absence, by a perfectly natural series of events, gratitude again -leads the heroine to admit to her castle her real deliverer and lover in -order to save his life, and in protecting him amidst strange -circumstances of suspicion to bid defiance to all comers. Finally the -castle is besieged by the royal armies, and the heroine has to hear -herself proclaimed a traitor by the herald of England; from this -perplexity a deliverance is found only when her best friend saves her by -betraying the castle to the king. So every detail in the unnatural doom -has been in the most natural manner fulfilled: and the woman by whose -action it has been fulfilled has been all the while maintaining the -freedom of her will and persistently ignoring the oracle. - -[(3) _by the agency of opposing will._] - -But the supreme interest of the Oracular Action is reached when the -oracle is fulfilled by an agency that has all the while set itself to -oppose and frustrate it. A simple illustration of this is seen in the -Eastern potentate who, in opposition to a prophecy that his son should -be killed by a lion, forbad the son to hunt, but heaped upon him every -other indulgence. In particular he built him a pleasure-house, hung with -pictures of hunting and of wild beasts, on which all that art could do -was lavished to compensate for the loss of the forbidden sport. One day -the son, chafing at his absence from the manly exercise in which his -comrades were at that moment engaged, wandered through his -pleasure-house, until, stopping at a magnificent picture of a lion at -bay, he began to apostrophise it as the source of his disgrace, and -waxing still more angry, drove his fist through the picture. A nail, -hidden behind the canvas entered his hand; the wound festered, and he -died. So the measures taken to frustrate the destiny proved the means of -fulfilling it. But in this third variety of the Oracular Action the -classical illustration is the story of Oedipus: told fully, it presents -three examples woven together. Laius of Thebes learns from an oracle -that the son about to be born to him is destined to be his murderer; -accordingly he refuses to rear the child, and it is cast out to perish. -A herdsman, Polybus, takes pity on the infant, carries it away to -Corinth, and brings it up in secret. In due time this Oedipus becomes -weary of the humble life of his supposed father; quitting Corinth, he -seeks advice of the oracle as to his future career, and receives the -startling response that he is destined to slay his own father. Resolved -to frustrate so terrible a fate, he will not return to Corinth, but, as -it happens, _takes the road to Thebes_, where he falls in accidentally -with Laius, and, in ignorance of his person, quarrels with him and slays -him. Now if Laius had not resisted the oracle by casting out the infant, -it would have grown up like other sons, and every probability would have -been against his committing so terrible a crime as parricide. Again, if -Polybus had not by his removal to Corinth sought to keep the child in -ignorance of his fate, he would have known the person of Laius and -spared him. Once more, if Oedipus had not, in opposition to the oracle, -avoided his supposed home, Corinth, he would never have gone to Thebes -and fallen in with his real father. Three different persons acting -separately seek to frustrate a declared destiny, and their action unites -in fulfilling it. - -The plot of _Macbeth_, both as a whole and in its separate parts, is -constructed upon this form of the Oracular Action, in combination with -the form of Nemesis. The play deals with the rise and fall of Macbeth: -the rise, and the fall, and again the two taken together, present each -of them an example of an Oracular Action. [_The rise of Macbeth an -Oracular Action,_] Firstly, the former half of the play, the rise of -Macbeth, taken by itself, consists in an oracle and its fulfilment--the -Witches' promise of the crown and the gradual steps by which the crown -is attained. Amongst the three varieties of the Oracular Action we have -just distinguished, the present example wavers between the first and the -second. [_varying between the second and first type._] After his first -excitement has passed away, Macbeth resolves that he will have nothing -to do with the temptation that lurked in the Witches' words; in his -disjointed meditation we hear him saying: - -[=i.= iii. 143.] - - If chance will have me king, why chance may crown me - Without my stir; - -and again: - -[=i.= iii. 146.] - - Come what come may, - Time and the hour runs through the roughest day; - -in which last speech the very rhyming may, according to Shakespeare's -subtle usage, be pointed to as marking a mind made up. So far then we -appear to be following an Oracular Action of the second type, that of -indifference and ignoring. But in the very next scene the proclamation -of a Prince of Cumberland--that is, of an heir-apparent like our Prince -of Wales--takes away Macbeth's 'chance': - -[=i.= iv. 48.] - - _Macb._ [_Aside_]. The prince of Cumberland! that is a step - On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, - For in my way it lies. - -He instantly commits himself to the evil suggestion, and thus changes -the type of action to the first variety, that in which the oracle is -fulfilled by the agency of obedience. - -[_The fall an Oracular Action of the first type._] - -Similarly Macbeth's fall, taken by itself, constitutes an Oracular -Action, consisting as it does of the ironical promises by the -Apparitions which the Witches raise for Macbeth on his visit to them, -and the course of events by which these promises are fulfilled. Its type -is a highly interesting example of the first variety, that of blind -obedience. [=iv.= i. 71-100.] The responses of the Apparitions lay down -impossible conditions, and as long as these conditions are unfulfilled -Macbeth is to be secure; he will fall only when one not born of woman -shall be his adversary, only when Birnam Wood shall come to Dunsinane. -Macbeth trusts blindly to these promises; further he obeys them, so far -as a man can be said to obey an oracle which enjoins no command: he -obeys in the sense of relying on them, and making that reliance his -ground of action. But this reliance of Macbeth on the ironical promises -is an agency in fulfilling them in their real meaning. [=iv.= i. -144-156.] In his reckless confidence he strikes out right and left, and -amongst others injures one to whom the description 'not born of woman' -applies. In his reliance on the Apparitions he proceeds, when threatened -by the English, to _shut himself up in Dunsinane Castle_; but for this -fact the English army would not have approached Dunsinane Castle by the -route of Birnam Wood, and the incident of the boughs would never have -taken place. Thus Macbeth's fate was made to depend uponi mpossibilities: -by his action in reliance on these impossibilities he is all the while -giving them occasion to become possible. In this way an ironical oracle -comes to be fulfilled by the agency of blind obedience. - -[_The whole plot an Oracular Action of the third type._] - -Thirdly, the rise and fall of Macbeth are so linked together as to -constitute the whole plot another example of the Oracular Action. [=i.= -iii. 48-50, 62-66.] The original oracle given by the Witches on the -blasted heath was a double oracle: besides the promise of the thaneships -and the crown there was another revelation of destiny, that Banquo was -to be lesser than Macbeth and yet greater, that he was to get kings -though to be none. In this latter half of the oracle is found the link -which binds together the rise and fall of Macbeth. When the first half -of the Witches' promise has been fulfilled in his elevation to the -throne, Macbeth sets himself to prevent the fulfilment of the second -half by his attempt upon Banquo and Fleance. Now we have already seen -how this attempt has the effect of drawing attention, not only to -itself, but also to Macbeth's other crimes, and proves indeed the -foundation of his ruin. Had Macbeth been content with the attainment of -the crown, all might yet have been well: the addition of just one more -precaution renders all the rest vain. It appears, then, that that which -binds together the rise and the fall, that which makes the fall the -retribution upon the rise, is the expedition against the Banquo family; -and the object of this crime is to frustrate the second part of the -Witches' oracle. So the original oracle becomes the motive force to the -whole play, setting in motion alike the rise and fall of the action. The -figure of the whole plot we have taken as a regular arch; its movement -might be compared to that terrible incident of mining life known as -'overwinding,' in which the steam engine pulls the heavy cage from the -bottom to the top of the shaft, but, instead of stopping then, winds on -till the cage is carried over the pulley and dashed down again to the -bottom. So the force of the Witches' prediction is not exhausted when it -has tempted Macbeth on to the throne, but carries him on to resist its -further clauses, and in resisting to bring about the fall by which they -are fulfilled. Not only then are the rise and the fall of Macbeth taken -separately oracular, but the whole plot, compounded of the two taken -together, constitutes another Oracular Action; and the last is of that -type in which Destiny is fulfilled by the agency of a will that has been -opposing it. - -[_Irony a phase of malignant Destiny._] - -A second phase of Destiny enters into the plot of _Macbeth_: this is -Irony. Etymologically the word means no more than _saying_. Pressing the -idea of saying as distinguished from meaning we get at the ordinary -signification, ambiguous speech; from which the word widens in its usage -to include double-dealing in general, such as the 'irony of Socrates,' -his habit of assuming the part of a simple enquirer in order to entangle -the pretentious sophists in their own wisdom. The particular extension -of meaning with which we are immediately concerned is that by which -irony comes to be applied to a double-dealing in Destiny itself; the -link between this and the original sense being no doubt the ambiguous -wording of oracular responses which has become proverbial. In ancient -conception Destiny wavered between justice and malignity; a leading -phase of malignant destiny was this Irony or double-dealing; Irony was -the laughter or mockery of Fate. It is illustrated in the angry measures -of Oedipus for penetrating the mystery that surrounds the murder of -Laius in order to punish the crime, impunity for which has brought the -plague upon his city: when at last it is made clear that Oedipus himself -has been unknowingly the culprit, there arises an irresistible sensation -that Destiny has been all the while playing with the king, and using his -zeal as a means for working his destruction. In modern thought the -supreme force of the universe cannot possibly be represented as -malignant. [_A modified Irony: Justice in a mocking humour._] But -mockery, though it may not be enthroned in opposition to justice, may -yet, without violating modern ideas, be made to appear in the _mode of -operation_ by which justice is brought about; here mockery is no longer -malignant, but simply an index of overpowering force, just as we smile -at the helpless stubbornness of a little child, whereas a man's -opposition makes us angry. For such a reconciliation of mockery with -righteousness we have authority in the imagery of Scripture. - - Why do the heathen rage? - And the people imagine a vain thing? - The kings of the earth set themselves - And the rulers take counsel together - Against the Lord - And against His Anointed: - Saying, Let us break their bonds, - And cast away their cords from us. - - He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh: - The Lord shall have them in derision. - - Then shall he speak unto them in his wrath; - And vex them in his sore displeasure. - -There could not be a more perfect type of Irony, in that form of it -which harmonises with justice, than this picture in three touches, of -the busy security of the wicked, of justice pausing to mock their idle -efforts, and then with a burst of wrath and displeasure annihilating -their projects at a stroke. - -In modern thought, then, Irony is Justice in a mocking humour. The -mockery that suddenly becomes apparent in the mysterious operations of -Providence, and is a measure of their overpowering force, is clearly -capable of giving a highly dramatic interest to a train of events, and -so is fitted to be a form of dramatic action. [_Irony in the plot of -Macbeth: obstacles converted into stepping-stones._] The operation of -Destiny as exhibited in the plot of _Macbeth_ is throughout tinctured -with irony: the element of mockery appearing always in this, that -apparent checks to Destiny turn out the very means Destiny chooses by -which to fulfil itself. Irony of this kind is regularly attached to what -I have called the third variety of the Oracular Action, that in which -the oracle is fulfilled by the agency of attempts to oppose it; but in -the play under consideration the destiny, whether manifesting itself in -that type of the Oracular Action or not, is never dissociated from the -attitude of mockery to resistance which converts obstacles into -stepping-stones. It remains to show how the rise of Macbeth, the fall of -Macbeth, and again the rise and the fall taken together, are all of them -Irony Actions. - -[_The rise of Macbeth an Irony Action._] - -The basis of Macbeth's rise is the Witches' promise of the crown. -Scarcely has it been given when an obstacle starts up to its fulfilment -in the proclamation of Malcolm as heir-apparent. I have already pointed -out that it is this very proclamation which puts an end to Macbeth's -wavering, and leads him to undertake the treasonable enterprise which -only in the previous scene he had resolved he would have nothing to do -with. Later in the history a second obstacle appears: [=ii.= iii. 141.] -the king is slain, but his two sons, this heir-apparent and his brother, -escape from Macbeth's clutches and place two lives between him and the -fulfilment of his destiny. But, as events turn out, it is this very -flight of the princes that, by diverting suspicion to them for a moment, -causes Macbeth to be named as Duncan's successor. A conversation in the -play itself is devoted to making this point clear. - -[=ii.= iv. 22.] - - _Ross._ Is't known who did this more than bloody deed? - - _Macduff._ Those that Macbeth hath slain. - - _Ross._ Alas, the day! - What good could they pretend? - - _Macduff._ They were suborn'd: - Malcolm and Donalbain, the king's two sons, - Are stol'n away and fled; which puts upon them - Suspicion of the deed. - - _Ross._ 'Gainst nature still! - Thriftless ambition, that will ravin up - Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most like - The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. - - _Macduff._ He is already named, and gone to Scone - To be invested. - -[_The fall an Irony Action._] - -Twice, then, in the course of the rise Destiny allows obstacles to -appear only for the sake of using them as an unexpected means of -fulfilment. The same mockery marks the fall of the action. The security -against a fall promised by the Apparitions to Macbeth had just one -drawback--'beware Macduff'; [=iv.= i. 71.] and [=iv.= ii, &c.] we have -already had occasion to notice Macbeth's attempt to secure himself -against this drawback in the completest manner by extirpating the -dangerous thane and his family to the last scion of his stock, and also -how this cruel purpose succeeded against all but Macduff himself. Now it -is to be noted that this attempt against the fulfilment of the destined -retribution proves the very source of the fulfilment, without which it -would never have come about. For at one point of the story Macduff, the -only man who, according to the decrees of Fate, can harm Macbeth, -resolves to abandon his vengeance against him. In his over-cautious -policy Macduff was unwilling to move without the concurrence of Malcolm -the rightful heir. [=iv.= iii.] In one of the most singular scenes in -all Shakespeare Macduff is represented as urging Malcolm to assert his -rights, while Malcolm (in reality driven by the general panic to -suspect even Macduff) discourages his attempts, and affects to be a -monster of iniquity, surpassing the tyrant of Scotland himself. [=iv.= -iii, from 100.] At last he succeeds in convincing Macduff of his -villainies, and in a burst of despair the fate-appointed avenger -renounces vengeance. - - _Macduff._ Fit to govern? - No, not to live.... Fare thee well! - These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself - Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast - Thy hope ends here! - -Malcolm, it is true, then drops the pretence of villainy, but he does -not succeed in reassuring his companion. - -[=iv.= iii. 138.] - - _Macduff._ Such welcome and unwelcome things at once - 'Tis hard to reconcile. - -At this moment enters Ross with the news of Macbeth's expedition against -Fife, and tells how all Macduff's household, 'wife, children, servants, -all,' have been cut off 'at one swoop': before the agony of a -bereavement like this hesitation flies away for ever. - -[=iv.= iii. 231.] - - Gentle heavens, - Cut short all intermission; front to front - Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; - Within my sword's length set him: if he 'scape, - Heaven forgive him too! - -The action taken by Macbeth with a view to prevent Macduff's being the -instrument of retribution, is brought by a mocking Fate to impel Macduff -to his task at the precise moment he had resolved to abandon it. - -[_The plot as a whole an Irony Action._] - -Finally, if the rise and the fall be contemplated together as -constituting one action, this also will be found animated by the same -spirit of irony. The original promise of the Witches, as well as the -later promise of the Apparition, [=i.= iii. 62-66.] had its drawback in -the destiny that Banquo was to be lesser than Macbeth and yet greater, -to get kings though to be none; and to secure against this drawback is -Macbeth's purpose in his plot against Banquo and Fleance, by which the -rival family would be extirpated. The plot only _half succeeds_, and by -its half-success contributes to the exactness with which the destiny is -fulfilled. Had Macbeth's attempt fully succeeded, Banquo would neither -have got kings nor been one; had no such attempt at all been made, then, -for anything we see to the contrary in the play, Banquo would have -preceded his sons on the throne, and so again the oracle would not have -been fulfilled which made Banquo lesser than Macbeth. But by the mixture -of success and failure in Macbeth's plot Banquo is slain before he can -attain the crown, and Fleance lives to give a royal house to Scotland. -Once more, then, mockery appears a characteristic of the Destiny that -finds in human resistance just the one peculiar device needed for -effecting the peculiar distribution of fortune it has promised. - -[_Summary._] - -Such is the subtlety with which Shakespeare has constructed this plot of -_Macbeth_, and interwoven in it Nemesis and Destiny. To outward -appearance it is connected with the rise and fall of a sinner: the -analysis that searches for inner principles of construction traces -through its incidents three forms of action working harmoniously -together, by which the rise and fall of Macbeth are so linked as to -exhibit at once a crime with its Nemesis, an Oracle with its fulfilment, -and the Irony which works by the agency of that which resists it. Again -the separate halves of the play, the rise and the fall of the hero, are -found to present each the same triple pattern as the whole. Once more, -with the career of Macbeth are associated the careers of Banquo and -Macduff, and these also reflect the threefold spirit. Macbeth's rise -involves Banquo's fall: this fall is the subject of oracular prediction, -it is the starting-point of nemesis on Macbeth, and it has an element of -irony in the fact that Banquo _all but_ escaped. With Macbeth's fall is -bound up Macduff's rise: this also had been predicted in oracles, it is -an agency in the main nemesis, and Macduff's fate has the irony that he -_all but_ perished at the outset of his mission. Through all the -separate interests of this elaborate plot, the three forms of -action--Nemesis, the Oracular, Irony--are seen perfectly harmonised and -perfectly complete. And over all this is thrown the supernatural -interest of the Witches, who are agents of nemesis working by the means -of ironical oracles. - - - - -VII. - -MACBETH, LORD AND LADY. - -_A Study in Character-Contrast._ - - -CONTRASTS of character form one of the simplest elements of dramatic -interest. Such contrasts are often obvious; at other times they take -definitiveness only when looked at from a particular point of view. The -contrast of character which it is the object of the present study to -sketch rests upon a certain distinction which is one of the fundamental -ideas in the analysis of human nature--[_The antithesis of the outer and -inner life._] the distinction between the outer life of action and the -inner life of our own experience. The recognition of the two is as old -as the _Book of Proverbs_, which contrasts the man that ruleth his -spirit with the man that taketh a city. The heathen oracle, again, -opened out to an age which seemed to have exhausted knowledge a new -world for investigation in the simple command, Know thyself. The Stoics, -who so despised the busy vanity of state cares, yet delighted to call -their ideal man a king; and their particular tenet is universalised by -Milton when he says: - - Therein stands the office of a king, - His honour, virtue, merit, and chief praise, - That for the public all this weight he bears: - Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules - Passions, desires, and fears, is more a king. - -And the modern humourist finds the idea indispensable for his pourtrayal -of character and experience. 'Sir,' says one of Thackeray's personages, -'a distinct universe walks about under your hat and under mine ... You -and I are but a pair of infinite isolations with some fellow-islands -more or less near to us.' And elsewhere the same writer says that 'each -creature born has a little kingdom of thought of his own, which it is a -sin in us to invade.' - -This antithesis of the practical and inner life is so accepted a -commonplace of the pulpit and of the essayist on morals and culture that -it may seem tedious to expound it. But for the very reason that it -belongs to all these spheres, and that these spheres overlap, the two -sides of the antithesis are not kept clearly distinct, nor are the terms -uniformly used in the same sense. For the present purpose the exact -distinction is between the outer world, the world of practical action, -the sphere of making and doing, in which we mingle with our fellow men, -join in their enterprises, and influence them to our ideas, in which we -investigate nature and society, or seek to build up a fabric of power: -and, on the other hand, the inner intellectual life, in which our powers -as by a mirror are turned inwards upon ourselves, finding a field for -enterprise in self-discipline and the contest with inherited notions and -passions, exploring the depths of our consciousness and our mysterious -relations with the unseen, until the thinker becomes familiar with -strange situations of the mind and at ease in the presence of its -problems. The antithesis is thus not at all the same as that between -worldly and religious, for the inner life may be cultivated for evil: -self-anatomy, as Shelley says, - - Shall teach the will - Dangerous secrets: for it tempts our powers. - Knowing what must be thought and may be done, - Into the depth of darkest purposes. - -Still less is it the antithesis between intellectual and commonplace; -the highest intellectual powers find employment in practical life. The -various mental and moral qualities belong to both spheres, but have a -different meaning for each. Practical experience is a totally different -thing from what the religious thinker means by his 'experience.' The -discipline given by the world often consists in the dulling of those -powers which self-discipline seeks to develope. Knowledge of affairs, -with its rapid and instinctive grasp, is often possessed in the highest -degree by the man who is least of all men versed in the other knowledge, -which could explain and analyse the processes by which it operated. And -every observer is struck by the different forms which courage takes in -the two spheres, courage in action, and courage where nothing can be -done and men have only to endure and wait. Macaulay in a well-known -passage contrasts the active and passive courage as one of the -distinctions between the West and the East. - - An European warrior, who rushes on a battery of cannon with a loud - hurrah, will sometimes shriek under the surgeon's knife, and fall - into an agony of despair at the sentence of death. But the Bengalee, - who would see his country overrun, his house laid in ashes, his - children murdered or dishonoured, without having the spirit to - strike one blow, has yet been known to endure torture with the - firmness of Mucius, and to mount the scaffold with the steady step - and even pulse of Algernon Sidney. - -The two lives are complete, each with its own field, its own qualities, -culture, and fruit. - -[_The antithesis an element in Character-Interpretation._] - -It is obvious that relation to these two lives will have a very great -effect in determining individual character. In the same man the two -sides of experience may be most unequally developed; an intellectual -giant is often a child in the affairs of the world, and a moral hero may -be found in the person of some bedridden cripple. On the other hand, to -some the inner life is hardly known: familiar perhaps with every other -branch of knowledge they go down to their graves strangers to -themselves. - - All things without, which round about we see, - We seek to know and how therewith to do; - But that whereby we reason, live, and be - Within ourselves, we strangers are thereto. - - We seek to know the moving of each sphere, - And the strange cause of the ebbs and flows of Nile: - But of that clock within our breasts we bear, - The subtle motions we forget the while. - - We, that acquaint ourselves with every zone, - And pass both tropics, and behold each pole, - When we come home, are to ourselves unknown, - And unacquainted still with our own soul. - -The antithesis then between the outer and inner life will be among the -ideas which lie at the root of Character-Interpretation. - -[_In a simple age it coincides with the distinction of the sexes._] - -When the idea is applied to an age like that of Macbeth, the antithesis -between the two lives almost coincides with the distinction of the -sexes: amid the simple conditions of life belonging to such an age the -natural tendency would be for genius in men to find scope in the outer -and practical world, while genius in women would be restricted to the -inner life. And this is the idea I am endeavouring to work out in the -present study:--[_The antithesis the key to the characters of Macbeth -and Lady Macbeth._] that the key to Shakespeare's portraiture of Macbeth -and Lady Macbeth will be found in regarding the two as illustrations of -the outer and inner life. Both possess force in the highest degree, but -the two have been moulded by the exercise of this force in different -spheres; their characters are in the play brought into sharp contrast by -their common enterprise, and the contrast of practical and intellectual -mind is seen maintained through the successive stages of their descent -to ruin. - -[_Macbeth as the practical man._] - -Thus Macbeth is essentially the practical man, the man of action, of the -highest experience, power, and energy in military and political command, -accustomed to the closest connection between willing and doing. He is -one who in another age would have worked out the problem of free trade, -or unified Germany, or engineered the Suez Canal. On the other hand, he -has concerned himself little with things transcendental; he is poorly -disciplined in thought and goodness; prepared for any emergency in which -there is anything to be _done_, yet a mental crisis or a moral problem -afflicts him with the shock of an unfamiliar situation. This is by no -means a generally accepted view: amongst a large number of readers the -traditional conception of Macbeth lingers as a noble disposition dragged -down by his connection with the coarser nature of his wife. [_His -nobility conventional._] According to the view here suggested the -nobility of Macbeth is of the flimsiest and most tawdry kind. The lofty -tone he is found at times assuming means no more than virtuous education -and surroundings. When the purely practical nature is examined in -reference to the qualities which belong to the intellectual life, the -result is not a blank but ordinariness: the practical nature will -reflect current thought and goodness as they appear from the outside. So -Macbeth's is the morality of inherited notions, retained just because he -has no disposition to examine them; he has all the practical man's -distrust of wandering from the beaten track of opinion, which gives the -working politician his prejudice against doctrinaires, and has raised up -stout defenders of the Church amongst men whose lives were little -influenced by her teaching. And the traditionary morality is more than -merely retained. When the seed fell into stony ground forthwith it -sprang up _because_ it had no deepness of earth: the very shallowness of -a man's character may lend emphasis to his high professions, just as, on -the other hand, earnestness in its first stage often takes the form of -hesitation. So Macbeth's practical genius takes in strongly what it -takes in at all, and gives it out vigorously. But that the nobility has -gone beyond the stage of passive recognition, that it has become -absorbed into his inner nature, there is not a trace; on the contrary, -it is impossible to follow Macbeth's history far without abundant -evidence that real love of goodness for its own sake, founded on -intelligent choice or deep affection, has failed to root a single fibre -in his nature. - -First, we have the opportunity of studying Macbeth's character in the -analysis given of it in the play itself by the one person who not only -saw Macbeth in his public life, but knew also the side of him hidden -from the world. - -[_Lady Macbeth's analysis of her husband's character._] - -[=i.= v. 16-31.] - - _Lady Macbeth._ I fear thy nature; - It is too full o' the milk of human kindness - To catch the nearest way. - -I believe that this phrase, the 'milk of human kindness,' divorced from -its context and become the most familiar of all commonplaces, has done -more than anything else towards giving a false twist to the general -conception of Macbeth's character. The words _kind, kindness_ are -amongst the most difficult words in Shakespeare. The wide original -signification of the root, _natural, nature_, still retained in the noun -_kind_, has been lost in the adjective, which has been narrowed by -modern usage to one sort of naturalness, tender-heartedness; though in a -derivative form the original sense is still familiar to modern ears in -the expression 'the _kindly_ fruits of the earth.' In Elizabethan -English, however, the root signification still remained in all usages of -_kind_ and its derivatives. In Schmidt's analysis of the adjective, two -of its four significations agree with the modern use, the other two are -'keeping to nature, natural,' and 'not degenerate and corrupt, but such -as a thing or person ought to be.' Shakespeare delights to play upon the -two senses of this family of words: [_Much Ado,_ =i.= i. 26.] tears of -joy are described as a 'kind overflow of kindness'; the Fool says of -Regan that she will use Lear 'kindly,' i.e. according to her nature; -[_Lr._ =i.= v. 15.] 'the worm will do his kind,' i.e. bite. [_Ant. and -Cleop._ =v.= ii. 264.] How far the word can wander from its modern sense -is seen in a phrase of the present play, [=ii.= i. 24.] 'at your kind'st -leisure,' where it is simply equivalent to 'convenient.' Still more will -the wider signification of the word obtain, when it is associated with -the word _human_; 'humankind' is still an expression for human nature, -and the sense of the passage we are considering would be more obvious if -the whole phrase were printed as one word, not 'human kindness,' but -'humankind-ness':--that shrinking from what is not natural, which is a -marked feature of the practical nature. The other part of the clause, -_milk_ of humankind-ness, no doubt suggests absence of hardness: but it -equally connotes natural, inherited, traditional feelings, imbibed at -the mother's breast. The whole expression of Lady Macbeth, then, I take -to attribute to her husband an instinctive tendency to shrink from -whatever is in any way unnatural. That this is the true sense further -appears, not only from the facts--[=i.= ii. 54.] for nothing in the play -suggests that Macbeth, 'Bellona's bridegroom,' was distinguished by -kindness in the modern sense--but from the context. The form of Lady -Macbeth's speech makes the phrase under discussion a summing up of the -rest of her analysis, or rather a general text which she proceeds to -expand into details. Not one of these details has any connection with -tender-heartedness: on the other hand, if put together the details do -amount to the sense for which I am contending, that Macbeth's character -is a type of commonplace morality, the shallow unthinking and unfeeling -man's lifelong hesitation between God and Mammon. - - Thou would'st be great; - Art not without ambition, but without - The illness should attend it: what thou would'st highly - That would'st thou holily; would'st not play false, - And yet would'st wrongly win: thou'ldst have, great Glamis, - That which cries 'Thus thou must do, if thou have it, - And that which _rather thou dost fear to do - Than wishest should be undone._' - -If the delicate balancing of previous clauses had left any doubt as to -the meaning, the last two lines remove it, and assert distinctly that -Macbeth has no objection to the evil itself, but only a fear of evil -measures which must be associated to a practical mind with failure and -disgrace. [=i.= iv. 48-53.] It is striking that at the very moment Lady -Macbeth is so meditating, her husband is giving a practical confirmation -of her description in its details as well as its general purport. [=i.= -iii. 143, 146.] He had resolved to take no steps himself towards the -fulfilment of the Witches' prophecy, but to leave all to chance; then -the proclamation of Malcolm, removing all apparent chance of succession, -led him to change his mind and entertain the scheme of treason and -murder: the words with which he surrenders himself seem like an echo of -his wife's analysis. - - Stars, hide your fires; - Let not light see my black and deep desires: - The eye wink at the hand; _yet let that be - Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see._ - -[_Macbeth's soliloquy: of an eminently practical character._] - -But we are not left to descriptions of Macbeth by others. We have him -self-displayed; and that in a situation so framed that if there were in -him the faintest sympathy with goodness it must here be brought into -prominence. [=i.= vii. 1-28.] Macbeth has torn himself away from the -banquet, and, his mind full of the desperate danger of the treason he is -meditating, he ponders over the various motives that forbid its -execution. A strong nobility would even amid incentives _to_ crime feel -the attraction of virtue and have to struggle against it; but surely the -weakest nobility, when facing motives _against_ sin, would be roused to -some degree of virtuous passion. Yet, if Macbeth's famous soliloquy be -searched through and through, not a single thought will be found to -suggest that he is regarding the deep considerations of sin and -retribution in any other light than that of immediate practical -consequences. First, there is the thought of the sureness of retribution -even in this world. It may be true that hope of heaven and fear of hell -are not the highest of moral incentives, but at least they are a degree -higher than the thought of worldly prosperity and failure; Macbeth -however is willing to take his chance of the next world if only he can -be guaranteed against penalties in this life. - - If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well - It were done quickly: if the assassination - Could trammel up the consequence, and catch - With his surcease success; that but this blow - Might be the be-all and the end-all here, - But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, - We'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases - We still have judgement here; that we but teach - Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return - To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice - Commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice - To our own lips. - -So far he has reached no higher consideration, in reference to treason -and murder, than the fear that he may be suggesting to others to use -against himself the weapon he is intending for Duncan. Then his thoughts -turn to the motives against crime which belong to the softer side of our -nature. - - He's here in double trust, - First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, - Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, - Who should against his murderer shut the door, - Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan, - Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been - So clear in his great office, that his virtues - Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against - The deep damnation of his taking-off; - And pity-- - -At all events it is clear this is no case of a man blinded for the -moment to the emotions which resist crime; and as we hear him passing in -review kinship, loyalty, hospitality, pity, we listen for the burst of -remorse with which he will hurl from him the treachery he had been -fostering. But, on the contrary, his thoughts are still practical, and -the climax to which this survey of motives is to lead up is no more than -the effect they will have on others: pity - - Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, - That tears shall drown the wind. - -And then he seems to regret that he cannot find more incentives to his -villainy. - - I have no spur - To prick the sides of my intent, but only - Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself - And falls on the other. - -So Macbeth's searching self-examination on topics of sin and -retribution, amid circumstances specially calculated to rouse -compunction, results in thoughts not more noble than these--that murder -is a game which two parties can play at, that heartlessness has the -effect of drawing general attention, that ambition is apt to defeat its -own object. - -[_Macbeth rises with external deeds and sinks with internal conflicts._] - -Again: that Macbeth's union of superficial nobility with real moral -worthlessness is connected with the purely practical bent of his mind -will be the more evident the wider the survey which is taken of his -character and actions. It may be observed that Macbeth's spirits always -rise with evil deeds: however he may have wavered in the contemplation -of crime, its execution strings him up to the loftiest tone. [=ii.= i, -from 31; and =iii.= ii, from 39.] This is especially clear in the Dagger -Scene, and in the scene in which he darkly hints to his wife the murder -of Banquo, which is in a brief space to be in actual perpetration. As he -feels the moment of crime draw near, his whole figure seems to dilate, -the language rises, and the imagery begins to flow. Like a poet invoking -his muse, Macbeth calls on seeling night to scarf up the tender eye of -pitiful day. He has an eye to dramatic surroundings for his dark deeds. - - Now, o'er the one half-world - Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse - The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates - Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder, - Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, - Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, - With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design - Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, - Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear - The very stones prate of my whereabout, - _And take the present horror from the time, - Which now suits with it._ - -The man who had an hour or two before been driven from the table of his -guests by the mere thought of a crime moves to the deed itself with the -exalted language of a Hebrew prophet. On the other hand, in his -spiritual struggles there is a simpleness that sometimes suggests -childishness. [=ii.= ii. 31.] His trouble is that he could not say -'Amen' when the sleepers cried 'God bless us'; his conscience seems a -voice outside him; [=ii.= ii. 35-46.] finally, the hardened warrior dare -not return to the darkness and face the victim he had so exultingly done -to death. - -Macbeth, then, is the embodiment of one side of the antithesis with -which we started; his is pre-eminently the practical nature, moulded in -a world of action, but uninfluenced by the cultivation of the inner -life. Yet he is not perfect as a man of action: for the practical cannot -reach its perfection without the assistance of the inner life. [_Two -flaws in Macbeth as an embodiment of the practical: his superstition;_] -There are two flaws in Macbeth's completeness. For one, his lack of -training in thought has left him without protection against the -superstition of his age. He is a passive prey to supernatural -imaginings. [=v.= v. 10.] He himself tells us he is a man whose senses -would cool to hear a night-shriek, and his fell of hair rouse at a -dismal treatise. And we see throughout the play how he never for an -instant doubts the reality of the supernatural appearances: [e.g. =iii.= -iv. 60; =i.= iii. 107, 122.] a feature the more striking from its -contrast with the scepticism of Lady Macbeth, and the hesitating doubt -of Banquo. [_and his helplessness under suspense._] [=iii.= i. 6.] -Again: no active career can be without its periods when action is -impossible, and it is in such periods that the training given by the -intellectual life makes itself felt, with its self-control and passive -courage. All this Macbeth lacks: in suspense he has no power of -self-restraint. [compare =i.= iii. 137, and =iii.= ii. 16.] When we come -to trace him through the stages of the action we shall find that one of -these two flaws springing out of Macbeth's lack of the inner life, his -superstition and his helplessness in suspense, is at every turn the -source of his betrayal. - -In the case of Lady Macbeth, the old-fashioned view of her as a second -Clytęmnestra has long been steadily giving way before a conception -higher at least on the intellectual side. [_Lady Macbeth as an -embodiment of the inner life._] The exact key to her character is given -by regarding her as the antithesis of her husband, and an embodiment of -the inner life and its intellectual culture so markedly wanting in him. -She has had the feminine lot of being shut out from active life, and her -genius and energy have been turned inwards; [=v.= i. 58.] her soul--like -her 'little hand'--is not hardened for the working-day world, but is -quick, delicate, sensitive. She has the keenest insight into the -characters of those around her. She is accustomed to moral loneliness -and at home in mental struggles. She has even solved for herself some of -their problems. In the very crisis of Duncan's murder she gives -utterance to the sentiment: - -[=ii.= ii. 53.] - - the sleeping and the dead - Are but as pictures. - -When we remember that she must have started with the superstitions of -her age such an expression, simple enough in modern lips, opens up to us -a whole drama of personal history: we can picture the trembling -curiosity, the struggle between will and quivering nerves, the triumph -chequered with awe, the resurrection of doubts, the swayings between -natural repulsion and intellectual thirst, the growing courage and the -reiterated victories settling down into calm principle. Accordingly, -Lady Macbeth has won the grand prize of the inner life: in the kingdom -of her personal experience her WILL is unquestioned king. It may seem -strange to some readers that Lady Macbeth should be held up as the type -of the inner life, so associated is that phrase to modern ears with the -life fostered by religion. But the two things must not be -confused--religion and the sphere in which religion is exercised. 'The -kingdom of God is within you,' was the proclamation of Christ, but the -world within _may_ be subjugated to other kings than God. Mental -discipline and perfect self-control, like that of Lady Macbeth, would -hold their sway over evil passions, but they would also be true to her -when she chose to contend against goodness, and even against the deepest -instincts of her feminine nature. [_A struggle against not absence of -the softer qualities._] This was ignored in the old conception of the -character, and a struggle _against_ the softer side of her nature was -mistaken for its total absence. But her intellectual culture must have -quickened her finer sensibilities at the same time that it built up a -will strong enough to hold them down; nor is the subjugation so perfect -but that a sympathetic insight can throughout trace a keen delicacy of -nature striving to assert itself. [=i.= v. 41.] In particular, when she -calls upon the spirits that tend on mortal thoughts to unsex and fill -her from crown to toe with direst cruelty, she is thrilling all over -with feminine repugnance to the bloody enterprise, which nevertheless -her royal will insists upon her undertaking. Lady Macbeth's career in -the play is one long mental civil war: and the strain ends, as such a -strain could only end, in madness. - -[_The Character-Contrast traced through the action._] - -Such is the general conception of Lord and Lady Macbeth from the point -of view of the antithesis between the outer and inner life. We have now -to turn from character to action, and trace the contrasted pair through -the stages of their common career. - -[_Situation at the opening of the play._] - -The two opposing natures have been united in a happy marriage, the -happier because a link between characters so forceful and so antithetic, -if it held at all, must be a source of interest: [compare =i.