pectations of a popular audience is, indeed, nearly always
essential to the continuous support of a theater, and it is
not unlikely that the very incidents now so offensive were
those which mainly contributed to the success of the trag-
edy. As for the poet's share in the transaction, we are
too apt to consider it indefensible under any measure of
temptation, without reflecting to what extent a familiarity
with representative horrors might produce an unconscious
indifference to their ghastliness even in the tenderest of na-
tures. Such horrors belong to the taste of the age, not to
that of the individual. We must try to reconcile ourselves,
as best we may, to the obvious fact that Shakespeare did
not always consider it necessary to deviate from the course
of his foundation-tales for the sake of avoiding the bar-
barities of the ancient stage. Had it been othei^wise, the
story of Titiis Andronicus might have been purified, and
we also mercifully spared from a contemplation of the
appalling eye-scene In the traged}^ of Lear.
No discussion on either of the last-named plays, or on
many of the others, can be satisfactorily conducted so
long as the influences of the older drama, and the theatric
usages of the time, are not ever carefully borne in mind.
It is a fallacy to admit, with many, the necessity of true
criticism being grounded upon a reverential belief that
the whole of Shakespeare's plays. In the forms In which
they have descended to us, are examples of the unvary-
ing perfection of the writer's judgment and dramatic art.
That he was endowed with an exquisite judgment there
is ample evidence, but that It was not always utilized is
equally indisputable. It is obvious that, in several in-
70
SHAKESPEARE Life
stances, when vivifying some of the most popular old
English dramas, he was contented to transfer irrational
plots and defective constructions that had been firmly
established in public favor. The latter were sometimes
adopted without an effort to bring them into harmony with
the conduct of the action ; and there appears to have been
generally a disinclination on his part to originate either
plots or incidents. So numerous were the popular and
other tales that were suited for contemporary dramatic
purposes, there was, as a rule, no theatrical necessity for
his inventing either; while the creation of a new story,
never an easy and generally a hazardous task for a dram-
atist, might have been more trouble to him than the com-
position of a play. Shakespeare was leading a busy life,
and there are no indications that he would have delated the
completion of any one of his works for the sake of art.
It should be remembered that his dramas were not written
for posterit}', but as a matter of business, never for his
own speculation but always for that of the managers of
the theater, the choice of subject being occasionally dic-
tated by them or by patrons of the stage ; his task having
been to constnict out of certain given or elected materials
successful dramas for the audiences of the day. It is not
pretended that he did not invariably take an earnest inter-
est in his work, his intense sympathy with each character
forbidding such an assumption ; but simply that his other
tastes were subordinated when necessary to his duty to his
employers. If the managers considered that the popular
feeling was likely to encourage, or if an influential patron
or the Court desired, the production of a drama on some
special theme, it was composed to order on that subject,
no matter how repulsive the character of the plot or how
71
Life WILLIAM
intrinsically it was unfitted for dramatic purposes. Work-
ing thus under the domination of a commercial spirit, it
is impossible to say to what extent his work was affected
by unfavorable influences ; such, for example, as the neces-
sity of finishing a drama with undue haste, the whole, as
it may have been, especially in his early days, written
under disturbing circumstances in the room of a noisy
tavern or in an inconvenient lodging that served him for
"parlor, kitchen, and hall." And, again, besides the incon-
gruities derived from the older plays or novels, his control
over his art was occasionally liable to be governed by the
customs and exigencies of the ancient stage, so much so
that, in a few instances, the action of a scene was diverted
for the express purpose of compl3'ing with those necessi-
ties. From some of these causes may have arisen simul-
taneous inequalities in taste and art which otherwise appear
to be inexplicable, and which would doubtlessly have been
removed had Shakespeare lived to have given the public a
revised edition of his works during his retirement at Strat-
ford-on-Avon, and had also wished to display that uniform-
ity of excellence which he alone, of all prolific writers,
might have achieved.
