The Shakespeare-Expositor - Thomas Keightley

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greatness. Most persons will here call to mind the parallel case of Sir Walter Scott, who, too, as fondly and as vainly yearned to be the founder of a part of the rural aristocracy of his native land, and in whose eyes it was greater to be Laird of Abbotsford than the author of Waverley. But the advantage was on the side of the bard of Avon; for he sought no literary fame, content with a life of peace and competence, while the Scottish baronet would fain have had literary fame as well as wealth and title. How different were the latter days of the two men!

      From what precedes—few, very few, as the circumstances are—some faint idea may be formed of Shakespeare as a man. As a poet, his works present him to us, in all his fulness, as the most wonderful dramatic genius that ever the world has seen, ranging with equal ease from the lowest to the highest point of the whole scale of the drama, from the broad farce of the Comedy of Errors, through the enchanting light and graceful comedy of As You Like It, and similar pieces, up to the sublimest tragedy of Macbeth, Lear, Othello. Of him alone can this be asserted. We have no reason to suppose that the great tragic poets of Greece, any more than those of France, excelled also in comedy; while the dramatists of Spain notoriously failed in tragedy, and their comedy, gay, spritely and animated as it is, depends chiefly on plot and intrigue, and is greatly deficient in variety of character.

      Mr. Dyce has justly observed how absurd it is to say that Shakespeare was, though the greatest, only one of a race of contemporary giants. The poetic greatness of Jonson, Fletcher, and Massinger was doubtless beyond that witnessed in most other ages of the world; but surely they were but as the stars to the sun when compared with Shakespeare. In like manner I apprehend few will agree with the following character of Shakespeare as a poet, drawn by Gifford in his Introduction to the Plays of Massinger.

      "The claims of this great poet on the admiration of mankind are innumerable, but rhythmical modulation is not one of them; nor do I think it either wise or just to hold him forth as supereminent in every quality which constitutes genius. Beaumont is as sublime, Fletcher as pathetic, and Jonson as nervous. Nor let it be accounted poor or niggard praise to allow him only an equality with these extraordinary men in their peculiar excellencies, while he is admitted to possess many others, to which they made no approaches. Indeed if I were asked for the discriminating quality of Shakespeare's mind, that by which he is raised above all competition, above all prospect of rivalry, I should say it was WIT."

      That Shakespeare possessed that aroma of humour which we denominate wit, beyond any of his contemporaries or successors, is a matter about which, I think, there cannot be two opinions. I will not deny that in nervousness Jonson may have equalled him, but I certainly know not where to look for the sublime in Beaumont which rivalled that of Macbeth and Lear; and unquestionably I should never even dream of putting the morbid softness of Fletcher in comparison with the genuine manly pathos of Shakespeare. There was however one thing in which I must confess they all exceeded him—perspicuity; for though in many, very many parts of his plays the language is most lucid and unconstrained, there are others—in Troilus and Cressida for instance—which task the intellect to understand them, and which never could have been intelligible to an ordinary audience. But the fact is, neither he nor any other of his brother dramatists ever seems to have asked himself the simple question, Will the audience understand this? I finally must assert, in opposition to Gifford, that, where Shakespeare's verse is uninjured, we have abundant proof that no poet ever excelled him in "rhythmical modulation," and that, when we would produce the most melodious verse in our language, it is in his plays that we shall find our best specimens. It seems to me quite idle to say with Coleridge that Shakespeare's verse is peculiar in rhythm and structure; for, from the nature of verse, it could not be so. It is just as idle to say with Johnson that the blank verse of Thomson is not that of Milton. The difference in such cases lies wholly in the language; and that of Shakespeare is peculiar. This is caused by an excess of figurative expression, in which his metaphors are often broken and confused and his similes imperfect, by inversions and transpositions, and by the use of words in unusual and even incorrect senses.

      Shakespeare's power of observation must have been not merely extensive but marvellous:—

      "He walk'd in every path of human life,

      Felt every passion, and to all mankind

      Doth now, will ever, that experience yield

      Which his own genius only could acquire."

      Nothing, in fact, high or low, seems to have escaped him; he discerned the nicest shades and varieties of looks, of manners, of language. He had also, in a remarkable degree, that power—that clairvoyance, as we may perhaps venture to term it—so requisite to the dramatist and the novelist, of developing from the faintest sketch, the merest outline, the entire of a character, with its appropriate sentiments, action, and language. In the number and variety of characters no writer ever equalled him, and all are fully and completely delineated, none are, as in other dramatists, mere sketches. Some, such as his Clowns, are peculiar to himself; we meet with no Clowns in the dramas of his contemporaries and successors—the Gracioso of the Spanish drama, an independent creation, being the nearest approach to them. But of all his creations what has always most astonished me are his women. They are exclusively his own; Fletcher, Massinger, or any other, has nothing like them. Perhaps the nearest approach is made in Spain also, by Cervantes; in whom, however, as in the Spanish drama, they want variety. They would seem to have been produced, if I may so express it, by a projection of his own gentle and noble nature into female forms; for he surely never met his Rosalinds, Mirandas, and Perditas in real life, though he may have had some faint sketches of some of them in his own daughters. He seems to have shrunk almost instinctively from portraying bad women. Goneril and Regan alone are unredeemed; for Lady Macbeth is awful, not detestable, and even the Queen of Cymbeline is but an Agrippina, for like her she is criminal but not selfish.

      In fine, though I will not, with Mr. Buckle, term Shakespeare "the greatest of the sons of men"—for I cannot give that preeminence to imagination, observation, and language over the other mental powers, so as to place him above Aristotle and Newton—I will say here of him, as I have said in my 'Life of Milton' that "he was the mightiest poetic mind that Nature has ever produced," and that, in his case, statues and other memorials are utterly needless and superfluous. If we are asked for his monument, we should simply point to his Plays and say—Monumentum si quæris, inspice! and, in my opinion, he consults best for the poet's fame who seeks to restore his works to their pristine form.

      The reader will see by this sketch how little is really known concerning Shakespeare. I have endeavoured, as will be seen, to rectify some points in his biography.

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      In 1598 appeared a work, named Palladis Tamia, written by Francis Meres, in which among other passages respecting Shakespeare we meet with the following:—

      "As Plautus and Seneca are accounted the best for comedy and tragedy among the Latines, so Shakespeare among the English is the most excellent in both kinds for the stage. For comedy witness his Gentlemen of Verona, his Errors, his Love Labour's Lost, his Love Labour's Won, his Midsummer's Night Dream, and his Merchant of Venice; for tragedy his Richard II., Richard III., Henry IV., King John, Titus Andronicus, and his Romeo and Juliet."

      Critics have hence inferred that these were Shakespeare's only plays written before 1598; but they have not observed that, moved probably by a love of symmetry and uniformity, Meres has given just half a dozen of each; and as in reality there were only five of our author's original tragedies then in being, he adds a play to which he could at most have only given a few touches, omitting the two Parts of Henry VI., for which he had done a vast deal more. In like manner he seems in his list of comedies to have omitted The Taming of the Shrew, which must be regarded as the least original of the comedies, and which the language and verse prove to belong to this period of his plays. It is generally agreed that Shakespeare never himself gave a play to the press; those, then, of which there are editions published during his lifetime, must have been printed from copies surreptitiously

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