= v. 55-60; -=i.= vii. 38; =iii.= ii. 27, 29, 36, 45; =iii.= iv. 141.] the dark -tragedy of this unhappy pair is softened by the tenderness of demeanour -which appears on both sides. Another source of marriage happiness is -added: there is not a trace of self-seeking in Lady Macbeth. Throughout -the play she is never found meditating upon what she is to gain by the -crown; wife-like, she has no sphere but the career of her husband. [_The -original impulse to evil came from Macbeth._] In a picture of human -characters, great in their scale, overwhelmed in moral ruin, the -question of absorbing interest is the commencement of the descent, and -the source from which the impulse to evil has come. This, in the present -case, Shakespeare has carefully hidden from us: before the play opens -the essential surrender of spirit has taken place, and all that we are -allowed to see is its realisation in life and fact. If, however, we use -the slight material afforded us for speculation on this point, it would -appear that the original choice for evil has for both been made by -Macbeth. In the partnership of man and wife it is generally safe to -assume that the initiative of action has come from the husband, if -nothing appears to the contrary. [=i.= vii. 48.] In the present case we -are not left to assumptions, Lady Macbeth distinctly speaks of her -husband as first breaking to her the enterprise of treacherous ambition. - - What beast was't, then, - Which made you break this enterprise to me? - ... Nor time nor place - Did then adhere, and yet you would make both. - -The reference can only be to a period before the commencement of the -play; and the general drift of the passage suggests that it was no mere -choice, made by Macbeth with deliberation during which he would be open -to conviction, but an impulse of uncontrollable passion that it would -have been vain for his wife to resist, supposing that she had had the -desire to resist it--so uncontrollable, indeed, [=i.= vii. 54.] that it -appears to Lady Macbeth stronger than the strongest of feminine -passions, a mother's love. - - I have given suck, and know - How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: - I would, while it was smiling in my face, - Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, - And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you - Have done to this. - -The only sense in which Lady Macbeth can be pronounced the ruin of her -husband is that her firm nature holds him in the path to which he has -committed them both, and will not allow his fatal faltering to lose -both the virtue he has renounced and the price for which he has bartered -it. Denied by her feminine position, the possibility--even if she had -had the desire--of directing the common lot for good, she has recognised -before we make her acquaintance that this lot has been cast for evil, -and she is too well-trained in self-knowledge to attempt the -self-deception her husband tries to keep up. [=i.= vii. 54.] And to this -evil lot she applies her full force. Her children have died, and this -natural outlet for passion is wanting; the whole of her energy is -brought to bear upon her husband's ambition, and she is waiting only an -occasion for concentrating her powers upon some definite project. - -[_Four stages in the action._] - -With such mutual relations between the hero and the heroine the play -opens: we are to watch the contrasted characters through the successive -stages of the Temptation, the Deed, the Concealment, the Nemesis. - -[_The Temptation._] - -The Temptation accosts the two personages when separated from one -another, and we thus have the better opportunity of watching the -different forms it assumes in adapting itself to the different -characters. The expedition, which has separated Macbeth from his wife, -is one which must have led him to brood over his schemes of ambition. -Certainly it exhibits to him an example of treason and shows him the -weakness of his sovereign. Probably he sees events shaping in a -direction that suggests opportunity; he may have known that the king -must pass in the direction of his castle, or in some other way may have -anticipated a royal visit; at all events the king's intimation of this -visit in the play itself-- - -[=i.= iv. 42.] - - From hence to Inverness, - And bind us further to you,-- - -does not look like a first mention of it. [=i.= iii. 38-78.] To a mind -so prepared the supernatural solicitation brings a shock of temptation; -and as the Witches in their greeting reach the promise, 'Thou shalt be -KING hereafter,' Macbeth gives a start that astonishes Banquo: - - Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear - Things that do sound so fair? - -To Banquo this prediction of the Witches seems no more than curious; for -it must be remembered that Macbeth's position in the kingdom was not -such as to exclude hope of succession to the crown, though the hope was -a remote one. But Macbeth's start tells a tale of his inner thoughts at -the time. This alone should be sufficient to vindicate Shakespeare from -the charge sometimes brought against him of turning a great character -from virtue to vice by demoniac agency; his is the higher conception -that a soul which has commenced the surrender to evil will find in the -powers of darkness agencies ready to expedite its descent, it matters -not what form these agencies assume. Macbeth has been for years playing -with the idea of treason, while never bracing himself up to the point of -acting it: suddenly the thought he fancied so safe within his bosom -appears outside him in tangible form, gleaming at him in the malignant -glances of recognition the Witches are casting at him. To a mind utterly -undefended by culture against superstitious terror this objective -presentation of his own thought proves a Rubicon of temptation which he -never attempts to recross. [=i.= v. 1-55.] On Lady Macbeth the -supernatural incident makes not the slightest impression of any kind; we -see her reading her husband's excited account of the interview with the -most deliberate calmness, weighing its suggestions only with reference -to the question how it can be used upon her husband. To her temptation -comes with the suggestion of _opportunity_. The messenger enters during -her quiet meditation; - - _Mess._ The king comes here to-night. - - _Lady M._ Thou 'rt mad to say it! - -The shock that passes over her is like the shock of chemical change. In -an instant her whole nature is strung up to a single end; the -long-expected occasion for the concentration of a whole life's energy -upon a decisive stroke is come. So rapidly does her imagination move -that she sees the deed before her as already done, and, as she casts her -eyes upwards, the very ravens over her head seem to be croaking the -fatal entrance of Duncan under her battlements. - -[_The meeting afterwards._] - -[=i.= v, from 55: =i.= vii.] - -The stage of Temptation cannot be considered complete without taking in -that important section of the play which intervenes between the meeting -of the two personages after their separate temptations and the -accomplishment of the treason. This is essentially a period of suspense, -and accordingly exhibits Macbeth at his weakest. As he enters his castle -his tell-tale face is as a book where men may read strange matters; and -his utter powerlessness of self-control throws upon his wife's firm will -the strongest of all strains, that of infusing her own tenacity into a -vacillating ally. I have already dealt with the point at which Macbeth's -suspense becomes intolerable, and he leaves the supper-table; and I have -drawn attention to the eminently practical nature of his thoughts even -at this crisis. The scene which follows, when his wife labours to hold -him to the enterprise he has undertaken, illustrates perhaps better than -any other incident in the play how truly this practical bent is the key -to Macbeth's whole character. At first he takes high ground, and rests -his hesitation on considerations of gratitude. Lady Macbeth appeals to -consistency, to their mutual love, and, her anger beginning to rise at -this wavering of will in a critical moment, she taunts her husband with -cowardice. Then it is that Macbeth, irritated in his turn, speaks the -noble words that have done so much to gain him a place in the army of -martyrs to wifely temptations. - - Prithee, peace: - I dare do all that may become a man; - Who dares do more is none. - -But it is difficult to share Macbeth's self-deception long. At his -wife's reminder how he had been the one to first moot the undertaking, -and swear to it in spite of overwhelming obstacles, already the noble -attitude looks more like the sour grapes morality of the man who begins -to feel indignation against sin at the precise moment when the sin -becomes dangerous. And the whole truth comes sneaking out at Macbeth's -next rejoinder: 'If we should fail?' Here is the critical point of the -scene. [=i.= vii, from 61.] At its beginning Macbeth is for abandoning -the treason, at its end he prepares for his task of murder with -animation: where does the change come? _The practical man is nerved by -having the practical details supplied to him._ Lady Macbeth sketches a -feasible scheme: how that the King will be wearied, his chamberlains can -by means of the banquet be easily drugged, their confusion on waking can -be interpreted as guilt--before she has half done her husband interrupts -her with a burst of enthusiasm, and completes her scheme for her. The -man who had thought it was manliness that made him shrink from murder -henceforward never hesitates till he has plunged his dagger in his -sovereign's bosom. - -[_The Deed_] - -[=ii.= i. 31 to =ii.= ii.] - -In the perpetration of the Deed itself we have the woman passing from -weakness to strength, the man from strength to weakness. To Lady Macbeth -this actual contact with a deed of blood is the severest point of the -strain, the part most abhorrent to her more delicate nature. For a -single moment she feels herself on the verge of the madness which -eventually comes upon her: - -[=ii.= ii. 33.] - - These deeds must not be thought - After these ways; so, it will make us mad! - -And at the beginning of the scene she has been obliged to have recourse -to stimulants in order to brace her failing nerves: - -[=ii.= ii. 1.] - - That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold. - -And in part the attempt to bring her delicate nature to the repugnant -deed does fail. It is clear that, knowing how little her husband could -be depended upon, she had intended to have a hand in the murder itself: - -[=i.= vii. 69; compare =i.= v. 68.] - - What cannot _you and I_ perform upon - The unguarded Duncan? - -But the will which was strong enough to hold down conscience gave way -for a moment before an instinct of feminine tenderness: - -[=ii.= ii. 13.] - - Had he not resembled - My father as he slept, I had done 't. - -The superiority, however, of the intellectual mind is seen in this, that -it can nerve itself from its own agitation, it can draw strength out of -the weakness surrounding it, or out of the necessities of the situation: -_must_ is the most powerful of spells to a trained will. And so it is -that Lady Macbeth rises to the occasion when her husband fails. At first -Macbeth in the perpetration of the murder appears in his proper sphere -of action, and we have already noticed how the Dagger Soliloquy shows no -shrinking, but rather excitement on the side of exultation. The change -in him comes with a moment of suspense, caused by the momentary waking -of the grooms: [=ii.= ii. 24.] 'I stood and heard them.' With this, no -longer sustained by action, he utterly breaks down under the unfamiliar -terrors of a fight with his conscience. His prayer sticks in his throat; -his thoughts seem so vivid that his wife can hardly tell whether he did -not take them for a real voice outside him. - - Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, - You do unbend your noble strength, to think - So brainsickly of things. - -In his agitation he forgets the plan of action, brings away the daggers -instead of leaving them with the grooms, and finally dares not return to -finish what he has left uncompleted. And accordingly his wife has to -make another demand upon her overwrought nature: with one hysterical -jest, - - If he do bleed, - I'll _gild_ the faces of the grooms withal, - For it must seem their _guilt_, - -her nature rallies, and the strength derived from the inner life fills -up a gap in action where the mere strength of action had failed. - -[_The first Shock of Concealment._ =ii.= iii, from 68.] - -The Concealment of the murder forms a stage of the action which falls -into two different parts: the single effort which faces the first shock -of discovery, and the very different strain required to meet the slowly -gathering evidence of guilt. In the Scene of the Discovery Macbeth is -perfectly at home: energetic action is needed, and he is dealing with -men. His acted innocence appears to me better than his wife's; Lady -Macbeth goes near to suggesting a personal interest in the crime by her -over-anxiety to disclaim it. - - _Macduff._ O Banquo, Banquo, - Our royal master's murder'd! - - _Lady M._ Woe, alas! - What, in our house? - - _Banquo._ Too cruel anywhere. - -Yet in this scene, as everywhere else, the weak points in Macbeth's -character betray him: for one moment he is left to himself, and that -moment's suspense ruins the whole episode. In the most natural manner in -the world Macbeth had, on hearing the announcement, rushed with Lennox -to the scene of the murder. Lennox quitted the chamber of blood first, -and for an instant Macbeth was alone, facing the grooms still heavy with -their drugged sleep, and knowing that in another moment they would be -aroused and telling their tale: the sense of crisis proves too much for -him, and under an ungovernable impulse he stabs them. He thus wrecks the -whole scheme. How perfectly Lady Macbeth's plan would have served if it -had been left to itself is seen by Lennox's account of what he had seen, -and how the grooms - - stared, and were distracted; no man's life - Was to be trusted with them. - -Nothing, it is true, can be finer than the way in which Macbeth seeks to -cover his mistake and announces what he has done. But in spite of his -brilliant outburst, - - Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, - Loyal and neutral, in a moment? - -and his vivid word-picture of his supposed sensations, his efforts are -in vain, and at the end of his speech we feel that there has arisen in -the company of nobles the indescribable effect known as 'a sensation,' -and we listen for some one to speak some word that shall be irrevocable. -[=ii.= iii. 124.] The crisis is acute, but Lady Macbeth comes to the -rescue _and faints_! It matters little whether we suppose the fainting -assumed, or that she yields to the agitation she has been fighting -against so long. The important point is that she chooses this exact -moment for giving way: she holds out to the end of her husband's speech, -then falls with a cry for help; there is at once a diversion, and she is -carried out. [=ii.= iii. 132.] But the crisis has passed, and a moment's -consideration has suggested to the nobles the wisdom of adjourning for a -fitter occasion the enquiry into the murder they all suspect: [=ii.= iv. -24-32.] before that occasion arrives the flight of the king's sons has -diverted suspicion into an entirely new channel. Lady Macbeth's fainting -saved her husband. - -[_The long Strain of Concealment._ =iii.= i, ii.] - -To convey dramatically the continuous strain of keeping up appearances -in face of steadily accumulating suspicion is more difficult than to -depict a single crisis. Shakespeare manages it in the present case -chiefly by presenting Macbeth to us on the eve of an important council, -at which the whole truth is likely to come out. - -[= iii.= i. 30.] - - We hear, our bloody cousins are bestowed - In England and in Ireland, not confessing - Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers - With strange invention: but of that to-morrow. - -It is enough to note here that Macbeth takes the step--the fatal step, -as was pointed out in the last study--of contriving Banquo's murder -simply because he cannot face the suspense of waiting for the morrow, -and hearing the defence of the innocent princes made in presence of -Banquo, who knows the inducement he had to such a deed. That he feels -the danger of the crime, which nevertheless he cannot hold himself back -from committing, is clear from the fact that he will not submit it to -the calmer judgment of his wife. [=iii.= ii. 45.] The contrast of the -two characters appears here as everywhere. Lady Macbeth can _wait_ for -an opportunity of freeing themselves from Banquo: - -[=iii.= ii. 37.] - - _Macb._ Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. - - _Lady M._ But in them nature's copy's not eterne. - -To Macbeth the one thing impossible is to wait; and once more his -powerlessness to control suspense is his ruin. - -[_The first Shock of Nemesis._] - -We have reviewed the contrasted characters under Temptation, in the Deed -of sin itself, and in the struggle for Concealment: [=iii.= iv.] it -remains to watch them face to face with their Nemesis. In the present -play Shakespeare has combined the nemesis which takes the form of a -sudden shock with the yet severer nemesis of a hopeless resistance -through the stages of a protracted fall. The first Shock of Nemesis -comes in the Banquet Scene. Macbeth has surrendered himself to the -supernatural, and from the supernatural his retribution comes. This is -not the place to draw out the terrible force of this famous scene; for -its bearing on the contrast of character under delineation it is to be -remarked that Macbeth faces his ghostly visitation with unflinching -courage, yet without a shadow of doubt as to the reality of what -nevertheless no one sees but himself. Lady Macbeth is equally true to -her character, and fights on to the last in the now hopeless -contest--her double task of keeping up appearances for herself and for -her husband. Her keen tact in dealing with Macbeth is to be noted. At -first she rallies him angrily, and seeks to shame him into self-command; -a moment shows that he is too far gone to be reached by such motives. -Instantly she changes her tactics, and, employing a device so often -effective with patients of disordered brain, she endeavours to recall -him to his senses by assuming an ordinary tone of voice; hitherto she -has whispered, now, in the hearing of all, she makes the practical -remark: - -[=iii.= iv. 83.] - - My worthy lord, - Your noble friends do lack you. - -The device proves successful, his nerves respond to the tone of everyday -life, and recovering himself he uses all his skill of deportment to -efface the strangeness of the episode, until the reappearance of his -victim plunges the scene in confusion past recovery. In the moment of -crisis Lady Macbeth had used roughness to rouse her husband; [=iii.= iv, -from 122.] when the courtiers are gone she is all tenderness. She utters -not a word of reproach: perhaps she is herself exhausted by the strain -she has gone through; more probably the womanly solicitude for the -physical sufferer thinks only how to procure for her husband 'the season -of all natures, sleep.' - -[_The full Nemesis._] - -At last the end comes. The final stage, like the first, is brought to -the two personages separately. Lady Macbeth has faced every crisis by -sheer force of nerve; [=v.= i.] the nemesis comes upon her fitly in -madness, the brain giving way under the strain of contest which her will -has forced upon it. In the delirium of her last appearance before us we -can trace three distinct tones of thought working into one another as if -in some weird harmony. There is first the mere reproduction of the -horrible scenes she has passed through. - - One: two: why then 'tis time to do 't.... Yet who would have thought - the old man to have had so much blood in him.... The thane of Fife - had a wife: where is she now? - -Again there is an inner thought contending with the first, the struggle -to keep her husband from betraying himself by his irresolution. - - No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this - starting.... Wash your hands, put on your night-gown; look not so - pale.... Fie! a soldier and afear'd? - -And there is an inmost thought of all: the uprising of her feminine -nature against the foulness of the violent deed. - - Out, damned spot!... Here's the smell of blood still: all the - perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand-- - -and the 'sorely charged heart' vents itself in a sigh which the -attendants shudder to hear. On Macbeth Nemesis heaps itself in double -form. The purely practical man, without resources in himself, finds -nemesis in an old age that receives no honour from others. - -[=v.= iii. 22.] - - My way of life - Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf; - And that which should accompany old age, - As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, - I must not look to have, but, in their stead, - Curses, not loud, but deep. - -Again, as the drunkard finds his refuge in drink, so the victim of -superstition longs for deeper draughts of the supernatural. [=iv.= i.] -Macbeth seeks the Witches, forces himself to hear the worst, [=iv.= i. -110-135.] and suffers nemesis in anticipation in viewing future -generations which are to see his foes on his throne. [from =iv.= i. 80.] -Finally from the supernatural comes the climax of retribution when -Macbeth is seen resting in unquestioning reliance on an ironical oracle: -[=v.= v, from 33; =v.= viii, from 13.] till the shock of revelation -comes, the pledge of his safety is converted into the sign of his doom, -and the brave Macbeth, hero of a hundred battles, [=v.= viii. 22.] -throws down his sword and refuses to fight. - - - - -VIII. - -JULIUS CĘSAR BESIDE HIS MURDERERS AND HIS AVENGER. - -_A Study in Character-Grouping._ - - -[_Character-Grouping._] - -EVERY lover of art feels that the different fine arts form not a crowd -but a family; the more familiar the mind becomes with them the more it -delights to trace in them the application of common ideas to different -media of expression. We are reminded of this essential unity by the way -in which the arts borrow their terms from one another. 'Colour' is -applied to music, 'tone' to painting; we speak of costume as 'loud,' of -melody as 'bright,' of orchestration as 'massive.' Two classes of -oratorical style have been distinguished as 'statuesque' and -'picturesque'; while the application of a musical term, 'harmony,' and a -term of sculpture, 'relief,' to all the arts alike is so common that the -transference is scarcely felt. Such usages are not the devices of a -straitened vocabulary, but are significant of a single _Art_ which is -felt to underlie the special _arts_. So the more Drama is brought by -criticism into the family of the fine arts the more it will be seen to -present the common features. We have already had to notice repeatedly -how the idea of pattern or design is the key to dramatic plot. We are in -the present study to see how contrast of character, such as was traced -in the last study between Lord and Lady Macbeth, when applied to a -larger number of personages, produces an effect on the mind analogous to -that of _grouping_ in pictures and statuary: the different personages -not only present points of contrast with one another, but their -varieties suddenly fall into a unity of effect if looked at from some -one point of view. [_The grouping in Julius Cęsar rests on the -antithesis of the practical and inner life._] An example of such -Character-Grouping is seen in the play of _Julius Cęsar_, where the four -leading figures, all on the grandest scale, have the elements of their -characters thrown into relief by comparison with one another, and the -contrast stands out boldly when the four are reviewed in relation to one -single idea. - -This idea is the same as that which lay at the root of the -Character-Contrast in _Macbeth_--the antithesis of the practical and -inner life. It is, however, applied in a totally different sphere. -Instead of a simple age in which the lives coincide with the sexes we -are carried to the other extreme of civilisation, the final age of Roman -liberty, and all four personages are merged in the busy world of -political life. Naturally, then, the contrast of the two lives takes in -this play a different form. [_This takes the form of individual -sympathies_ v. _public policy._] In the play of _Macbeth_ the inner life -was seen in the force of will which could hold down alike bad and good -impulses; while the outer life was made interesting by its confinement -to the training given by action, and an exhibition of it devoid of the -thoughtfulness and self-control for which the life of activity has to -draw upon the inner life. But there is another aspect in which the two -may be regarded. The idea of the inner life is reflected in the word -'individuality,' or that which a man has not in common with others. The -cultivation of the inner life implies not merely cultivation of our own -individuality, but to it also belongs sympathy with the individuality of -others; whereas in the sphere of practical life men fall into classes, -and each person has his place as a member of these classes. Thus -benevolence may take the form of enquiring into individual wants and -troubles and meeting these by personal assistance; but a man has an -equal claim to be called benevolent who applies himself to such sciences -as political economy, studies the springs which regulate human society, -and by influencing these in the right direction confers benefits upon -whole classes at a time. Charity and political science are the two forms -benevolence assumes correspondent to the inner life of individual -sympathies and the outer life of public action. Or, if we consider the -contrast from the side of rights as distinguished from duties, the -supreme form in which the rights of individuals may be summed up is -justice; the corresponding claim which public life makes upon us is (in -the highest sense of the term) policy: wherever these two, justice and -policy, seem to clash, the outer and inner life are brought into -conflict. It is in this form that the conflict is raised in the play of -_Julius Cęsar_. To get it in its full force, the dramatist goes to the -world of antiquity, for one of the leading distinctions between ancient -and modern society is that the modern world gives the fullest play to -the individual, while in ancient systems the individual was treated as -existing solely for the state. 'Liberty' has been a watchword in both -ages; but while we mean by liberty the least amount of interference with -personal activity, the liberty for which ancient patriots contended was -freedom of the government from external or internal control, and the -ideal republic of Plato was so contrived as to reduce individual liberty -to a minimum. And this subordination of private to public was most fully -carried out in Rome. 'The common weal,' says Merivale, 'was after all -the grand object of the heroes of Roman story. Few of the renowned -heroes of old had attained their eminence as public benefactors without -steeling their hearts against the purest instincts of nature. The deeds -of a Brutus or a Manlius, of a Sulla or a Cęsar, would have been branded -as crimes in private citizens; it was the public character of the actors -that stamped them with immortal glory in the eyes of their countrymen.' -Accordingly, the opposition of outer and inner life is brought before us -most keenly when, in Roman life, a public policy, the cause of -republican freedom, seems to be bound up with the supreme crime against -justice and the rights of the individual, assassination. - -[_Brutus's character so evenly developed that the antithesis -disappears._] - -Brutus is the central figure of the group: in his character the two -sides are so balanced that the antithesis disappears. This evenness of -development in his nature is the thought of those who in the play gather -around his corpse; giving prominence to the quality in Brutus hidden -from the casual observer they say: - -[=v.= v. 73.] - - His life was gentle; and the elements - So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up - And say to all the world 'This was a man!' - -Of another it would be said that he was a poet, a philosopher; of Brutus -the only true description was that he was a man! It is in very few -characters that force and softness are each carried to such perfection. -[_Force of his character._] The strong side of Brutus's character is -that which has given to the whole play its characteristic tone. It is -seen in the way in which he appreciates the issue at stake. Weak men sin -by hiding from themselves what it is they do; Brutus is fully alive to -the foulness of conspiracy at the moment in which he is conspiring. - -[=ii.= i. 77.] - - O conspiracy, - Shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, - When evils are most free? O, then by day - Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough - To mask thy monstrous visage? - -His high tone he carries into the darkest scenes of the play. The use of -criminal means has usually an intoxicating effect upon the moral sense, -and suggests to those once committed to it that it is useless to haggle -over the amount of the crime until the end be obtained. [=ii.= i. 162.] -Brutus resists this intoxication, setting his face against the proposal -to include Antony in Cęsar's fate, and resolving that not one life shall -be unnecessarily sacrificed. He scorns the refuge of suicide; and with -warmth adjures his comrades not to stain-- - -[=ii.= i. 114.] - - The even virtue of our enterprise, - Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits, - To think that or our cause or our performance - Did need an oath; when every drop of blood - That every Roman bears, and nobly bears, - Is guilty of a several bastardy, - If he do break the smallest particle - Of any promise that hath pass'd from him. - -The scale of Brutus's character is again brought out by his relations -with other personages of the play. Casca, with all his cynical -depreciation of others, has to bear unqualified testimony to Brutus's -greatness: - -[=i.= iii. 157.] - - O, he sits high in all the people's hearts; - And that which would appear offence in us, - His countenance, like richest alchemy, - Will change to virtue and to worthiness. - -[=ii.= i, fin.] - -We see Ligarius coming from a sick-bed to join in he knows not what: 'it -sufficeth that Brutus leads me on.' And the hero's own thought, when at -the point of death he pauses to take a moment's survey of his whole -life, [=v.= v. 34.] is of the unfailing power with which he has swayed -the hearts of all around him: - - My heart doth joy that yet in all my life - I found no man but he was true to me. - -Above all, contact with Cassius throws into relief the greatness of -Brutus. [=i.= ii.] At the opening of the play it is Cassius that we -associate with the idea of force; but his is the ruling mind only while -Brutus is hesitating; as soon as Brutus has thrown in his lot with the -conspirators, Cassius himself is swept along with the current of -Brutus's irresistible influence. [Cf. =ii.= i. 162-190; =iii.= i. -140-146, 231-243; =iv.= iii. 196-225, &c.] In the councils every point -is decided--and, so far as success is concerned, wrongly -decided--against Cassius's better judgment. In the sensational moment -when Popilius Lena enters the Senate-house and is seen to whisper Cęsar, -Cassius's presence of mind fails him, [=iii.= i. 19.] and he prepares in -despair for suicide; Brutus retains calmness enough to _watch faces_: - - Cassius, be constant: - Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes; - For, look, he smiles, and Cęsar doth not change. - -[=iv.= iii.] - -In the Quarrel Scene Cassius has lost all pretensions to dignity of -action in the impatience sprung from a ruined cause; Brutus maintains -principle in despair. Finally, at the close of the scene, when it is -discovered that under all the hardness of this contest for principle -Brutus has been hiding a heart broken by the loss of Portia, [=iv.= iii, -from 145.] Cassius is forced to give way and acknowledge Brutus's -superiority to himself even in his own ideal of impassiveness: - -[=iv.= iii. 194.] - - I have as much of this in art as you, - But yet my nature could not bear it so. - -[_Its softness._] - -The force in Brutus's character is obvious: it is rather its softer side -that some readers find difficulty in seeing. But this difficulty is in -reality a testimony to Shakespeare's skill, for Brutus is a Stoic, and -what gentleness we see in him appears in spite of himself. It may be -seen in his culture of art, music, and philosophy, which have such an -effect in softening the manners. Nor is this in the case of the Roman -Brutus a mere conventional culture: these tastes are among his strongest -passions. [=iv.= iii. 256.] When all is confusion around him on the eve -of the fatal battle he cannot restrain his longing for the refreshing -tones of his page's lyre; and, the music over, he takes up his -philosophical treatise at the page he had turned down. [=iv.= iii. 242.] -Again Brutus's considerateness for his dependants is in strong contrast -with the harshness of Roman masters. On the same eve of the battle he -insists that the men who watch in his tent shall lie down instead of -standing as discipline would require. [=iv.= iii, from 252.] An -exquisite little episode brings out Brutus's sweetness of demeanour in -dealing with his youthful page; this rises to womanly tenderness at the -end when, noticing how the boy, wearied out and fallen asleep, is lying -in a position to injure his instrument, he rises and disengages it -without waking him. - - _Bru._ Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so; - I put it in the pocket of my gown. - - _Luc._ I was sure your lordship did not give it me. - - _Bru._ Bear with me, good boy; I am much forgetful. - Can'st thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, - And touch thy instrument a strain or two? - - _Luc._ Ay, my lord, an't please you. - - _Bru._ It does, my boy: - I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. - - _Luc._ It is my duty, sir. - - _Bru._ I should not urge thy duty past thy might; - I know young bloods look for a time of rest. - - _Luc._ I have slept my lord, already. - - _Bru._ It was well done; and thou shall sleep again; - I will not hold thee long: if I do live - I will be good to thee. [_Music and a song._ - This is a sleepy tune. O murderous slumber, - Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, - That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good night; - I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee.-- - If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument; - I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night. - -[=ii.= i, from 233.] - -Brutus's relations with Portia bear the same testimony. Portia is a -woman with as high a spirit as Lady Macbeth, and she can inflict a wound -on herself to prove her courage and her right to share her husband's -secrets. But she lacks the physical nerve of Lady Macbeth; [=ii.= iv.] -her agitation on the morning of the assassination threatens to betray -the conspirators, and when these have to flee from Rome the suspense is -too much for her and she commits suicide. Brutus knew his wife better -than she knew herself, and was right in seeking to withhold the fatal -confidence; yet he allowed himself to be persuaded: no man would be so -swayed by a tender woman unless he had a tender spirit of his own. In -all these ways we may trace an extreme of gentleness in Brutus. [_This -is concealed under stoic imperturbability._] But it is of the essence of -his character that this softer side is concealed behind an -imperturbability of outward demeanour that belongs to his stoic -religion: this struggle between inward and outward is the main feature -for the actor to bring out. [=iii.= ii, from 14.] It is a master stroke -of Shakespeare that he utilises the euphuistic prose of his age to -express impassiveness in Brutus's oration. The greatest of the world has -just been assassinated; the mob are swaying with fluctuating passions; -the subtlest orator of his day is at hand to turn those passions into -the channel of vengeance for his friend: Brutus called on amid such -surroundings to speak for the conspirators still maintains the -artificial style of carefully balanced sentences, such as emotionless -rhetoric builds up in the quiet of a study. - - As Cęsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at - it; as he was valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I - slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour - for his valour; and death for his ambition. - -[_The antithesis reappears for Brutus in the action._] - -Brutus's nature then is developed on all its sides; in his character the -antithesis of the outer and inner life disappears. It reappears, -however, in the action; [=ii.= i. 10-85.] for Brutus is compelled to -balance a weighty issue, with public policy on the one side, and on the -other, not only justice to individual claims, but further the claims of -friendship, which is one of the fairest flowers of the inner life. And -the balance dips to the wrong side. If the question were of using the -weapon of assassination against a criminal too high for the ordinary law -to reach, this would be a moral problem which, however doubtful to -modern thought, would have been readily decided by a Stoic. But the -question which presented itself to Brutus was distinctly not this. -[=ii.= i. 18-34.] Shakespeare has been careful to represent Brutus as -admitting to himself that Cęsar has done no wrong: he slays him _for -what he might do_. - - The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins - Remorse from power: and, _to speak truth of Cęsar, - I have not known when his affections sway'd - More than his reason_. But 'tis a common proof, - That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, - Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; - But when he once attains the upmost round, - He then unto the ladder turns his back, - Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees - By which he did ascend. So Cęsar may. - Then, lest he may, prevent. And _since the quarrel - Will bear no colour for the thing he is,_ - Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented, - Would run to these and these extremities: - And therefore think him as a serpent's egg - Which hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous, - And kill him in the shell. - -It is true that Shakespeare, with his usual 'dramatic hedging,' softens -down this immoral bias in a great hero by representing him as both a -Roman, of the nation which beyond all other nations exalted the state -over the individual, and a Brutus, [compare =i.= ii. 159.] -representative of the house which had risen to greatness by leading -violence against tyranny. But, Brutus's own conscience being judge, the -man against whom he moves is guiltless; and so the conscious sacrifice -of justice and friendship to policy is a fatal error which is source -sufficient for the whole tragedy of which Brutus is the hero. - -[_Cęsar: discrepancies in his character to be reconciled._] - -The character of Cęsar is one of the most difficult in Shakespeare. -Under the influence of some of his speeches we find ourselves in the -presence of one of the master spirits of mankind; other scenes in which -he plays a leading part breathe nothing but the feeblest vacillation and -weakness. It is the business of Character-Interpretation to harmonise -this contradiction; it is not interpretation at all to ignore one side -of it and be content with describing Cęsar as vacillating. The force and -strength of his character is seen in the impression he makes upon -forceful and strong men. The attitude of Brutus to Cęsar seems -throughout to be that of looking up; and notably at one point the -thought of Cęsar's greatness seems to cast a lurid gleam over the -assassination plot itself, and Brutus feels that the grandeur of the -victim gives a dignity to the crime: - -[=ii.= i. 173.] - - Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods. - -The strength and force of Antony again no one will question; and Antony, -at the moment when he is alone with the corpse of Cęsar and can have no -motive for hypocrisy, apostrophises it in the words-- - -[=iii.= i. 256.] - - Thou art the ruins of the noblest man - That ever lived in the tide of times. - -And we see enough of Cęsar in the play to bear out the opinions of -Brutus and Antony. Those who accept vacillation as sufficient -description of Cęsar's character must explain his strong speeches as -vaunting and self-assertion. But surely it must be possible for dramatic -language to distinguish between the true and the assumed force; and -equally surely there is a genuine ring in the speeches in which Cęsar's -heroic spirit, shut out from the natural sphere of action in which it -has been so often proved, leaps restlessly at every opportunity into -pregnant words. We may thus feel certain of his lofty physical courage. - -[=ii.= ii. 32.] - - Cowards die many times before their deaths; - The valiant never taste of death but once. - Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, - It seems to me most strange that men should fear ... - - * * * * * - -[=ii.= ii. 44.] - - Danger knows full well - That Cęsar is more dangerous than he: - We are two lions litter'd in one day, - And I the elder and more terrible. - -A man must have felt the thrill of courage in search of its food, -danger, before his self-assertion finds language of this kind in which -to express itself. In another scene we have the perfect _fortiter in re_ -and _suaviter in modo_ of the trained statesman exhibited in the -courtesy with which Cęsar receives the conspirators, [=ii.= ii, from -57.] combined with his perfect readiness to 'tell graybeards the truth.' -[=iii.= i. 35.] Nor could imperial firmness be more ideally painted than -in the way in which Cęsar 'prevents' Cimber's intercession. - - Be not fond, - To think that Cęsar bears such rebel blood - That will be thaw'd from the true quality - With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words, - Low-crooked court'sies, and base spaniel-fawning. - Thy brother by decree is banished: - If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him, - I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. - Know, Cęsar doth not wrong, nor without cause - Will he be satisfied. - -Commonplace authority loudly proclaims that it will never relent: the -true imperial spirit feels it a preliminary condition to see first that -it never does wrong. - -[_Reconciliation: Cęsar the highest type of the practical;_] - -It is the antithesis of the outer and inner life that explains this -contradiction in Cęsar's character. Like Macbeth, he is the embodiment -of one side and one side only of the antithesis; he is the complete type -of the practical--though in special qualities he is as unlike Macbeth as -his age is unlike Macbeth's age. Accordingly Cęsar appears before us -perfect up to the point where his own personality comes in. The military -and political spheres, in which he has been such a colossal figure, call -forth practical powers, and do not involve introspection and meditation -on foundation principles of thought. - - Theirs not to reason why: - Theirs but to do. - -The tasks of the soldier and the statesman are imposed upon them by -external authority and necessities, and the faculties exercised are -those which shape means to ends. But at last Cęsar comes to a crisis -that does involve his personality; he attempts a task imposed on him by -his own ambition. He plays in a game of which the prize is the world and -the stake himself, and to estimate chances in such a game tests -self-knowledge and self-command to its depths. [_but lacking in the -inner life._] How wanting Cęsar is in the cultivation of the inner life -is brought out by his contrast with Cassius. [=i.= ii. 100-128.] The -incidents of the flood and the fever, retained by the memory of Cassius, -illustrate this. The first of these was no mere swimming-match; the -flood in the Tiber was such as to reduce to nothing the difference -between one swimmer and another. [=i.= ii. 102.] It was a trial of -nerve: and as long as action was possible Cęsar was not only as brave as -Cassius, but was the one attracted by the danger. Then some chance wave -or cross current renders his chance of life hopeless, and no buffeting -with lusty sinews is of any avail; that is the point at which the -_passive_ courage born of the inner life comes in, and gives strength to -submit to the inevitable in calmness. This Cęsar lacks, and he calls for -rescue: Cassius would have felt the water close over him and have sunk -to the bottom and died rather than accept aid from his rival. In like -manner the sick bed is a region in which the highest physical and -intellectual activity is helpless; the trained self-control of a Stoic -may have a sphere for exercise even here; but the god Cęsar shakes, and -cries for drink like a sick girl. [_The conception brought out by -personal contact with Cassius._] It is interesting to note how the two -types of mind, when brought into personal contact, jar upon one -another's self-consciousness. The intellectual man, judging the man of -action by the test of mutual intercourse, sees nothing to explain the -other's greatness, and wonders what people find in him that they so -admire him and submit to his influence. On the other hand, the man of -achievement is uneasily conscious of a sort of superiority in one whose -intellectual aims and habits he finds it so difficult to follow--yet -superiority it is not, for what has he _done_? [=i.= ii. 182-214.] -Shakespeare has illustrated this in the play by contriving to bring -Cęsar and his suite across the 'public place' in which Cassius is -discoursing to Brutus. Cassius feels the usual irritation at being -utterly unable to find in his old acquaintance any special qualities to -explain his elevation. - -[=i.= ii. 148.] - - Now, in the names of all the gods at once, - Upon what meat doth this our Cęsar feed, - That he is grown so great? - -Similarly Cęsar, as he casts a passing glance at Cassius, becomes at -once uneasy. 