The Burbages, however, had no conception of his intel-
lectual supremacy, and, if they had, it is certain that they
would not have deviated on that account from the course
they were in the habit of pursuing. In their estimation,
however, he was merely, to use their own words, a "deserv-
ing man," an effective actor and a popular writer, one who
would not have been considered so valuable a member of
their staff had he not also worked as a practical man of
business, knowing that the success of the theater was identi
fied with his own, and that, within certain limits, it was
72
SHAKESPEARE Life
necessary that his art should be regulated by expediency.
There is, indeed, no evidence that Shakespeare wrote, at
any period of his life, without a constant reference to the
immediate effect of his dramas upon the theatrical public
of his own da}' ; and it may reasonably be suspected that
there is not one of them which is the result of an express
or cherished literary design. He was sometimes, more-
over, in such a hurry of composition that a reference to
the original foundation-story is necessary for the complete
elucidation of his meaning, another circumstance which is
incompatible with a resolute desire for the construction of
perfect artistic work. This is one of the several indica-
tions which lead to the high probability that his theatrical
success was neither the result of a devotion to art, nor of
a solicitude for the eulogy of readers, but of his unrivaled
power of characterization, of his intimate knowledge of
stage business, and of a fidelity to mental nature that
touched the hearts of all. These qualities, although less
prominently developed in Titus Andronicus than in many
other of his plays, are yet to be observed in that inferior
work. Even amid its display of barbarous and abandoned
personages, neither sternness nor profligacy is pennitted
to altogether extinguish the natural emotions, while, at the
same time, the unities of character are well sustained. It
is by tests such as these, not by counting its syllables or
analyzing its peculiarities of style, that the authenticity
of Shakespeare's earliest tragedy should be determined.
Although it is dangerous nowadays to enter upon the
history of Shakespeare's art with the language of common-
sense, the risk must be encountered if we are not contented
to lose interesting examples of the poet's youthful genius.
If, indeed, all is to be discarded that offends the extra-
t tJ
Life WILLIAM
judicial taste of modern purists, the object of our idol-
atry will be converted into a king of dramatic shreds and
patches. The evil arises from the practice of discussing
the intricacies of that art without reference to the con-
ditions under which it was evolved. Those which have
been above-mentioned will go far to explain many diffi-
culties, and especially the singular variations of power
that are occasionally to be traced in one and the same
drama. A few words on the general question may now
be added. In one sense, that of being the delineator of
the passions and character, Shakespeare was the greatest
artist that ever lived, as he was also in melody, in humor,
and in all kinds of dramatic expression. But in another
and very usual meaning of that personal term, in that of
being an elaborator intent on rendering his component
work artistically faultless in the eye of criticism, he can
hardly be thought to have even a slight claim to the title.
When Ben Jonson told Drummond of Hawthornden, in
1619, that "Shakespeai-e wanted art," he referred no
doubt to his general negligence in the latter respect, and
perhaps especially to his occasional defects in construc-
tion. One of Shakespeare's most wonderful gifts was his
unlimited power of a characterial invention to suit any
kind of plot, no matter how ill-advised, and, at the same
time harmonize with theatrical expediencies, however
incongruous, which might have been considered by the
managers or actors to have been essential to the mainten-
ance of popularity. "His wit," observes the same Rare
Ben, dissatisfied with what he no doubt thought a reckless
mode of composition, "was in his own power; — would the
rule of it had been so too !" It was natural that Jonson,
with his reverence for classical models,^ should regard his
74
SHAKESPEARE . Life
great contemporary's indifference to them with dismay.
But Shakespeare, endowed with an universal genius, cre-
ated his personages by unfettered instinct, and, most hap-
pily, the times and circumstances were alike favorable to
the development of the dramatic power by which alone the
perfect results of that genius could have been exhibited.