'He thinks too much,' is the exclamation of the man of -action: - - He loves no plays, - As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music. - -The practical man, accustomed to divide mankind into a few simple types, -is always uncomfortable at finding a man he cannot classify. Finally -there is a climax to the jealousy that exists between the two lives: -Cęsar complains that Cassius '_looks quite through the deeds of men._' - -[_A change in Cęsar and a change in Rome itself._ comp. =i.= i, and -=iii.= iii; =i.= ii. 151, 164; =i.= iii. 82, 105; =iii.= i. 66-70; =v.= -v. 69-72, &c.] - -There is another circumstance to be taken into account in explaining the -weakness of Cęsar. A change has come over the spirit of Roman political -life itself--such seems to be Shakespeare's conception: Cęsar on his -return has found Rome no longer the Rome he had known. Before he left -for Gaul, Rome had been the ideal sphere for public life, the arena in -which principles alone were allowed to combat, and from which the -banishment of personal aims and passions was the first condition of -virtue. In his absence Rome has gradually degenerated; the mob has -become the ruling force, and introduced an element of uncertainty into -political life; politics has passed from science into gambling. A new -order of public men has arisen, of which Cassius and Antony are the -types; personal aims, personal temptations, and personal risks are now -inextricably interwoven with public action. This is a changed order of -things to which the mind of Cęsar, cast in a higher mould, lacks the -power to adapt itself. His vacillation is the vacillation of -unfamiliarity with the new political conditions. [=i.= ii. 230.] He -refuses the crown 'each time gentler than the other,' showing want of -decisive reading in dealing with the fickle mob; [=i.= ii. 183.] and on -his return from the Capitol he is too untrained in hypocrisy to conceal -the angry spot upon his face; he has tried to use the new weapons which -he does not understand, and has failed. [=ii.= i. 195.] It is a subtle -touch of Shakespeare's to the same effect that Cęsar is represented as -having himself undergone a change _of late_: - - For he is superstitious grown of late, - Quite from the main opinion he held once - Of fantasy, of dreams and ceremonies - -To come back to a world of which you have mastered the machinery, and to -find that it is no longer governed by machinery at all, that causes no -longer produce their effects--this, if anything, might well drive a -strong intellect to superstition. And herein consists the pathos of -Cęsar's situation. The deepest tragedy of the play is not the -assassination of Cęsar, it is rather seen in such a speech as this of -Decius: - -[=ii.= i. 202.] - - If he be so resolved, - I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear - That unicorns may be betray'd with trees, - And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, - Lions with toils and men with flatterers; - But when I tell him, he hates flatterers, - He says he does, being then most flattered. - -Assassination is a less piteous thing than to see the giant intellect by -its very strength unable to contend against the low cunning of a -fifth-rate intriguer. - -Such, then, appears to be Shakespeare's conception of Julius Cęsar. He -is the consummate type of the practical: emphatically the public man, -complete in all the greatness that belongs to action. On the other hand, -the knowledge of self produced by self-contemplation is wanting, and so -when he comes to consider the relation of his individual self to the -state he vacillates with the vacillation of a strong man moving amongst -men of whose greater intellectual subtlety he is dimly conscious: no -unnatural conception for a Cęsar who has been founding empires abroad -while his fellows have been sharpening their wits in the party contests -of a decaying state. - -[_Cassius: his whole character developed and subjected to a -master-passion that is disinterested._] - -The remaining members of the group are Cassius and Antony. In Cassius -thought and action have been equally developed, and he has the qualities -belonging to both the outer and the inner life. But the side which in -Brutus barely preponderated, absolutely tyrannises in Cassius; his -public life has given him a grand passion to which the whole of his -nature becomes subservient. Inheriting a 'rash humour' from his mother, -he was specially prepared for impatience of political anomalies; [=iv.= -iii. 120.] republican independence has become to him an ideal dearer -than life. - -[=i.= ii. 95.] - - I had as lief not be as live to be - In awe of such a thing as I myself. - -[=i.= ii, iii; =ii.= i; =iii.= i. 177, &c.] - -He has thus become a professional politician. Politics is to him a game, -and men are counters to be used; [=i.= ii. 312-319.] Cassius finds -satisfaction in discovering that even Brutus's 'honourable metal may be -wrought from that it is disposed.' He has the politician's low view of -human nature; while Brutus talks of principles Cassius interposes -appeals to interest: he says to Antony, - -[=iii.= i. 177.] - - Your voice shall be as strong as any man's - In the disposing of new dignities. - -His party spirit is, as usual, unscrupulous; he seeks to work upon his -friend's unsuspecting nobility by concocted letters thrown in at his -windows; [=i.= ii. 319.] and in the Quarrel Scene loses patience at -Brutus's scruples. - -[=iv.= iii. 7, 29, &c.] - - I'll not endure it: you forget yourself, - To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I, - Older in practice, abler than yourself - To make conditions. - -At the same time he has a party politician's tact; his advice throughout -the play is proved by the event to have been right, [=iii.= i. 145.] and -he does himself no more than justice when he says his misgiving 'still -falls shrewdly to the purpose.' [_Antony: his whole character developed -and subjected to selfish passion._] Antony also has all the powers that -belong both to the intellectual and practical life; so far as these -powers are concerned, he has them developed to a higher degree than even -Brutus and Cassius. His distinguishing mark lies in the use to which -these powers are put; like Cassius, he has concentrated his whole nature -in one aim, but this aim is not a disinterested object of public good, -it is unmitigated self-seeking. Antony has greatness enough to -appreciate the greatness of Cęsar; hence in the first half of the play -he has effaced himself, choosing to rise to power as the useful tool of -Cęsar. [esp. =i.= ii, from 190; comp. =ii.= i. 165.] Here, indeed, he is -famed as a devotee of the softer studies, but it is not till his patron -has fallen that his irresistible strength is put forth. There seems to -be but one element in Antony that is not selfish: [=iii.= i, from 254; -comp. 194-213.] his attachment to Cęsar is genuine, and its force is -measured in the violent imagery of the vow with which, when alone for a -moment with the corpse, he promises vengeance till all pity is 'choked -with custom of fell deeds.' And yet this perhaps is after all the best -illustration of his callousness to higher feelings; for the one tender -emotion of his heart is used by him as the convenient weapon with which -to fight his enemies and raise himself to power. - -[_The Grouping as a whole surveyed._] - -Such, then, is the Grouping of Characters in the play of _Julius Cęsar_. -To catch it they must be contemplated in the light of the antithesis -between the outer and inner life. In Brutus the antithesis disappears -amid the perfect balancing of his character, to reappear in the action, -when Brutus has to choose between his cause and his friend. In Cęsar the -practical life only is developed, and he fails as soon as action -involves the inner life. Cassius has the powers of both outer and inner -life perfect, and they are fused into one master-passion, morbid but -unselfish. Antony has carried to an even greater perfection the culture -of both lives, and all his powers are concentrated in one purpose, which -is purely selfish. In the action in which this group of personages is -involved the determining fact is the change that has come over the -spirit of Roman life, and introduced into its public policy the element -of personal aggrandisement and personal risk. The new spirit works upon -Brutus: the chance of winning political liberty by the assassination of -one individual just overbalances his moral judgment, and he falls. Yet -in his fall he is glorious: the one false judgment of his life brings -him, what is more to him than victory, the chance of maintaining the -calmness of principle amid the ruins of a falling cause, and showing how -a Stoic can fail and die. The new spirit affects Cęsar and tempts him -into a personal enterprise in which success demands a meanness that he -lacks, and he is betrayed to his fall. Yet in his fall he is glorious: -the assassins' daggers purge him from the stain of his momentary -personal ambition, and the sequel shows that the Roman world was not -worthy of a ruler such as Cęsar. The spirit of the age effects Cassius, -and fans his passion to work itself out to his own destruction, and he -falls. Yet in his fall he is glorious: we forgive him the lowered tone -of his political action when we see by the spirit of the new rulers how -desperate was the chance for which he played, and how Cassius and his -loved cause of republican freedom expire together. The spirit of the age -which has wrought upon the rest is controlled and used by Antony, and he -rises on their ruins. Yet in his rise he is less glorious than they in -their fall: he does all for self; he may claim therefore the prize of -success, but in goodness he has no share beyond that he is permitted to -be the passive instrument of punishing evil. - - - - -IX. - - -HOW THE PLAY OF JULIUS CĘSAR WORKS TO A CLIMAX AT THE CENTRE. - -_A Study in Passion and Movement._ - - -[_Passion and Movement as elements of dramatic effect._] - -THE preceding chapters have been confined to two of the main elements in -dramatic effect, Character and Plot: the third remains to be -illustrated. Amongst other devices of public amusement the experiment -has been tried of arranging a game of chess to be played by living -pieces on a monster board; if we suppose that in the midst of such a -game the real combative instincts of the living pieces should be -suddenly aroused, that the knight should in grim earnest plunge his -spear into his nearest opponent, and that missiles should actually be -discharged from the castles, then the shock produced in the feelings of -the bystanders by such a change would serve to bring out with emphasis -the distinction between Plot and the third element of dramatic effect, -Passion. Plot is an interest of a purely intellectual kind, it traces -laws, principles, order, and design in the incidents of life. Passion, -on the other hand, depends on the human character of the personages -involved; it consists in the effects produced on the spectator's -emotional nature as his sympathy follows the characters through the -incidents of the plot; it is War as distinguished from _Kriegspiel_. -Effects of such Passion are numerous and various: the present study is -concerned with its _Movement_. This Movement comprehends a class of -dramatic effects differing in one obvious particular from the effects -considered so far. Character-Interpretation and Plot are both analytical -in their nature; the play has to be taken to pieces and details selected -from various parts have to be put together to give the idea of a -complete character, or to make up some single thread of design. -[_Passion connected with the movement of a drama._] Movement, on the -contrary, follows the actual order of the events as they take place in -the play itself. The emotional effects produced by such events as they -succeed one another will not be uniform and monotonous; the skill of the -dramatist will lie in concentrating effect at some points and relieving -it at others; and to watch such play of passion through the progress of -the action will be a leading dramatic interest. Now we have already had -occasion to notice the prominence which Shakespeare in his dramatic -construction gives to the central point of a play; symmetry more than -sensation is the effect which has an attraction for his genius, and the -finale to which the action is to lead is not more important to him than -the balancing of the whole drama about a turning-point in the middle. -Accordingly it is not surprising to find that in the Passion-Movement of -his dramas a similar plan of construction is often followed; that all -other variations are subordinated to one great Climax of Passion at the -centre. [_The regular arch-form applicable to Passion-Movement._] To -repeat an illustration already applied to Plot: the movement of the -passion seems to follow the form of a regular arch, commencing in -calmness, rising through emotional strain to a summit of agitation at -the centre, then through the rest of the play declining into a calmness -of a different kind. It is the purpose of the two remaining studies to -illustrate this kind of movement in two very different plays. _Julius -Cęsar_ has the simplest of plots; our attention is engaged with a train -of emotion which is made to rise gradually to a climax at the centre, -and then equally gradually to decline. _Lear_, on the contrary, is -amongst the most intricate of Shakespeare's plays; nevertheless the -dramatist contrives to keep the same simple form of emotional effect, -and its complex passions unite in producing a concentration of emotional -agitation in a few central scenes. - -[_In Julius Cęsar the movement follows the justification of the -conspirators to the audience:_] - -The passion in the play of _Julius Cęsar_ gathers around the -conspirators, and follows them through the mutations of their fortunes. -If however we are to catch the different parts of the action in their -proper proportions we must remember the character of these conspirators, -and especially of their leaders Brutus and Cassius. These are actuated -in what they do not by personal motives but by devotion to the public -good and the idea of republican liberty; accordingly in following their -career we must not look too exclusively at their personal success and -failure. The exact key to the movement of the drama will be given by -fixing attention upon _the justification of the conspirators' cause_ in -the minds of the audience; [_this rises to the centre and declines from -the centre._] and it is this which is found to rise gradually to its -height in the centre of the play, and from that point to decline to the -end. I have pointed out in the preceding study how the issue at stake in -_Julius Cęsar_ amounts to a conflict between the outer and inner life, -between devotion to a public enterprise and such sympathy with the -claims of individual humanity as is specially fostered by the -cultivation of the inner nature. The issue is reflected in words of -Brutus already quoted: - -[=ii.= i. 18.] - - The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins - Remorse from power. - -Brutus applies this as a test to Cęsar's action, and is forced to acquit -him: but is not Brutus here laying down the very principle of which his -own error in the play is the violation? The assassin's dagger puts -Brutus and the conspirators in the position of power; while -'remorse'--the word in Shakespearean English means human sympathy--is -the due of their victim Cęsar, whose rights to justice as a man, and to -more than justice as the friend of Brutus, the conspirators have the -responsibility of balancing against the claims of a political cause. -These claims of justice and humanity are deliberately ignored by the -stoicism of Brutus, while the rest of the conspirators are blinded to -them by the mists of political enthusiasm; this outraged human sympathy -asserts itself after Cęsar's death in a monstrous form in the passions -of the mob, which are guided by the skill of Antony to the destruction -of the assassins. Of course both the original violation of the balance -between the two lives and the subsequent reaction are equally corrupt. -The stoicism of Brutus, with its suppression of the inner sympathies, -arrives practically at the principle--destined in the future history of -the world to be the basis of a yet greater crime--that it is expedient -that one man should die rather than that a whole people should perish. -On the other hand, Antony trades upon the fickle violence of the -populace, and uses it as much for personal ends as for vengeance. This -demoralisation of both the sides of character is the result of their -divorce. Such is the essence of this play if its action be looked at as -a whole; but it belongs to the movement of dramatic passion that we see -the action only in its separate parts at different times. Through the -first half of the play, while the justification of the conspirators' -cause is rising, the other side of the question is carefully hidden from -us; from the point of the assassination the suppressed element starts -into prominence, and sweeps our sympathies along with it to its triumph -at the conclusion of the play. - -[_First stage: the conspiracy forming. Passion indistinguishable from -mere interest._] - -In following the movement of the drama the action seems to divide itself -into stages. In the first of these stages, which comprehends the first -two scenes, the conspiracy is only forming; the sympathy with which the -spectator follows the details is entirely free from emotional agitation; -passion so far is indistinguishable from mere interest. [=i.= i, ii.] -The opening scene strikes appropriately the key-note of the whole -action. [_Starting-point: signs of reaction in the popular worship of -Cęsar._] In it we see the tribunes of the people--officers whose whole -_raison d'źtre_ is to be the mouthpiece of the commonalty--restraining -their own clients from the noisy honours they are disposed to pay to -Cęsar. [=i.= i.] To the justification in our eyes of a conspiracy -against Cęsar, there could not be a better starting-point than this hint -that the popular worship of Cęsar, which has made him what he is, is -itself reaching its reaction-point. Such a suggestion moreover makes the -whole play one complete _wave_ of popular fickleness from crest to -crest. - -[_The Rise begins. The cause seen at its best, the victim at his -worst._] - -The second is the scene upon which the dramatist mainly relies for the -_crescendo_ in the justification of the conspirators. It is a long -scene, elaborately contrived so as to keep the conspirators and their -cause before us at their very best, and the victim at his very worst. -[=i.= ii.] Cassius is the life and spirit of this scene, as he is of the -whole republican movement. Cassius is excellent soil for republican -principles. The 'rash humour' his mother gave him would predispose him -to impatience of those social inequalities and conventional distinctions -against which republicanism sets itself. Again he is a hard-thinking -man, to whom the perfect realisation of an ideal theory would be as -palpable an aim as the more practical purposes of other men. He is a -Roman moreover, at once proud of his nation as the greatest in the -world, and aware that this national greatness had been through all -history bound up with the maintenance of a republican constitution. His -republicanism gives to Cassius the dignity that is always given to a -character by a grand passion, whether for a cause, a woman, or an -idea--the unification of a whole life in a single aim, by which the -separate strings of a man's nature are, as it were, tuned into harmony. -In the present scene Cassius is expounding the cause which is his -life-object. Nor is this all. Cassius was politician enough to adapt -himself to his hearers, and could hold up the lower motives to those who -would be influenced by them; but in the present case it is the -'honourable metal' of a Brutus that he has to work upon, and his -exposition of republicanism must be adapted to the highest possible -standard. Accordingly, in the language of the scene we find the idea of -human equality expressed in its most ideal form. Without it Cassius -thinks life not worth living. - -[=i.= ii. 95.] - - I had as lief not be as live to be - In awe of such a thing as I myself. - I was born free as Cęsar; so were you; - We both have fed as well, and we can both - Endure the winter's cold as well as he. - -The examples follow of the flood and fever incidents, which show how the -majesty of Cęsar vanished before the violence of natural forces and the -prostration of disease. - -[115.] - - And this man - Is now become a god, and Cassius is - A wretched creature and must bend his body, - If Cęsar carelessly but nod on him. - -In the eye of the state, individuals are so many members of a class, in -precisely the way that their names are so many examples of the proper -noun. - -[142.] - - Brutus and Cęsar: what should be in that 'Cęsar'? - Why should that name be sounded more than yours? - Write them together, yours is as fair a name; - Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; - Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with them, - Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cęsar. - Now, in the names of all the gods at once, - Upon what meat doth this our Cęsar feed, - That he is grown so great? - -And this exposition of the conspirators' cause in its highest form is at -the same time thrown into yet higher relief by a background to the -scene, in which the victim is presented at his worst. [from 182.] All -through the conversation between Brutus and Cassius, the shouting of the -mob reminds of the scene which is at the moment going on in the Capitol, -while the conversation is interrupted for a time by the returning -procession of Cęsar. In this action behind the scenes which thus mingles -with the main incident Cęsar is committing the one fault of his life: -this is the fault of 'treason,' which can be justified only by being -successful and so becoming 'revolution,' whereas Cęsar is failing, and -deserving to fail from the vacillating hesitation with which he sins. -Moreover, unfavourable as such incidents would be in themselves to our -sympathy with Cęsar, yet it is not the actual facts that we are -permitted to see, but they are further distorted by the medium through -which they reach us--the cynicism of Casca which belittles and -disparages all he relates. - -[=i.= ii. 235.] - - _Bru._ Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. - - _Casca._ I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it: it was - mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a - crown;--yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas one of these - coronets:--and, as I told you, he put it by once: but, for all that, - to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offered it to him - again; then he put it by again: but, to my thinking, he was very - loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offer'd it the third - time; he put it the third time by: and still as he refused it, the - rabblement hooted and clapped their chapped hands and threw up their - sweaty night-caps and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because - Cęsar had refused the crown that it had almost choked Cęsar; for he - swounded and fell down at it: and, for mine own part, I durst not - laugh, for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air.... - When he came to himself again, he said, If he had done or said - anything amiss, he desired their worships to think it was his - infirmity. Three or four wenches, where I stood, cried, 'Alas, good - soul!' and forgave him with all their hearts; but there's no heed to - be taken of them; if Cęsar had stabbed their mothers they would have - done no less. - -[_Second stage: the conspiracy formed and developing. Passion-Strain -begins._] - -At the end of the scene Brutus is won, and we pass immediately into the -second stage of the action: the conspiracy is now formed and developing, -and the emotional strain begins. The adhesion of Brutus has given us -confidence that the conspiracy will be effective, and we have only to -_wait_ for the issue. [=i.= iii--=ii.= ii.] This mere notion of -_waiting_ is itself enough to introduce an element of agitation into the -passion sufficient to mark off this stage of the action from the -preceding. [_Suspense one element in the strain of passion._] How -powerful suspense is for this purpose we have expressed in the words of -the play itself: - -[=ii.= i. 63.] - - Between the acting of a dreadful thing - And the first motion, all the interim is - Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: - The Genius and the mortal instruments - Are then in council; and the state of man, - Like to a little kingdom, suffers then - The nature of an insurrection. - -[_The background of tempest and supernatural portents a device for -increasing the strain._] - -But besides the suspense there is a special device for securing the -agitation proper to this stage of the passion: throughout there is -maintained a Dramatic Background of night, storm, and supernatural -portents. - -The conception of nature as exhibiting sympathy with sudden turns in -human affairs is one of the most fundamental instincts of poetry. To -cite notable instances: it is this which accompanies with storm and -whirlwind the climax to the _Book of Job_, and which leads Milton to -make the whole universe sensible of Adam's transgression: - - Earth trembl'd from her entrails, as again - In pangs, and Nature gave a second groan; - Sky lowr'd, and muttering thunder, some sad drops - Wept at completing of the mortal sin - Original. - -So too the other end of the world's history has its appropriate -accompaniments: 'the sun shall be darkened and the moon shall not give -her light, and the stars shall be falling from heaven.' There is a -_vagueness_ of terror inseparable from these outbursts of nature, so -mysterious in their causes and aims. They are actually the most mighty -of forces--for human artillery is feeble beside the earthquake--yet they -are invisible: the wind works its havoc without the keenest eye being -able to perceive it, and the lightning is never seen till it has struck. -Again, there is something weird in the feeling that the most frightful -powers in the material universe are all _soft things_. The empty air -becomes the irresistible wind; the fluid and yielding water wears down -the hard and massive rock and determines the shape of the earth; -impalpable fire that is blown about in every direction can be roused -till it devours the solidest constructions of human skill; while the -most powerful agencies of all, electricity and atomic force, are -imperceptible to any of the senses and are known only by their results. -This uncanny terror attaching to the union between force and softness is -the inspiration of one of Homer's most unique episodes, in which the -bewildered Achilles, struggling with the river-god, finds the strength -and skill of the finished warrior vain against the ever-rising water, -and bitterly feels the violation of the natural order-- - - That strong might fall by strong, where now weak water's luxury - Must make my death blush. - -[=i.= iii; =ii.= ii, &c.] - -To the terrible in nature are added portents of the supernatural, sudden -violations of the uniformity of nature, the principle upon which all -science is founded. The solitary bird of night has been seen in the -crowded Capitol; fire has played around a human hand without destroying -it; lions, forgetting their fierceness, have mingled with men; clouds -drop fire instead of rain; graves are giving up their dead; the chance -shapes of clouds take distinctness to suggest tumult on the earth. Such -phenomena of nature and the supernatural, agitating from their appeal at -once to fear and mystery, and associated by the fancy with the terrible -in human events, have made a deep impression upon primitive thought; and -the impression has descended by generations of inherited tradition -until, whatever may be the attitude of the intellect to the phenomena -themselves, their associations in the emotional nature are of agitation. -They thus become appropriate as a Dramatic Background to an agitated -passion in the scenes themselves, calling out the emotional effect by a -vague sympathy, much as a musical note may set in vibration a distant -string that is in unison with it. - -This device then is used by Shakespeare in the second stage of the -present play. We see the warning terrors through the eyes of men of the -time, and their force is measured by the fact that they shake the -cynical Casca into eloquence. - -[=i.= iii. 3.] - - Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth - Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero, - I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds - Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen - The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam, - To be exalted with the threatening clouds: - But never till to-night, never till now, - Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. - Either there is a civil strife in heaven, - Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, - Incenses them to send destruction. - -And the idea thus started at the commencement is kept before our minds -throughout this stage of the drama by perpetual allusions, however -slight, to the sky and external nature. [compare =ii.= i. 44, 101, 198, -221, 263; =ii.= ii.] Brutus reads the secret missives by the light of -exhalations whizzing through the air; when some of the conspirators step -aside, to occupy a few moments while the rest are conferring apart, it -is to the sky their thoughts naturally seem to turn, and they with -difficulty can make out the East from the West; the discussion of the -conspirators includes the effect on Cęsar of the night's prodigies. -Later Portia remonstrates against her husband's exposure to the raw and -dank morning, to the rheumy and unpurged air; even when daylight has -fully returned, the conversation is of Calpurnia's dream and the -terrible prodigies. - -[=i.= iii.] - -Against this background are displayed, first single figures of Cassius -and other conspirators; [=ii.= i. 1-85.] then Brutus alone in calm -deliberation: [=ii.= i. 86-228.] then the whole band of conspirators, -their wild excitement side by side with Brutus's immovable moderation. -[=ii.= i, from 233.] Then the Conspiracy Scene fades in the early -morning light into a display of Brutus in his softer relations; [=ii.= -ii.] and with complete return of day changes to the house of Cęsar on -the fatal morning. Cęsar also is displayed in contact with the -supernatural, as represented by Calpurnia's terrors and repeated -messages of omens that forbid his venturing upon public action for that -day. [_Cęsar still seen at a disadvantage;_] Cęsar faces all this with -his usual loftiness of mind; yet the scene is so contrived that, as far -as immediate effect is concerned, this very loftiness is made to tell -against him. The unflinching courage that overrides and interprets -otherwise the prodigies and warnings seems presumption to us who know -the reality of the danger. [=ii.= ii. 8-56.] It is the same with his -yielding to the humour of his wife. Why should he not? his is not the -conscious weakness that must be firm to show that it is not afraid. Yet -when, upon Decius's explaining away the dream and satisfying Calpurnia's -fears, Cęsar's own attraction to danger leads him to persevere in his -first intention, this change of purpose seems to us, [=ii.= i. 202.] who -have heard Decius's boast that he can o'ersway Cęsar with flattery, a -confirmation of Cęsar's weakness. So in accordance with the purpose that -reigns through the first half of the play the victim is made to appear -at his worst: the _passing_ effect of the scene is to suggest weakness -in Cęsar, while it is in fact furnishing elements which, upon -reflection, go to build up a character of strength. [_and the -justification of the conspirators still rising._] On the other hand, -throughout this stage the justification of the conspirators' cause gains -by their confidence and their high tone; in particular by the way in -which they interpret to their own advantage the supernatural element. -[=i.= iii. 42-79.] Cassius feels the wildness of the night as in perfect -harmony with his own spirit. - -[=i.= iii. 46.] - - For my part, I have walk'd about the streets, - Submitting me unto the perilous night, - And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see, - Have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone; - And when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open - The breast of heaven, I did present myself - Even in the aim and very flash of it. - -And it needs only a word from him to communicate his confidence to his -comrades. - -[=i.= iii. 72.] - - _Cassius._ Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man - Most like this dreadful night, - That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars - As doth the lion in the Capitol, - A man no mightier than thyself or me - In personal action, yet prodigious grown - And fearful, as these strange eruptions are-- - - _Casca._ 'Tis Cęsar that you mean; is it not, Cassius? - -[_Third stage. The Crisis: the passion-strain rises to a Climax._] - -The third stage of the action brings us to the climax of the passion; -the strain upon our emotions now rises to a height of agitation. The -exact commencement of the crisis seems to be marked by the soothsayer's -words at the opening of Act III. [=ii.= iii--=iii.= i. 121.] Cęsar -observes on entering the Capitol the soothsayer who had warned him to -beware of this very day. - - _Cęsar._ The ides of March are come. - - _Sooth._ Ay, Cęsar; but not gone. - -Such words seem to measure out a narrow area of time in which the crisis -is to work itself out. There is however no distinct break between -different stages of a dramatic movement like that in the present play; -[_Devices for working up the agitation._] and two short incidents have -preceded this scene which have served as emotional devices to bring -about a distinct advance in the intensification of the strain. -[_Artemidorus_; =ii.= iii. and =iii.= i. 3.] In the first, Artemidorus -appeared reading a letter of warning which he purposed to present to -Cęsar on his way to the fatal spot. In the Capitol Scene he presents it, -while the ready Decius hastens to interpose another petition to take off -Cęsar's attention. Artemidorus conjures Cęsar to read his first for 'it -touches him nearer'; but the imperial chivalry of Cęsar forbids: - - What touches us ourself shall be last served. - -[_Portia;_ =ii.= iv.] - -The momentary hope of rescue is dashed. In the second incident Portia -has been displayed completely unnerved by the weight of a secret to the -anxiety of which she is not equal; she sends messengers to the Capitol -and recalls them as she recollects that she dare give them no message; -her agitation has communicated itself to us, besides suggesting the fear -that it may betray to others what she is anxious to conceal. Our -sympathy has thus been tossed from side to side, although in its -general direction it still moves on the side of the conspirators. -[_Popilius Lena._] In the crisis itself the agitation becomes painful as -the entrance of Popilius [=iii.= i. 13.] Lena and his secret -communication to Cęsar cause a panic that threatens to wreck the whole -plot on the verge of its success. Brutus's nerve sustains even this -trial, and the way for the accomplishment of the deed is again clear. -Emotional devices like these have carried the passion up to a climax of -agitation; and the conspirators now advance to present their pretended -suit and achieve the bloody deed. To the last the double effect of -Cęsar's demeanour continues. Considered in itself, his unrelenting -firmness of principle exhibits the highest model of a ruler; yet to us, -who know the purpose lurking behind the hypocritical intercession of the -conspirators, Cęsar's self-confidence resembles the infatuation that -goes before Nemesis. [from 58.] He scorns the fickle politicians before -him as mere wandering sparks of heavenly fire, while he is left alone as -a pole-star of true-fixed and resting quality:--and in answer to his -presumptuous boast that he can never be moved come the blows of the -assassins which strike him down; [compare 115.] while there is a flash -of irony as he is seen to have fallen beside the statue of Pompey, and -the marble seems to gleam in cold triumph over the rival at last lying -bleeding at its feet. The assassination is accomplished, the cause of -the conspirators is won: pity notwithstanding we are swept along with -the current of their enthusiasm; [_The justification at its height in -the appeal to all time._] and the justification that has been steadily -rising from the commencement reaches its climax as, their adversaries -dispersing in terror, the conspirators dip their hands in their victim's -blood, and make their triumphant appeal to the whole world and all time. - -[111.] - - _Cassius_. Stoop, then, and wash. How many ages hence - Shall this our lofty scene be acted over - In states unborn and accents yet unknown! - - _Brutus_. How many times shall Cęsar bleed in sport, - That now on Pompey's basis lies along, - No worthier than the dust! - - _Cassius._ So oft as that shall be, - So often shall the knot of us be call'd - The men that gave their country LIBERTY! - -[_Catastrophe, and commencement of the Reaction._] - -_Enter a servant:_ this simple stage-direction is the 'catastrophe,' the -turning-round of the whole action; the arch has reached its apex and the -Reaction has begun. [=iii.= i, from 122.] So instantaneous is the -change, that though it is only the servant of Antony who speaks, yet the -first words of his message ring with the peculiar tone of subtly-poised -sentences which are inseparably associated with Antony's eloquence; it -is like the first announcement of that which is to be a final theme in -music, and from this point this tone dominates the scene to the very -end. - -[125.] - - Thus he bade me say: - Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest, - Cęsar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving, - Say I love Brutus, and I honour him; - Say I fear'd Cęsar, honour'd him, and lov'd him. - If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony - May safely come to him, and be resolv'd - How Cęsar hath deserved to lie in death, - Mark Antony shall not love Cęsar dead - So well as Brutus living. - -In the whole Shakespearean Drama there is nowhere such a swift swinging -round of a dramatic action as is here marked by this sudden up-springing -of the suppressed individuality in Antony's character, [=ii.= i. 165.] -hitherto so colourless that he has been spared by the conspirators as a -mere limb of Cęsar. [=iii.= i. 144.] The tone of exultant triumph in the -conspirators has in an instant given place to Cassius's 'misgiving' as -Brutus grants Antony an audience; [from 164.] and when Antony enters, -Brutus's first words to him fall into the form of apology. The quick -subtlety of Antony's intellect has grasped the whole situation, and with -irresistible force he slowly feels his way towards using the -conspirators' aid for crushing themselves and avenging their victim. -[=iii.= i. 211, compare 177.] The bewilderment of the conspirators in -the presence of this unlooked-for force is seen in Cassius's unavailing -attempt to bring Antony to the point, as to what compact he will make -with them. Antony, on the contrary, reads his men with such nicety that -he can indulge himself in sailing close to the wind, [from 184.] and -grasps fervently the hands of the assassins while he pours out a flood -of bitter grief over the corpse. It is not hypocrisy, nor a trick to -gain time, this conciliation of his enemies. Steeped in the political -spirit of the age, Antony knows, as no other man, the mob which governs -Rome, and is conscious of the mighty engine he possesses in his oratory -to sway that mob in what direction he pleases; when his bold plan has -succeeded, and his adversaries have consented to meet him in contest of -oratory, then ironical conciliation becomes the natural relief to his -pent-up passion. - -[220.] - - Friends am I with you all and love you all, - _Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons_ - Why and wherein Cęsar was dangerous. - -It is as he feels the sense of innate oratorical power and of the -opportunity his enemies have given to that power, that he exaggerates -his temporary amity with the men he is about to crush: it is the -executioner arranging his victim comfortably on the rack before he -proceeds to apply the levers. Already the passion of the drama has -fallen under the guidance of Antony. The view of Cęsar as an innocent -victim is now allowed full play upon our sympathies when Antony, [from -254.] left alone with the corpse, can drop the artificial mask and give -vent to his love and vengeance. [231-243.] The success of the conspiracy -had begun to decline as we marked Brutus's ill-timed generosity to -Antony in granting him the funeral oration; [=iii.= ii, from 13.] it -crumbles away through the cold unnatural euphuism of Brutus's speech in -its defence; [=iii.= ii, from 78.] it is hurried to its ruin when Antony -at last exercises his spell upon the Roman people and upon the reader. -The speech of Antony, with its mastery of every phase of feeling, is a -perfect sonata upon the instrument of the human emotions. [=iii.= ii. -78.] Its opening theme is sympathy with bereavement, against which are -working as if in conflict anticipations of future themes, doubt and -compunction. [95, 109, &c.] A distinct change of movement comes with the -first introduction of what is to be the final subject, [133.] the -mention of the will. But when this new movement has worked up from -curiosity to impatience, [177.] there is a diversion: the mention of the -victory over the Nervii turns the emotions in the direction of historic -pride, [178.] which harmonises well with the opposite emotions roused as -the orator fingers hole after hole in Cęsar's mantle made by the daggers -of his false friends, [200.] and so leads up to a sudden shock when he -uncovers the body itself and displays the popular idol and its bloody -defacement. [243.] Then the finale begins: the forgotten theme of the -will is again started, and from a burst of gratitude the passion -quickens and intensifies to rage, to fury, to mutiny. [_The mob won to -the Reaction._] The mob is won to the Reaction; [=iii.= iii.] and the -curtain that falls upon the third Act rises for a moment to display the -populace tearing a man to pieces simply because he bears the same name -as one of the conspirators. - -[_Last stage. Development of an inevitable fate: passion-strain -ceases._] - -The final stage of the action works out the development of an inevitable -fate. The emotional strain now ceases, and, as in the first stage, the -passion is of the calmer order, the calmness in this case of pity -balanced by a sense of justice. From the opening of the fourth Act the -decline in the justification of the conspirators is intimated by the -logic of events. The first scene exhibits to us the triumvirate that now -governs Rome, and shows that in this triumvirate Antony is supreme: -[Acts =iv, v. iv.= i.] with the man who is the embodiment of the -Reaction thus appearing at the head of the world, the fall of the -conspirators is seen to be inevitable. [=iv.= ii. 3.] The decline of our -sympathy with them continues in the following scenes. The Quarrel Scene -shows how low the tone of Cassius has fallen since he has dealt with -assassination as a political weapon; and even Brutus's moderation has -hardened into unpleasing harshness. [=iv.= iii. 148, &c.] There is at -this point plenty of relief to such unpleasing effects: [=iv.= iii. from -239.] there is the exhibition of the tender side of Brutus's character -as shown in his relations with his page, [=iv.= iii.] and the display of -friendship maintained between Brutus and Cassius amid falling fortunes. -But such incidents as these have a different effect upon us from that -which they would have had at an earlier period; the justification of the -conspirators has so far declined that now attractive touches in them -serve only to increase the pathos of a fate which, however, our sympathy -no longer seeks to resist. [=iv.= iii. 275.] We get a supernatural -foreshadowing of the end in the appearance to Brutus of Cęsar's Ghost, -[=v.= i. 80.] and the omen Cassius sees of the eagles that had consorted -his army to Philippi giving place to ravens, crows, and kites on the -morning of battle: this lends the authority of the invisible world to -our sense that the conspirators' cause is doomed. [=iv.= iii. 196-230.] -And judicial blindness overtakes them as Brutus's authority in council -overweighs in point after point the shrewder advice of Cassius. Through -the scenes of the fifth Act we see the republican leaders fighting on -without hope. [_Justification entirely vanishes as the conspirators -recognise Cęsar's victory._] The last remnant of justification for their -cause ceases as the conspirators themselves seem to acknowledge their -error and fate. Cassius as he feels his death-blow recognises the very -weapon with which he had committed the crime: - -[=v.= iii. 45.] - - Cęsar, thou art revenged, - Even with the sword that kill'd thee. - -And at last even the firm spirit of Brutus yields: - -[=v.= v. 94.] - - O Julius Cęsar, thou art mighty yet! - Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords - In our own proper entrails. - - - - -X. - -HOW CLIMAX MEETS CLIMAX IN THE CENTRE OF LEAR. - -_A Study in more complex Passion and Movement._ - - -[_The plot of Lear highly complex_.] - -IN _Julius Cęsar_ we have seen how, in the case of a very simple play, a -few simple devices are sufficient to produce a regular rise and fall in -the passion. We now turn to a highly elaborate plot and trace how, -notwithstanding the elaborateness, a similar concentration of the -passion in the centre of the play can be secured. _King Lear_ is one of -the most complex of Shakespeare's tragedies; its plot is made up of a -number of separate actions, with their combinations accurately carried -out, the whole impressing us with a sense of artistic involution similar -to that of an elaborate musical fugue. Here, however, we are concerned -only indirectly with the plot of the play: we need review it no further -than may suffice to show what distinct interests enter into it, and -enable us to observe how the separate trains of passion work toward a -common climax at the centre. - -Starting from the notion of pattern as a fundamental idea we have seen -how Plot presents trains of events in human life taking form and shape -as a crime and its nemesis, an oracle and its fulfilment, the rise and -fall of an individual, or even as simply a story. [_The main plot -exhibits the Problem form of dramatic action._] The particular form of -action underlying the main plot of _King Lear_ is different from any we -have yet noticed. It may be described as a _Problem Action_. A -mathematician in his problem assumes some unusual combination of forces -to have come about, and then proceeds to trace its consequences: so the -Drama often deals with problems in history and life, setting up, before -the commencement of the play or early in the action, some peculiar -arrangement of moral relations, and then throughout the rest of the -action developing the consequences of these to the personages involved. -Thus the opening scene of _King Lear_ is occupied in bringing before us -a pregnant and suggestive state of affairs: imperiousness is represented -as overthrowing conscience and setting up an unnatural distribution of -power. [_The problem stated._] A human problem has thus been enunciated -which the remainder of the play has to work out to its natural solution. - -Imperiousness seems to be the term appropriate to Lear's conduct in the -first scene. This is no case of dotage dividing an inheritance according -to public declarations of affection. The division had already been made -according to the best advice: [=i.= i. 3, &c.] in the case of two of the -daughters 'equalities had been so weighed that curiosity in neither -could make choice of either's moiety'; and if the portion of the -youngest and best loved of the three was the richest, this is a -partiality natural enough to absolute power. The opening scene of the -play is simply the court ceremony in which the formal transfer is to be -made. [38.] Lear is already handing to his daughters the carefully drawn -maps which mark the boundaries of the provinces, [49.] when he suddenly -pauses, and, with the yearning of age and authority for testimonies of -devotion, calls upon his daughters for declarations of affection, the -easiest of returns for the substantial gifts he is giving them, and -which Goneril and Regan pour forth with glib eloquence. [84.] Then Lear -turns to Cordelia, and, thinking delightedly of the special prize he has -marked out for the pet of his old age, asks her: - - What can you say to draw - A third more opulent than your sisters? - -But Cordelia has been revolted by the fulsome flattery of the sisters -whose hypocrisy she knows so well, and she bluntly refuses to be drawn -into any declaration of affection at all. Cordelia might well have found -some other method of separating herself from her false sisters, without -thus flouting her father before his whole court in a moment of -tenderness to herself; or, if carried away by the indignation of the -moment, a sign of submission would have won her a ready pardon. [compare -=i.= i. 131.] But Cordelia, sweet and strong as her character is in -great things, has yet inherited a touch of her father's temper, and the -moment's sullenness is protracted into obstinacy. Cordelia then has -committed an offence of manner; Lear's passion vents itself in a -sentence proper only to a moral crime: now the punishment of a minute -offence with wholly disproportionate severity simply because it is an -offence against personal will is an exact description of imperiousness. - -As Lear stands for imperiousness, so conscience is represented by Kent, -who, with the voice of authority derived from lifelong intimacy and -service, interposes to check the King's passion in its headlong course. - -[141-190.] - - _Kent._ Royal Lear, - Whom I have ever honour'd as my king, - Loved as my father, as my master follow'd, - As my great patron thought on in my prayers,-- - - _Lear._ The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft. - - _Kent._ Let it fall rather, though the fork invade - The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly - When Lear is mad. What wilt thou do, old man? - Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak, - When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound, - When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom.... - - _Lear._ Kent, on thy life, no more. - - _Kent._ My life I never held but as a pawn - To wage against thy enemies, nor fear to lose it, - Thy safety being the motive.... - - _Lear._ O, vassal! miscreant! - - [_Laying his hand on his sword._ - - _Albany._ } Dear sir, forbear. - _Cornwall._ } - - _Kent._ Do: - Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow - Upon thy foul disease. Revoke thy doom; - Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, - I'll tell thee thou dost evil. - -In the banishment of this Kent, then, the resistance of Lear's -conscience is overcome, and his imperious passion has full swing in -transferring Cordelia's kingdom to her treacherous sisters. - -The opening scene has put before us, not in words but figured in action, -a problem in human affairs: the violation of moral equity has set up an -unnatural arrangement of power--power taken from the good and lodged in -the hands of the bad. Here is, so to speak, a piece of moral unstable -equilibrium, and the rebound from it is to furnish the remainder of the -action. The very structure of the plot corresponds with the simple -structure of a scientific proposition. The latter consists of two -unequal parts: a few lines are sufficient to enunciate the problem, -while a whole treatise may be required for its solution. So in _King -Lear_ a single scene brings about the unnatural state of affairs, the -consequences of which it takes the rest of the play to trace. The -'catastrophe,' or turning-point of the play at which the ultimate issues -are decided, appears in the present case, not close to the end of the -play, nor (as in _Julius Cęsar_) in the centre, but close to the -commencement: at the end of the opening scene Lear's act of folly has in -reality determined the issue of the whole action; the scenes which -follow are only working out a determined issue to its full realisation. - -[_The solution of the problem in a triple tragedy._] - -We have seen the problem itself, the overthrow of conscience by -imperiousness and the transfer of power from the good to the bad: what -is the solution of it as presented by the incidents of the play? The -consequences flowing from what Lear has done make up three distinct -tragedies, which go on working side by side, and all of which are -essential to the full solution of the problem. First, there is the -nemesis upon Lear himself--the double retribution of receiving nothing -but evil from those he has unrighteously rewarded, [(1) _Tragedy of -Lear._] and nothing but good from her whom, he bitterly feels, he has -cruelly wronged. [(2) _Tragedy of Cordelia and Kent._] But the -punishment of the wrong-doer is only one element in the consequences of -wrong; the innocent also are involved, and we get a second tragedy in -the sufferings of the faithful Kent and the loving Cordelia, who, -through Kent as her representative, watches over her father's safety, -until at the end she appears in person to follow up her devotion to the -death. When, however, the incidents making up the sufferings of Lear, of -Kent, and of Cordelia are taken out of the main plot, there is still a -considerable section left--[(3) _Tragedy of Goneril and Regan._] that -which is occupied with the mutual intrigues of Goneril and Regan, -intrigues ending in their common ruin. This constitutes a third tragedy -which, it will be seen, is as necessary to the solution of our problem -as the other two. To place power in the hands of the bad is an injury -not only to others, but also to the bad themselves, as giving fuel to -the fire of their wickedness: so in the tragedy of Goneril and Regan we -see evil passions placed in improper authority using this authority to -work out their own destruction. - -[_An underplot on the same basis as the main plot._] - -To this main plot is added an underplot equally elaborate. As in _The -Merchant of Venice_, the stories borrowed from two distinct sources are -worked into a common design: and the interweaving in the case of the -present play is perhaps Shakespeare's greatest triumph of constructive -skill. The two stories are made to rest upon the same fundamental -idea--[compare =i.= i, fin.] that of undutifulness to old age: what -Lear's daughters actually do is that which is insinuated by Edmund as -his false charge against his brother. - -[=i.= ii. 76, &c.] - - I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit, that, sons at perfect - age, and fathers declining, the father should be as ward to the son, - and the son manage his revenue. - -So obvious is this fundamental connection between the main and the -underplot, that our attention is called to it by a personage in the -play itself: [=iii.= vi. 117.] 'he childed as I father'd,' is Edgar's -pithy summary of it when he is brought into contact with Lear. [_The -main and underplot parallel and contrasted throughout._] But in this -double tragedy, drawn from the two families of Lear and of Gloucester, -the chief bond between its two sides consists in the sharp contrast -which extends to every detail of the two stories. In the main plot we -have a daughter, who has received nothing but harm from her father, who -has unjustly had her position torn from her and given to undeserving -sisters: nevertheless she sacrifices herself to save the father who did -the injury from the sisters who profited by it. In the underplot we have -a son, who has received nothing but good from his father, who has, -contrary to justice, been advanced by him to the position of an elder -brother whom he has slandered: nevertheless, he is seeking the -destruction of the father who did him the unjust kindness, when he falls -by the hand of the brother who was wronged by it. Thus as the main and -underplot go on working side by side, they are at every turn by their -antithesis throwing up one another's effect; the contrast is like the -reversing of the original subject in a musical fugue. [_The underplot an -Intrigue Action:_] Again, as the main plot consisted in the initiation -of a problem and its solution, so the underplot consists in the -development of an intrigue and its consequences. The tragedy of the -Gloucester family will, if stated from the point of view of the father, -correspond in its parts with the tragedy in the family of Lear. It must -be remembered, however, that the position of the father is different in -the two cases; Gloucester is not, as Lear, the agent of the crime, but -only a deceived instrument in the hands of the villain Edmund, who is -the real agent; if the proper allowance be made for this difference, -[_involving a triple tragedy parallel with that of the main plot._] it -will be seen that the three tragedies which make up the consequences of -Lear's error have their analogies in the three tragedies which flow from -the intrigue of Edmund. [(1) _Tragedy of Gloucester._] First, we have -the nemesis on Gloucester, and this, in analogy with the nemesis on -Lear, consists in receiving nothing but evil from the son he has so -hastily advanced, and nothing but good from the other son whom, he comes -gradually to feel, he has unintentionally wronged. [(2) _Tragedy of -Edgar._] In the next place we have the sufferings of the innocent Edgar. -[(3) _Tragedy of Edmund._] Then, as we before saw a third tragedy in the -way in which the power conferred upon Goneril and Regan is used to work -out their destruction, so in the underplot we find that the position -which Edmund has gained involves him in intrigues, which by the -development of the play are made to result in a nemesis upon his -original intrigue. And it is a nemesis of exquisite exactness: for he -meets his death in the very moment of his success, at the hands of the -brother he has maligned and robbed, while the father he has deceived and -sought to destroy is the means by which the avenger has been brought to -the scene. - -[_Complexity of plot not inconsistent with simplicity of movement._] - -We have gone far enough into the construction of the plot to perceive -its complexity and the principal elements into which that complexity can -be analysed. Two separate systems, each consisting of an initial action -and three resulting tragedies, eight actions in all, are woven together -by common personages and incidents, by parallelism of spirit, and by -movement to a common climax; not to speak of lesser Link Actions which -assist in drawing the different stories closer together. As with plot -generally, these separate elements are fully manifest only to the eye of -analysis; in following the course of the drama itself, they make -themselves felt only in a continued sense of involution and harmonious -symmetry. It is with passion, not with plot, that the present study is -concerned; and the train of passion which the common movement of these -various actions calls out in the sympathy of the reader is as simple as -the plot itself is intricate. In the case both of the main plot and the -underplot the emotional effect rises in intensity; moreover at this -central height of intensity the two merge in a common Climax. The -construction of the play resembles, if such a comparison may be allowed, -the patent gas-apparatus, which secures a high illuminating power by -the simple device of several ordinary burners inclined to one another at -such an angle that the apexes of their flames meet in a point. [from -=ii.= iv. 290 to =iii.= vi. with the interruption of =iii.= iii, =iii.= -v.] So the present play contains a Centrepiece of some three scenes, -marked off (at least at the commencement) decisively, in which the main -and underplot unite in a common Climax, with special devices to increase -its effect; [_The different trains of passion focussed in a central -Climax._] the diverse interests to which our sympathy was called out at -the commencement, and which analysis can keep distinct to the end, are -_focussed_, so far as passion is concerned, in this Centrepiece, in -which human emotion is carried to the highest pitch of tragic agitation -that the world of art has yet exhibited. - -[_The passions of the main plot gather to a common Climax in the madness -of Lear._] - -The emotional effect of the main plot rises to a climax in the madness -of Lear. This, as the highest form of human agitation, is obviously a -climax to the story of Lear himself. It is equally a climax to the story -of Kent and Cordelia, who suffer solely through their devoted watching -over Lear, and to whom the bitterest point in their sufferings is that -they feel over again all that their fallen master has to endure. -Finally, in the madness of Lear the third of the three tragedies, the -Goneril and Regan action, appears throughout in the background as the -cause of all that is happening. If we keep our eye upon this madness of -Lear the movement of the play assumes the form we have so often had to -notice--the regular arch. The first half of the arch, or rise in -emotional strain, we get in symptoms of mental disturbance preparing us -for actual madness which is to come. It is important to note the -difference between passion and madness: passion is a disease of the -mind, madness is a disease extending to the mysterious linking of mind -and body. At the commencement Lear is dominated by the passion of -imperiousness, an imperiousness born of his absolute power as king and -father; he has never learned from discipline restraint of his passion, -but has been accustomed to fling himself upon obstacles and see them -give way before him. Now the tragical situation is prepared for him of -meeting with obstacles which will not give way, but from which his -passion rebounds upon himself with a physical shock. As thus opposition -follows opposition, we see _waves_ of physical, that is of hysterical, -passion, sweeping over Lear, until, as it were, a tenth wave lands him -in the full disease of madness. - -[=i.= iv.] - -The first case occurs in his interview with Goneril after that which is -the first check he has received in his new life, the insolence shown to -his retinue. Goneril enters his presence with a frown. The wont had been -that Lear frowned and all cowered before him: and now he waits for his -daughter to remember herself with a rising passion ill concealed under -the forced calmness with which he enquires, 'Are you our daughter?' -'Doth any here know me?' But Goneril, on the contrary, calmly assumes -the position of reprover, and details her unfounded charges of insolence -against her father's sober followers, until at last he hears himself -desired - - By her, that else will take the thing she begs, - -to disquantity his train. Then Lear breaks out: - - Darkness and devils! - Saddle my horses; call my train together. - Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee: - Yet have I left a daughter. - -In a moment the thought of Cordelia's 'most small fault' and how it had -been visited upon her occurs to condense into a single pang the whole -sense of his folly; and here it is that the first of these waves of -physical passion comes over Lear, its physical character marked by the -physical action which accompanies it: - -[=i.= iv. 292.] - - O Lear, Lear, Lear! - Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, [_Striking his head._ - And thy dear judgement out. - -It lasts but for a moment: but it is a wave, and it will return. [=i.= -v.] Accordingly in the next scene we see Lear on his journey from one -daughter to the other. He is brooding over the scene he is leaving -behind, and he cannot disguise a shade of anxiety, in his awakened -judgment, that some such scene may be reserved for him in the goal to -which he is journeying. He is half listening, moreover, to the Fool, who -harps on the same thought, that the King is suffering what he might have -expected, that the other daughter will be like the first:--until there -comes another of these sudden outbursts of passion, in which Lear for a -moment half foresees the end to which he is being carried. - -[=i.= v. 49.] - - O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven! - Keep me in temper: I would not be mad! - -Imperiousness is especially attached to outward signs of reverence: -[=ii.= iv. 4.] it is reserved for Lear when he arrives at Regan's palace -to find the messenger he has sent on to announce him suffering the -indignity of the stocks. At first he will not believe that this has been -done by order of his daughter and son. - -[13.] - - _Kent._ It is both he and she; - Your son and daughter. - - _Lear._ No. - - _Kent._ Yes. - - _Lear._ No, I say. - - _Kent._ I say, yea. - - _Lear._ No, no, they would not. - - _Kent._ Yes, they have. - - _Lear._ By Jupiter, I swear, no. - - _Kent._ By Juno, I swear, ay. - - _Lear._ They durst not do't; - They could not, would not do't; 'tis worse than murder, - To do upon respect such violent outrage. - -But he has to listen to a circumstantial account of the insult, and, -further, reminded by the Fool that - - Fathers that wear rags - Do make their children blind, - -he comes at last to realise it all,--and then there sweeps over him a -third and more violent wave of hysterical agitation. - -[56.] - - O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! - Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow, - Thy element's below! - -[=ii.= iv. 89.] - -He has mastered the passion by a strong effort: but it is a wave, and it -will return. He has mastered himself in order to confront the culprits -face to face: his altered position is brought home to him when they -refuse to receive him. And the refusal is made the worse by the -well-meant attempt of Gloucester to palliate it, in which he -unfortunately speaks of the 'fiery quality' of the duke. - - _Lear._ Vengeance! plague! death! confusion! - Fiery? what quality? - -Nothing is harder than to endure what one is in the habit of inflicting -on others; it was Lear's own 'fiery quality' by which he had been -accustomed to scorch all opposition out of his way; now he has to hear -another man's 'fiery quality' quoted to him. But this outburst is only -momentary; the very extremity of the case seems to calm Lear, and he -begins himself to frame excuses for the duke, how sickness and infirmity -neglect the 'office' to which health is bound--until his eye lights -again upon his messenger sitting in the stocks, and the recollection of -this deliberate affront brings back again the wave of passion. - -[122.] - - O me, my heart, my rising heart! but, down! - -Lear had a strange confidence in his daughter Regan. As we see the two -women in the play, Regan appears the more cold-blooded; nothing in -Goneril is more cruel than Regan's - -[204.] - - I pray you, father, being weak, seem so; - -or her meeting Lear's 'I gave you all' with the rejoinder, - -[253.] - - And in good time you gave it. - -But there was something in Regan's personal appearance that belied her -real character; her father says to her in this scene: - -[173.] - - Her eyes are fierce, but thine - Do comfort and not burn. - -Judas betrayed with a kiss, and Regan persecutes her father in tears. -But Regan has scarcely entered her father's presence when the trumpet -announces the arrival of Goneril, and [185.] Lear has to see the Regan -[197.] in whom he is trusting take Goneril's hand before his eyes in -token that she is making common cause with her. When following this the -words 'indiscretion,' 'dotage,' reach his ear there is a momentary -swelling of the physical passion within: - -[200.] - - O sides, you are too tough; - Will you yet hold? - -He has mastered it for the last time: for now his whole world seems to -be closing in around him; he has committed his all to the two daughters -standing before him, [from 233.] and they unite to beat him down, from -fifty knights to twenty-five, from twenty-five to ten, to five, until -the soft-eyed Regan asks, 'What need one?' A sense of crushing -oppression stifles his anger, and Lear begins to answer with the same -calmness with which the question had been asked: - - O, reason not the need: our basest beggars - Are in the poorest thing superfluous: - Allow not nature more than nature needs, - Man's life's as cheap as beast's: thou art a lady; - If only to go warm were gorgeous, - Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, - Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need,-- - -He breaks off at finding himself actually pleading: and the blinding -tears come as he recognises that the kingly passion in which he had -found support at every cross has now deserted him in his extremity. He -appeals to heaven against the injustice. - - You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need! - You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, - As full of grief as age; wretched in both! - If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts - Against their father, fool me not so much - To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger, - And let not women's weapons, water-drops, - Stain my man's cheeks! - -The prayer is answered; the passion returns in full flood, and at last -brings Lear face to face with the madness which has threatened from a -distance. - - No, you unnatural hags, - I will have such revenges on you both, - That all the world shall--I will do such things,-- - What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be - The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep; - No, I'll not weep: - I have full cause of weeping; but this heart - Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, - Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I SHALL go mad! - -[=ii.= iv. 290. _The storm marks off the Centrepiece of the play._] - -As Lear with these words rushes out into the night, we hear the first -sound of the storm--the storm which here, as in _Julius Cęsar_, will be -recognised as the dramatic background to the tempest of human emotions; -it is the signal that we have now entered upon the mysterious -Centrepiece of the play, in which the gathering passions of the whole -drama are to be allowed to vent themselves without check or bound. And -it is no ordinary storm: it is a night of bleak winds sorely ruffling, -of cataracts and hurricanoes, of curled waters swelling above the main, -of thought-executing fires and oak-cleaving thunderbolts; a night - -[=iii.= i. 12, &c.] - - wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, - The lion and the belly-pinched wolf - Keep their fur dry. - -And all of it is needed to harmonise with the whirlwind of human -passions which finds relief only in outscorning its fury. The purpose of -the storm is not confined to this of marking the emotional climax: it is -one of the agencies which assist in carrying it to its height. Experts -in mental disease have noted amongst the causes which convert mere -mental excitement into actual madness two leading ones, external -physical shocks and imitation. Shakespeare has made use of both in the -central scenes of this play. [=iii.= i. 3: =iii.= ii. &c.] For the -first, Lear is exposed without shelter to the pelting of the pitiless -storm, and he waxes wilder with its wildness. [=iii.= iv, from 39.] -Again when all this is at its height he is suddenly brought into contact -with a half-naked Tom o'Bedlam. This gives the final shock. So far he had -not gone beyond ungovernable rage; he had not lost self-consciousness, -and could say, 'My wits begin to turn'; [=iii.= iv. 66.] but the sight -of Edgar completely unhinges his mind, and hallucinations set in; a -moment after he has seen him the spirit of imitation begins to work, and -Lear commences to strip off his clothes. Thus perfect is the regular -arch of effect which is connected with Lear's madness. We have its -gradual rise in the waves of hysterical passion which ebbed after they -had flowed, until, at the point separating the Centrepiece from the rest -of the play, Lear's 'O fool I _shall_ go mad' seems to mark a change -from which he never goes back. Through these central scenes exposure to -the storm is fanning his passion more and more irretrievably into -madness; [=iii.= iii. 39.] at the exact centre of all, imitation of -Edgar comes to make the insanity acute. [_Decline after the Centrepiece -from violent madness to shattered intellect._] After the Centrepiece -Lear disappears for a time, and when we next see him agitation has -declined into what is more pathetic: the acute mania has given place to -the pitiful spectacle of a shattered intellect; there is no longer sharp -suffering, [=iv.= vi. 81.] but the whole mind is wrecked, gleams of -coherence coming at intervals to mark what a fall there has been; -[compare =iv.= vi. 178; =v.= iii. 314.] the strain upon our emotions -sinks into the calm of hopelessness. - - He hates him much - That would upon the rack of this tough world - Stretch him out longer. - -[_The passions of the underplot gather to a common Climax in the madness -of Edgar._] - -But who is this madman with whom Lear meets at the turning-point of the -play? It is Edgar, the victim of the underplot, whose life has been -sought by his brother and father until he can find no way of saving -himself but the disguise of feigned madness. This feigned madness of -Edgar, as it appears in the central scenes, serves as emotional climax -to the underplot, just as the madness of Lear is the emotional climax of -the main plot. Edgar's madness is obviously the climax to the tragedy of -his own sufferings, but it is also a central point to the movement of -the other two tragedies which with that of Edgar make up the underplot. -One of these is the nemesis upon Gloucester, and this, we have seen, is -double, that he receives good from the son he has wronged and evil from -the son he has favoured. [=iii.= iv. 170.] The turning-point of such a -nemesis is reached in the Hovel Scene, where Gloucester says: - - I'll tell thee, friend, - I am almost mad myself: I had a son, - Now outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my life, - But lately, very late: I loved him, friend: - No father his son dearer: truth to tell thee, - This grief hath crazed my wits! - -He says this in the presence of the very Edgar, disguised under the form -of the wretched idiot he hardly marks. Edgar now learns how his father -has been deceived; [compare =iii.= iii. 15.] in his heart he is -re-united to him, and from this point of re-union springs the devotion -he lavishes upon his father in the affliction that presently falls upon -him. [=iii.= iii. 22; =iii.= vii.] On the other hand, that which brings -Gloucester to this Hovel Scene, the attempt to save the King, is -betrayed by Edmund, who becomes thereby the cause of the vengeance which -puts out his father's eyes. Thus from this meeting of the mad Edgar with -the mad Lear there springs at once the final stroke in the misery -Gloucester suffers from the son he has favoured, and the beginning of -the forgiving love he is to experience from the son he has wronged: that -meeting then is certainly the central climax to the double nemesis which -makes up the Gloucester action. The remaining tragedy of the underplot -embraces the series of incidents by the combination of which the success -of Edmund's intrigue becomes gradually converted into the nemesis which -punishes it. Now the squalid wretchedness of a Bedlamite, together with -the painful strain of supporting the assumed character amidst the -conflicting emotions which the unexpected meeting of the Hovel Scene has -aroused, represent the highest point to which the misery resulting from -the intrigue can rise. [=iv.= i, &c.] At the same time the use Edgar -makes of this madness after hearing Gloucester's confession is to fasten -himself in attendance upon his afflicted father, and proves in the -sequel the means by which he is brought to be the instrument of the -vengeance that overtakes Edmund. The central climax of a tragedy like -this of intrigue and nemesis cannot be more clearly marked than in the -incident in which are combined the summit of the injury and the -foundation of the retribution. Thus all three tragedies which together -make up the resultant of the intrigue constituting the underplot reach -their climax of agitation in the scene in which Lear and Edgar meet. - -[_The Centrepiece a duet, or by the addition of the Fool, a trio of -madness.]_ - -It appears, then, that the Centrepiece of the play is occupied with the -contact of two madnesses, the madness of Lear and the madness of Edgar; -that of Lear gathering up into a climax trains of passion from all the -three tragedies of the main plot, and that of Edgar holding a similar -position to the three tragedies of the underplot. Further, these -madnesses do not merely go on side by side; as they meet they mutually -affect one another, and throw up each other's intensity. By the mere -sight of the Bedlamite, Lear, already tottering upon the verge of -insanity, is driven really and incurably mad; while in the case of -Edgar, the meeting with Lear, and through Lear with Gloucester, converts -the burden of feigning idiocy from a cruel stroke of unjust fate into a -hardship voluntarily undergone for the sake of ministering to a father -now forgiven and pitied. And so far as the general effect of the play is -concerned this central Climax presents a terrible _duet of madness_, the -wild ravings and mutual interworkings of two distinct strains of -insanity, each answering and outbidding the other. The distinctness is -the greater as the two are different in kind. In Lear we have the -madness of passion, exaggeration of ordinary emotions; Edgar's is the -madness of idiocy, as idiocy was in early ages when the cruel neglect of -society added physical hardship to mental affliction. In Edgar's frenzy -we trace rapid irrelevance with gleams of unexpected relevance, just -sufficient to partly answer a question and go off again into wandering; -a sense of ill-treatment and of being an outcast; remorse and thoughts -as to close connection of sin and retribution; visions of fiends as in -bodily presence; cold, hunger: these alternating with mere gibberish, -and all perhaps within the compass of a few lines. - -[=iii.= iv. 51.] - - Who gives anything to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led through - fire and through flame, and through ford and whirlipool, o'er bog - and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in - his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge; made him proud of heart, to - ride on a bay trotting-horse over four-inched bridges, to course his - own shadow for a traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold,--O, do - de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and - taking! Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: there - could I have him now,--and there,--and there again, and there. - -But this is not all. When examined more closely this Centrepiece -exhibits not a duet but a _trio of madness_; with the other two there -mingles a third form of what may be called madness, the professional -madness of the court fool. [_Institution of the court fool._] This court -fool or jester is an institution of considerable interest. It seems to -rest upon three medięval and ancient notions. The first is the barbarism -of enjoying personal defects, illustrated in the large number of Roman -names derived from bodily infirmities, Varus the bandy-legged, Balbus -the stammerer, and the like; this led our ancestors to find fun in the -incoherence of natural idiocy, and finally made the imitation of it a -profession. A second notion underlying the institution of a jester is -the connection to the ancient mind between madness and inspiration; the -same Greek word _entheos_ stands for both, and to this day the idiot of -a Scotch village is believed in some way to see further than sane folk. -A third idea to be kept in mind is the medięval conception of wit. With -us wit is weighed by its intrinsic worth; the old idea, appearing -repeatedly in Shakespeare's scenes, was that wit was a mental game, a -sort of battledore and shuttlecock, in which the jokes themselves might -be indifferent since the point of the game lay in keeping it up as -smartly and as long as possible. The fool, whose title and motley dress -suggested the absence of ordinary sense or propriety, combines in his -office all three notions: from the last he was bound to keep up the fire -of badinage, even though it were with witless nonsense; from the second -he was expected at times to give utterance to deep truths; and in virtue -of the first he had license to make hard hits under protection of the -'folly' which all were supposed to enjoy. - - He that hath a fool doth very wisely hit, - Doth very foolishly, although he smart, - Not to seem senseless of the bob. - -[_The institution adapted to modern times in Punch._] - -The institution, if it has died out as a personal office attached to -kings or nobles, has perhaps been preserved by the nation as a whole in -a form analogous to other modern institutions: the all-embracing -newspaper has absorbed this element of life, and Mr. Punch is the -national jester. His figure and face are an improvement on the old -motley habit; his fixed number of pages have to be filled, if not always -with wit, yet with passable padding: no one dare other than enjoy the -compliment of his notice, under penalty of showing that 'the cap has -fitted'; and certainly Mr. Punch finds ways of conveying to statesmen -criticisms to which the proprieties of parliament would be impervious. -The institution of the court fool is eagerly utilised by Shakespeare, -and is the source of some of his finest effects: he treats it as a sort -of chronic Comedy, the function of which may be described as that of -translating deep truths of human nature into the language of laughter. - -In applying, then, this general view of the court fool to the present -case we must avoid two opposite errors. We must not pass over all his -utterances as unmeaning folly, nor, on the other hand, must we insist -upon seeing a meaning in everything that he says: what truth he speaks -must be expected to make its appearance amidst a cloud of nonsense. -[_The function of the Fool in Lear is to keep before us the original -problem:_] Making this proviso we may lay down that the function of the -Fool in _King Lear_ is to keep vividly before the minds of the audience -(as well as of his master) the idea at the root of the main plot--that -unstable moral equilibrium, that unnatural distribution of power which -Lear has set up, and of which the whole tragedy is the rebound. [=i.= -iv.] In the first scene in which he appears before us he is, amid all -his nonsense, harping upon the idea that Lear has committed the folly of -trusting to the gratitude of the ungrateful, and is reaping the -inevitable consequences. As he enters he hands his coxcomb, the symbol -of folly, to the King, and to Kent for taking the King's part. His first -jingling song, - - Have more than thou showest, - Speak less than thou knowest, - Lend less than thou owest, &c., - -is an expansion of the maxim, Trust nobody. And however irrelevant he -becomes, he can in a moment get back to this root idea. They tell him -his song is nothing: - - _Fool._ Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you gave me - nothing for 't. Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle? - _Lear._ Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing. - _Fool_ [_to Kent_]. Prithee, tell him, so much the rent of his land - comes to: he will not believe a fool. - -[=i.= i. 92.] - -'Nothing will come of nothing' had been the words Lear had used to -Cordelia; now he is bidden to see how they have become the exact -description of his own fortune. No wonder Lear exclaims, 'A bitter -fool!' - - _Fool._ Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool - and a sweet one? - _Lear._ No, lad; teach me. - _Fool._ That lord that counsell'd thee - To give away thy land, - Come place him here by me, - Do thou for him stand: - The sweet and bitter fool - Will presently appear; - The one in motley here. - The other found out there. - - _Lear._ Dost thou call me fool, boy? - _Fool._ All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast - born with. - -Again and again he turns to other topics and comes suddenly back to the -main thought. - -[=i.= iv. 195.] - - _Fool._ Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy fool - to lie: I would fain learn to lie. - - _Lear._ An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped. - - _Fool._ I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are: they'll have - me whipped for speaking true, thou'lt have me whipped for lying; and - sometimes I am whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be any - kind o' thing than a fool: and yet I would not be thee, nuncle; thou - hast pared thy wit o' both sides, and left nothing i' the middle: - here comes one o' the parings. - -[=i.= iv. 207.] - -It is Goneril who enters, and who proceeds to state her case in the tone -of injury, detailing how the order of her household state has been -outraged, but ignoring the source from which she has received the power -to keep up state at all: what she has omitted the Fool supplies in -parable, as if continuing her sentence-- - - For, you trow, nuncle, - The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, - That it's had it head bit off by it young, - -and then instantly involves himself in a cloud of irrelevance, - - So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling. - -[=i.= v.] - -In the scene which follows, the Fool is performing a variation on the -same theme: the sudden removal from one sister to the other is no real -escape from the original foolish situation. - -[=i.= v. 8.] - - _Fool._ If a man's brains were in 's heels, were 't not in danger of - kibes? - _Lear._ Ay, boy. - _Fool._ Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall ne'er go slip-shod. - -To say that Lear is in no danger of suffering from brains in his heels -is another way of saying that his flight is folly. He goes on to insist -that the other daughter will treat her father 'kindly,' that 'she's as -like this as a crab's like an apple.' His laying down that the reason -why the nose is in the middle of the face is to keep the eyes on either -side of the nose, and that the reason why the seven stars are no more -than seven is 'a pretty reason--because they are not eight,' suggests -(if it be not pressing it too far) that we must not look for depth where -there is only shallowness--the mistake Lear has made in trusting to the -gratitude of his daughters. And the general thought of Lear's original -folly he brings out, true to the fool's office, from the most unlikely -beginnings. - -[=i.= v. 26.] - - _Fool._ Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell? - _Lear._ No. - -'Nor I neither,' answers the Fool, with a clown's impudence; 'but,' he -adds, 'I can tell why a snail has a house.' - - _Lear._ Why? - _Fool._ Why, to put his head in; not to give it away to his - daughters. - -[=ii.= iv. 1-128.] - -All through the scene in front of the stocks the Fool is harping on the -folly of expecting gratitude from such as Goneril and Regan. It is -fathers who bear bags that see their children kind; the wise man lets go -his hold on a great wheel running down hill, but lets himself be drawn -after by the great wheel that goes up the hill; he himself, the Fool -hints, is a fool for staying with Lear; to cry out at Goneril and -Regan's behaviour is as unreasonable as for the cook to be impatient -with the eels for wriggling; to have trusted the two daughters with -power at all was like the folly of the man that, 'in pure kindness to -his horse, buttered his hay.' - -The one idea, then, stationary amidst all the Fool's gyrations of folly -is the idea of Lear's original sin of passion, from the consequences of -which he can never escape; [_but in an emotional form as adapted to the -agitation of the Centrepiece._] only the idea is put, not rationally, -but translated into an emotional form which makes it fit to mingle with -the agitation of the central scenes. The emotional form consists partly -in the irrelevance amid which the idea is brought out, producing -continual shocks of surprise. But more than this an emotional form is -given to the utterances of the Fool by his very position with reference -to Lear. [=iii.= i. 16; =iii.= ii. 10, 25, 68; =iii.= iv. 80, 150.] -There is a pathos that mingles with his humour, where the Fool, a tender -and delicate youth, is found the only attendant who clings to Lear amid -the rigour of the storm, labouring with visibly decreasing vigour to -out-jest his master's heart-struck injuries, and to keep up holiday -abandon amidst surrounding realities. [=i.= iv. 107; =iii.= ii. 68, 72, -&c.] Throughout he is Lear's best friend, and epithets of endearment are -continually passing between them: he has been Cordelia's friend (as -Touchstone was the friend of Rosalind), [=i.