Commencing his public life as an actor, he had the inesti-
mable advantage of gaining a preliminary knowledge of
all that was most likely to be effective on the stage, the
then conventionalities of which, moreover, by their very
simplicity, and notwithstanding one or two drawbacks, were
eminently calculated for the fullest exercise of an author's
poetic and imaginative faculties. Then there was a lan-
guage which, having for some time past been emancipated
from the influence of literal terminations, had attained a
form that gave matchless facilities for the display of ner\'-
ous expression, and this in the brightest period of earnest
and vigorous English thought. That language found in
Shakespeare its felicitous and unrivaled exponent, and
although on occasion his words either imperfectly repre-
sent the thought or are phllologlcally erroneous, becoming
thus to mere readers inextricably obscure, it may be con-
fidently averred that there is not one speech, the essential
meanings of which, if it were properly delivered, would not
have been directly Intelligible to the auditory. He had
also ready prepared to his hands the matured outward fonii
of a drama, its personages and their histories, all waiting
for the hand that was to endow them with grace and life.
It was then his unconscious mission through the most
effective agency, that of the stage, to intei-pret human
nature to the people. That interpretation was fortu-
nately neither cramped nor distorted by the necessity of
75
Life WILLIAM
adherence to literary rule, while the popular tastes sanc-
tioned its uncontrolled application to every variety of
character, through all kinds of probable or improbable sit-
uation,- — before fairy-land had been exiled, and the thun-
der of fie-foh-fum had lost its solemnity. Writing first
for a living, and then for affluence, his sole aim was to
please an audience, most of whom, be it remembered, were
not only ilhterate, but unable to either read or write. But
this very ignorance of the large majority of his public, so
far from being- a disadvantage, enabled him to disregard
restrictive canons and the tastes of scholars, — to make that
appeal to the heart and intellect which can only be uni-
versal when it reaches the intuitive perceptions of the lov»'-
liest, — and by exhibiting his marvelous conceptions in the
pristine form in which they had instinctively emanated,
become the poet of nature instead of the poet of art.
That Shakespeare wrote without effort, by inspiration not
by design, was, so far as it has been recorded, the
unanimous belief of his contemporaries and immediate
successors. It v/as surely to this comprehensive truth,
and not exclusively to the natural music of his verse,
that Milton referred when, in tv/o of the most exquisite
lines respecting him that were ever penned, he speaks
of Fancy's child, warbling "his native wood-notes wild."
If those notes had been cabined by philosophy and
methodically cultivated, they might have been as intrin-
sically powerful, but they would assuredly have lost much
of their present charm.
It cannot be absolutely observed of Shakespeare, as it
has been of another great poet, that he woke up one
morning to discover that he was famous, but there is
reason for believing that the publication of his Lucrece, in
76
SHAKESPEARE Life
the May of this year, ISQ-l, ahnost inimedlately secured for
its author a higher reputation than would then liave been
estabhshed by the most brilhant efforts of dramatic art.
This- magnificent poem, which was originally proposed
to be entitled the Ravishment of Lucrece, must have
been written after the dedication to Venus and Adonis,
and before the entry of the former work at Stationers'
Hall, that is to say, at some time between April, 1593,
and May, 1594. There can be no doubt of the estima-
tion in which it was held in the year of publication, the
author of an elegy on Lady Helen Branch, 1594, includ-
ing among our greater poetes, — "you that have writ
of chaste Lucretia, = whose death was witnesse of her
spotlesse life;" and Drayton, in his Matilda, of the same
date, speaking of Lucrece, "lately reviv'd to live another
age." Shakespeare's new poem is also mentioned in
Willobie's Avisa, published in September, 1594, the earliest
contemporary work in which he is introduced by name ;
and in the following year, "Lucrecia — sweet Shakespeare,"
is a marginal note to Polimanteia, 1595, one which implies
that it was then considered his best work. Later refer-
ences testify its continued appreciation, and it was received
as the perfect exposition of woman's chastity, a sequel, or
rather perhaps a companion, to the earlier one of her
profligacy. The contemporaries of Shakespeare allude
more than once to the two poems as being his most im-
portant works, and as those on which his Hterary distinc-
tion chiefly rested.
The prefixes to the Vemcs and Lucrece are, in the pres-
ence of so few biographical memorials, inestimable records
of their author. The two dedications to Lord South-
ampton and the argument to the second work are the only
77
Life WILLIAM
non-dramatic prose compositions of Shakespeare that have
descended to modem times, while the former are, alas,
the sole remaining samples of his epistolary writings.