= iv. 79.] and pined for -Cordelia after her banishment. Nevertheless he is the only one who can -deliver hard thrusts at Lear, and bring home to him, under protection of -his double relation to wisdom and folly, Lear's original error and sin. -So faithful and so severe, the Fool becomes an outward conscience to his -master: he keeps before Lear the unnatural act from which the whole -tragedy springs, but he converts the thought of it into the emotion of -self-reproach. - -[_Summary._] - -Our total result then is this. The intricate drama of _King Lear_ has a -general movement which centres the passion of the play in a single -Climax. Throughout a Centrepiece of a few scenes, against a background -of storm and tempest is thrown up a tempest of human passion--a madness -trio, or mutual play of three sorts of madness, the real madness of -passion in Lear, the feigned madness of idiocy in Edgar, and the -professional madness of the court fool. When the elements of this -madness trio are analysed, the first is found to gather up into itself -the passion of the three tragedies which form the main plot; the second -is a similar climax to the passion of the three tragedies which make up -the underplot; the third is an expression, in the form of passion, of -the original problem out of which the whole action has sprung. Thus -intricacy of plot has been found not inconsistent with simplicity of -movement, and from the various parts of the drama the complex trains of -passion have been brought to a focus in the centre. - - - - -PART SECOND. - -SURVEY OF DRAMATIC CRITICISM AS AN INDUCTIVE SCIENCE. - - - - -XI. - -TOPICS OF DRAMATIC CRITICISM. - - -[_Purpose: to survey Dramatic Criticism as an inductive science._] - -IN the Introduction to this book I pleaded that a regular inductive -science of literary criticism was a possibility. In the preceding ten -chapters I have endeavoured to exhibit such a regular method at work on -the dramatic analysis of leading points in Shakespeare's plays. The -design of the whole work will not be complete without an attempt to -present our results in complete form, in fact to map out a Science of -Dramatic Art. I hope this may not seem too pretentious an undertaking in -the case of a science yet in its infancy; while it may be useful at all -events to the young student to have suggested to him a methodical -treatment with which he may exercise himself on the literature he -studies. Moreover the reproach against literary criticism is, not that -there has not been plenty of inductive work done in this department, but -that the assertion of its inductive character has been lacking; and I -believe a critic does good service by throwing his results into a formal -shape, however imperfectly he may be able to accomplish his task. It -will be understood that the survey of Dramatic Science is here attempted -only in the merest outline: it is a glimpse, not a view, of a new -science that is proposed. Not even a survey would be possible within the -limits of a few short chapters except by confining the matter introduced -to that previously laid before the reader in a different form. The -leading features of Dramatic Art have already been explained in the -application of them to particular plays: they are now included in a -single view, so arranged that their mutual connection may be seen to be -building up this singleness of view. Such a survey, like a microscopic -lens of low power, must sacrifice detail to secure a wider field. Its -compensating gain will consist in what it can contribute to the orderly -product of methodised enquiry which is the essence of science, and the -interest in which becomes associated with the interest of curiosity when -the method has been applied in a region not usually acknowledging its -reign. - -[_Definition of Dramatic Criticism:_] - -The starting-point in the exposition of any science is naturally its -definition. But this first step is sufficient to divide inductive -criticism from the treatment of literature mostly in vogue. I have -already protested against the criticism which starts with the assumption -of some 'object' or 'fundamental purpose' in the Drama from which to -deduce binding canons. Such an all-embracing definition, if it is -possible at all, will come as the final, not the first, step of -investigation. [_as to its field and its method._] Inductive criticism, -on the contrary, will seek its point of departure from outside. On the -one hand it will consider the relation of the matter which it proposes -to treat to other matter which is the subject of scientific enquiry; on -the other hand it will fix the nature of the treatment it proposes to -apply by a reference to scientific method in general. That is to say, -its definition will be based upon differentiation of matter and -development in method. - -[_Stages of development in inductive method._] - -To begin with the latter. There are three well-marked stages in the -development of sciences. The first consists in the mere observation of -the subject-matter. The second is distinguished by arrangement of -observations, by analysis and classification. The third stage reaches -systematisation--the wider arrangement which satisfies our sense of -explanation, that curiosity as to causes which is the instinct specially -developed by scientific enquiry. Astronomy remained for long ages in the -first stage, while it was occupied with the observation of the heavenly -bodies and the naming of the constellations. It would pass into the -second stage with division of labour and the study of solar, lunar, -planetary, and cometary phenomena separately. But by such discoveries as -that of the laws of motion, or of gravitation, the great mass of -astronomical knowledge was bound together in a system which at the same -time satisfied the sense of causation, and astronomy was fully developed -as an inductive science. Or to take a more modern instance: comparative -philology has attained completeness in our own day. Philology was in its -first stage at the Renaissance, when 'learning' meant the mere -accumulation of detailed knowledge connected with the Classical -languages; Grimm's Law may illustrate the second stage, a classification -comprehensive but purely empiric; the principle of phonetic decay with -its allied recuperative processes has struck a unity through the laws of -philology which stamps it as a full-grown science. [_Dramatic Criticism -in the intermediate_] Applying this to our present subject, I do not -pretend that Literary Criticism has reached the third of these three -stages: but materials are ready for giving it a secure place in the -second stage. In time, no doubt, literary science must be able to -explain the modus operandi of literary production, and show how -different classes of writing come to produce their different effects. -But at present such explanation belongs mostly to the region of -speculation; and before the science of criticism is ripe for this final -stage much work has to be done in the way of methodising observation as -to literary matter and form. - -Dramatic Criticism, then, is still in the stage of provisional -arrangement. [_or 'topical' stage._] Its exact position is expressed by -the technical term 'topical.' Where accumulation of observations is -great enough to necessitate methodical arrangement, yet progress is -insufficient to suggest final bases of arrangement which will -crystallise the whole into a system, science takes refuge in 'topics.' -These have been aptly described as intellectual pigeon-holes--convenient -headings under which materials may be digested, with strict adherence to -method, yet only as a provisional arrangement until further progress -shall bring more stable organisation. This topical treatment may seem an -unambitious stage in scientific advance, the goal and reward of which is -insight into wide laws and far-reaching systematisations. Still it is a -stage directly in the line of sound method: and the judicious choice of -main and subordinate topics is systematisation in embryo. The present -enquiry looks no further than this stage in its analysis of Dramatic -Art. It endeavours to find convenient headings under which to set forth -its observations of Shakespeare's plays. It also seeks an arrangement of -these topics that will at once cover the field of the subject, and also -carry on the face of it such an economy of mutual connection as may make -the topics, what they ought to be, a natural bridge between the general -idea which the mind forms of Drama and the realisation of this idea in -the details of actual dramatic works. - -[_Continuous differentiation of scientific subject-matter._] - -But the definition of our subject involves further that we should -measure out the exact field within which this method is to be applied. -Science, like every other product of the human mind, marks its progress -by continuous differentiation: the perpetual subdivision of the field of -enquiry, the rise of separate and ever minuter departments as time goes -on. Originally all knowledge was one and undivided. The name of Socrates -is connected with a great revolution which separated moral science from -physics, the study of man from the study of nature. With Aristotle and -inductive method the process became rapid: and under his guidance -ethics, as the science of conduct, became distinct from mental science; -and still further, political science, treating man in his relations with -the state, was distinguished from the more general science of conduct. -When thought awoke at the Renaissance after the sleep of the Dark Ages, -political science threw off as a distinct branch political economy; and -by our own day particular branches of economy, finance, for example, -have practically become independent sciences. This characteristic of -science in general, the perpetual tendency to separate more confined -from more general lines of investigation, will apply in an especial -degree to literature, [_Dramatic Criticism branches off on the one side -from the wider Literary Criticism._] which covers so wide an area of the -mind and is the meeting-ground of so many separate interests. Thus -Shakespeare is a poet, and his works afford a field for considering -poetry in general, both as a mode of thought and a mode of expression. -Again, no writer could go so deeply into human nature as Shakespeare has -done without betraying his philosophy and moral system. Once more, -Shakespeare must afford a specimen of literary tendencies in general, -and that particular modification of them we call Elizabethan; besides -that the language which is the vehicle of this literature has an -interest of its own over and above that of the thought which it conveys. -All this and more belongs properly to 'Shakespeare-Criticism': but from -Literary Criticism as a whole a branch is being gradually -differentiated, Dramatic Criticism, and its province is to deal with the -question, how much of the total effect of Shakespeare's works arises -from the fact of his ideas being conveyed to us in the form of dramas, -and not of lyric or epic poems, of essays or moral and philosophical -treatises. It is with this branch alone that the present enquiry is -concerned. - -[_On the other side from the allied art of Stage-Representation._] - -But more than this goes to the definition of Dramatic Criticism. Drama -is not, like Epic, merely a branch of literature: it is a compound art. -The literary works which in ordinary speech we call dramas, are in -strictness only potential dramas waiting for their realisation on the -stage. And this stage-representation is not a mere accessory of -literature, but is an independent art, having a field where literature -has no place, in dumb show, in pantomime, in mimicry, and in the lost -art of Greek 'dancing.' - -The question arises then, what is to be the relation of Dramatic -Criticism to the companion art of Stage-Representation? Aristotle, the -father of Dramatic Criticism, made Stage-Representation one of the -departments of the science; but we shall be only following the law of -differentiation if we separate the two. This is especially appropriate -in the case of the Shakespearean Drama. The Puritan Revolution, which -has played such a part in its history, was in effect an attack rather on -the Theatre than on the Drama itself. No doubt when the movement became -violent the two were not discriminated, and the Drama was made a -'vanity' as well as the Stage. Still the one interest was never so -thoroughly dropped by the nation and was more readily taken up again -than the other; so that from the point of view of the Stage our -continuity with the Elizabethan age has been severed, from the point of -view of the literary Drama it has not. The Shakespearean Drama has made -a field for itself as a branch of literature quite apart from the Stage; -and, however we may regret the severance and look forward to a completer -appreciation of Shakespeare, yet it can hardly be doubted that at the -present moment as earnest and comprehensive an interest in our great -dramatist is to be found in the study as in the theatre. - -Dramatic Criticism, then, is to be separated, on the one side, from the -wider Literary Criticism which must include a review of language, -ethics, philosophy, and general art; and, on the other hand, from the -companion art of Stage-Representation. But here caution is required; for -all these are so closely and so organically connected with the Drama -that there cannot but exist a mutual reaction. [_Topics common to Drama -and art in general._] Thus we have already had to treat of topics which -belong to the Drama only as a part of literature and art in general. In -the first chapter we had occasion to notice how even the raw material -out of which the Shakespearean Drama is constructed itself forms another -species in literature. When we proceeded to watch the process of working -up this Story into dramatic form we were led on to what was common -ground between Drama and the other arts. In such process we saw -illustrated the 'hedging,' or double process which leaves monstrosity -to produce its full impression and yet provides by special means against -any natural reaction; the reduction of improbabilities, by which -difficulties in the subject-matter are evaded or met; the utilisation of -mechanical details to assist more important effects; the multiplication -and interweaving of different interests by which each is made to assist -the rest. Such points of Mechanical Construction, together with the -general principles of balance and symmetry, are not special to any one -branch of art: in all alike the artist will contrive not wholly to -conceal his processes, but by occasional glimpses will add to higher -effects the satisfaction of our sense of neat workmanship. - -[_Drama and its Representation separate in exposition, not in idea._] - -Similarly, it may be convenient to make Literary Drama and -Stage-Representation separate branches of enquiry: it is totally -inadmissible and highly misleading to divorce the two in idea. The -literary play must be throughout read _relatively_ to its -representation. In actual practice the separation of the two has -produced the greatest obstacles in the way of sound appreciation. -Amongst ordinary readers of Shakespeare Character-Interest, which is -largely independent of performance, has swallowed up all other -interests; and most of the effects which depend upon the connection and -relative force of incidents, and on the compression of the details into -a given space, have been completely lost. Shakespeare is popularly -regarded as supreme in the painting of human nature, but careless in the -construction of Plot: and, worst of all, Plot itself, which it has been -the mission of the English Drama to elevate into the position of the -most intellectual of all elements in literary effect, has become -degraded in conception to the level of a mere juggler's mystery. It must -then be laid down distinctly at the outset of the present enquiry that -the Drama is to be considered throughout relatively to its acting. Much -of dramatic effect that is special to Stage-Representation will be here -ignored: the whole mechanism of elocution, effects of light, colour and -costume, the greater portion of what constitutes _mise-en-scčne_. But in -dealing with any play the fullest scope is assumed for ideal acting. The -interpretation of a character must include what an actor can put into -it; in dealing with effects regard must be had to surroundings which a -reader might easily overlook, but which would be present to the eye of a -spectator; and no conception of the movement of a drama will be adequate -which has not appreciated the rapid sequence of incidents that crowds -the crisis of a life-time or a national revolution into two or three -hours of actual time. The relation of Drama to its acting will be -exactly similar to that of music to its performance, the two being -perfectly separable in their exposition, but never disunited in idea. - -[_Fundamental division of Dramatic Criticism into Human Interest and -Action._] - -Dramatic Art, then, as thus defined, is to be the field of our enquiry, -and its method is to be the discovery and arrangement of topics. For a -fundamental basis of such analysis we shall naturally look to the other -arts. Now all the arts agree in being the union of two elements, -abstract and concrete. Music takes sensuous sounds, and adds a purely -abstract element by disposing these sounds in harmonies and melodies; -architecture applies abstract design to a concrete medium of stone and -wood; painting gives us objects of real life arranged in abstract -groupings: in dancing we have moving figures confined in artistic bonds -of rhythm; sculpture traces in still figures ideas of shape and -attitude. So Drama has its two elements of Human Interest and Action: on -the one hand life _presented in action_--so the word 'Drama' may be -translated; on the other hand the _action_ itself, that is, the -concurrence of all that is presented in an abstract unity of design. The -two fundamental divisions of dramatic interest, and consequently the two -fundamental divisions of Dramatic Criticism, will thus be Human Interest -and Action. But each of these has its different sides, the distinction -of which is essential before we can arrive at an arrangement of topics -that will be of practical value in the methodisation of criticism. -[_Twofold division of Human Interest._] The interest of the life -presented is twofold. There is our interest in the separate personages -who enter into it, as so many varieties of the _genus homo_: this is -Interest of _Character_. There is again our interest in the experience -these personages are made to undergo, their conduct and fate: -technically, Interest of _Passion_. - - Human Interest { Character. - { Passion. - -[_Threefold division of Action._] - -It is the same with the other fundamental element of art, the working -together of all the details so as to leave an impression of unity: while -in practice the sense of this unity, say in a piece of music or a play, -is one of the simplest of instincts, yet upon analysis it is seen to -imply three separate mental impressions. The mind, it implies, must be -conscious of a unity. It must also be conscious of a complexity of -details without which the unity could not be perceptible. But the mere -perception of unity and of complexity would give no art-pleasure unless -the unity were seen to be _developed_ out of the complexity, and this -brings in a third idea of progress and gradual _Movement_. - - { Unity. - Action { Complexity. - { Development or Movement. - -[_Application of the threefold division of Action to the twofold -division of Human Interest._] - -Now if we apply the threefold idea involved in Action to the twofold -idea involved in Human Interest we shall get the natural divisions of -dramatic analysis. One element of Human Interest was Character: looking -at this in the threefold aspect which is given to it when it is -connected with Action we shall have to notice the interest of single -characters, or _Character-Interpretation_, the more complex interest of -_Character-Contrast_, and in the third place _Character-Development_. -Applying a similar treatment to the other side of Human Interest, -Passion, we shall review single elements of Passion, that is to say, -_Incidents and Effects_; the mixture of various passions to express which -the term _Passion-Tones_ will be used; and again _Passion-Movement_. But -Action has an interest of its own, considered in the abstract and as -separate from Human Interest. This is _Plot_; and it will lend itself to -the same triple treatment, falling into the natural divisions of _Single -Action_, _Complex Action_, and that development of Plot which -constitutes dramatic _Movement_ in the most important sense. At this -point it is possible only to name these leading topics of Dramatic -Criticism: to explain each, and to trace them further into their lesser -ramifications will be the work of the remaining three chapters. - -[_Elementary Topics of Dramatic Criticism._] - - +--Single Character-Interest, or - | _Character-Interpretation_. - +--Character +--Complex Character-Interest, or - | | _Character-Contrast_. - | +--_Character-Development._ - | - | +--Single Passion-Interest, or - The Literary | | _Incident and Effect_. - Drama +--Passion +--Complex Passion-Interest, or - | | _Passion-Tone_. - | +--_Passion-Movement._ - | - | +--_Single Action._ - +--Plot (or Pure +--_Complex Action._ - Action) +--_Plot-Movement._ - - - - -XII. - -Interest of Character. - - -[_Unity applied to Character: Character Interpretation._] - -OF the main divisions of dramatic interest Character stands first for -consideration: and we are to view it under the three aspects of unity, -complexity, and movement. The application of the idea unity to the idea -character suggests at once our interest in single personages. This -interest becomes more defined when we take into account the medium -through which the personages are presented to us: characters in Drama -are not brought out by abstract discussion or description, but are -presented to us concretely, self-pourtrayed by their own actions without -the assistance of comments from the author. - -Accordingly, the leading interest of character is _Interpretation_, the -mental process of turning from the concrete to the abstract: from the -most diverse details of conduct and impression Interpretation extracts a -unity of conception which we call a character. [_Interpretation of the -nature of an hypothesis._] Interpretation when scientifically handled -must be, we have seen, of the nature of an hypothesis, the value of -which depends upon the degree in which it explains whatever details have -any bearing upon the character. Such an hypothesis may be a simple idea: -and we have seen at length how the whole portraiture of Richard -precipitates into the notion of Ideal Villainy, ideal on the subjective -side in an artist who follows crime for its own sake, and on the -objective side in a success that works by fascination. But the student -must beware of the temptation to grasp at epigrammatic labels as -sufficient solutions of character; in the great majority of cases -Interpretation can become complete only by recognising and harmonising -various and even conflicting elements. - -[_Canons of Interpretation._] - -Incidentally we have noticed some of the principles governing careful -Interpretation. [_It must be Exhaustive._] One of these principles is -that it must take into consideration all that is presented of a -personage. It is unscientific on the face of it to say (as is repeatedly -said) that Shakespeare is 'inconsistent' in ascribing deep musical -sympathies to so thin a character as Lorenzo. Such allegation of -inconsistency means that the process of Interpretation is unfinished; it -can be paralleled only by the astronomer who should complain of eclipses -as 'inconsistent' with his view of the moon's movements. In the -particular case we found no difficulty in harmonising the apparent -conflict: the details of Lorenzo's portraiture fit in well with the not -uncommon type of nature that is so deeply touched by art sensibilities -as to have a languid interest in life outside art. [_It must take in -indirect evidence;_] Again: Interpretation must look for _indirect_ -evidence of character, such as the impression a personage seems to have -made on other personages in the story, or the effect of action outside -the field of view. It is impatient induction to pronounce Bassanio -unworthy of Portia merely from comparison of the parts played by the two -in the drama itself. It happens from the nature of the story that the -incidents actually represented in the drama are such as always display -Bassanio in an exceptional and dependent position; but we have an -opportunity of getting to the other side of our hero's character by -observing the attitude held to him by others in the play, an attitude -founded not on the incidents of the drama alone, but upon the sum total -of his life and behaviour in the Venetian world. This gives a very -different impression; and when we take into consideration the force with -which his personality sways all who approach him, from the strong -Antonio and the intellectual Lorenzo to giddy Gratiano and the rough -common sense of Launcelot, then the character comes out in its proper -scale. [_and the degree to which the character is displayed._] As a -third principle, it is perhaps too obvious to be worth formulating that -Interpretation must allow for the degree to which the character is -displayed by the action: that Brutus's frigid eloquence at the funeral -of Cęsar means not coldness of feeling but stoicism of public demeanour. -[_Interpretation reacting on the details._] It is a less obvious -principle that the very details which are to be unified into a -conception of character may have a different complexion given to them -when they are looked at in the light of the whole. It has been noticed -how Richard seems to manifest in some scenes a slovenliness of intrigue -that might be a stumbling-block to the general impression of his -character. But when in our view of him as a whole we see what a large -part is played by the invincibility that is stamped on his very -demeanour, it becomes clear how this slovenliness can be interpreted by -the analyst, and represented by the actor, not as a defect of power, but -as a trick of bearing which measures his own sense of his -irresistibility. Principles like these flow naturally from the -fundamental idea of character and its unity. Their practical use however -will be mainly that of tests for suggested interpretations: to the -actual reading of character in Drama, as in real life, the safest guide -is sympathetic insight. - -[_Complexity applied to Character._] - -The second element underlying all dramatic effect was complexity; when -complexity is applied to Character we get Character-Contrast. -[_Character-Foils._] In its lowest degree this appears in the form of -_Character-Foils_: by the side of some prominent character is placed -another of less force and interest but cast in the same mould, or -perhaps moulded by the influence of its principal, just as by the side -of a lofty mountain are often to be seen smaller hills of the same -formation. Thus beside Portia is placed Nerissa, beside Bassanio -Gratiano, beside Shylock Tubal; Richard's villainy stands out by -comparison with Buckingham, Hastings, Tyrrel, Catesby, any one of whom -would have given blackness enough to an ordinary drama. It is quite -possible that minute examination may find differences between such -companion figures: but the general effect of the combination is that the -lesser serves as foil to throw up the scale on which the other is -framed. The more pronounced effects of Character-Contrast depend upon -differences of kind as distinguished from differences of degree. -[_Character-Contrast._] In this form it is clear how _Character-Contrast_ -is only an extension of Character-Interpretation: it implies that some -single conception explains, that is, gives unity to, the actions of more -than one person. A whole chapter has been devoted to bringing out such -contrast in the case of Lord and Lady Macbeth: to accept these as types -of the practical and inner life, cast in such an age and involved in -such an undertaking, furnishes a conception sufficient to make clear and -intelligible all that the two say and do in the scenes of the drama. -[_Duplication._] Character-Contrast is especially common amongst the -minor effects in a Shakespearean drama. In the case of personages -demanded by the necessities of the story rather than introduced for -their own sake Shakespeare has a tendency to double the number of such -personages for the sake of getting effects of contrast. We have two -unsuccessful suitors in _The Merchant of Venice_ bringing out, the one -the unconscious pride of royal birth, the other the pride of intense -self-consciousness; two wicked daughters of Lear, Goneril with no -shading in her harshness, Regan who is in reality a degree more -calculating in her cruelty than her sister, but conceals it under a -charm of manner, 'eyes that comfort and not burn.' [=iii.= i.] Of the -two princes in _Richard III_ the one has a gravity beyond his years, -while York overflows with not ungraceful pertness. Especially -interesting are the two murderers in that play. [=i.= iv, from 84.] The -first is a dull, 'strong-framed' man, without any better nature. The -second has had culture, and been accustomed to reflect; his better -nature has been vanquished by love of greed, and now asserts itself to -prevent his sinning with equanimity. [110.] It is the second murderer -whose conscience is set in activity by the word 'judgment'; and he -discourses on conscience, deeply, [124-157.] yet not without humour, as -he recognises the power of the expected reward over the oft-vanquished -compunctions. [167.] He catches, as a thoughtful man, the irony of the -duke's cry for wine when they are about to drown him in the butt of -malmsey. [165.] Again, instead of hurrying to the deed while Clarence is -waking he cannot resist the temptation to argue with him, and so, as a -man open to argument, [263.] he feels the force of Clarence's unexpected -suggestion: - - He that set you on - To do this deed will hate you for the deed. - -Thus he exhibits the weakness of all thinking men in a moment of action, -the capacity to see two sides of a question; and, trying at the critical -moment to alter his course, [284.] he ends by losing the reward of crime -without escaping the guilt. - -[_Character-Grouping._] - -Character-Contrast is carried forward into _Character-Grouping_ when the -field is still further enlarged, and a single conception is found to -give unity to more than two personages of a drama. A chapter has been -devoted to showing how the same antithesis of outer and inner life which -made the conception of Macbeth and his wife intelligible would serve, -when adapted to the widely different world of Roman political life, to -explain the characters of the leading conspirators in _Julius Cęsar_, of -their victim and of his avenger: while, over and above the satisfaction -of Interpretation, the Grouping of these four figures, so colossal and -so impressive, round a single idea is an interest in itself. [_Dramatic -Colouring._] The effect is carried a stage further still when some -single phase of human interest tends, in a greater or less degree, to -give a common feature to all the personages of a play; the whole -dramatic field is _coloured_ by some idea, though of course the -interpretative significance of such an idea is weakened in proportion to -the area over which it is distributed. The five plays to which our -attention is confined do not afford the best examples of Dramatic -Colouring. It is a point, however, of common remark how the play of -_Macbeth_ is coloured by the superstition and violence of the Dark Ages. -The world of this drama seems given over to powers of darkness who can -read, if not mould, destiny; witchcraft appears as an instrument of -crime and ghostly agency of punishment. We have rebellion without any -suggestion of cause to ennoble it, terminated by executions without the -pomp of justice; we have a long reign of terror in which massacre is a -measure of daily administration and murder is a profession. With all -this there is a total absence of relief in any picture of settled life: -there is no rallying-point for order and purity. The very agent of -retribution gets the impulse to his task in a reaction from a shock of -bereavement that has come down upon him as a natural punishment for an -act of indecisive folly. - -[compare =iv.= iii. 26; =iv.= ii. 1-22.] - -There are, then, three different effects that arise when complexity -enters into Character-Interest. The complexity is one never separable -from the unity which binds it together: in the first effect the -diversity is stronger than the unity, and the whole manifests itself as -Character-Contrast; in Character-Grouping the contrast of the separate -figures is an equal element with the unity which binds them all into a -group; in the third case the diversity is lost in the unity, and a -uniformity of colouring is seized by the dramatic sense as an effect -apart from the individual varieties without which such colouring would -not be remarkable. - -[_Movement applied to Character: Character-Development._] - -When to Character-Interpretation, the formation of a single conception -out of a multitude of concrete details, the further idea of growth and -progress is added, we get the third variety of Character-Interest-- -_Character-Development_. In the preceding chapters this has received -only negative notice, its absence being a salient feature in the -portraiture of Richard. For a positive illustration no better example -could be desired than the character of Macbeth. Three features, we have -seen, stand out clear in the general conception of Macbeth. There is his -eminently practical nature, which is the key to the whole. And the -absence in him of the inner life adds two special features: one is his -helplessness under suspense, the other is the activity of his -imagination with its susceptibility to supernatural terrors. Now, if we -fix our attention on these three points they become three threads of -development as we trace Macbeth through the stages of his career. His -practical power developes as capacity for crime. Macbeth undertook his -first crime only after a protracted and terrible struggle; the murder of -the grooms was a crime of impulse; the murder of Banquo appears a thing -of contrivance, in which Macbeth is a deliberate planner directing the -agency of others, [=iii.= ii. 40, &c.] while his dark hints to his wife -suggest the beginning of a relish for such deeds. This capacity for -crime continues to grow, until slaughter becomes an end in itself: - -[=iv.= iii. 4.] - - Each new morn - New widows howl, new orphans cry: - -and then a mania: - -[=v.= ii. 13.] - - Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him - Do call it valiant fury. - -We see a parallel development in Macbeth's impatience of suspense. Just -after his first temptation he is able to brace himself to suspense for -an indefinite period: - -[=i.= iii. 143.] - - If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me, - Without my stir. - -[=i.= vii.] - -On the eve of his great crime the suspense of the few hours that must -intervene before the banquet can be despatched and Duncan can retire -becomes intolerable to Macbeth, and he is for abandoning the treason. -In the next stage it is the suspense of a single moment that impels him -to stab the grooms. From this point suspense no longer comes by fits and -starts, but is a settled disease: [=iii.= ii. 13, 36, &c.] his mind is -as scorpions; it is tortured in restless ecstasy. Suspense has -undermined his judgment and brought on him the gambler's fever--the -haunting thought that just one more venture will make him safe; in spite -of the opposition of his reason--[=iii.= ii. 45.] which his -unwillingness to confide the murder of Banquo to his wife betrays--he is -carried on to work the additional crime which unmasks the rest. And -finally suspense intensifies to a panic, and he himself feels that his -deeds-- - -[=iii.= iv. 140.] - - must be acted ere they may be scann'd. - -The third feature in Macbeth is the quickening of his sensitiveness to -the supernatural side by side with the deadening of his conscience. -Imagination becomes, as it were, a pictorial conscience for one to whom -its more rational channels have been closed: the man who 'would jump the -world to come' accepts implicitly every word that falls from a witch. -Now this imagination is at first a restraining force in Macbeth: [=i.= -iii. 134.] the thought whose image unfixes his hair leads him to abandon -the treason. When later he has, under pressure, delivered himself again -to the temptation, there are still signs that imagination is a force on -the other side that has to be overcome: - -[=i.= iv. 50.] - - Stars, hide your fires; - Let not light see my black and deep desires: - The eye wink at the hand. - -Once passed the boundary of the accomplished deed he becomes an absolute -victim to terrors of conscience in supernatural form. [=ii.= ii. 22-46.] -In the very first moment they reach so near the boundary that separates -subjective and objective that a real voice appears to be denouncing the -issue of his crime: - - _Macbeth._ Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more.'... - _Lady M._ Who was it that thus cried? - -In the reaction from the murder of Banquo the supernatural -appearance--which no eye sees but his own--[=iii.= iv.] appears more -real to him than the real life around him. And from this point he -_seeks_ the supernatural, [=iv.= i. 48.] forces it to disclose its -terrors, and thrusts himself into an agonised vision of generations that -are to witness the triumph of his foes. - - - - -XIII. - -INTEREST OF PASSION. - - -[PASSION.] - -HUMAN Interest includes not only varieties of human nature, or -Character, but also items of human experience, or Passion. Passion is -the second great topic of Dramatic Criticism. It is concerned with the -life that is lived through the scenes of the story, as distinguished -from the personages who live it; not treating this with the abstract -treatment that belongs to Plot, but reviewing it in the light of its -human interest; it embraces conduct still alive with the motives which -have actuated it--fate in the process of forging. The word 'passion' -signifies primarily what is suffered of good or bad; secondarily the -emotions generated by suffering, whether in the sufferer or in -bystanders. Its use as a dramatic term thus suggests how in Drama an -experience can be grasped by us through our emotional nature, through -our sympathy, our antagonism, and all the varieties of emotional -interest that lie between. To this Passion we have to apply the -threefold division of unity, complexity, and movement. - -[_Unity applied to Passion._] - -When unity is applied to Passion we get a series of details bound -together into a singleness of impression as an Incident, a Situation, or -an Effect. The distinction of the three rests largely on their different -degrees of fragmentariness. [_Incident._] _Incidents_ are groups of -continuous details forming a complete interest in themselves as -ministering to our sense of story. The suit of Shylock against Antonio -in the course of which fate swings right round; the murder of Clarence -with its long-drawn agony; Richard and Buckingham with the Lord Mayor -and Citizens exhibiting a picture of political manipulation in the -fifteenth century; the startling sight of a Lady Anne wooed beside the -bier of her murdered husband's murdered father, by a murderer who rests -his suit on the murders themselves; Banquo's Ghost appearing at the -feast at which Banquo's presence had been so vehemently called for; -Lear's faithful Gloucester so brutally blinded and so instantly -avenged:--all these are complete stories presented in a single view, and -suggest how Shakespeare's dramas are constructed out of materials which -are themselves dramas in miniature. [_Situation._] In _Situation_, on -the other hand, a series of details cohere into a single impression -without losing the sense of incompleteness. The two central personages -of _The Merchant of Venice_, around whom brightness and gloom have been -revolving in such contrast, at last brought to face one another from the -judgment-seat and the dock; Lorenzo and Jessica wrapped in moonlight and -music, with the rest of the universe for the hour blotted out into a -background for their love; Margaret like an apparition of the sleeping -Nemesis of Lancaster flashed into the midst of the Yorkist courtiers -while they are bickering through very wantonness of victory; Shylock -pitted against Tubal, Jew against Jew, the nature not too narrow to mix -affection with avarice, mocked from passion to passion by the nature -only wide enough to take in greed; Richard waking on Bosworth morning, -and miserably piecing together the wreck of his invincible will which a -sleeping vision has shattered; Macbeth's moment of rapture in following -the airy dagger, while the very night holds its breath, to break out -again presently into voices of doom; the panic mist of universal -suspicion amidst which Malcolm blasts his own character to feel after -the fidelity of Macduff; Edgar from his ambush of outcast idiocy -watching the sad marvel of his father's love restored to him:--all these -brilliant Situations are fragments of dramatic continuity in which the -fragmentariness is a part of the interest. Just as the sense of -sculpture might seek to arrest and perpetuate a casual moment in the -evolutions of a dance, so in Dramatic Situation the mind is conscious of -isolating something from what precedes and what follows so as to extract -out of it an additional impression; the morsel has its purpose in -ministering to a complete process of digestion, but it gets a sensation -of its own by momentary delay in contact with the palate. - -[_Effect._] - -Of a still more fragmentary nature is _Dramatic Effect_--Effect strictly -so called, and as distinguished from the looser use of the term for -dramatic impressions in general. Such Effect seems to attach itself to -single momentary details, though in reality these details owe their -impressiveness to their connection with others: the final detail has -completed an electric circle and a shock is given. No element of the -Drama is of so miscellaneous a character and so defies analysis: all -that can be done here is to notice three special Dramatic Effects. -[_Irony as an Effect._] _Dramatic Irony_ is a sudden appearance of -double-dealing in surrounding events: a dramatic situation accidentally -starts up and produces a shock by its bearing upon conflicting states of -affairs, both known to the audience, but one of them hidden from some of -the parties to the scene. This is the special contribution to dramatic -effect of Greek tragedy. The ancient stage was tied down in its -subject-matter to stories perfectly familiar to the audience as sacred -legends, and so almost excluding the effect of surprise: in Irony it -found some compensation. The ancient tragedies harp upon human blindness -to the future, and delight to exhibit a hero speculating about, or -struggling with, or perhaps in careless talk stumbling upon, the final -issue of events which the audience know so well--Oedipus, for example, -through great part of a play moving heaven and earth to pierce the -mystery of the judgment that has come upon his city, while according to -the familiar sacred story the offender can be none other than himself. -Shakespeare has used to almost as great an extent as the Greek -dramatists this effect of Irony. His most characteristic handling of it -belongs to the lighter plays; yet in the group of dramas dealt with in -this work it is prominent amongst his effects. It has been pointed out -how _Macbeth_ and _Richard III_ are saturated with it. There are casual -illustrations in _Julius Cęsar_, as when the dictator bids his intended -murderer - -[=ii.= ii. 123.] - - Be near me, that I may remember you; - -or in _Lear_, when Edmund, intriguing guiltily with Goneril, in a chance -expression of tenderness unconsciously paints the final issue of that -intrigue: - -[=iv.= ii. 25.] - - Yours in the ranks of death! - -A comic variety of Irony occurs in the Trial Scene of _The Merchant of -Venice_, [=iv.= i. 282.] when Bassanio and Gratiano in their distracted -grief are willing to sacrifice their new wives if this could save their -friend--little thinking these wives are so near to record the vow. The -doubleness of Irony is one which attaches to a situation as a whole: -[=iii.= ii. 60-73.] the effect however is especially keen when a scene -is so impregnated with it that the very language is true in a double -sense. - - _Catesby._ 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, - When men are unprepared and look not for it. - - _Hastings._ O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out - With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: _and so 'twill do - With some men else, who think themselves as safe - As thou and I._ - -[_Nemesis as an Effect._] - -_Nemesis_, though usually extending to the general movement of a drama, -and so considered below, may sometimes be only an effect of detail--a -sign connecting very closely retribution with sin or reaction with -triumph. [=v.= iii. 45.] Such a Nemesis may be seen where Cassius in the -act of falling on his sword recognises the weapon as the same with which -he stabbed Cęsar. [_Dramatic Foreshadowing._] Another special variety of -effect is _Dramatic Foreshadowing_--mysterious details pointing to an -explanation in the sequel, a realisation in action of the saying that -coming events cast their shadows before them. [=i.= i. 1.] The -unaccountable 'sadness' of Antonio at the opening of _The Merchant of -Venice_ is a typical illustration. [=iii.= i. 68.] Others will readily -suggest themselves--[=i.= i. 39.] the Prince's shuddering aversion to -the Tower in _Richard III_, [=v.= i. 77-90.] the letter G that of -Edward's heirs the murderer should be, the crows substituted for -Cassius's eagles on the morning of the final battle. A more elaborate -example is seen in _Julius Cęsar_, [=i.= ii. 18.] where the soothsayer's -vague warning 'Beware the Ides of March'--a solitary voice that could -yet arrest the hero through the shouting of the crowd--is later on -found, not to have become dissipated, but to have gathered definiteness -as the moment comes nearer: - -[=iii.= i. 1.] - - _Cęsar._ The Ides of March are come. - _Soothsayer._ Ay, Cęsar; but not gone. - -These three leading Effects may be sufficient to illustrate a branch of -dramatic analysis in which the variety is endless. - -[_Complexity applied to Passion._] - -We are next to consider the application of complexity to Passion, and -the contrasts of passion that so arise. Here care is necessary to avoid -confusion with a complexity of passion that hardly comes within the -sphere of dramatic criticism. [=iii.= i.] In the scene in which Shylock -is being teased by Tubal it is easy to note the conflict between the -passions of greed and paternal affection: such analysis is outside -dramatic criticism and belongs to psychology. In its dramatic sense -Passion applies to experience, not decomposed into its emotional -elements, but grasped as a whole by our emotional nature: there is still -room for complexity of such passion in the appeal made _to different -sides of our emotional nature, the serious and the gay_. -[_Passion-Tone._] In dealing with this element of dramatic effect a -convenient technical term is _Tone_. The deep insight of metaphorical -word-coining has given universal sanction to the expression of emotional -differences by analogies of music: our emotional nature is exalted with -mirth and depressed with sorrow, we speak of a chord of sympathy, a -strain of triumph, a note of despair; we are in a serious mood, or pitch -our appeal in a higher key. These expressions are clearly musical, and -there is probably a half association of music in many others, such as a -theme of sorrow, acute anguish and profound despair, response of -gratitude, or even the working of our feelings. Most exactly to the -purpose is a phrase of frequent occurrence, the 'gamut of the passions,' -which brings out with emphasis how our emotional nature in its capacity -for different kinds of impressions suggests a _scale_ of -passion-contrasts, [_Scale of Passion-Tones._] not to be sharply defined -but shading off into one another like the tones of a musical -scale--Tragic, Heroic, Serious, Elevated, Light, Comic, Farcical. It is -with such complexity of tones that Dramatic Passion is concerned. - -[_Mixture of Tones:_] - -Now the mere _Mixture of Tones_ is an effect in itself. For the present -I am not referring to the combination of one tone with another in the -same incident (which will be treated as a distinct variety): I apply it -more widely to the inclusion of different tones in the field of the same -play. Such mixture is best illustrated by music, which gives us an -adagio and an allegro, a fantastic scherzo and a pompous march, within -the same symphony or sonata, though in separate movements. In _The -Merchant of Venice_, as often in plays of Shakespeare, every tone in the -scale is represented. [=iv.= i.] When Antonio is enduring through the -long suspense, and triumphant malignity is gaining point after point -against helpless friendship, we have travelled far into the Tragic; -[=iv.= i. 184.] the woman-nature of Portia calling Venetian justice from -judicial murder to the divine prerogative of mercy throws in a touch of -the Heroic; a great part of what centres around Shylock, [=ii.= v; -=iii.= i, &c.] when he is crushing the brightness out of Jessica or -defying the Christian world, is pitched in the Serious strain; [=ii.