The latter are of course by far the more interesting, and,
makins* allowances for the inordinate deference to rank
which then prevailed, they are perfect examples of the
judicious fusion of independence with courtesy in a sug-
gestive application for a favor, and in expressions of
gratitude for its concession.
In the June of this same year, 1594, Titus Andromcus
was performed at Newington Butts by tlie Lord Chamber-
lain's, then acting in conjunction with the Lord Admiral's,
Servants, the poet most likely taking a part in the repre-
sentation. The earliest definite notice, however, of his
appearance on the stage, is one in which he is recorded
as having been a player in two comedies that were acted
before Queen Elizabeth in the following December, at
Greenwich Palace. He was then described as one of
the Lord Chamberlain's Servants, and was associated in
the performances with Kemp and Burbage, the former
of whom was the most favorite comedian of the day.
It is not known to what company or companies Shake-
speare belonged previously to his adhesion to the one
last named; but the probabilities are these. — It is well
ascertained that Henslowe was an exceedingly grasping
manager, and it is therefore, most unlikely that he would
have speculated in new plays that were not intended for
immediate use. We may then fairly assume that every
drama composed for him would be, in the first instance,
produced by the actors that occupied his theater when
the manuscript was purchased. Now, as Shakespeare
was an actor as well as a dramatist, there is an inclination
78
SHAKESPEARE Lite
towards the belief that he would have been engaged at
Henslowe's theater when employed to write for that
personage, and, if we accept the theory of early produc-
tion, would have belonged to those companies by whom
the first representations of his dramas were given. If
this view be taken, it would appear not altogether unlikely
that the poet was one of Lord Strange's actors in March,
1592; one of Lord Pembroke's a few months later; and
that he had joined the company of the Earl of Sussex
in or before January, 1594.
There were rare doings at Gray's Inn in the Christmas
holidays of the year last mentioned. The students of
that house had usually excelled in their festive arrange-
ments, and now they were making preparations for revels
on a scale of exceptional magnificence, sports that were
to include burlesque performances, masques, plays and
dances, as well as processions through London and on
the Thames. A mock Court was held at the Inn under
the presidency of one Henry lielmes, a Norfolk gentle-
man, who was elected Prince of Purpoole, the ancient
name of the manor, other students being elected to serve
under him in all the various offices then appertaining to
royalty and government. The grand entertainment of
all was arranged for the evening of Innocent's Day,
December 28, on which occasion high scaffolds
had been erected in the hall for the accommodation of
the revelers and the principal guests, a larger number
of the latter having received invitations. Among the
guests, the students of the Inner Temple, joining in the
humor of their professional neighbors, and appearing
as an embassy credited by their Emporer, arrived about
nine o'clock "very gallantly appointed." The ambas-
79
Life WILLIAM
sador, we are told, was "brought m very solemnly, with
sound of trumpets, the King-at-Arras and Lords of
Purpoole making to his company, which marched before
him in order; — he was received very kindly by the Prince,
and placed in a chair beside his Highness, to the end that
he might be partaker of the sports intended." Compli-
mentary addresses were then exchanged between the
Prince and the Ambassador, but, owing to defective
arrangements for a limitation of the number of those
entitled to admission on the stage, there followed a scene
of confusion which ended in the Templarians retiring in
dudgeon. "After their departure," as we are told in the
original narrative, "the throngs and tumults did some-
what cease, although so much of them continued as was
able to disorder and confound any good inventions what-
soever; in regard whereof, as also for that the sports
intended were especially for the gracing of the Tem-
plarians, it was thought good not to offer anything of
account saving dancing and reveling with gentlewomen ;
and, after such sports, a Comedy of Errors, like to Plautus
his Menechmus, was played by the players ; so that night
was begun and continued to the end in nothing but con-
fusion and errors, whereupon it was afterwards called
the Night of Errors." This is the earliest notice of the
comedy which has yet been discovered, but that it was
written before the year 1594) may be inferred from an
allusion in it to the civil war for and against Henry IV,
the Protestant heir to the French throne, a contest which
terminated in 1593.
The spacious and elegant open-roofed hall of Gray's
Inn, the erection of which was completed in the year
1660, is one of the only two buildings now remaining
80
SHAKESPEARE Life
in London in which, so far as we know, any of the
plays of Shakespeare were performed in his own time.
In accordance with the then usual custom of the Inns
of Court, professional actors were engaged for the
representation of the Comedy of Errors, and although
tlicir names are not mentioned, it ma}' be safely inferred
that the play was acted by the Lord Chamberlain's
Company, that to which Shakespeare was then attached,
and the owners of the copyright. The performance must
have taken place very late on the night following the day
in which the poet appeared before Queen Elizabeth at
Greenwich. On the next evening there was a Commission
of O^^er and Tenniner at Gray's Inn to enquire into the
circumstances of the misfortunes of the previous night,
the cause of the tumult being assigned to the intervention
of a sorcerer; but it is hardly pleasant to be told, even
in burlesque, that this personage was accused of having
"foisted a company of base and common fellows to make
up our disorders with a play of errors and confusions."
The Comedy of Errors, the perfection of dramatic farce,
long continued an acting play, it having been performed
before James I on December 28, 1604.
When Greene thought to be sarcastic in terming
Shakespeare "an absolute Johannes Factotum," he fur-
nished an independent and valuable testimony to the poet's
conspicuous activity. It is but reasonable to assume that
part of this energy in theatrical matters was devoted, in
accordance with the ordinary practice of the time, to the
revision and enlargement of the plays of others, work
then assigned by managers to any convenient hands, with-
out reference to sentimental views of authorial integrity.
No record, however, has been discovered of the name of
81
Life WILLIAM
even one drama so treated by Shakespeare in the early
period of his career, so that, if any such composition is pre-
served, the identification necessarily depends upon, the
tests of internal evidence. These are valueless in the chief
direction, for there is surely not a known possible example
in which is to be traced the incontestible supremacy of
dramatic power that would on that account sanction the
positive attribution of even one of its scenes to the pen
of the great dramatist. Other tests, such as those of
phraseology and mannerism, are nearly always illusory, but
in an anonymous and popular drama entitled the Reign
of King Edward III, produced in or before- the year
1595, there are occasional passages which, by most judg-
ments, will be accepted as having been written either by
Shakespeare, or by an exceedingly dexterous and success-
ful imitator of one of his then favorite styles of com-
position. For who but one or the other could have en-
dowed a kind and gentle lady with the ability of replying
to the impertinent addresses of a foohsh sovereign in words
such as these, —
As easy may my intellectual soul
Be lent away, and yet my body live.
As lend my body, palace to my soul.
Away from her, and yet retain my soul.
My body is her bower, her court, her abbey.
And she an angel, — pure, divine, unspotted!
If I should lend her house, my lord, to thee,
I kill my poor soul, and my poor soul me.
or have enabled the king, when instinctively acknowledg-
ing the dread effect of her beauty, to thus express a wish
that "ugly treason" might lie, —
No farther off than her conspiring eye,
Which shoots infected poison in my heart,
82
SHAKESPEARE Life
Beyond repulse of wit or cure of art.
Now in the snn alone it doth not lie,
With light to take light from a mortal eye;
For here two day-stars, that mine eyes would see.
More than the sun steal mine own light from me.
Contemplative desire! — desire to be
In contemplation that may master thee.
or have made the royal secretary convey his impression
of the lady's conquest in the following lines, —
I might perceive his eye in her eye lost,
His ear to drink her sweet tongue's utterance;
And changing passion, like inconstant clouds,
That rackt upon the carriage of the winds,
Increase and die in his disturbed cheeks.
Lo! when she blush'd even then did he look pale.
As if her cheeks, by some enchanted power,
Attracted had the cherry blood from his.
Anon, with reverent fear, when she grew pale,
His cheeks put on their scarlet ornaments,
But no more like her oriental red
Than brick to coral, or live things to dead.
but, as it is possible that Edinmrd III was composed some
time before the year 1595, it may, of course, be
assumed that Shakespeare himself was the imitator, in
his own acknowledged works, of the style of the writer
of this anonymous play, or that of some other author,