= i, -vii; =ii.= ix.] the incidents of the unsuccessful suitors, the warm -exuberance of Oriental courtesy and the less grateful loftiness of -Spanish family pride, might be a model for the Elevated drama of the -English Restoration; [=i.= i, &c.] the infinite nothings of Gratiano, -prince of diners-out, [=i.= ii.] the more piquant small talk of Portia -and Nerissa when they criticise the man-world from the secrecy of a -maiden-bower--these throw a tone of Lightness over their sections of the -drama; [=ii.= ii, iii; =iii.= v, &c.] Launcelot is an incarnation of the -conventional Comic serving-man, [=ii.= ii, from 34.] and his Comedy -becomes broad Farce where he teases the sand-blind Gobbo and draws him -on to bless his astonishing beard. [_a distinction of the modern -Drama._] How distinct an effect is this mere Mixture of Tones within the -same play may be seen in the fact that the Classical Drama found it -impossible. The exclusive and uncompromising spirit of antiquity carried -caste into art itself, and their Tragedy and Comedy were kept rigidly -separate, and indeed were connected with different rituals. The spirit -of modern life is marked by its comprehensiveness and reconciliation of -opposites; and nothing is more important in dramatic history than the -way in which Shakespeare and his contemporaries created a new departure -in art, by seizing upon the rude jumble of sport and earnest which the -mob loved, and converting it into a source of stirring passion-effects. -For a new faculty of mental grasp is generated by this harmony of tones -in the English Drama. If the artist introduces every tone into the story -he thereby gets hold of every tone in the spectators' emotional nature; -the world of the play is presented from every point of view as it works -upon the various passions, and the difference this makes is the -difference between simply looking down upon a surface and viewing a -solid from all round:--the mixture of tones, so to speak, makes passion -of three dimensions. Moreover it brings the world of fiction nearer to -the world of nature, which has never yet evolved an experience in which -brightness was dissevered from gloom: half the pleasure of the world is -wrung out of others' pain; the two jostle in the street, house together -under every roof, share every stage of life, and refuse to be sundered -even in the mysteries of death. - -Quite a distinct class of effects is produced when the contrasting tones -are not only included in the same drama but are further brought into -immediate contact and made to react upon each other. [_Tone-Play._] -_Tone-Play_ is made by simple variety and alternation of light and -serious passions. It has been pointed out in a previous chapter what a -striking example of this is _The Merchant of Venice_, in which scene by -scene two stories of youthful love and of deadly feud alternate with one -another as they progress to their climaxes, [=iii.= ii. 221.] until from -the rapture of Portia united to Bassanio we drop to the full realisation -of Antonio in the grasp of Shylock; and again the cruel anxiety of the -trial [=iv.= i. 408.] and its breathless shock of deliverance are -balanced by the mad fun of the ring trick [=v.= i.] and the joy of the -moonlight scene which Jessica feels is too deep for merriment. -[_Tone-Relief._] A slight variation of this is _Tone-Relief_: in an -action which is cast in a uniform tone the continuity is broken by a -brief spell of a contrary passion, the contrast at once relieving and -intensifying the prevailing tone. One of the best examples -(notwithstanding its coarseness) is the introduction in _Macbeth_ of the -jolly Porter, [=ii.= iii. 1.] who keeps the impatient nobles outside in -the storm till his jest is comfortably finished, making each furious -knock fit in to his elaborate conceit of Hell-gate. This tone of broad -farce, with nothing else like it in the whole play, comes as a single -ray of common daylight to separate the agony of the dark night's murder -from the agony of the struggle for concealment. [_Tone-Clash._] The -mixture of tones goes a stage further when opposing tones of passion -_clash_ in the same incident and are _fused_ together. These terms are, -I think, scarcely metaphorical: as a physiological fact we see our -physical susceptibility to pleasurable and painful emotions drawn into -conflict with one another in the phenomena of hysteria; and their mental -analogues must be capable of much closer union. As examples of these -effects resting upon an appeal to opposite sides of our emotional -nature at the same time may be instanced the flash of comic irony, -[=iv.= i. 288, &c.] already referred to more than once, that starts up -in the most pathetic moment of Antonio's trial by his friend's allusion -to his newly wedded wife. Of the same double nature are the strokes of -pathetic humour in this play; [=iii.= iii. 32.] as where Antonio -describes himself so worn with grief that he will hardly spare a pound -of flesh to his bloody creditor; or again his pun, - -[=iv.= i. 280.] - - For if the Jew do cut but deep enough - I'll pay it presently with all my heart! - -Shakespeare is very true to nature in thus borrowing the language of -word-play to express suffering so exquisite as to leave sober language -far behind. [_Tone-Storm._] Finally Tone-Clash rises into _Tone-Storm_ -in such rare climaxes as the centrepiece of _Lear_, [=iii.= i-vi.] where -against a tempest of nature as a fitting background we have the conflict -of three madnesses, passion, idiocy, and folly, bidding against one -another, and inflaming each other's wildness into an inextricable whirl -of frenzy. - -[_Movement applied to Passion._] - -The idea of movement has next to be applied to Passion. Passion is -experience as grasped by our emotional nature: this will be sensitive -not only to isolated fragments of experience, but equally to the -succession of incidents. The movement of events will produce a -corresponding movement in our emotional nature as this is variously -affected by them; and as the succession of incidents seems to take -direction so the play of our sympathies will seem to take form. Again, -events cannot succeed one another without suggesting causes at work and -controlling forces: when such causes and forces are of a nature to work -upon our sympathy another element of Passion will appear. [_Motive Form -and Motive Force._] Under Passion-Movement then are comprehended two -things--_Motive Form_ and _Motive Force_. [page 278.] The first of these -is a thing in which two of the great elements of Drama, Passion, and -Plot, overlap, and it will be best considered in connection with Plot -which takes in dramatic form as a whole. Here we have to consider the -Motive Forces of dramatic passion. The dramatist is, as it were, a God -in his universe, and disposes the ultimate issues of human experience at -his pleasure: what then are the principles which are found to have -governed his ordering of events? to personages in a drama what are the -great determinants of fate? - -[_Poetic Justice a form of art-beauty._] - -The first of the great determinants of fate in the Drama is _Poetic -Justice_. What exactly is the meaning of this term? It is often -understood to mean the correction of justice, as if justice in poetry -were more just than the justice of real life. But this is not supported -by the facts of dramatic story. An English judge and jury would revolt -against measuring out to Shylock the justice that is meted to him by the -court of Venice, though the same persons beholding the scene in a -theatre might feel their sense of Poetic Justice satisfied; unless, -indeed, which might easily happen, the confusion of ideas suggested by -this term operated to check their acquiescence in the issue of the play. -A better notion of Poetic Justice is to understand it as the -modification of justice by considerations of art. This holds good even -where justice and retribution do determine the fate of individuals in -the Drama; in these cases our dramatic satisfaction still rests, not on -the high degree of justice exhibited, but on the artistic mode in which -it works. A policeman catching a thief with his hand in a neighbour's -pocket and bringing him to summary punishment affords an example of -complete justice, yet its very success robs it of all poetic qualities; -the same thief defeating all the natural machinery of the law, yet -overtaken after all by a questionable ruse would be to the poetic sense -far more interesting. - -[_Nemesis as a dramatic motive._] - -Treating Poetic Justice, then, as the application of art to morals, its -most important phase will be _Nemesis_, which we have already seen -involves an artistic link between sin and retribution. The artistic -connection may be of the most varied description. [_Varieties of -Nemesis._] There is a Nemesis of perfect equality, Shylock reaping -measure for measure as he has sown. [compare =iii.= i. 118 and 165.] -When Nemesis overtook the Roman conspirators it was partly its -suddenness that made it impressive: within fifty lines of their appeal -to all time they have fallen into an attitude of deprecation. For -Richard, on the contrary, retribution was delayed to the last moment: to -have escaped to the eleventh hour is shown to be no security. - - Jove strikes the Titans down - Not when they first begin their mountain piling, - But when another rock would crown their work. - -Nemesis may be emphasised by repetition and multiplication; in the world -in which Richard is plunged there appears to be no event which is not a -nemesis. Or the point may be the unlooked-for source from which the -nemesis comes; as when upon the murder of Cęsar a colossus of energy and -resource starts up in the time-serving and frivolous Antony, [=ii.= i. -165.] whom the conspirators had spared for his insignificance. Or again, -retribution may be made bitter to the sinner by his tracing in it his -own act and deed: from Lear himself, and from no other source, Goneril -and Regan have received the power they use to crush his spirit. Nay, the -very prize for which the sinner has sinned turns out in some cases the -nemesis fate has provided for him; as when Goneril and Regan use their -ill-gotten power for the state intrigues which work their death. And -most keenly pointed of all comes the nemesis that is combined with -mockery: [=iii.= i. 49.] Macbeth, if he had not essayed the murder of -Banquo as an _extra_ precaution, might have enjoyed his stolen crown in -safety; [=iv.= iii. 219.] his expedition against Macduff's castle slays -all _except_ the fate-appointed avenger; [=iv.= ii. 46.] Richard -disposes of his enemies with flawless success until _the last_, Dorset, -escapes to his rival. - -Such is Nemesis, and such are some of the modes in which the connection -between sin and retribution may be made artistically impressive. Poetic -Justice, however, is a wider term than Nemesis. The latter implies some -offence, as an occasion for the operation of judicial machinery. -[_Poetic Justice other than Nemesis._] But, apart from sin, fate may be -out of accord with character, and the correction of this ill -distribution will satisfy the dramatic sense. But here again the -practice of dramatic providence appears regulated, not with a view to -abstract justice, but to justice modified by dramatic sympathy: Poetic -Justice extends to the exhibition of fate moving in the interests of -those with whom we sympathise and to the confusion of those with whom we -are in antagonism. [=iv.= i. 346-363.] Viewed as a piece of equity the -sentence on Shylock--a plaintiff who has lost his suit by an accident of -statute-law--seems highly questionable. On the other hand, this sentence -brings a fortune to a girl who has won our sympathies in spite of her -faults; it makes provision for those for whom there is a dramatic -necessity of providing; above all it is in accord with our secret liking -that good fortune should go with the bright and happy, and sever itself -from the mean and sordid. Whether this last is justice, I will not -discuss: it is enough that it is one of the instincts of the -imagination, and in creative literature justice must pay tribute to art. - -[_Pathos as a dramatic motive._] - -But however widely the term be stretched, justice is only one of the -determinants of fate in the Drama: confusion on this point has led to -many errors of criticism. The case of Cordelia is in point. Because she -is involved in the ruin of Lear it is felt by some commentators that a -consideration of justice must be sought to explain her death: they find -it perhaps in her original resistance to her father; or the ingenious -suggestion has been made that Cordelia, in her measures to save her -father, invades England, and this breach of patriotism needs atonement. -But this is surely twisting the story to an explanation, not extracting -an explanation from the details of the story. It would be a violation of -all dramatic proportion, needing the strongest evidence from the details -of the play, if Cordelia's 'most small fault' betrayed her to dramatic -execution. [=iv.= iv. 27.] And as to the sin against patriotism, the -whole notion of it is foreign to the play itself, [=ii.= ii. 170-177[4]; -=iii.= i, v.] in which the truest patriots, such as Kent and Gloucester, -are secretly confederate with Cordelia and look upon her as the hope of -their unhappy country; [=iv.= ii. 2-10 (compare 55, 95); =v.= i. 21-27.] -while even Albany himself, however necessary he finds it to repel the -invader, yet distinctly feels that justice is on the other side. The -fact is that in Cordelia's case, as in countless other cases, motives -determine fate which have in them no relation to justice; fiction being -in this matter in harmony with real life, where in only a minority of -instances can we recognise any element of justice or injustice as -entering into the fates of individuals. When in real life a little child -dies, what consideration of justice is there that bears on such an -experience? Nevertheless there is an irresistible sense of beauty in -the idea of the fleeting child-life arrested while yet in its -completeness, before the rude hand of time has begun to trace lines of -passion or hardness; the parent indeed may not feel this in the case of -his own child, but in art, where there is no mist of individual feeling -to blind, the sense of beauty comes out stronger than the sense of loss. -It is the mission of the Drama thus to interpret the beauty of fate: it -seeks, as Aristotle puts it, to purify our emotions by healthy exercise. -The Drama does with human experience what Painting does with external -nature. There are landscapes whose beauty is obvious to all; but it is -one of the privileges of the artist to reveal the charm that lies in the -most ordinary scenery, until the ideal can be recognised everywhere, and -nature itself becomes art. Similarly there are striking points in life, -such as the vindication of justice, which all can catch: but it is for -the dramatist, as the artist in life, to arrange the experience he -depicts so as to bring out the hidden beauties of fate, until the -trained eye sees a meaning in all that happens;--until indeed the word -'suffering' itself has only to be translated into its Greek equivalent, -and _pathos_ is recognised as a form of beauty. Accumulation of Pathos -then must be added to Poetic Justice as a determinant of fate in the -Drama. And our sensitiveness to this form of beauty is nowhere more -signally satisfied than when we see Cordelia dead in the arms of Lear: -fate having mysteriously seconded her self-devotion, and nothing, not -even her life, being left out to make her sacrifice complete. - -[_The Supernatural as a dramatic motive._] - -There remains a third great determinant of fate in the Drama--the -Supernatural. I have in a former chapter pointed out how in relation to -this topic the modern Drama stands in a different position from that of -ancient Tragedy. In the Drama of antiquity the leading motive forces -were supernatural, either the secret force of Destiny, or the -interposition of supernatural beings who directly interfered with human -events. We are separated from this view of life by a revolution of -thought which has substituted Providence for Destiny as the controller -of the universe, and absorbed the supernatural within the domain of Law. -[_The Supernatural rationalised in modern Drama._] Yet elements that had -once entered so deeply into the Drama would not be easily lost to the -machinery of Passion-Movement; supernatural agency has a degree of -recognition in modern thought, and even Destiny may still be utilised if -it can be stripped of antagonism to the idea of a benevolent Providence. -To begin with the latter: the problem for a modern dramatist is to -reconcile Destiny with Law. The characteristics which made the ancient -conception of fate dramatically impressive--its irresistibility, its -unintelligibility, and its suggestion of personal hostility--he may -still insinuate into the working of events: only the destiny must be -rationalised, that is, the course of events must at the same time be -explicable by natural causes. - -[_As an objective force in Irony._] - -First: Shakespeare gives us Destiny acting objectively, as an external -force, in the form of _Irony_, already discussed in connection with the -standard illustration of it in _Macbeth_. In the movement of this play -Destiny appears in the most pronounced form of mockery: every difficulty -and check being in the issue converted into an instrument for furthering -the course of events. Yet this mockery is wholly without any suggestion -of malignity in the governing power of the universe; its effect being -rather to measure the irresistibility of righteous retribution. This -Irony makes just the difference between the ordinary operations of Law -or Providence and the suggestion of Destiny: yet each step in the action -is sufficiently explained by rational considerations. [=i.= iv. 37.] -What more natural than that Duncan should proclaim his son heir-apparent -to check any hopes that too successful service might excite? [=i.= iv. -48.] Yet what more natural than that this loss of Macbeth's remote -chance of the crown should be the occasion of his resolve no longer to -be content with chances? [=ii.= iii. 141.] What more natural than that -the sons of the murdered king should take flight upon the revelation of -a treason useless to its perpetrator as long as they were living? Yet -what again more natural than that the momentary reaction consequent upon -this flight should, [=ii.= iv. 21-41.] in the general fog of suspicion -and terror, give opportunity to the object of universal dread himself to -take the reins of government? The Irony is throughout no more than a -garb worn by rational history. - -[_As a subjective force in Infatuation._] - -Or, again, Destiny may be exhibited as a subjective force in -_Infatuation_, or _Judicial Blindness_: 'whom the gods would destroy -they first blind.' This was a conception specially impressive to ancient -ethics; the lesson it gathered from almost every great fall was that of -a spiritual darkening which hid from the sinner his own danger, obvious -to every other eye, till he had been tempted beyond the possibility of -retreat. - - Falling in frenzied guilt, he knows it not; - So thick the blinding cloud - That o'er him floats; and Rumour widely spread - With many a sigh repeats the dreary doom, - A mist that o'er the house - In gathering darkness broods. - -Such Infatuation is very far from being inconsistent with the idea of -Law; indeed, it appears repeatedly in the strong figures of Scriptural -speech, by which the ripening of sin to its own destruction--a merciful -law of a righteously-ordered universe--is suggested as the direct act of -Him who is the founder of the universe and its laws. By such figures God -is represented as hardening Pharaoh's heart; or, again, an almost -technical description of Infatuation is put by the fervour of prophecy -into the mouth of God: - - Make the heart of this people fat, and make their ears heavy, and - shut their eyes; lest they see with their eyes, and hear with their - ears, and understand with their heart, and convert, and be healed. - -[=v.= viii. 13.] - -In the case of Macbeth the judicial blindness is maintained to the last -moment, and he pauses in the final combat to taunt Macduff with certain -destruction. Yet, while we thus get the full dramatic effect of -Infatuation, it is so far rationalised that we are allowed to see the -machinery by which the Infatuation has been brought about: [=iii.= v. -16.] we have heard the Witches arrange to deceive Macbeth with false -oracles. A very dramatic, but wholly natural, example of Infatuation -appears at the turning-point of Richard's career, where, when he has -just discovered that Richmond is the point from which the storm of -Nemesis threatens to break upon him, [=iv.= ii. 98, &c.] prophecies -throng upon his memory which might have all his life warned him of this -issue, had he not been blind to them till this moment. [=i.= iii. 131.] -Again, Antonio's challenge to Shylock to do his worst is, as I have -already pointed out, an outburst of _hybris_, the insolence of -Infatuation: but this is no more than a natural outcome of a conflict -between two implacable temperaments. In Infatuation, then, as in all its -other forms, Destiny is exhibited by Shakespeare as harmonised with -natural law. - -[_Supernatural agencies._] - -Besides Destiny the Shakespearean Drama admits direct supernatural -agencies--witches, ghosts, apparitions, as well as portents and -violations of natural law. It appears to me idle to contend that these -in Shakespeare are not really supernatural, but must be interpreted as -delusions of their victims. There may be single cases, such as the -appearance of Banquo to Macbeth, where, as no eye sees it but his own, -the apparition may be resolved into an hallucination. But to determine -Shakespeare's general practice it is enough to point to the Ghost in -_Hamlet_, which, as seen by three persons at once and on separate -occasions, is indisputably objective: and a single instance is -sufficient to establish the assumption in the Shakespearean Drama of -supernatural beings with a real existence. Zeal for Shakespeare's -rationality is a main source of the opposite view; but for the -assumption of such supernatural existences the responsibility lies not -with Shakespeare, but with the opinion of the age he is pourtraying. A -more important question is how far Shakespeare uses such supernatural -agency as a motive force in his plays; how far does he allow it to enter -into the working of events, for the interpretation of which he is -responsible? On this point Shakespeare's usage is clear and subtle: he -uses the agency of the supernatural to intensify and to illuminate human -action, not to determine it. - -[_Intensifying human action._] - -Supernatural agency intensifying human action is illustrated in -_Macbeth_. No one can seriously doubt the objective existence of the -Witches in this play, or that they are endowed with superhuman sources -of knowledge. But the question is, do they in reality turn Macbeth to -crime? In one of the chapters devoted to this play I have dwelt on the -importance of the point that Macbeth has been already meditating treason -in his heart when he meets the Witches on the heath. His secret -thoughts--which he betrays in his guilty start--[=i.= iii. 51.] have -been an invitation to the powers of evil, and they have obeyed the -summons: Macbeth has already ventured a descent, and they add an impulse -downward. To bring this out the more clearly, Shakespeare keeps Banquo -side by side with Macbeth through the critical stages of the temptation: -Banquo has made no overtures to temptation, and to him the tempters have -no mission. It is noticeable that where the two warriors meet the -Witches on the heath it is Banquo who begins the conversation. - -[=i.= iii. 38-50.] - - _Banquo._ How far is 't called to Forres? - -No answer. The silence attracts his attention to those he is addressing. - - What are these - So wither'd and so wild in their attire, - That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, - And yet are on 't? - -Still no answer. - - Live you? or are you aught - That man may question? - -They signify in dumb show that they may not answer. - - You seem to understand me, - By each at once her chappy finger laying - Upon her skinny lips: you should be women, - And yet your beards forbid me to interpret - That you are so. - -Still he can draw no answer. At last Macbeth chimes in: - - Speak, if you can: what are you? - -The tamperer with temptation has spoken, and in a moment they break out, -'All hail, Macbeth!' and ply their supernatural task. [57.] Later on in -the scene, when directly challenged by Banquo, they do respond and give -out an oracle for him. But into his upright mind the poison-germs of -insight into the future fall harmlessly; it is because Macbeth is -already tainted that these breed in him a fever of crime. [=iii.= v. and -=iv.= i.] In the second incident of the Witches, so far from their being -the tempters, it is Macbeth who seeks them and forces from them -knowledge of the future. Yet, even here, what is the actual effect of -their revelation upon Macbeth? It is, like that of his air-drawn dagger, -only to marshal him along the way that he is going. [=iv.= i. 74.] They -bid him beware Macduff: he answers, 'Thou hast harp'd my fear aright.' -They give him preternatural pledges of safety: are these a help to him -in enjoying the rewards of sin? [=iv.= iii. 4, &c.] On the contrary, as -a matter of fact we find Macbeth, in panic of suspicion, seeking -security by means of daily butchery; the oracles have produced in him -confidence enough to give agony to the bitterness of his betrayal, but -not such confidence as to lead him to dispense with a single one of the -natural bulwarks to tyranny. The function of the Witches throughout the -action of this play is exactly expressed by a phrase Banquo uses in -connection with them: [=i.= iii. 124.] they are only 'instruments of -darkness,' assisting to carry forward courses of conduct initiated -independently of them. Macbeth has made the destiny which the Witches -reveal. - -[_Illuminating human action._] - -Again, supernatural agency is used to illuminate human action: the -course of events in a drama not ceasing to obey natural causes, but -becoming, by the addition of the supernatural agency, endowed with a new -art-beauty. [_The Oracular Action._] The great example of this is the -_Oracular Action_. This important element of dramatic effect--how it -consists in the working out of Destiny from mystery to clearness, and -the different forms it assumes--has been discussed at length in a former -chapter. The question here is, how far do we find such superhuman -knowledge used as a force in the movement of events? As Shakespeare -handles oracular machinery, the conditions of natural working in the -course of events are not in the least degree altered by the revelation -of the future. The actor's belief (or disbelief) in the oracle may be -one of the circumstances which have influenced his action--as it would -have done in the real life of the age--but to the spectator, to whom the -Drama is to reveal the real governing forces of the world, the oracular -action is presented not as a force but as a light. It gives to a course -of events the illumination that can be in actual fact given to it by -History, the office of which is to make each detail of a story -interesting in the light of the explanation that comes when all the -details are complete. Only it uses the supernatural agency to project -this illumination into the midst of the events themselves, which History -cannot give till they are concluded; and also it carries the art-effect -of such illumination a stage further than History could carry it, by -making it progressive in intelligibility, and making this progress keep -pace with the progress of the events themselves. Fate will allow none -but Macduff to be the slayer of Macbeth. True: but Macduff (who moreover -knows nothing of his destiny) is the most deeply injured of Macbeth's -subjects, and as a fact we find it needs the news of his injury to rouse -him to his task; [=iv.= iii.] as he approaches the battle he feels that -the ghosts of his wife [=v.= vii. 15.] and children will haunt him if he -allows any other to be the tyrant's executioner. Thus far the -interpretation of History might go: but the oracular machinery -introduced points dimly to Macduff before the first breath of the King's -suspicion has assailed him, and the suggestiveness becomes clearer and -clearer as the convergence of events carries the action to its climax. -The natural working of human events has been undisturbed: only the -spectator's mind has been endowed with a special illumination for -receiving them. - -[_The Supernatural as Dramatic Background._] - -In another and very different way we have supernatural agency called in -to throw a peculiar illumination over human events. In dealing with the -movement of _Julius Cęsar_ I have described at length the _Supernatural -Background_ of storm, tempest, and portent, which assist the emotional -agitation throughout the second stage of the action. These are clearly -supernatural in that they are made to suggest a mystic sympathy with, -and indeed prescience of, mutations in human life. Yet their function is -simply that of illumination: they cast a glow of emotion over the -spectator as he watches the train of events, though all the while the -action of these events remains within the sphere of natural causes. In -narrative and lyric poetry this endowment of nature with human -sympathies becomes the commonest of poetic devices, personification; and -here it never suggests anything supernatural because it is so clearly -recognised as belonging to expression. But 'expression' in the Drama -extends beyond language, and takes in presentation; and it is only a -device in presentation that tumult in nature and tumult in history, each -perfectly natural by itself, are made to have a suggestion of the -supernatural by their coincidence in time. After all there is no real -meaning in storm any more than in calm weather, only that contemplative -observers have transferred their own emotions to particular phases of -nature: it would seem, then, a very slight and natural reversal of the -process to call in this humanised nature to assist the emotions which -have created it. - -In these various forms Shakespeare introduces supernatural agency into -his dramas. In my discussion of them it will be understood that I am not -in the least endeavouring to explain away the reality of their -supernatural character. My purpose is to show for how small a proportion -of his total effect Shakespeare draws on the supernatural, allowing it -to carry further or to illustrate, but not to mould or determine a -course of events. It will readily be granted that he brings effect -enough out of a supernatural incident to justify the use of it to our -rational sense of economy. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[4] The text in this passage is regarded as difficult by many editors, -and is marked in the Globe Edition as corrupt. I do not see the -difficulty of taking it as it stands, if regard be had to the general -situation, in which (as Steevens has pointed out) Kent is reading the -letter in disjointed snatches by the dim moonlight. Commentators seem to -me to have increased the obscurity by taking 'enormous' in its rare -sense of 'irregular,' 'out of order,' and making it refer to the state -of England. Surely it is used in its ordinary meaning, and applies to -France; the clause in which it occurs being part of the _actual words_ -of Cordelia's letter, who naturally uses 'this' of the country from -which she writes. Inverted commas would make the connection clear. - - Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, - That by thy comfortable beams I may - Peruse this letter!--'Nothing almost sees miracles'-- - 'But misery'--I know 'tis from Cordelia, - Who hath 'most fortunately been inform'd' - Of my 'obscured course, and shall find time - From this enormous state'--'seeking to give - Losses their remedies,' &c. - -I.e. Cordelia promises she will find leisure from the oppressive cares -of her new kingdom to remedy the evils of England. Kent gives up the -attempt to read; but enough has been brought out for the dramatist's -purpose at that particular stage, viz. to hint that Kent was in -correspondence with Cordelia, and looked to her as the deliverer of -England. - - - - -XIV. - -INTEREST OF PLOT. - - -[_Idea of Plot as the application of design to human life._] - -WE now come to the third great division of Dramatic Criticism--Plot, or -the purely intellectual side of action. Action itself has been treated -above as the mutual connection and interweaving of all the details in a -work of art so as to unite in an impression of unity. But we have found -it impossible to discuss Character and Passion entirely apart from such -action and interworking: the details of human interest become dramatic -by being permeated with action-force. When however this mutual relation -of all the parts is looked at by itself, as an abstract interest of -design, the human life being no more than the material to which this -design is applied, then we get the interest of Plot. So defined, I hope -Plot is sufficiently removed from the vulgar conception of it as -sensational mystery, which has done so much to lower this element of -dramatic effect in the eyes of literary students. If Plot be understood -as the extension of design to the sphere of human life, threads of -experience being woven into a symmetrical pattern as truly as -vari-coloured threads of wool are woven into a piece of wool-work, then -the conception of it will come out in its true dignity. What else is -such reduction to order than the meeting-point of science and art? -Science is engaged in tracing rhythmic movements in the beautiful -confusion of the heavenly bodies, or reducing the bewildering variety of -external nature to regular species and nice gradations of life. -Similarly, art continues the work of creation in calling ideal order -out of the chaos of things as they are. And so the tangle of life, with -its jumble of conflicting aspirations, its crossing and twisting of -contrary motives, its struggle and partnership of the whole human race, -in which no two individuals are perfectly alike and no one is wholly -independent of the rest--this has gradually in the course of ages been -laboriously traced by the scientific historian into some such harmonious -plan as evolution. But he finds himself long ago anticipated by the -dramatic artist, who has touched crime and seen it link itself with -nemesis, who has transformed passion into pathos, who has received the -shapeless facts of reality and returned them as an ordered economy of -design. This application of form to human life is Plot: and Shakespeare -has had no higher task to accomplish than in his revolutionising our -ideas of Plot, until the old critical conceptions of it completely broke -down when applied to his dramas. The appreciation of Shakespeare will -not be complete until he is seen to be as subtle a weaver of plots as he -is a deep reader of the human heart. - -[_Unity applied to Plot._] - -We have to consider Plot in its three aspects of unity, complexity, and -development. [_The Single Action._] The simplest element of Plot is the -_Single Action_, which may be defined as any train of incidents in a -drama which can be conceived as a separate whole. Thus a series of -details bringing out the idea of a crime and its nemesis will constitute -a Nemesis Action, an oracle and its fulfilment will make up an Oracular -Action, a problem and its solution a Problem Action. Throughout the -treatment of Plot the root idea of _pattern_ should be steadily kept in -mind: in the case of these Single Actions--the units of Plot--we have as -it were the lines of a geometrical design, made up of their details as a -geometrical line is made up of separate points. [_Forms of Dramatic -Action._] The _Form_ of a dramatic action--the shape of the line, so to -speak--will be that which gives the train of incidents its -distinctiveness: the nemesis, the oracle, the problem. An action may get -its distinctiveness from its tone as a Comic Action or a Tragic Action; -or it may be a Character Action, when a series of details acquire a -unity in bringing out the character of Hastings or Lady Macbeth; an -action may be an Intrigue, or the Rise and Fall of a person, or simply a -Story like the Caskets Story. Finally, an action may combine several -different forms at the same time, just as a geometrical line may be at -once, say, an arch and a spiral. The action that traces Macbeth's career -has been treated as exhibiting a triple form of Nemesis, Irony, and -Oracular Action; further, it is a Tragic Action in tone, it is a -Character Action in its contrast with the career of Lady Macbeth, and it -stands in the relation of Main Action to others in the play. - -[_Complexity applied to Action: a distinction of Modern Drama._] - -Now what I have called Single Action constituted the whole conception of -Plot in ancient Tragedy; in the Shakespearean Drama it exists only as a -unit of Complex Action. The application of complexity to action is -rendered particularly easy by the idea of pattern, patterns which appeal -to the eye being more often made up of several lines crossing and -interweaving than of single lines. Ancient tragedy clung to 'unity of -action,' and excluded such matter as threatened to set up a second -interest in a play. Modern Plot has a unity of a much more elaborate -order, perhaps best expressed by the word _harmony_--a harmony of -distinct actions, each of which has its separate unity. The illustration -of harmony is suggestive. Just as in musical harmony each part is a -melody of itself, though one of them leads and is _the_ melody, so a -modern plot draws together into a common system a Main Action and other -inferior yet distinct actions. Moreover the step from melody alone to -melody harmonised, or that from the single instruments of the ancient -world to the combinations of a modern orchestra, marks just the -difference between ancient and modern art which we find reflected in the -different conception of Plot held by Sophocles and by Shakespeare. -Shakespeare's plots are federations of plots: in his ordering of -dramatic events we trace a common self-government made out of elements -which have an independence of their own, and at the same time merge a -part of their independence in common action. - -[_Analysis of Action._] - -The foundation of critical treatment in the matter of Plot is the -_Analysis_ of Complex Action into its constituent Single[5] Actions. -This is easy in such a play as _The Merchant of Venice_. Here two of the -actions are stories, a form of unity readily grasped, and which in the -present case had an independent existence outside the play. These -identified and separated, it is easy also to see that Jessica -constitutes a fresh centre of interest around which other details gather -themselves; that the incidents in which Launcelot and Gobbo are -concerned are separable from these; while the matter of the rings -constitutes a distinct episode of the Caskets Story: already the -junction of so many separate stories in a common working gratifies our -sense of design. In other plays where the elements are not stories the -individuality of the Single Actions will not always be so positive: all -would readily distinguish the Lear Main plot from the Underplot of -Gloucester, but in the subdivision of these difference of opinion -arises. [_Canons of Analysis._] In an Appendix to this chapter I have -suggested schemes of Analysis for each of the five plays treated in this -work: [_Analysis tentative not positive._] I may here add four remarks. -(1) Any series of details which can be collected from various parts of a -drama to make up a common interest may be recognised in Analysis as a -separate action. It follows from this that there may be very different -modes of dividing and arranging the elements of the same plot: such -Analysis is not a matter in which we are to look for right or wrong, but -simply for better or worse. No scheme will ever exhaust the wealth of -design which reveals itself in a play of Shakespeare; and the value of -Analysis as a critical process is not confined to the scheme it -produces, but includes also the insight which the mere effort to analyse -a drama gives into the harmony and connection of its parts. [_Design as -the test of Analysis._] (2) The essence of Plot being design, that will -be the best scheme of Analysis which best brings out the idea of -symmetry and design. [_Analysis exhaustive._] (3) Analysis must be -exhaustive: every detail in the drama must find a place in some one of -the actions. [_The elementary actions not mutually exclusive._] (4) The -constituent actions will of course not be mutually exclusive, many -details being common to several actions: these details are so many -meeting-points, in which the lines of action cross one another.--With -these sufficiently obvious principles I must leave the schemes of -analysis in the Appendix to justify themselves. - -[_The Enveloping Action._] - -In the process of analysis we are led to notice special forms of action: -in particular, the _Enveloping Action_. This interesting element of Plot -may be described as the fringe, or border, or frame, of a dramatic -pattern. It appears when the personages and incidents which make up the -essential interest of a play are more or less loosely involved with some -interest more wide-reaching than their own, though more vaguely -presented. It is seen in its simplest form where a story occupied with -private personages connects itself at points with public history: homely -life being thus wrapped round with life of the great world; fiction -having reality given to it by its being set in a frame of accepted fact. -We are familiar enough with it in prose fiction. Almost all the Waverley -Novels have Enveloping Actions, Scott's regular plan being to entangle -the fortunes of individuals, which are to be the main interest of the -story, with public events which make known history. Thus in _Woodstock_ -a Cavalier maiden and her Puritan lover become, as the story proceeds, -mixed up in incidents of the Commonwealth and Restoration; or again, the -plot of _Redgauntlet_, which consists in the separate adventures of a -pair of Scotch friends, is brought to an issue in a Jacobite rising in -which both become involved. The Enveloping Action is a favourite element -in Shakespeare's plots. In the former part of the book I have pointed -out how the War of the Roses forms an Enveloping Action to _Richard -III_; how its connection with the other actions is close enough for it -to catch the common feature of Nemesis; and how it is marked with -special clearness by the introduction of Queen Margaret and the Duchess -of York to bring out its opposite sides. In _Macbeth_ there is an -Enveloping Action of the supernatural centring round the Witches: the -human workings of the play are wrapped in a deeper working out of -destiny, with prophetic beings to keep it before us. _Julius Cęsar_, as -a story of political conspiracy and political reaction, is furnished -with a loose Enveloping Action in the passions of the Roman mob: this is -a vague power outside recognised political forces, appearing at the -beginning to mark that uncertainty in public life which can drive even -good men to conspiracy, while from the turning-point it furnishes the -force the explosion of which is made to secure the conspirators' -downfall. A typical example is to be found in _Lear_, all the more -typical from the fact that it is by no means a prominent interest in the -play. The Enveloping Action in this drama is the French War. The seeds -of this war are sown in the opening incident, [=i.= i. 265.] in which -the French King receives his wife from Lear with scarcely veiled insult: -[=i.= ii. 23.] it troubles Gloucester in the next scene that France is -'in choler parted.' Then we get, in the second Act, a distant hint of -rupture from the letter of Cordelia read by Kent in the stocks. [=ii.= -ii. 172.] In the other scenes of this Act the only political question is -of 'likely wars toward' between the English dukes; [=ii.= i. 11.] but at -the beginning of the third Act Kent directly connects these quarrels of -the dukes with the growing chance of a war with France: [=iii.= i. -19-34.] the French have had intelligence of the 'scattered kingdom,' and -have been 'wise in our negligence.' In this Act Gloucester confides to -Edmund the feeler he has received from France, [=iii.= iii.] and his -trustfulness is the cause of his downfall; [=iii.= iii. 22.] Edmund -treacherously reveals the confidence to Cornwall, [=iii.= v. 18.] and -makes it the occasion of his rise. Gloucester's measures for the safety -of Lear have naturally a connection with the expected invasion, [=iii.= -vi. 95-108.] and he sends him to Dover to find welcome and protection. -[=iii.= vii. 2, &c.] The final scene of this Act, devoted to the cruel -outrage on Gloucester, shows from its very commencement the important -connection of the Enveloping Action with the rest of the play: the -French army has landed, and it is this which is felt to make Lear's -escape so important, and which causes such signal revenge to be taken on -Gloucester. Throughout the fourth Act all the threads of interest are -becoming connected with the invading army at Dover; if this Act has a -separate interest of its own in Edmund's intrigues with both Goneril and -Regan at once, [=iv.= ii. 11, 15; =iv.= v. 12, 30 &c.] yet these -intrigues are possible only because Edmund is hurrying backwards and -forwards between the princesses in the measures of military preparation -for the battle. The fifth Act has its scene on the battlefield, and the -double issue of the battle stamps itself on the whole issue of the play: -the death of Lear and Cordelia is the result of the French defeat, -while, on the other hand, [=v.= iii. 238, 256.] all who were to reap the -fruits of guilt die in the hour of victory. Thus this French War is a -model of Enveloping Action--outside the main issues, yet loosely -connecting itself with every phase of the movement; originating in the -incident which is the origin of the whole action; the possibility of it -developed by the progress of the Main story, alike by the cruelty shown -to Lear and by the rivalry between his daughters; the fear of it playing -a main part in the tragic side of the Underplot, and the preparation for -it serving as occasion for the remaining interest of intrigue; finally, -breaking out as a reality in which the whole action of the play merges. - -[_Economy: supplementary to Analysis._] - -From Analysis we pass naturally to _Economy_. Considered in the -abstract, as a phase of plot-beauty, Economy may be defined as that -perfection of design which lies midway between incompleteness and waste. -Its formula is that a play must be seen to contain all the details -necessary to the unity, no detail superfluous to the unity, and each -detail expanded in exact proportion to its bearing on the unity. In -practice, as a branch of treatment in Shakespeare-Criticism, Economy, -like Analysis, deals with complexity of plot. The two are supplementary -to one another. The one resolves a complexity into its elements, the -other traces the unity running through these elements. Analysis -distinguishes the separate actions which make up a plot, while Economy -notes the various bonds between these actions and the way in which they -are brought into a common system: it being clear that the more the -separateness of the different interests can be reduced the richer will -be the economy of design. - -[_Economic Forms._] - -It will be enough to note three Economic Forms. [_Connection_] The first -is simple _Connection_: the actual contact of action with action, the -separate lines of the pattern meeting at various points. In other words, -the different actions have details or personages in common. Bassanio is -clearly a bond between the two main stories of _The Merchant of Venice_, -in both of which he figures so prominently; and it has been pointed out -that the scene of Bassanio's successful choice is an incident with which -all the stories which enter into the action of the play connect -themselves. [_and Linking._] There are _Link Personages,_ who have a -special function so to connect stories, and similarly _Link Actions_: -Gloucester in the play of _Lear_ and the Jessica Story in _The Merchant -of Venice_ are examples. Or Connection may come by the interweaving of -stories as they progress: they alternate, or fill, so to speak, each -other's interstices. [from =ii.= i. to =iii.= ii. 319.] Where the Story -of the Jew halts for a period of three months, the elopement of Jessica -comes to occupy the interval; or again, scenes from the tragedy of the -Gloucester family separate scenes from the tragedy of Lear, until the -two tragedies have become mutually entangled. Envelopment too serves as -a kind of Connection: the actions which make up such a play as _Richard -III_ gain additional compactness by their being merged in a common -Enveloping Action. - -[_Dependence._] - -Another Form of Economy is _Dependence_. This term expresses the -relation between an underplot and main plot, or between subactions and -the actions to which they are subordinate. [compare =i.= i. 35, 191.] -The fact that Gloucester is a follower of Lear--he would appear to have -been his court chamberlain--makes the story of the Gloucester family -seem to spring out of the story of the Lear family; that we are not -called upon to initiate a fresh train of interest ministers to our sense -of Economy. - -[_Symmetry._] - -But in the Shakespearean Drama the most important Economic Form is -_Symmetry_: between different parts of a design symmetry is the closest -of bonds. [_Balance._] A simple form of Symmetry is the _Balance_ of -actions, by which, as it were, the mass of one story is made to -counterpoise that of another. If the Caskets Story, moving so simply to -its goal of success, seems over-weighted by the thrilling incidents of -the Jew Story, we find that the former has by way of compensation the -Episode of the Rings rising out of its close, while the elopement of -Jessica and her reception at Belmont transfers a whole batch of -interests from the Jew side of the play to the Christian side. Or again, -in a play such as _Macbeth_, which traces the Rise and Fall of a -personage, the Rise is accompanied by the separate interest of Banquo -till he falls a victim to its success; to balance this we have in the -Fall Macduff, who becomes important only after Banquo's death, and from -that point occupies more and more of the field of view until he brings -the action to a close. Similarly in _Julius Cęsar_ the victim himself -dominates the first half; Antony, his avenger, succeeds to his position -for the second half. [_Parallelism and Contrast._] More important than -Balance as forms of Symmetry are _Parallelism_ and _Contrast_ of -actions. Both are, to a certain extent, exemplified in the plot of -_Macbeth_: the triple form of Nemesis, Irony, and Oracular binding -together all the elements of the plot down to the Enveloping Action -illustrates Parallelism, and Contrast has been shown to be a bond -between the interest of Lady Macbeth and of her husband. But Parallelism -and Contrast are united in their most typical forms in _Lear_, which is -at once the most intricate and the most symmetrical of Shakespearean -dramas. A glance at the scheme of this plot shows its deep-seated -parallelism. A Main story in the family of Lear has an Underplot in the -family of Gloucester. The Main plot is a problem and its solution, the -Underplot is an intrigue and its nemesis. Each is a system of four -actions: there is the action initiating the problem with the three -tragedies which make up its solution, there is again the action -generating the intrigue and the three tragedies which constitute its -nemesis. The threefold tragedy in the Main plot has its elements exactly -analogous, each to each, to the threefold tragedy of the Underplot: Lear -and Gloucester alike reap a double nemesis of evil from the children -they have favoured, and good from the children they have wronged; the -innocent Cordelia has to suffer like the innocent Edgar; alike in both -stories the gains of the wicked are found to be the means of their -destruction. Even in the subactions, which have only a temporary -distinctness in carrying out such elaborate interworking, the same -Parallelism manifests itself. [e.g. =i.= iv. 85-104; =ii.= ii, &c.] They -run in pairs: where Kent has an individual mission as an agency for -good, Oswald runs a course parallel with him as an agency for evil; -[e.g. =iv.= ii. 29; =v.= iii, from 59.] of the two heirs of Lear, -Albany, after passively representing the good side of the Main plot, has -the function of presiding over the nemesis which comes on the evil -agents of the Underplot, while Cornwall, who is active in the evil of -the [=iii.= vii.] Main plot, is the agent in bringing suffering on the -good victims of the Underplot; [=iv.= ii; =iv.= v; =v.= iii. 238.] once -more from opposite sides of the Lear story Goneril and Regan work in -parallel intrigues to their destruction. Every line of the pattern runs -parallel to some distant line. Further, so fundamental is the symmetry -that we have only to shift the point of view and the Parallelism becomes -Contrast. If the family histories be arranged around Cordelia and -Edmund, as centres of good and evil in their different spheres, we -perceive a sharp antithesis between the two stories extending to every -detail: though stated already in the chapter on _Lear_, I should like to -state it again in parallel columns to do it full justice. - - In the MAIN PLOT a Daughter, In the UNDERPLOT a Son, - - Who has received nothing Who has received nothing - but Harm from her father, but Good from his father, - - Who has had her position Who has, contrary to justice, been - unjustly torn from her advanced to the position of an - and given to her innocent elder Brother he had maligned, - undeserving elder Sisters, - - Nevertheless sacrifices Nevertheless is seeking the destruction - herself to save the Father of the Father who _did_ him the - who _did_ the injury from unjust kindness, when he falls by the - the Sisters who _profited_ hand of the Brother who _was wronged_ - by it. by it. - -The play of _Lear_ is itself sufficient to suggest to the critic that in -the analysis of Shakespeare's plots he may safely expect to find -symmetry in proportion to their intricacy. - -[_Movement applied to Plot: Motive Form._] - -Movement applied to Plot becomes _Motive Form_: without its being -necessary to take the play to pieces Motive Form is the impression of -design left by the succession of incidents in the order in which they -actually stand. [_Simple Movement: the Line of Motion a straight line._] -The succession of incidents may suggest progress to a goal, as in the -Caskets Story. This is preeminently Simple[6] Movement: the Line of -Motion becomes a straight line. [_Complicated Movement: the Line of -Motion a curve._] We get the next step by the variation that is made -when a curved line is substituted for a straight line: in other words, -when the succession of incidents reaches its goal, but only after a -diversion. This is what is known as _Complication and Resolution_. A -train of events is obstructed and diverted from what appears its natural -course, which gives the interest of Complication: after a time the -obstruction is removed and the natural course is restored, which is the -Resolution of the action: the Complication, like a musical discord, -having existed only for the sake of being resolved. No clearer example -could be desired than that of Antonio, whose career when we are -introduced to it appears to be that of leading the money-market of -Venice and extending patronage and protection all around; by the -entanglement of the bond this career is checked and Antonio turned into -a prisoner and bankrupt; then Portia cuts the knot and Antonio becomes -all he has been before. [=iii.= ii. 173.] Or again, the affianced -intercourse of Portia and Bassanio begins with an exchange of rings; -[=iv.= ii.] by the cross circumstances connected with Antonio's trial -one of them parts with this token, and the result is a comic -interruption to the smoothness of lovers' life, [=v.= i. 266.] until by -Portia's confession of the ruse the old footing is restored. - -[_Action-Movement distinguished from Passion-Movement._] - -Such Complicated Movement belongs entirely to the Action side of -dramatic effect. It rests upon design and the interworking of details; -its interest lies in obstacles interposed to be removed, doing for the -sake of undoing, entanglement for its own sake; in its total effect it -ministers to a sense of intellectual satisfaction, like that belonging -to a musical fugue, in which every opening suggested has been -sufficiently followed up. We get a movement of quite a different kind -when the sense of design is inseparable from effects of passion, and the -movement is, as it were, traced in our emotional nature. In this case a -growing strain is put upon our sympathy which is not unlike -Complication. But no Resolution follows: the rise is made to end in -fall, the progress leads to ruin; in place of the satisfaction that -comes from restoring and unloosing is substituted a fresh appeal to our -emotional nature, and from agitation we pass only to the calmer emotions -of pity and awe. There is thus a _Passion-Movement_ distinct from -_Action-Movement_; and, analogous to the Complication and Resolution of -the latter, Passion-Movement has its _Strain and Reaction_. [_The Line -of Passion a Regular Arch,_] The Line of Passion has its various forms. -A chapter has been devoted to illustrating one form of Passion-Movement, -which may be called the _Regular Arch_--if we may found a technical term -on the happy illustration of Gervinus. The example was taken from the -play of _Julius Cęsar_, the emotional effect in which was shown to pass -from calm interest to greater and greater degree of agitation, until -after culminating in the centre it softens down and yields to the -different calmness of pity and acquiescence. [_an Inclined Plane_] The -movement of _Richard III_ and many other dramas more resembles the form -of an _Inclined Plane_, [=iv.= ii. 46.] the turn in the emotion -occurring long past the centre of the play. [_or a Wave Line._] Or -again, there is the _Wave Line_ of emotional distribution, made by -repeated alternations of strain and relief. This is a form of -Passion-Movement that nearly approaches Action-Movement, and readily -goes with it in the same play; in _The Merchant of Venice_ the union of -the two stories gives such alternate Strain and Relief, and the Episode -of the Rings comes as final Relief to the final Strain of the trial. - -[_For 'Comedy,' 'Tragedy,' substitute, in the case of Shakespeare,_] - -The distinction between Action-Movement and Passion-Movement is of -special importance in Shakespeare-Criticism, inasmuch as it is the real -basis of distinction between the two main classes of Shakespearean -dramas. Every one feels that the terms Comedy and Tragedy are -inadequate, and indeed absurd, when applied to Shakespeare. The -distinction these terms express is one of Tone, and they were quite in -place in the ancient Drama, in which the comic and tragic tones were -kept rigidly distinct and were not allowed to mingle in the same play. -Applied to a branch of Drama of which the leading characteristic is the -complete Mixture of Tones the terms necessarily break down, and the -so-called 'Comedies' of _The Merchant of Venice_ and _Measure for -Measure_ contain some of the most tragic effects in Shakespeare. The -true distinction between the two kinds of plays is one of Movement, not -Tone. In _The Merchant of Venice_ the leading interest is in the -complication of Antonio's fortunes and its resolution by the device of -Portia. In all such cases, however perplexing the entanglement of the -complication may have become, the ultimate effect of the whole lies in -the resolution of this complication; and this is an intellectual effect -of satisfaction. In the plays called Tragedies there is no such return -from distraction to recovery: our sympathy having been worked up to the -emotion of agitation is relieved only by the emotion of pathos or -despair. Thus in these two kinds of dramas the impression which to the -spectator overpowers all other impressions, and gives individuality to -the particular play, is this sense of intellectual or of emotional unity -in the movement:--is, in other words, Action-Movement or -Passion-Movement. [_'Action-Drama,' 'Passion-Drama.'_] The two may be -united, as remarked above in the case of _The Merchant of Venice_; but -one or the other will be predominant and will give to the play its unity -of impression. The distinction, then, which the terms Comedy and Tragedy -fail to mark would be accurately brought out by substituting for them -the terms Action-Drama and Passion-Drama. - -[_Compound Movement._] - -With complexity of action comes complexity of movement. _Compound -Movement_ takes in the idea of the relative motion amongst the different -actions into which a plot can be analysed. A play of Shakespeare -presents a system of wheels within wheels, like a solar system in motion -as a whole while the separate members of it have their own orbits to -follow. [_Its three Modes of Motion: Similar Motion,_] The nature of -Compound Movement can be most simply brought out by describing its three -leading Modes of Motion. In _Similar Motion_ the actions of a system are -moving in the same form. The plot of _Richard III_, for example, is a -general rise and fall of Nemesis made up of elements which are -themselves rising and falling Nemeses. Such Similar Motion is only -Parallelism looked at from the side of movement. A variation of it -occurs when the form of one action is distributed amongst the rest: the -main action of _Julius Cęsar_ is a Nemesis Action, the two subactions -are the separate interests of Cęsar and Antony, which put together -amount to Nemesis. - -[_Contrary Motion,_] - -In _Contrary Motion_ the separate actions as they move on interfere with -one another, that is, each acts as complicating force to the other, -turning it out of its course; in reality they are helping one another's -advance, seeing that complication is a step in dramatic progress. _The -Merchant of Venice_ furnishes an example. The Caskets Story progresses -without check to its climax; in starting it complicates the Jew -action--for before Bassanio can get to Belmont he borrows of Antonio the -loan which is to entangle him in the meshes of the Jew's revenge; then -the Caskets Story as a result of its climax resolves this complication -in the Story of the Jew--for the union of Portia with Bassanio provides -the deliverer for Bassanio's friend. But in thus resolving the Story of -the Jew the Caskets Story, in the new phase of it that has commenced -with the exchange of betrothal rings, itself suffers complication--the -circumstances of the trial offering the suggestion to Portia to make the -demand for Bassanio's ring. Thus of the two actions moving on side by -side the one interferes with and diverts the other from its course, and -again in restoring it gets itself diverted. This mutual interference -makes up Contrary Motion. - -[_Convergent Motion._] - -A third mode of Compound movement is _Convergent Motion_, by which -actions, or systems of actions, at first separate, become drawn together -as they move on, and assist one another's progress. Once more the play -of _Lear_ furnishes a typical example. This play, it will be -recollected, includes two distinct systems of actions tracing the story -of two separate families. Moreover the main story after its opening -incident presents, so far as movement is concerned, three different -sides, according as its incidents centre around Lear, Goneril, or Regan. -The first link between these diverse actions is Gloucester, the central -personage of the whole plot. [=i.= i. 35, 191.] Gloucester has been the -King's chamberlain and his close friend, [=ii.= i. 93.] the King having -been godfather to his son. Accordingly, in the highly unstable political -condition of a kingdom divided equally between two unprincipled sisters, -Gloucester represents a third party, the party of Lear: he holds the -balance of power, and the effort to secure him draws the separate -interests together. [=i.= v. 1.] Thus as soon as Lear and Goneril have -quarrelled Lear sends Kent to Gloucester, and our actions begin to -approach one another. [=ii.= i. 9.] Before this messenger can arrive we -hear of 'hints and ear-kissing arguments' as to rupture between the -dukes, and we see Regan and her husband making a hasty journey--'out of -season threading dark-eyed night'--[=ii.= i. 121.] in order to be the -first at Gloucester's castle; [=ii.= iv. 192.] when Goneril in -self-defence follows, all the separate elements of the main plot have -found a meeting-point. But this castle of Gloucester in which they meet -is the seat of the underplot, and the two systems become united in the -closest manner by this central linking. [=ii.= i. 88-131, esp. 112.] -Regan arrives in time to use her authority in furthering the intrigue -against Edgar as a means of recommending herself to the deceived -Gloucester; the other intrigue of the underplot, [=iii.= v, &c.] that -against Gloucester himself, is promoted by the same means when Edmund -has betrayed to Regan his father's protection of Lear; while the meeting -of both sisters with Edmund lays the foundation of the mutual -intriguing which forms the further interest of the entanglement between -underplot and main story. All the separate lines of action have thus -moved to a common centre, and their concentration in a common focus -gives opportunity for the climax of passion which forms the centrepiece -of the play. Then the Enveloping Action comes in as a further binding -force, and it has been pointed out above how throughout the fourth and -fifth Acts all the separate actions, whatever their immediate purpose, -have an ultimate reference to Dover as the landing-place of the invading -army: in military phrase Dover is the common _objective_ on which all -the separate trains of interest are concentrating. In this way have the -actions of this intricate plot, so numerous and so separate at first, -been found to converge to a common centre and then move together to a -common _dénouement_. - -[_Turning-points._] - -The distinction of movement from the other elements of Plot leads also -to the question of _Turning-points_, an idea equally connected with -movement and with design. In the movement of every play a Turning-point -is implied: movement could not have dramatic interest unless there were -a change in the direction of events, and such change implies a point at -which the change becomes apparent. Changes of a kind may be frequent -through the progress of a play, but one notable point will stand out at -which the ultimate issues present themselves as decided, the line of -motion changing from complication to resolution, the line of passion -from strain to reaction. [_The Catastrophe: or Focus of Movement._] Such -a point is technically a _Catastrophe_: a word whose etymological -meaning suggests a turning round so as to come down. [_The Centre of -Plot._] In Shakespeare's dramatic practice we find a not less important -Turning-point in relation to the design of the plot. This is always at -the exact centre--the middle of the middle Act--and serves as a -balancing-point about which the plot may be seen to be symmetrical: it -is a _Centre of Plot_ as the Catastrophe is a Focus of Movement. The -Catastrophe of _The Merchant of Venice_ is clearly Portia's judgment in -the Trial Scene, by which in a moment the whole entanglement is -resolved. [=iv.= i. 305.] In an earlier chapter it has been pointed out -how the union of Portia and Bassanio--[=iii.= ii.] at the exact centre -of the play--is the real determinant of the whole plot, uniting the -complicating and resolving forces, and constituting a scene in which all -the four stories find a meeting-point. In _Richard III_, [=iv.= ii. 45.] -while the Catastrophe comes in the hero's late recognition of his own -nemesis, yet there has been, before this and in the exact centre, a turn -in the Enveloping Action, [=iii.= iii. 15.] which includes all the rest, -shown by the recognition that Margaret's curses have now begun to be -fulfilled. The exact centre of _Macbeth_, as pointed out above, [=iii.= -iv. 20.] marks the hero's passage from rise to fall, that is from -unbroken success to unbroken failure: the corresponding Catastrophe in -this play is double, [=iii.= iv. 49; =v.= viii. 13.] a first appearance -of Nemesis in Banquo's ghost, its final stroke in the revelation of -Macduff's secret of birth. [=iii.= i. 122.] _Julius Cęsar_ presents the -interesting feature of the Catastrophe and Central Turning-point exactly -coinciding, in the triumphant appeal of the conspirators to future -history. _Lear_, according to the scheme of analysis suggested in this -work, has its Catastrophe at the close of the initial scene, by which -time the problem in experience has been set up in action, and the -tragedies arising out of it thenceforward work on without break to its -solution. [=iii.= iv. 45.] A Centre of Plot is found for this play -where, in the middle Scene of the middle Act, the third of the three -forms of madness is brought into contact with the other two and makes -the climax of passion complete. This regular union by Shakespeare of a -marked catastrophe, appealing to every spectator, with a subtle -dividing-point, interesting to the intellectual sense of analysis, -illustrates the combination of force with symmetry, which is the genius -of the Shakespearean Drama: it throughout presents a body of warm human -interest governed by a mind of intricate design. - -[_Conclusion._] - -The plan laid down for this work has now been followed to its -completion. The object I have had in view throughout has been the -_recognition_ of inductive treatment in literary study. For this purpose -it was first necessary to distinguish the inductive method from other -modes of treatment founded on arbitrary canons of taste and comparisons -of merit, so natural in view of the popularity of the subject-matter, -and to which the history of Literary Criticism has given an unfortunate -impetus. This having been done in the Introduction, the body of the work -has been occupied in applying the inductive treatment to some of the -masterpieces of Shakespeare. The practical effect of such exposition has -been, it may be hoped, to intensify the reader's appreciation of the -poet, and also to suggest that the detailed and methodical analysis -which in literary study is usually reserved for points of language is no -less applicable to a writer's subject-matter and art. But to entitle -Dramatic Criticism to a place in the circle of the inductive sciences it -has further appeared necessary to lay down a scheme for the study as a -whole, that should be scientific both in the relation of its parts to -one another, and in the attainment of a completeness proportioned to the -area to which the enquiry was limited and the degree of development to -which literary method has at present attained. The proper method for the -nascent science was fixed as the enumeration and arrangement of topics; -and by analogy with the other arts a simple scheme for Dramatic -Criticism was found, in which all the results of the analysis performed -in the first part of the book could be readily distributed under one or -other of the main topics--Character, Passion, and Plot. Incidentally the -discussion of Shakespeare has again and again reminded us of just that -greatness in the modern Drama which judicial criticism with its -inflexibility of standard so persistently missed. Everywhere early -criticism recognised our poet's grasp of human nature, yet its almost -universal verdict of him was that he was both irregular in his art as a -whole, and in particular careless in the construction of his plots. We -have seen, on the contrary, that Shakespeare has elevated the whole -conception of Plot, from that of a mere unity of action obtained by -reduction of the amount of matter presented, to that of a harmony of -design binding together concurrent actions from which no degree of -complexity was excluded. And, finally, instead of his being a despiser -of law, we have had suggested to us how Shakespeare and his brother -artists of the Renaissance form a point of departure in legitimate -Drama, so important as amply to justify the instinct of history which -named that age the Second Birth of literature. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[5] See note on page 74. - -[6] See note on page 74. - - - - -TABULAR DIGEST OF THE PRINCIPAL TOPICS IN DRAMATIC SCIENCE. - - - +--Single Character-Interest +--Interpretation - | or Character-Interpretation | as an hypotheis - | +--Canons of - | Interpretation - +--Character| - | | +--Character-Contrast - | | | and Duplication - | +--Complex Character-Interest +--Character-Grouping - | | +--Dramatic Colouring - | +--Character-Development - | +--Incident and Situation - | +--Single Passion-Interest | +--Irony - | | +--Effect +--Nemesis - | | +--Dramatic - | | Foreshadowing - | | +--Scale of Passion-Tones - | +--Complex Passion-Interest +--Mixture of Tones - | | or Passion-Tone +--Tone-Play and - | | | Tone-Relief - | | +--Tone-Clash and - | | Tone-Storm - +--Passion| +--Poetic Justice: or Retribution as a - | | | form of Art-beaty - | | | Pathos: or [unretributive] Fate as a - | | | form of Art-beauty - | | | - Dramatic | +--Movement | +--Destiny - Criticism| [Motive | | rationalised - | Force] | | +--Objectively - | | | | in Irony - | | | +--Subjectively - | | | in Infatuation - | +--The Supernatural | - | +--Supernatural - | Agency - | +--Intensifying - | | human action - | +--Illuminating - | | human action - | +--The Oracular - | +--Supernatural - | Background - | - | +--Single Action +--General conception of Single - | | | Actions - | | +--Forms of Dramatic Action - | | - | | +--General conception of Complex - | | | Action - | | +--Analysis of Complex Action - | | | into Single Actions, with - | | | Canons of Analysis - | +--Complex Action | - | | | +--Contact - | | | and Linking - | | | +--Connection - | | | | +--Interweaving - | | +--Economy | +--Envelopment - | | +--Dependence - | | | - | | | +--Balance - +--Plot | +--Symmetry +--Parallelism - | and Contrast - | - | +--Simple Movement: the Line of Motion a - | | straight line - | +--Action-Movement or Complication and - | | Resolution: the Line of Motion a curve - | +--Passion Movement or Strain and - +--Movement | Reaction: the Line of Passion a - [Motive Form] | +--Regular Arch - | +--Inclined Plane - | +--Wave Line - | - | +--Similar Motion - +--Compound (or +--Contrary Motion - | Relative Movement) +--Convergent Motion - | - | +--Catastrophe: - +--Turning-points | or Focus of Movement - +--Centre of Plot - To which may be added +--Mechanical Construction [belonging to Art in - general] - +--Story as Raw Material [belonging to Literary - History] - - - - -APPENDIX TO CHAPTER XIV. - -TECHNICAL ANALYSIS OF THE PLOT OF THE FIVE PLAYS. - - - - -THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. - -AN ACTION-DRAMA. - - -_Scheme of Actions_. - - +--First Main =Cross Nemesis= Action: Story of the Jew: - | complicated and resolved. - | - |+--Sub-Action to First Main, also Link | - | Action: Jessica and Lorenzo: simple | - | movement. | - Main Plot.|+--_Comic Relief Action: Launcelot; +--Underplot. - | stationary_[7]. | - |+--Sub-Action to Second Main: Episode of the | - | Rings: complicated and resolved. | - | - +--Second Main =Problem= Action: Caskets Story: simple - movement. - - External Circumstance[8]: The (rumoured) Shipwrecks. - -_Economy_. - - Two Main Actions connected by Common Personage [Bassanio] and by - Link Action [Jessica]. - - General Interweaving. - - Balance. The First Main Action, which is complicated, balances the - Second, which is simple, by the additions to the latter of the - Jessica interest transferred to it, and the Episode of the Rings - generated out of it. [Pages 82, 88.] - -_Movement_. - - Action-Movement: with Contrary Motion between the two Main Actions. - The First Main complicated and resolved by the Second - - Main [hero of Second, Bassanio, is Complicating Force; heroine of - Second, Portia, is Resolving Force], the Complication assisted by - the External Circumstance of the Shipwrecks--in process of - resolving the First generates a Complication to the Second in the - form of the Episode of the Rings, which is self-resolved. - [Pages 66, 282.] - - Passion-Movement in the background: Wave-Line of Strain and Relief - by alternation of the two main Stories; the Episode of the Rings - is Final Relief to the Final Strain of the Trial. - -_Turning-points._ - - Centre of Plot: Scene of Bassanio's Choice (=iii.= ii.) in which the - Complicating and Resolving Forces are united and all the Four - Actions meet. [Pages 67-8.] - - Catastrophe: Portia's Judgment in the Trial (=iv.= i, from 299). - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[7] Stationary, as having no place in the movement of the plot: its -separateness from the rest of the Jessica Action only for purposes of -Tone-effect, as Comic Relief. - -[8] 'External' as not included in any Action, 'Circumstance' because it -presents itself as a single detail instead of the series of details -necessary to make up an Action. An External Circumstance is analogous to -an Enveloping Action: outside the other Actions, yet in contact with -them at certain points. - - - - -RICHARD THE THIRD. - -A PASSION-DRAMA. - - -_Scheme of Actions._ - -Main =Nemesis= Action: Life and Death of Richard. - - +--CLARENCE has betrayed the Lancastrians - | for the sake of the House of York: - | - | He falls by a treacherous death - | from the KING of the House of - | York.--To this the QUEEN and her - | kindredh ave been assenting - | parties [=ii.= ii. 62-5]: - | - +--The shock of Clarence's death as announced - | by Gloster kills the King (=ii.= i. 131), - | leaving the Queen and her kindred at the - | mercy of their enemies.--Unseemly Exultation - Underplot: System of | of their great enemy HASTINGS: - =Cross Nemesis= | - Actions connecting | The same treachery step by step - Main with YORK side | overtakes Hastings in his - of Enveloping Action. | Exultation [=iii.= iv. 15-95].--In - | this treacherous casting off of - | Hastings when he will no longer - | support them BUCKINGHAM has - | been a prime agent [=iii.= i, - | from 157, =iii.= ii. 114]: - | - +--By precisely similar treachery Buckingham - | himself is cast off when he hesitates to go - | further with Richard [=iv.= ii. and =v.= i.] - -Link =Nemesis= Action connecting Main with LANCASTER side of Enveloping -Action: Marriage of Richard and Anne (p. 113). - -Enveloping =Nemesis= Action: The War of the Roses [the Duchess of York -introduced to mark the York side, Queen Margaret to mark the Lancastrian -side]. - -_Economy_. - - All the Actions bound together by the Enveloping Action of which - they make up a phase. - - Parallelism: the common form of Nemesis. - - Central Personage: Richard. - -_Movement_. - - Passion-Movement, with Similar Motion [form Nemesis repeated - throughout (page 282)]. - -_Turning-points_. - - Centre of Plot: Realisation of Margaret's Curses [turn of Enveloping - Action] in =iii.= iii. 15. - - Catastrophe: Realisation of Nemesis in the Main Action: =iv.= ii, - from 45. - - - - -MACBETH. - -A PASSION-DRAMA. - - -_Scheme of Actions._ - - +--Main =Character= Action: Rise and Fall of Macbeth. - +--=Character= Counter-Action: Lady Macbeth. - - +--=Character= Sub-Action: covering and involved in the Rise: - | Banquo. - +--=Character= Sub-Action: covering and involving the Fall: - Macduff. [Pages 129, 142.] - - Enveloping =Supernatural= Action: The Witches. - -_Economy._ - - Parallelism: Triple form of Nemesis, Irony and Oracular Action - extending to the Main Action, to its parts the Rise and Fall - separately, and through to the Enveloping Action. - - Contrast as a bond between the Main and Counter-Action. - - Balance: the Rise by the Fall, the Sub-Action to the Rise by the - Sub-Action to the Fall. [Page 276.] - -_Movement._ - - Passion Movement, with Similar Motion between all. - -_Turning-points._ - - Centre of Plot: Change from unbroken success to unbroken failure: - =iii.= iii. 18. [Page 127.] - - Catastrophe: Divided: First Shock of Nemesis; Appearance of Banquo's - Ghost: =iii.= iv. - - Final Accumulation of Nemesis: Revelation of - Macduff's birth: =v.= viii. 12. - - - - -JULIUS CĘSAR. - -A PASSION-DRAMA. - - -_Scheme of Actions._ - -Main =Nemesis= Action: Rise and Fall of the Republican Conspirators. - - +--Sub-Action to the Rise [=Character-decline=]: The Victim Cęsar. - +--Sub-Action to the Fall [=Character-rise=]: The Avenger Antony. - -Enveloping Action: the Roman Mob. - -_Economy._ - - Balance about the Centre: the Rise by the Fall, the Sub-Action to - the Rise by the Sub-Action to the Fall. - -_Movement._ - - Passion-Movement, with Similar Motion between the Main and - Sub-Actions. [The form of the Main is distributed between the two - Sub-Actions: compare page 282.] - -_Turning-points._ - - The Centre of Plot and Catastrophe coincide: =iii.= i. between 121 - and 122. - - - - -KING LEAR. - -A PASSION-DRAMA. - - -_Scheme of Actions._ - - Main Plot: a =Problem= Action: Family of Lear: falling into - - Generating Action: Lear's unstable settlement of the kingdom, - [the Problem]. power transferred from the good to the bad. - - +--=Double Nemesis= Action: Lear receiving - | good from the injured and evil from the - | favoured children. - | - System of Tragedies +--=Tragic= Action: Cordelia: Suffering of the - [the Solution]. | innocent. - | - +--=Tragic= Action: Goneril and Regan: Evil - | passions endowed with power using it - | to work their own destruction. - - Underplot: an =Intrigue= Action: Family of Gloucester: falling into - - Generating Action: Gloucester deceived into reversing the positions - [the Intrigue]. of Edgar and Edmund. - - +--=Double Nemesis= Action: Gloucester receiving - | good from the injured and evil from the favoured - | child. - | - System of Tragedies +--=Tragic= Action: Edgar: Suffering of the - [its Nemesis]. | innocent. - | - +--=Tragic= Action: Edmund: Power gained - | by intrigue used for the destruction of - | the intriguer. - -Central Link Personage between Main Plot and Underplot: Gloucester (page -283). - - +--From the good side of | - +--First | the Main: Kent. +--Crossing - | Pair: | | & complicating - | +--From the evil side of | one another. - | | the Main: Oswald. | - | - | +--From the good side of the Main - Sub-Actions, linking | | assisting Nemesis on Evil Agent - Main and Underplot, +--Second | of the Underplot: Albany. - or different | Pair: | - elements of the | +--From the evil side of the Main - Main together. | | assisting Nemesis on Good Victim - | | of the Underplot: Cornwall. - | - +--Third Pair: Cross Intrigues between - | the Evil sides of Main and Underplot - | {Goneril and Edmund} - | {Regan and Edmund } culminating in - | destruction of all three (=v.= iii. 96, 221-7, - | and compare 82 with 160). - -_Farcical Relief Action: The Fool: Stationary._ - -Enveloping Action: The French War: originating ultimately in the Initial -Action and becoming the Objective of the _Dénouement_. [Page 273.] - -_Economy._ - - The Underplot dependent to the Main (page 276). - - Especially: Parallelism and Contrast (page 277). - - Central Linking by Gloucester. - - Interweaving: Linking by Sub-Actions, &c., and movement to a common - Objective. - - Envelopment in Common Enveloping Action. - -_Movement._ - - Passion-Movement, with Convergent Motion between the Main and - Underplot, and their parts: the Lear and Gloucester systems by the - visit to Gloucester's Castle drawn to a Central Focus and then - moving towards a common Objective in the Enveloping Action. [Page - 282.] - -_Turning-points._ - - Catastrophe: at the end of the Initial Action, the Problem being set - up in practical action. [Page 205.] - - Centre of Plot: the summit of emotional agitation when three - madnesses are brought into contact (page 223). - - - - -INDEXES. - - - - -GENERAL INDEX. - - -_For particular Characters or Scenes see under their respective plays._ - - Abbott, Dr., quoted 15. - - Academy, French 18. - - Achilles and the River-god 193. - - - Action a fundamental element of Drama 234-6 - its threefold division 235 - Plot as pure Action 236 - or the intellectual side of Action 268. - - Action, Analysis of: 271-4 - canons of Analysis 271-2 - Enveloping Action 272-4 - =Illustrations= of Enveloping Action: _Richard III_ 273, _Macbeth_ - 273, _Julius Cęsar_ 273, _King Lear_ 273-4. - - 'Action-Drama' as substitute for 'Comedy' 280-1. - - Action, Economy of: 274-8. - General notion and connection with Analysis 274-5 - Economic Forms 275-8 - Connection and Linking 275 - Dependence 276 - Symmetry 276-8 - Balance 276 - Parallelism and Contrast 276-8 - Economy in Technical Analyses of the five plays 291-8. - - Actions, focussing of: 209. - - Action, Forms of Dramatic: 269-70, 125, 202. - - Action, Schemes of in Technical Analyses, 291-8. - - Action, Single and Complex 236, 270, &c. - - Action, Systems of: 108, 110, 208. - - Action, Unity of: 14, 235, 269-71 - unity of action in Modern Drama becomes harmony 270. - - Actions, Varieties of: Character-Action 270; Comic Action 270, - 291; Farcical 291; Generating 297; Initial and Resultant 208; - Intrigue 270, 207; Irony 269; Link 81, 208; Main and Subordinate - 270; Nemesis 269 &c.; Oracular 269 &c.; Problem 269, 202; Relief - 291, 298; Rise and Fall 270, 119, 127; Stationary 291; Story 270; - Tragic 270, 297; Triple 270, 125, 142. - - - Actor, Acting 98, 231. [_See_ Stage-Representation.] - - Addison: - on scientific progress 5 - his Critique of _Paradise Lost_ 16 - his list of English poets 16 - his _Cato_ 17, 19 - on rules of art 20 - on Rymer 21. - - Analysis as a stage in scientific development 228-9. - - Analysis, Dramatic: 227, 271. [_See_ Action, Analysis of.] - - Ancient Drama 125, 259-60 - Mixture of Tones an impossibility 252 - the Supernatural its leading Motive 259 - its unity of action different from that of the Modern Drama 270. - - Ancient Thought, points of difference from Modern: 44, 125-7, 137. - - Antithesis of Outer and Inner (or Practical and Intellectual) Life - 144-6 - as an element in Character-Interpretation 146 - applied to the age of Macbeth 147 - key to the portraiture of Macbeth and his wife 147-167 - applied to the age of Julius Cęsar in the form of policy _v._ - justice 168-71 - connected with character of Antony 182, Brutus 171-6, Cęsar 176-81, - Cassius 181 - applied to the group as a whole 183-4. - - Apparitions: - _Richard III_ 122, - _Macbeth_ 135-6, 140, 167, 262-4. [_See_ Supernatural.] - - Apuleianism 15. - - Arch as an illustration of dramatic form 127, 280 - applied to the Movement in Julius Cęsar 186, 280 - to King Lear: Main Plot 209, - Underplot 215-17. - - Aristotle: his criticism inductive 16 - judicial 16 - his position in the progress of Induction 230 - made Stage-Representation a division of Dramatic Criticism 231 - on the purification of our emotions in the Drama 259. - - Art applied to the repulsive and trivial 90 - common terms in the different arts 168 - Dramatic Art 40, 227 &c. - topics common to the Drama and other arts 232 - Art in general affords a fundamental basis for the Analysis of Drama - 234 - concrete and abstract elements in all the arts alike 234. - - - Background of Nature as an element in dramatic effect 192-4 - its widespread use in poetry 192 - analysed 192 - illustrated in _Julius Cęsar_ in connection with the Supernatural - 193-6 - used in Centrepiece of King Lear 214 - considered as an example of the Supernatural illuminating human - action 266. - - Bacon 28. - - Balance 82, 233 - as an Economic form 276 - in Technical Analyses 291, 295, 296. - - Barbarism of enjoying personal defects 218. - - Beaumont and Fletcher 13. - - _Betrothed, The_: as example of Oracular Action 132. - - Biblical citations: _Psalm_ II (Irony) 138 - conclusion of _Job_ (Dramatic Background) 192. - - Blank Verse 13. - - Boileau on Terence 16 - on Corneille 18. - - Bossu 17, 18. - - Brontė, Charlotte: 30. - - Buckingham 17. - - Byron 14. - - - Caro, Hannibal: 17. - - Catastrophe, or Focus of Movement: 284-5 - =Examples=: _Merchant of Venice_ 285; _Richard III_ 285, 120; - _Macbeth_ 285; _Julius Cęsar_ 285, 198; _King Lear_ 285, 205 - in Technical Analyses 291-8. - - Central Personages 119 - Gloucester in _King Lear_ 206, 207 - Richard 291. - - Centre, Dramatic: 67, 186 - Shakespeare's fondness for central effects 186, 284. - - Centre of Plot 284 - =Examples= 285 - in Technical Analyses 291-8. - - - Character: as an element in Judgment 56 - as an Elementary Topic of Dramatic Criticism 235 - subdivided 235. - - Character, Interest of: 237 and Chapter XII. Character in Drama - presented concretely 237. - Unity in Character-Interest 237-9 - Complexity in Character-Interest 239-242 - Development in Character-Interest 242-5. - Character-Interpretation 237-9. - Character-Foils 239 - Contrast 240 - Duplication 240 - Grouping 241 - Dramatic Colouring 241. - Character-Development 242-5. - - Character-Contrast as a general term 239-42 - strictly so-called 240, 144 and Chapter VII - general and from special standpoints 144 - from standpoint of Outer and Inner Life 144-7, 168-71 - as an Elementary Topic of Dramatic Criticism 236 - =Illustrations=: _Merchant of Venice_ 82-7 _Macbeth_ 144 and Chapter - VII _Julius Cęsar_ 178, &c. - - Character-Development 242-5 - =Illustration=: _Macbeth_ ib. - - Character-Duplication 240 - =Illustrations=: Murderers in _Richard III_ &c. 240-1. - - Character-Foils 239 - Illustrations: Jessica to Lorenzo 85 - Jessica and Lorenzo to Portia and Bassanio 86 - Cassius and Cęsar 179. - - Character-Grouping described 168 - =Illustration=: _Julius Cęsar_ 169 and Chapter VIII. - - Character-Interpretation 236, 237-9 - of the nature of a scientific hypothesis 237 - canons of interpretation 238-9 - applied to more than one Character becomes Character-Contrast 240 - analytical in its nature 186 - has swallowed up other elements of dramatic effect in the popular - estimation of Shakespeare 233 - =Illustration=: _Richard III_ 90 and Chapter IV. - - - Chess with living pieces, an illustration of Passion 185. - - Cibber 17. - - Ciceronianism 15. - - Circumstance External 291. - - Clash of Tones: 253. [_See_ Tone.] - - Classical Drama: _see_ Ancient. - - Classification a stage in development of Inductive Method 228, 229. - - Climax in Passion-Movement 185-7 - applied to _Julius Cęsar_ 186-8 and Chapter IX. - Illustrated in _King Lear_ 202 and Chapter X. - Gradual rise to the climax of the Main Plot 209-15 - the climax itself 215 - climax of Underplot 215-8 - climax of the play double 217 - and triple 218, 223. - - Coleridge 11. - - Collier, Jeremy: 35. - - Colouring. Dramatic: 241-2. - =Illustration=: _Macbeth_ ib. - - 'Comedy' unsuitable as a term in Shakespeare-Criticism 280-1. - - Comic as a Tone 251-2. - - Complex distinguished from Complicated 74 (note) - applied to Plot of _Merchant of Venice_ 74 and Chapter III - Complexity distinguishes the plot of _King Lear_ as compared with - that of _Julius Cęsar_ 186 - traced in plot of _King Lear_ 202, 208-9, &c. - not inconsistent with simplicity 208, 74 - an element of Action 235, 236 - applied to Character 239, Passion 250, Plot 270. - - Complicated distinguished from Complex 74 (note) - Complicated Movement 279. - - Complicating Force 67. - - Complication and Resolution 66, 279 - =Illustration=: _Merchant of Venice_ 67. - - Connection as an Economic form 275 - by Link Personages and Actions 275 - by Interweaving _ib._ - by common Envelopment 276. - - Construction and Creation as processes in Character-Painting 30. - - Contrast as an Economic form 277, 295-8. [_See_ Character-Contrast.] - - Corneille: the Corneille Incident 18 - his _Clitandre_ ib. - - Courage, active and passive 146, 179. - - Cowley 16. - - Creation and Construction as processes in Character-Painting 30. - - - Criticism _ą priori_ 24, 37. [_See_ Criticism Judicial.] - - Criticism, Dramatic: as an Inductive Science 40, 227, &c. - surveyed in outline 227 - indirectly by Studies _ib._ - its definition 228-34 - its method 228-30 - its field 230-4 - distinguished from Literary Criticism in general 231 - need not include Stage-Representation 231-2 - common ground between Literary and Dramatic Criticism 232 - between Dramatic Art and Stage-Representation 232-3 - Drama and Representation separable in exposition not in idea 233-4 - fundamental divisions of Dramatic Criticism 234-6 - its elementary Topics tabulated 236 - General Table of its Topics 288. - - Criticism: History of 7-21. [_See_ Criticism, Judicial, - Shakespeare-Criticism.] - - Criticism, Inductive: distinguished from Judicial 2 - the two illustrated by the case of Ben Jonson 2-4 - confusion of the two 4 - gradual development of Inductive method in the history of Criticism - 17-21 - sphere of Inductive Criticism separate from that of the Criticism of - Taste 21 - three main points of contrast between Inductive and Judicial - Criticism 27-40 - (1) as to comparisons of merit 27-32 - (2) as to the 'laws' of Art 32-7 - (3) as to fixity of standard 37-40. - =Difficulties= of Inductive Criticism: want of positiveness in the - subject-matter 23-5 - absence of 'design' in authors 26 - objection as to the ignoring of moral purpose 35 - arbitrariness of literary creation 35-7. - =Principles= and =Axioms= of Inductive Criticism. Its foundation - Axiom: _Interpretation is of the nature of a scientific hypothesis_ - 25 - its antagonism to comparisons of merit 27-9 - concerned with differences of kind rather than degree 29-32 - Axiom: _Its function to distinguish literary species_ 32 - principle that each writer is a species to himself 30-2 - the laws of Art: scientific laws 32-7 - Inductive Criticism has no province to deal with faults 34 - Axiom: _Art a part of Nature_ 36 - Axiom: _Literature a thing of development_ 36 - development to be applied equally to past and new literature 38. - =Illustrations= of Inductive Criticism. Applied by Addison 16, 20; - Aristotle 16; Fontenelle 19; Perrault 19; Gervinus 20; Dr. Johnson - 16. - Applied to the character of Macbeth 24; Music 29; to Charlotte - Brontė and George Eliot 30; Beethoven 34. - - Criticism, Judicial: distinguished from Inductive 2 - the two illustrated by the case of Ben Jonson 2-4 - confusion of the two 4 - three main points of contrast between Judicial and Inductive - Criticism 27-40 - (1) as to comparisons of merit 27-32 - (2) as to the 'laws' of Art 32-7 - (3) as to fixity of standard 37-40. - Illegitimate supremacy of Judicial method in Criticism 4 - connected with influence of the Renaissance 4 - and Journalism 5 - defence: Theory of Taste as condensed experience 6 - the theory examined: judicial spirit a limit on appreciation 6. - =History= of Judicial Criticism a triumph of authors over critics 7-21. - Case of Shakespeare-Criticism 7-11 - other authors 11-13 - defeat of Judicial Criticism in the great literary questions 13-15 - its failure to distinguish the permanent and transitory 15 - its tendency to become obsolete 16 - its gradual modification in the direction of Inductive method - 17-21. - Proper sphere of Judicial Criticism 21 - outside science _ib._ - and belonging to creative literature _ib._ - Vices of Judicial Criticism: - its arbitrary method of eliminating variability of impression in - literary effect 24 - its fondness for comparisons of merit 27 - its attempt to limit by 'laws' 32-5 - its assumption of fixed standards 37-9 - its confusion of development with improvement 39. - =Illustrations= of Judicial Criticism: applied by the French Academy - 18; Aristotle 16; Boileau 16, 18; Byron 14; Dennis 19; Dryden 9, 12, - 13, 17; Edwards 9; Hallam 12; Heywood 10; Jeffrey 12; Dr. Johnson - 10, 12, 16, 19, 20; Lansdowne 9; Macaulay 13; Otway 9; Pope 10, 19; - Rymer 8, 14, 17; Steevens 12, 15; Theobald 10; Voltaire 9, 14, 17. - Applied to Addison's _Cato_ 17; Beethoven 34; Brontė 30; Buckingham - 17; Eliot (Geo.) 30; Gray 12; Greek Drama 30; Herodotus 39; Jonson - (Ben) 2, 17; Keats 12; Milton 11, 12, 14, 17, 39; Montgomery 13; - Roscommon 17; Shakespeare's Plays 8-11, &c.; Shakespeare's Sonnets - 12; Spenser 12, 17; Taylor (Jeremy) 39; Waller 17; Walsh 17; - Waverley Novels 12; Wordsworth 12. - - Criticism of Assaying 2, 6. [_See_ Criticism, Judicial.] - - Criticism of Taste 2, 6, 21-2. [_See_ Criticism, Judicial.] - - Cross Nemeses 291, 293, 47, 51. - - - Dancing (Greek) 231. - - Dennis 19. - - Dependence as an Economic form 276. - - Design, its significance in Criticism 26. - - Destiny interwoven with Nemesis in _Macbeth_ 125 and Chapter VI - conception of it in Ancient and Modern Thought 125, 259-60 - phases of Destiny in Modern Drama 127 - the Oracular Action one phase of Destiny 130 - Irony as a phase of Destiny 137-43 - Destiny acting objectively 260 - rationalised in Modern Drama 260 - as a subjective force, Infatuation 261-2 - rationalised in Shakespeare _ib._ - - Development in literature 37-9 - as an element of Action 235, 236 - applied to Character 242. - - Devices for increasing emotional strain 196. - - Differentiation of matter accompanying progress of Inductive Science - 230 - applied to Dramatic Criticism 231-4. - - Dover as the objective of the plot in _King Lear_ 274, 284. - - Drama: the word 'drama' 234 - Drama a compound art 231 - the Shakespearean a branch of the Romantic Drama 43 - its relations with Stage-Representation 231-2, 233-4, 98 - one of its purposes to interpret the beauty of fate 259. - - Dramatic Satire 3. - - Dryden on Spenser 12, 17 - on Blank Verse 13 - his _Essay on the Drama_ ib. - his _Essay on Satire_ ib. - on Milton's Blank Verse 17 - on Shakespeare's English 15. - - Duplication 240. - - - Economy of Action 274-8 [_see_ Action] - an economy in Richard's Villainy 100. - - Edwards 9. - - Effect as a general term in Dramatic Criticism 248 - strictly so-called _ib._ - an element of Passion _ib._ - distinguished from Situation and Incident 246 - described 248-50 - special Effects: Irony 248, Nemesis 249, Dramatic Foreshadowing 249. - - Elevated as a Tone 251. - - Eliot (Geo.) 30. - - Emerson, quoted 7. - - Emotion as a barrier to crime 93. - - Enveloping Action 273-4, 111 - =Illustrations=: _Richard III_ 111-12; _King Lear_ 273-4 Analogous - to External Circumstance 291 note in Technical Analyses 291-8. - - Envelopment as a kind of Connection 276. - - Euphuism utilised in Brutus's oration 175. - - Eusden 17. - - External Circumstance 291. - - - Farcical as a Tone 251, 252. - - Fascination as an element in human influence 97. - - Fate, determinants of in Drama 255 [_see_ Motive Force] - fate other than retributive included in Poetic Justice 257 - function of Drama to interpret beauty of fate 259. - - Fault as a critical term 32, 34. - - Focussing of trains of passion in _King Lear_ 209. - - Foils 239. [_See_ Character.] - - Fontenelle 19. - - Foreshadowing, Dramatic: 249, 201. - - Free Trade and Free Art 35. - - - Gervinus 11, 20, 127, 280. - - Gloucester: _see King Lear_ and _Richard III_. - - Goethe 11. - - Goldsmith 33. - - Gray 12. - - Grouping 241. [_See_ Character.] - - - Hallam 11, 12. - - _Hamlet_, Play of 262. - - Hedging, Dramatic: 60, 78, 232-3. - =Illustrations=: Shylock 58-61; Richard III, 105; Brutus 176. - - Heraclitus 28. - - Herodotus 39. - - Heroic as a Tone 251. - - Heroic couplet 30. - - Heywood 10. - - Hippolyta 111. - - Hippolytus 45, 126. - - History, its interpretation of events compared with the effect of - the Oracular Action 265. - - Hogarth 7. - - Homer: Episode of Achilles and the River-god 193 - _Iliad_ 23. - - Hugo, Victor: 11. - - Human Interest one of the two leading divisions of Drama 234 - further divided, 235. - - Humour in agony 162-3 - an example of Tone-Clash 254. - - Hybris 49, 262. - - Hysterical passion in _King Lear_ 210-15. - - - Iago compared with Richard III 92 - self-deceived 101. - - Idealisation as a dramatic effect 51 - applied to the Caskets Story 51-4 - of Incident 97. - - _Iliad_ 23, 193. - - Imitation as a force in developing madness 214-15. - - Incident as a division of Passion 246 - distinguished from Situation and Effect _ib._ - =Illustrations=: 246-7. - - Inclined Plane as a form of Passion-Movement 280. - - Inconsistency in characters a mark of unfinished Interpretation 238. - - Indirect elements of Character-Interpretation 238, 86. - - Individuality of authorship corresponds to differentiation of - species 39 - individuality an element in the Inner Life 169. - - Induction: its connection with facts 1 - application to literature 22-40. [_See_ Criticism Inductive.] - Stages in the development of Inductive Science 228-9 - its progress accompanied by differentiation of subject-matter 230 - application to Science of Dramatic Criticism 227 and Chapters XI - to XIV - to the definition of Dramatic Criticism 228. - - Infatuation: Destiny acting as a subjective force 261 - prominence in Ancient Ethics 261 - traces in Scripture expression 261 - rationalised by Shakespeare 261-2. - =Illustrations=: Antonio 262, 49; Cęsar 197; Macbeth 261-2. - - Inner Life 144-6. [_See_ Antithesis of, &c.] - - Interpretation by the actor an element in dramatic analysis 98 - _see_ Character-Interpretation. - - Interweaving of Stories 43-4, 58, 66-73, 74 and Chapter III, 81-2, 87-8 - of light and serious Stories 69-73. [_See_ Story.] - Interweaving as a kind of Connection 275 - in Technical Analyses 291, 298. - - Intrigue Action 207-8 - the Underplot of _King Lear_ 207-8 - Intrigues of Goneril and Regan, 206, 298. - - Irony as a phase of Destiny 137-9 - the word 'irony' 137 - Irony of Socrates, _ib._ - illustrated by Story of Oedipus 138 - in language of Scripture 138 - modified in modern conception 138-9 - connected with Oracular Action 139 - combined with Nemesis 256 - as an objective presentation of Destiny 260-1. - Dramatic Irony as example of mixed Passion 73 - as a mode of emphasising Nemesis 115-119, 120 - as one of the triple Forms of Action in _Macbeth_ 139-42 - as a Dramatic Effect 248-9 - this a contribution of the Greek Stage 248. - Dramatic Irony extended to the language of a scene 249 - Comic Irony 249. - =Illustrations=: in _Merchant of Venice_ 73, 249; _Richard III_ - 115-19, 120, 121, 249, 256; _Macbeth_ 139-142, 256; Macduff 143; - Banquo 142; the Witches Action 143; proclamation of Cumberland 260; - _Julius Cęsar_ 249, 197; _King Lear_ 249; Story of Oedipus 248. - - - Jeffrey 12. - - Jester 218. [_See_ King Lear: Fool.] - - Jew, Story of: 44, &c. [_See_ Story.] - Feud of Jew and Gentile 60 - Jews viewed as social outcasts, 83. - - Job, Book of: its conclusion as an example of Dramatic Background of - Nature 192. - - Johnson, Dr.: on Shakespeare 10-11, 20 - on Milton's minor poems 11 - on Blank Verse 14 - on Metaphysical Poetry 16 - on Addison's _Cato_ 19 - on the Unities 20. - - Jonson, Ben: 2-4 - his Dramatic Satires 3 - his Blank Verse 13 - his _Catiline_ 17. - - Journalism: its influence on critical method 5 - place of Reviewing in literary classification 21-2. - - Judicial Blindness 201, 261. [_See_ Infatuation.] - - - _Julius Cęsar_, Play of: 168-201, Chapters VIII and IX. As an example - of Character-Grouping 168 and Chapter VIII, 241 - example of Enveloping Action 273 - Balance 276 - Regular Arch Movement 280 - Similar Motion 282 - Turning-points 285 - Technical Analysis 296. - - _Julius Cęsar_, Characters in: - Antony balances Cęsar 129 - spared by the Conspirators 171 - contrasted by Cęsar with Cassius 179-80 - his general character 182-3 - its culture 179-80 - self-seeking 182 - affection for Cęsar 183, 199 - his position in the group of characters 183, 184 - peculiar tone of his oratory 198 - dominant spirit of the reaction 198 - upspringing of a character in him 198 - his ironical conciliation of the conspirators 199 - his oration 199-200 - Antony's servant 198. - Artemidorus 196. - Brutus: general character 171-6 - its equal balance 171-5 - its force 171 - softness 173 - this concealed under Stoicism 173, 174-5, 239 - his culture 173 - relations with his Page 173-4 - with Portia 173, 174 - with Cęsar 175 - slays Cęsar for what he might become 175 - position in the State 176 - relations with Cassius 172, 173, 182 - overrules Cassius in council 172 - his general position in the Grouping 183. - Cęsar: a balance to Antony 129 - general discussion of his character 176-81 - its difficulty and contradictions 176-8 - his vacillation 176-7 - explained by the antithesis of Practical and Inner Life 178 - Cęsar pre-eminently the Practical man 178-9 - strong side of his character 176-7 - lacking in the Inner Life 178-9 - compared with Macbeth 178 - a change in Cęsar and his world 180-1 - his superstition 180-1 - position in the Grouping 183 - different effect of his personality in the earlier and later half - of the play 188, 195, 197. - Calpurnia 194-5. - Casca 172, 194, 195. - Cassius: his relations with Brutus 172, 182 - brings out the defective side of Cęsar 179 - contrasted by Cęsar with Antony 179-80 - his character discussed 181-2 - Republicanism his grand passion, _ib._ - a professional politician 182 - his tact 182 - his position in the Grouping 183-4 - his relish for the supernatural portents 195 - his nemesis 249 - Cassius and the eagles 250. - Decius 181, 195. - Ligarius 172. - Page of Brutus 173-4, 201. - Popilius Lena 172, 197. - Portia 173, 174, 196. - Roman Mob 188, 200. - Soothsayer 196, 250. - Trebonius 249. - - _Julius Cęsar_, Incidents and Scenes. - Capitol Scene 196-200 - Conspiracy Scene 171, 172, 176, 181 - its connection with storm and portents 193-4 - Incidents of the Fever and Flood 178, 179 - Funeral and Will of Cęsar 175, 199-200, 239. - - _Julius Cęsar_, Movement of: compared with movement of _King Lear_ 186 - its simplicity and form of Regular Arch 186, 280 - key to the movement the justification of the conspirators' cause 187. - Stages of its Movement: Rise 188-96 - Crisis 196-8 - Catastrophe and Decline 198-201. - Starting-point in popular reaction against Cęsar 188 - Crescendo in the Rise 189-91 - the Conspiracy formed and developing the Strain begins 191-6 - suspense an element in Strain 191 - Strain increased by background of the Supernatural 192-6, 266 - the conspirators and the victim compared in this stage 194-6. - Crisis, the Strain rising to a climax 196-200 - exact commencement of the Crisis is marked 196 - devices for heightening the Strain 196 - the conspirators and victim just before the Catastrophe 197 - the justification at its height 197 - Catastrophe and commencement of the Decline 198 - Antony dominating the Reaction 198 - the Mob won to the Reaction 200. - Final stage of an Inevitable Fate: the Strain ceasing 200-1 - the representative of the Reaction supreme 200 - the position of Conspirators and Cęsar reversed 201 - judicial blindness 201 - the justification ceases 201. - - - Justice Poetic, as a Dramatic Motive 255-7 - the term discussed 255 - Nemesis as a form of Poetic Justice 255-6 - Poetic Justice other than Nemesis 256-7. - - - Keats 12. - - 'Kindness': the word discussed 149-50, 222 - 'milk of human kindness' 149-50. - - - _King Lear_, Play of: as a study in complex Passion and Movement 202 - and Chapter X - compared with _Julius Cęsar_ 186 - affording examples of Plot-Analysis 271 - of Enveloping Action in the French War 273-4 - of Parallelism and Contrast 277-8 - of Convergent Motion 283-4 - Turning-points 285 - Technical Analysis 297-8. - - _King Lear_, Characters in. - Cordelia: her conduct in the Opening Scene 203-4 - her Tragedy 206 - friendship for the Fool 223 - question of her patriotism 257-8 - an illustration of Pathos as a Dramatic Motive 257-9 - connection with the Enveloping Action 274. - Cornwall 212. - Edgar: his Tragedy 208 - his feigned madness and position in the Centrepiece 215-8, 223 - his contact with his father and Lear in the hovel 215-8, 247 - his madness an emotional climax to the Underplot 216. - Edmund compared with Richard III 92 - his charge against Edgar 206 - an agent in the Underplot 207-8 - his Tragedy 208, 216 - example of Irony 249 - connected with the Enveloping Action 274. - The Fool: Institution of the Fool or Jester 218-20 - modern analogue in _Punch_ 219 - utilised by Shakespeare 219 - function of the Fool in _King Lear_ 220-3 - his personal character 223 - friendship with Lear and Cordelia 223. - Gloucester: the central Personage of the Underplot 206-7 - Link Personage between Main and Underplot 275 - the Chamberlain and friend of Lear 276 - his connection with the Enveloping Action 274, 298 - with the Convergent Motion of the Play 283-4, 298. - Goneril 203, 206, 210, 213, 240, 256, 274, 283-4. - Kent represents Conscience in the Opening of the Problem 204-5 - his Tragedy 206. - Lear: his conduct in the opening scene an - example of imperiousness 203-5, 211 - his nemesis double 205-6 - gradual on-coming of madness 209-15 - Lear in the Centrepiece of the play 214-5 - after the centre madness gives place to shattered intellect 215 - his connection with the Fool 220-3 - with the Enveloping Action 274. - Regan 203, 206, 212, 213, 240, 256, 274, 283-4. - - _King Lear_, Incidents and Scenes of: - Opening Scene 203-5 - Stocks Scene 211, 258 - Outrage on Gloucester 247 - Hovel Scene 215-8, 247. - - _King Lear_, Movement of: 202 and Chapter X - its simplicity 208-9 - Lear's madness a common climax to the trains of passion in the Main - Plot 209 - Rise of the Movement in the waves of on-coming madness 209-15 - form of movement a Regular Arch, _ib._ - connection of the Fool with the Rise of the Movement 220-23 - passage into the Central Climax marked by the Storm 214-5 - Central Climax of the Movement 214-8 - effect on Lear of the Storm 214 - of contact with Edgar 215 - Edgar's madness a common Climax to the trains of passion in the - Underplot 215-7 - the Central Climax a trio of madness 217-23 - an example of Tone-Storm 254. - - _King Lear_, Plot of: - The Main Plot a Problem Action 202-6 - the Problem enunciated in action 203-5 - Solution in a triple Tragedy 205-6 - Parallelism between Main and Underplot 206-8, 277-8, 297. - The Underplot an Intrigue Action 207-8 - its Initial Action 207 - its resultant a triple Tragedy parallel with that of the Main Plot - 207-8 - Main and Underplot drawn together by common Central Climax 208 - by Dependence 276 - by Convergent Motion 282-4, 298. - - - Kriegspiel 185. - - - Laius 134. - - Lansdowne 9. - - Laureate, Poets preceding Southey: 17. - - Law as a term in Criticism and Science generally 32-7. - - Legal evasions 65. - - Lessing 11. - - Light as a Tone 251, 252. - - Line of Motion 278-9. - - Line of Passion 280. - - Linking 275. - - Lycurgus 45. - - Lyrics of Prose 22. - - - Macaulay 2, 3, 13 - on active and passive courage 146. - - - _Macbeth_, Play of: - affords examples of Dramatic Colouring 241-2 - Enveloping Action (the Witches) 273 - Balance 276 - Parallelism and Contrast 277 - Technical Analysis 295. - - Macbeth, Character of: - an illustration of methodical analysis 24 - compared with Richard 92 - with Julius Cęsar 178 - an example of Character-Development 243-5. - General Analysis 147-154, 161, 243-5. - Macbeth as the Practical Man 147-54 - his nobility superficial 148, 161 - his character as analysed by his wife 148-50 - illustrated by his soliloquy 151-3 - compared in action and in mental conflicts 153, 162 - flaws in his completeness as type of the practical 154 - Macbeth's superstition 154, 159, 162, 165-6, 167, 243-5 - his inability to bear suspense 154, 160, 162, 163, 164-5, 243-5. - Macbeth under temptation 158 - in the deed of murder 161 - his break-down and blunder 162 - in the Discovery Scene 163 - his blunder in stabbing the grooms 163 - under the strain of concealment 164 - confronted with the Ghost of Banquo 165 - nemesis in his old age 167 - and his trust in the false oracles 167. - Macbeth an example of Infatuation 261-2 - relations with the Witches 263-4 - not turned from good to evil by their influence 263. - - Macbeth (Lady), Character of: 154-6 - type of the Inner Life 154-6 - her tact 155, 161, 164, 165 - her feminine delicacy 156, 161, 162, 166 - her wifely devotion 156. - Lady Macbeth under temptation 159 - in the deed of murder 161 - in the discovery 163 - her fainting 164 - under the strain of concealment 165 - her tact in the Ghost Scene 165 - her gentleness to Macbeth 166 - her break-down in madness 166. - - Macbeth, Lord and Lady, as a Study in Character-Contrast 144 and - Chapter VII, 240 - rests on the Antithesis of the Practical and Inner Life 147-56. - The Contrast traced through the action of the play 156-67 - relations at the beginning of the play 156-8 - first impulse to crime from Macbeth 156 - the Temptation 158-61 - the meeting after their separate temptations 160-1 - the Deed 161-3 - the Concealment 163-5 - the Nemesis 165-7. - - _Macbeth_, other Characters in. - Banquo: his attitude to the supernatural compared with Macbeth's - 154, 159, 263 - the attempt against Banquo and Fleance the end of Macbeth's success - and beginning of his failure 127 - binds together the Rise and Fall 137 - Macbeth's exultation over it 153 - the Banquo Action balances the Macduff Action 129 - gives unity to the Rise 127-9 - partakes the triple form of the whole play 142. - Fleance: _see_ Banquo. - Lennox 128, 163. - Macduff: massacre of his family 130, 141 - his position in the scene with Malcolm 140, 247 - the Macduff Action balances the Banquo Action 129 - gives unity to the Fall 129-30 - partakes triple form of the whole play 142 - example of Oracular Action 265-6. - Malcolm 139, 247. - The Porter 253. - The Witches 129, 134, 135, 136, 137, 139, 141 - their use to rationalise Macbeth's Infatuation 262 - an example of the Supernatural intensifying human action 263-4 - their different behaviour to Macbeth and Banquo 263-4 - their exact function in the play 264 - the Witches Action an Enveloping Action 295, 143 - partakes the triple form of the whole play 143. - - _Macbeth_, Incidents and Scenes in: - Witches Scene 158-9, 263-4 - Apparitions Scene 130, 135, 140 - Ghost Scene 165-6, 247 - Proclamation of Cumberland 135, 151, 260 - Dagger Scene 153, 247 - Discovery Scene 163 - Flight of Duncan's Sons 139, 164, 261 - Macduff with Malcolm in England 140, 247 - the Sleep-walking 166-7 - Final Combat 261. - - _Macbeth_, Movement of: its four Stages 158-67 - The Temptation 158-61 - The Deed 161-3 - The Concealment 163-5 - The Nemesis 165-7. - - _Macbeth_, Plot of: the interweaving of Nemesis and Destiny 127 and - Chapter VI - its Action multiple in form 127, 270. - _Macbeth_ as a Nemesis Action 127-30 - the Rise 127 - the Fall 129 - the Rise and Fall together 127. - _Macbeth_ as an Oracular Action 130-7 - the Rise 134 - the Fall 135 - the Rise and Fall together 136. - _Macbeth_ as an Irony Action 139-43 - the Rise 139 - the Fall 140 - the Rise and Fall together 141. - - - Madness distinguished from Passion 209 - connected with inspiration 218 - madness of Lear: its gradual oncoming in waves of hysterical passion - 209 - change in its character after the Centrepiece 215 - it makes the Passion-Climax of the main Plot 209 - the madness of passion 217 - madness of Edgar: the madness of idiocy 217-8 - feigned 216 - common Climax of the passions of the Underplot 215-8 - madness of the Fool: professional madness 218-23 - madness-duett 217-8 - madness-trio 218, 223. - - Malone 15. - - _Measure for Measure_, Play of: 281. - - Mechanical Construction 233, and Chapters II and III generally. - - Mechanical Details utilised 77, 233. - - Mechanical Difficulties, their Reduction: 76-7 - the three months' interval in the Story of the Jew 77 - the loss of Antonio's ships 77 - not always necessary to solve these 77. - - Mechanical Personages 75 - their multiplication in Romantic Drama _ib._ - - Melodrama 118. - - Mephistopheles compared with Richard 92. - - - _Merchant of Venice, The_, Play of: as an illustration of the - construction of Drama out of Story 43-89 - Story as the Raw Material of the Romantic Drama 43 - the two main Stories in the _Merchant of Venice_ considered as Raw - Material 43 - Story of the Jew gives scope for Nemesis 44-51 - Antonio side of the Nemesis 47-9 - Shylock side of the Nemesis 49-51 - Caskets Story gives scope for Idealisation 51-7 - Problem of Judgment by Appearances idealised 52-4 - its solution: Character as an element in Judgment 54-7 - characters of the three Suitors 55-6. - Working up of the two Main Stories 58 and Chapter II. - Reduction of Difficulties 58-66 - Monstrosity in Shylock's Character met by Dramatic Hedging 58-61 - Difficulties as to the pound of flesh 61-6 - significance of the discussion on interest 61-4. - Interweaving of the two Stories 66-73 - assistance it gives to the movement of the play 66 - to the symmetry of the plot 67-9 - union of a light and serious story 69-73. - Further multiplication of Stories by the addition of an Underplot 74 - and Chapter III. - Paradox of simplicity by means of complexity 74-5 - uses of the Jessica Story 75-87 - characters of Jessica and Lorenzo 82-7 - uses of the Rings Episode 87-9. - The play illustrates every variety of Tone 251-2 - Tone-Play 253 - Turning-points 285, 68 - Complication and Resolution 279, 66-7 - Central effects 67-8 - Interweaving 275-6 - Wave Form of Passion-Movement 280 - Contrary Motion 282. - Plot analysed 271 - Technical Analysis 291-2. - - _Merchant of Venice_, Characters in: - Antonio 247 - his nemesis 47-9 - general character 47 - friendship with Bassanio 47, 85 - conduct in Bond Scene 48-9, 61, 262 - centre of the serious side of the play 69-70 - the loss of his ships 77 - his sadness 250 - his pathetic humour 254. - Arragon 55, 240, 251. - Bassanio: friendship with Antonio 47, 85 - as a suitor 56 - his part in the Bond Scene 61 - in the Trial 73 - in the Rings Episode 72, 88 - a scholar 76 - set off by Lorenzo 86 - a Link Personage 88, 275 - seen at a disadvantage in the play 86, 238 - example of Tone-Clash 254. - Bellario 66. - Duke 64, 65. - Gobbo 76, 252. - Gratiano 60, 76, 84, 239, 249, 252. - Jessica, her Story 75-87, 68, &c. - her character 82-7 - a compensation to Shylock 80 - her attraction to Portia 87 - foil to Portia 86 - in Moonlight Scene 247. - Launcelot 76, 83, 84, 252. - Lorenzo: his character 85-7 - its alleged inconsistency 238 - a foil to Bassanio 86 - in Moonlight Scene 247. - Morocco 55, 240, 251. - Nerissa 76, 239, 252. - Portia as centre of the lighter side of the play 69-70, 252 - in the Trial Scene 49-51, 65-6, 70-3 - her plea an evasion 65 - playing with the situation 70-2 - her outburst on mercy 73, 251 - the Rings Stratagem 72 - relations with Jessica 85-6 - her character 88-9. - Salarino 48, 60, 76, 84. - Salanio 60, 76. - Salerio 76. - Shylock as a study of Nemesis 49-51 - in the Trial Scene 49-51, 247 - his character 59-61 - sentence on him 60, 80, 257 - relation with Jessica 78-81, 83. - Tubal 60, 76, 79, 239, 247. - - _Merchant of Venice_, Incidents and Scenes in: - Bond Scene 48-9, 61-4, 262 - Scene of Bassanio's Choice 55, 56, 68, 253, 275 - Scene between Shylock and Tubal 79, 247 - Trial Scene 49 - its difficulties 64-6 - its mixture of passions 70-2, 73 - as an Incident 246 - its Comic Irony 249 - its Tone-Clash 254 - sentence on Shylock 257. - Moonlight Scene 247. - - - Merivale on Roman Life 170. - - _Midsummer Night's Dream_, Play of 111. - - 'Milk of human kindness' 149-50. - - Milton's _Paradise Lost_ 11 - minor poems 11, 12 - versification 12, 13, 14 - his Satan 123 - on the Inner Life 144 - his use of the Background of Nature 192. - - Mixture of Tones 251-3. [_See_ Tone.] - - Mob in _Julius Cęsar_ 296, 188, 200. - - Moličre 16. - - Montgomery, Robert 13. - - - Motion, Line of: 278-9. - - Motion, Modes of: 281-4 - Similar Motion 282, 294, 295, 296 - Contrary Motion 282, 291 - Convergent Motion 282-4, 298. [_See_ also Movement.] - - Motive, Dramatic: 255-67. [_See_ Motive Force.] - - Motive Force, or Dramatic Motive: 254-67 - General idea 254-5 - distinguished from Motive Form _ib._ - =Leading Motive Forces=: Poetic Justice 255-7 - Pathos 257-9 - the Supernatural 259-67. - Motive Force in _Richard III_ is Nemesis 119 - in _Macbeth_ the original oracle of the Witches 137. - - Motive Form distinguished from Motive Force 254 - general exposition 278-87. - - Movement: as an element in Drama 185 - Arch form applied to 186 - simple in _Julius Cęsar_, complex in _King Lear_ 186, 202 - traced in _Julius Cęsar_ 185 and Chapter IX - in _King Lear_ 202 and Chapter X. - Movement as one division of Action 235, 236 - applied to Character as Character-Development 242 - applied to Passion 254 [_see_ Motive Force] - applied to Plot 278 [_see_ Motive Form]. - Movement shown in the Technical Analyses 291-8. - - Movement, Centre of, Focus of: 284-5. [_See_ Catastrophe.] - - Movement, Single[9] 278-81 - its division into Simple and Complicated 278-9 - Action-Movement and Passion-Movement 279-80 - this distinction the basis of the main division of Shakespeare's - plays 279-81 - varieties of Passion-Movement 280. - Compound Movement 281-4 - general idea 281 - its three Modes of Motions: - Similar Motion 282 - Contrary Motion 282 - Convergent Motion 282-4. - - Movement, Varieties of: - Single[9] 278 - Compound 281-4 - Simple[9] and Complicated[9] 278-9 - Action and Passion 279-81, 291-8 - Regular Arch 280 - Inclined Plane 280 - Wave 280 - Similar 282 - Contrary 282 - Convergent 282-4. - - - Multiplication of Actions 269-71 - of Stories 74. [_See_ Story.] - - - Nemesis as a dramatic idea 44 - ancient and modern conception 44-5 - its change with change in the idea of Destiny 126 - its distinction from Justice 44 - connection with Fortune 44 - with risk 45 - proverbs of Nemesis 46 - connection with _hybris_ 49. - Nemesis needed to counterbalance Richard's Villainy 106 - woven into history in _Richard III_ 107 and Chapter V - a system of Nemesis Actions in the Underplot of _Richard III_ 108-119 - modes of emphasising 114-18 - its multiplication a suitable background to Richard's character 118. - Nemesis interwoven with Destiny in _Macbeth_ 125 and Chapter VI - applied to the plot of _Macbeth_ 127-30. - Nemesis as a Dramatic Effect 249 - as a Dramatic Motive 255-6. - - Nemesis, Varieties of: - Surprise 47 - Expectation and Satisfaction 49 - Unlooked-for Source 256 - Equality, or Measure for Measure 49, 120, 127, 208, 256 - Sureness or Delay 120, 256 - Suddenness 198, 256 - Repetition and Multiplication 256, 107 and Chapter V generally - Self-inflicted 256 - the Prize of Guilt 256 - Combined with Mockery 256 and compare 115-9 - Double 47, 205-6, 207-8 - Cross Nemeses 291, 293, compare 47, 51. - - Nemesis, =Illustrations= of: - Anne 113 - Antonio 47 - Buckingham 109 - Cęsar 197 - Cassius 249 - Clarence 108 - the Conspirators in _Julius Cęsar_ 201, 256 - Edmund 208, 216-7 - King Edward IV 108 - Gloucester (in _King Lear_) 207-8, 216-7 - Goneril and Regan 206, 256 - Hastings 109 - Hippolytus 45 - in the Story of the Jew 46 - Lear 205-6, 209-15, 220-3, 256 - Lycurgus 45 - Macbeth 217-30, 165-7, 256 - Lady Macbeth 166 - Macduff 129 - Pentheus 45 - Polycrates 45 - Queen and her kindred (_Richard III_) 108 - Regan 206, 256 - Richard III 119-24, 256 - Shylock 49, 256 - Wars of the Roses 111-3. - - - Objective to the plot of _King Lear_ 284, 298. - - Observation as a Stage of Inductive Science 228-9. - - Oedipus as an example of Oracular Action 134 - of Irony 138. - - Omens 193, 201. [_See_ Supernatural.] - - Oracular Action 130-4 - applied to Macbeth 134-7 - as an example of Supernatural agency illuminating human action 265-6 - compared with the illumination of history 265. - =Illustrations=: - of the first type 131, 134, 135 - of the second 132, 134 - of the third 133, 136. - - _Othello_, play of: Rymer on 8, 9 - Iago 92, 101. - - Otway 9. - - Outer and Inner Life 144-6. [_See_ Antithesis.] - - Overwinding as an illustration for the Movement of _Macbeth_ 137. - - - Paradox of simplicity by means of complexity 74. - - Parallelism 276-8 [_see_ Action, Economy of] - between Main and Underplot in _King Lear_ 206-9, 277-8, 297 - other illustrations in the Technical Analyses 291, 295. - - - Passion 246 - as an element in Drama 185-6 - its connection with Movement _ib._ - as an Elementary Topic in Dramatic Criticism 235 - subdivided 236. =Examples:= _Julius Cęsar_ 185 and Chapter IX; - _Lear_ 202 and Chapter X. - - 'Passion-Drama' as substitute for 'Tragedy' 280-1, 293, 295, 296, 297. - - Passion, Interest of: 246 and Chapter XIII - general description 246 - unity in Passion-Interest 246-50 [_see_ Incident, Situation, and - Effect] - complexity in Passion-Interest 250-4 [_see_ Tone] - Movement applied to Passion 254-67, 236 [_see_ Motive Force]. - - Passion, Line of: 280. - - Passion-Movement 254-67, 236. [_See_ Motive Force.] - - Passion-Strain 186 - Strain and Reaction 280. - =Examples:= _Julius Cęsar_ 191-201; _King Lear_ 208, 215. - - - Pathos as a Dramatic Motive 257-9. - - St. Paul and Nemesis 47. - - Pentheus 45. - - Perrault 19. - - Perspective in Plot 118. - - Pharaoh an example of Infatuation 261. - - Physical passion or madness in Lear 210-5 - external shocks as a cause of madness 214. - - Plato's _Republic_ and its treatment of liberty 170. - - - Plot as an Elementary Topic in Dramatic Criticism 236 - the intellectual side of Action, or pure Action 236 - Shakespeare a Master of Plot 69, 269 - close connection between Plot and Character illustrated by _Richard - III_ 107 and Chapter V - this play an example of complexity in Plot 107 - perspective in Plot 118 - _Macbeth_ an example of subtlety in Plot 125, 142 - Plot analytical in its nature 186 - simple in _Julius Cęsar_, complex in _King Lear_ 202 - effect on the estimation of Plot of dissociation from the theatre 233 - the most intellectual of all the elements of Drama 233 - Technical Analyses of Plots 291-8. - - Plot, Interest of: 268 and Chapter XIV. - Definition of Plot 268-9 - its connection with design and pattern 268, 269, 270, 272, 108, - 111, 118, 202 - its dignity 268. - Unity applied to Plot 269-70 [_see_ Action Single; Action, Forms of] - complexity applied to Plot 270-8 [_see_ Action Analysis, Economy] - complexity of Action distinguishes Modern Drama from Ancient 270 - Unity of Action becomes in Modern Drama Harmony of Actions 270 - Shakespeare's plots federations of plots 271. - Movement applied to Plot, or Motive Form 278-85. [_See_ Action - Single and Compound, Turning-points.] - - - Poetic Justice 255-7. [_See_ Justice.] - - Polycrates 45, 126. - - Pope 10, 17, 19. - - Portia: see _Merchant of Venice_ - _Julius Cęsar_. - - Practical Life 144-6. [_See_ Antithesis.] - - Problem Action 202-6, 224, 269 - of Judgment by Appearances 52-6. - - Prometheus 122-3. - - _Proverbs_, Book of: quoted 144. - - Proverbs of Nemesis 46. - - Providence as modern analogue of Destiny 125. - - Puritan Revolution, its effect on Dramatic Criticism 232. - - Pye 17. - - - Quilp compared with Richard III 92, 94. - - - _Rambler_ 17. - - Raw Material of the Romantic Drama 43, 232. - - Reaction 198. [_See_ Passion-Strain.] - - Reduction of Difficulties an element in Dramatic workmanship 58, 233 - illustrated: _Merchant of Venice_ 58-66. - - Reed 8. - - Relief 253. [_See_ Tone.] - - Renaissance and its influence on critical method 4, 18, 230 - Shakespeare a type 287. - - Representation 231. [_See_ Stage.] - - Resolution 67, 279. [_see_ Complication.] - Resolving Force 67. - - Reviewing, the lyrics of prose 22. - - Rhymed couplet 30 - its usage by Shakespeare 135. - - - _Richard III_, Play of: an example of the intimate relation between - Character and Plot 107 - treated from the side of Character 90 and Chapter IV - from the side of Plot 107 and Chapter VI - its Enveloping Action, the wars of the Roses 273, 276 - its Turning-points 285 - its form of Passion-Movement 280 - affords examples of Situations 247 - of Dramatic Foreshadowing 250 - of Similar Motion 282. - - Richard III, Character of: 90 and Chapter IV - Ideal Villainy 90-1, 237 - in scale 91 - development 91, 243 - not explained by sufficient motive 92 - an end in itself 93. - Richard as an Artist in Villainy 93-6 - absence of emotion 93 - intellectual enjoyment of Villainy 95-6. - His Villainy ideal in its success 96-103 - fascination of irresistibility 97, 103 - use of unlikely means 98 - economy 99 - imperturbability and humour 100-1 - fairness 101 - recklessness suggesting resource 101, 239 - inspiration as distinguished from calculation 102 - his keen touch for human nature 102. - Ideal and Real Villainy 104 - Ideal Villainy and Monstrosity 105. [Also called Gloster.] - - _Richard III_, Characters in: - Anne 94, 113, 115 [_see_ Wooing Scene] - Buckingham 91, 96, 100, 109, 115, 118, 121, 240 - Catesby 117, 240 - Clarence 108, 114, 116 - his Children 109 - his Murderers 240-1 - Derby 117 - Dorset 120 - Elizabeth 121 - Ely 100, 121 - Hastings 91, 98, 109, 114, 115, 117, 240, 249 - King Edward IV 99, 108, 114, 117 - King Edward V 100, 240, 250 - Lord Mayor 99 - Margaret 94, 112, 115, 247 - Queen and her kindred 98, 108, 114, 115, 116 - Richmond 120, 121 - Stanley 117, 123 - Tyrrel 94, 240 - York 99, 240 - Duchess of York 95, 111. - - _Richard III_, Incidents and Scenes in: - Wooing Scene 247 - analysed 103-4 - an example of fascination 94, 97 - Richard's blunders 102, 239. - Margaret and the Courtiers 94, 247 - Reconciliation Scene 99, 117 - Murder of Clarence 116, 240-1, 246. - - _Richard III_, Plot of: 107 and Chapter V. - How Shakespeare weaves Nemesis into History _ib._ - Its Underplot as a system of Nemesis 108 - its Enveloping Action a Nemesis 111 - further multiplication of Nemesis 112 - special devices for neutralising the weakening effect of such - multiplication 114-8 - the multiplication needed as a background to the villainy 118 - Motive Force of the whole a Nemesis Action 119. - Fall of Richard 119-23 - protracted not sudden 119, 256 - Turning-point delayed 120 - tantalisation and mockery in Richard's fate 121-4 - Climax in sleep and the Apparitions 122 - final stages 123 - play begins and ends in peace 123. - - - Roman political life 169-71 and Chapter VIII generally - its subordination of the individual to the State 170 - a change during Cęsar's absence 180, 183. - - Romantic Drama: - Shakespeare its Great Master 40, 43 - its connection with Stories of Romance 43. - - _Romeo and Juliet_, Play of: 9. - - Roscommon 17. - - Rowe 17. - - Rymer the champion of 'Regular' Criticism 8 - on Portia 8 - and _Othello_ generally 8 - on _Paradise Lost_ 11 - on Blank Verse 14 - on Modern Drama 17 - on _Catiline_ 17 - on Classical Standards 18 - his _Edgar_ 21. - - - Satire, Dramatic 3. - - Scale of Passion-Tones 251. - - Schlegel 11. - - Science of Dramatic Art 40, 227. [_See_ Criticism.] - - Scudéry 18. - - Serious as a Tone 251. - - Shadwell 17. - - Shakespeare-Criticism, History of, in five stages 8-11. - - Shakespeare's English 15 - his Sonnets 12. - - Situation, Dramatic: 247-8. - - Socrates 230. - - Sophocles 270. - - Spenser 12, 17, 30. - - Sprat 16. - - Stage-Representation: an element in Interpretation 98 - an allied art to Drama 231 - separated in the present treatment 231-2 - in exposition but not in idea 233-4. - - Stationary Action 291 note. - - Steevens 12, 15. - - Stoicism 144, 173, 174, 175, 179, 188. - - Storm in _Julius Cęsar_ 192-6, 214 [_see_ Background of Nature] - in _King Lear_ 214-5. - - - Story as the Raw Material of the Shakespearean Drama 43 and Chapter - I, 232 - construction of Drama out of Stories illustrated in _The Merchant of - Venice_ 43-89 - two Stories worked into one design in _The Merchant of Venice_ 58 - and Chapter II - in _King Lear_ 206 - Multiplication and Interweaving of Stories 66-73 - effects on Movement 66-7 - of Symmetry 67-9 - interweaving of a Light with a Serious Story 69-73 - effects of - Human Interest 70 - of Plot 70 - of Passion 70-3. - - Story of the Jew 43, 44-51. - Its two-fold Nemesis 46-51 - its difficulties met 58-66 - Complicated and Resolved 67 - connection with the Central Scene 68 - its mechanical difficulties 76-7. - - Story of the Caskets 44, 51-6. - An illustration of Idealisation 51 - careful contrivance of inscriptions and scrolls 53, 54 - its problem 52 - and solution 54 - connection with the central scene 68. - - Story of Jessica 75-87. - Its connection with the central scene 68 - an Underplot to _The Merchant of Venice_ 75-87 - its use in attaching to Plot the Mechanical Personages 75 - and generally assisting Mechanism 76-7 - helps to reduce difficulties in the Main Plot 77-80 - a Link Action 81 - assists Symmetry and Balance 82 - assists Characterisation 82-7. - - Story [or Episode] of the Rings: its uses in the Underplot of _The - Merchant of Venice_ 87-9 - compare 68, 72. - - Strain of Passion 186. [_See_ Passion-Strain.] - - Sub-Actions: - Launcelot 76, 291 - Cęsar and Antony 282, 296 - in Technical Analyses 291-8. - - Supernatural, The, as a Dramatic Motive 259-67. - Different use in Ancient and Modern Drama 259 - rationalised in Modern Drama 260. - In an objective form as Destiny 260-1 - in a subjective form as Infatuation 261-2. - Supernatural Agencies 262-7 - not to be explained as hallucinations 262 - Shakespeare's usage of Supernatural Agency: - to intensify human action 263-4 - to illuminate human action 263-4 - the Oracular 265-6 - the Dramatic Background of Nature 266. - =Illustrations=: - the Apparitions to Richard 122 - the Ghost of Banquo 165-6 - the Apparitions in _Macbeth_ 135, &c. - the Witches 158, 263 - portents in _Julius Cęsar_ 193-4 - the Ghost of Cęsar 201 - omen of Eagles to Cassius 201. - - Symmetry as a dramatic effect 68, 233 - as a form of Economy 276-8. - =Illustrations=: _Merchant of Venice_ 67-8; _King Lear_ 207-9, - 277-8. - - Systematisation as a Stage of scientific progress 228, 229. - - - Table of Elementary Topics 236 - of general Topics 288. - - Taste as condensed experience 6. [_See_ Criticism.] - - Tate 17. - - Taylor (Jeremy) 39. - - _Tempest_, Play of: 10. - - Terence 16. - - Thackeray on the Inner Life 144. - - Themistocles, Story of: 131. - - Theobald 10. - - Theseus and Hippolyta 111. - - Tieck 11. - - Tito Melema compared with Richard 91. - - Tone as a dramatic term: - the application of complexity to Passion 236 - Passion-Tones 250-4 - Scale of Tones 251. - Mixture of Tones 251-4 - this unknown to the Ancient Drama 252 - mere mixture in the same field 251-2 - mixture in the same Incident: - Tone-Play 253 - Tone-Relief _ib._ - Tone-Clash _ib._ - Tone-Storm 254. - - Topics as a technical term in science 229-30 - topical stage of development in sciences 229 - applied to Dramatic Criticism 229-30 and Chapter XI - Elementary Topics of Dramatic Criticism 236 - General Table of Topics 288 - Topics common to Dramatic and other arts 232. - - Touchstone 223. - - 'Tragedy' or 'Passion-Drama' 280-1 - Tragedies of Lear 205-6, &c., 209-15, 220-3 - of Cordelia and - Kent 206 - of Goneril and Regan 206 - of Gloucester 207-8, 216-7 - of Edgar 208, 216-7 - of Edmund 208, 216-7 - Systems of Tragedies 208-9. - - Tragic as a Tone 251. - - Turning-points 284-5, 291-8. - Double in Shakespeare's plays: Catastrophe or Focus of Movement and - Centre of Plot 284-5. - =Illustrations= 284-5, compare 68, 120, 127, 186, 198, 205, 216-7. - - Tyrtęus 132. - - - Ulrici 11, 26. - - Underplot 74 and Chapter III - =Illustrations=: _Merchant of Venice_ 74 and Chapter III, 291 - _Richard III_ 108-19, 293 - Lear 206-9, 215-8, 223, 271, 283-4, 297-8. - - Union of Light and Serious Stories 69-73. - - Unity as an element of Action 235 - applied to Character 237 - to Passion 246 - to Plot (Action) 270-71 - the 'three unities' 14. - - Unstable equilibrium in morals 45, 205. - - Utilisation of the Mechanical 76-8, 233. - - - _Variorum Shakespeare_ 8. - - Villainy as a subject for art treatment 90 - Ideal Villainy 90 and Chapter IV. - - Voltaire 9, 14, 17. - - - Waller 17. - - Walsh 17. - - Warton 17. - - Wave-form of Passion-Movement 280, 292 - waves of hysterical passion in Lear 210-5. - - _Waverley Novels_ 12. - - Whitehead 17. - - Wit as a mental game 219. - - Wordsworth 12. - - Workmanship, Dramatic: 58 and Chapter II, 233. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[9] The reader will remember that 'Single' is used as antithetical to -'Complex,' and 'Simple' to 'Complicated.' See note to page 74. - - - - -INDEX OF SCENES - -ILLUSTRATED IN THE FOREGOING CHAPTERS. - -_Clarendon type is used where the passage referred to approaches the -character of an analysis of the scene._ - - - JULIUS CĘSAR. - - Act I. - - Sc. i. 180, =188-9=. - ii. 172, =178-80=, 180, =189-91=. - iii. =191-4=, =195-6=. - - Act II. - - Sc. i. 171-2, 172, 174, =175-6=, 176, 180-1, 187, 191, =194=. - ii. 177, =194-5=. - iii. 196. - iv. 196-7 - - Act III. - - Sc. i. 172-3, 177, 177-8, 182, 183, =196-9=, 285. - ii. 175, =199-200=. - iii. 180, 200. - - Act IV. - - Sc. i. 200. - ii. and iii. 172, 173-4, 182, =200-1=. - - Act V. - - Scs. iii, v. 171, 172, 201. - - - KING LEAR. - - Act I. - - Sc. i. =203-5=, 206, 285. - ii. 206. - iv. =210=, =220-1=. - v. =210-1=, =221-2=. - - Act II. - - Sc. i. 283. - ii. 258, note. - iv. 209, =211-4=, =222-3=, 283. - - Act III. - - Sc. i. 209, 214, 215, 223. - ii. 209, 215, 223. - iii. 209, =215=, 216. - iv. 209, 215, =216=, 217-8, 223, 285. - v. 209, 283. - vi. 207, 209. - vii. 209, 216, 247. - - Act IV. - - Sc. i. 216, 217. - vi. 215. - - Act V. - - Sc. iii. 208, 215, 259. - - - MACBETH. - - Act I. - - Sc. iii. =135=, 136, 141, 154, =158-9=, 244, =263-4=. - iv. =135=, 150-1, 244, 260. - v. =149-50=, 156, =159-60=. - vii. =151-3=, 157, =160-1=. - - Act II. - - Sc. i. =153-4=. - ii. 154, 155, =161-3=, 244. - iii. =139-40=, =163-4=, 253, 260. - iv. =140=, 164. - - Act III. - - Sc. i. 129, 154, =164-5=. - ii. 154, =164-5=, 244. - iii. =127=, 285. - iv. 130, 154, =165-6=, 285. - v. 262, 264. - vi. =128-9=. - - Act IV. - - Sc. i. 130, =135-6=, 140, 167, 264. - ii. 130, 140. - iii. =140-1=. - - Act V. - - Sc. i. =166-7=. - iii. 167. - v. 167. - vii. and viii. 130, 167, 285. - - - MERCHANT OF VENICE. - - Act I. - - Sc. i. 48, 61, 70, 76. - ii. 54, 56, 70. - iii. 48-9, =61-4=, 262. - - Act II. - - Sc. i. 53. - ii. 76. - iii. 76, 84. - iv. 84, 85. - v. 60, 76, =83=. - vi. 84, 85. - vii. 53, 55. - viii. 78. - ix. 55-6. - - Act III. - - Sc. i. 60, 76, 78, 79, 85. - ii. 54-5, 56, =67-9=, 76, 78. - iii. 60, 76, 78. - iv. 85, 86. - v. 76, 85. - - Act IV. - - Scs. i. and ii. =49-51=, 60, =64-6=, =70-3=, 80, 87-8, 88-9, 254, - 257, 285. - - Act V. - - Sc. i. 85, 247. - - - RICHARD III. - - Act I. - - Sc. i. 92-3, 96, 100, 101, 123. - ii. 93, 94, =96=, =97-8=, 99, 101, 102, =103-4=, 113. - iii. 95, 96, =111-3=, 115. - iv. 108, 114, =116=, 240-1. - - Act II. - - Sc. i. 99, 101, 108, 116, 117-8. - ii. 95, 100, 109, 111-2. - - Act III. - - Sc. i. 91, 99, 100. - ii. 109, =117=, 249. - iii. 114, 115, 120, 285. - iv. 98, 100, 114, 115. - v, vii. 96, 99. - - Act IV. - - Sc. i. 104, 111-2, 116. - ii. 110, 262, 280, 285. - iii. 94, =120-1=. - iv. 91, 95, 111-2, 115, =121-2=. - - Act V. - - Sc. i. 115, 118. - iii. 95, =122-3=. - iv. and v. 123. - - - - -Corrections. - -The first line indicates the original, the second the correction. - - -p. 64: - - It has further been ushered in in a manner - It has further been ushered in a manner - - -p. 310: - - his inability to bear suspense 154, 160, 162, 163, 163, 164-5, 243-5. - his inability to bear suspense 154, 160, 162, 163, 164-5, 243-5. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist, by -Richard G. 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