Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

"Till swoln with cunning of a self-conceit,
His waxen wings did mount above his reach,
And, melting, heavens conspir'd his overthrow."

And Hecate prophesies of Macbeth that--

"He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear;
And you all know security
Is mortals' chiefest enemy."

To playgoers at the Globe, then, the interest in the play of "Macbeth" lay in the man's daring attempt to defeat the supernatural. The scheme of drama requires that Macbeth, like Faustus, shall be the pivot of the play. Of necessity, then, it is an error of judgment for a stage-manager to allow the part of Lady Macbeth to be overacted. Apart from the witches, there are only two women in the play, neither of whom are of more than common mould. They are alike in this, that both are by nature domestic, and appreciate family ties; while in other respects they are finely contrasted, and represent the old and the new type of character which must have so interested dramatists in Shakespeare's time--that of the Renaissance or Italian type, upholding the doctrine of expediency; and that of the Reformation, demanding obedience to conscience.

SHAKESPEARE'S JEW AND MARLOWE'S CHRISTIANS.[7]

In the opinion of Heinrich Heine, Shylock, as a typical study of Judaism, was merely a caricature. If this is a correct estimate of the character, then Shakespeare's Jew is the Elizabethan Christian's notion of an infidel in much the same way as the modern stage Paddy is the Englishman's idea of an Irishman. Shakespeare, in fact, thrusts the conventional usurer of the old Latin comedy into a play of love and chance and money-bags in order to serve the purpose of a stage villain, and calls him a Jew. Shylock is an isolated figure, unsociable, parsimonious, and relentless, who tries to inflict harm on those who envy him his wealth and hate him for his avarice.

Perhaps it is this marked isolation in which the dramatist has placed Shylock that tempts the modern actor to represent him as a victim of religious persecution, and therefore as one who does not merit the misfortune that falls upon him. In this way the figure becomes tragic, and, contrary to the dramatist's intention, is made the leading part; so that when the Jew finally leaves the stage, the interest of the audience goes with him. But if Shakespeare intended his comedy to produce this impression, he was at fault in writing a last act in which every character that appears is evidently not aware that Shylock's defeat was undeserved; nor is there any evidence to show that Shakespeare designed his comedy as a satire on the inhumanity of Christians. How then has it been brought about that, while the exigencies of the drama require Shylock to be the wrongdoer, he now appears on the stage as the one who is wronged?

In the first place, a change of opinion in a nation's religion or politics causes a change in the theatre. New plays are written to give expression to the new sentiment, and the old plays, when revived, must be modified or readjusted to bring them in touch with the new opinions. To meet this marked change in public taste managers and actors are forced to abandon convention. It is useless at such a time to quote authorities. Public opinion is arbitrary, and the genius of a Macklin or a Kean would fail to arouse interest if it were out of sympathy with the newly awakened conscience. A popular actor is tempted, therefore, to show the old figure in the light of the new sentiment, and his impersonation is then set up as a model to which every contemporary candidate for favour is expected to conform.

It must be conceded, also, that our playgoers are rarely familiar with the text of Shakespeare's plays, and thus increased opportunity is given to the actor to overrule the author. Yet this does not explain why an interpretation, quite unjustified by the text, should find favour with many dramatic critics. If a sound judgment and true taste are to prevail among playgoers, criticism should dissociate history from sentiment and discriminate between old conventions and modern innovations. Few critics, however, care to separate themselves from the opinions of their day; in fact, so far as Shakespeare's plays are concerned, newspaper criticism is often limited to the business of reporting. Otherwise it is difficult to explain the chorus of unanimous approval with which the Press, as well as the public, hailed the new Shylock in the picturesque and sympathetic rendering given at the Lyceum in the early eighties.

Even if it be admitted that the terms of opprobrium with which Shylock is accosted by all the Christians in Shakespeare's comedy are unnecessarily harsh, even if it be granted that to Gratiano, Solanio, and Salarino he is the "dog Jew," meaning a creature outside the pale of heaven, yet if we read between the lines it is evident that religious differences are not the chief grievance. Shylock is a Jew, therefore a moneylender; a moneylender, therefore rich; rich, yet a miser, and therefore of little value to the community, which remains unbenefited by his usurious loans. This, in the eyes of the Christian merchants, is the real significance of the word Jew. The Catholic Church, by forbidding Christians to take interest, had unintentionally given the Jews a monopoly of the money-market, but with it that odium which attaches to the usurer. This point of view can be specially illustrated by Marlowe's Barabas, in "The Jew of Malta," the precursor of Shylock. Barabas makes no secret as to the unpopularity of his profession:

"I have been zealous in the Jewish faith,
Hard-hearted to the poor, a covetous wretch,
That would for lucre's sake have sold my soul.
A hundred for a hundred I have ta'en;
And now for store of wealth may I compare
With all the Jews in Malta."

His riches are blessings reserved exclusively for his race:

"And thus are we on every side enriched:
These are the blessings promised to the Jews."

* * * * *

"Rather had I a Jew be hated thus,
Than pitied in a Christian poverty:"

* * * * *

"Aye, wealthier far than any Christian."

* * * * *

"What more may Heaven do for earthly man
Than thus to pour out plenty in their laps."

This, then, was the Christian notion of the Jew in Shakespeare's time, and while we have no reason for supposing that it was Shakespeare's also, there is enough evidence to show that for the purpose of his story the dramatist adopted the prevalent opinion that the Jew was a man who lived solely for his wealth. In the face of this knowledge it is difficult to understand the opinion of some commentators that Shylock was intended as a protest against Marlowe's "mere monster." The similarity between Shylock and Barabas has been pointed out by Dr. Ward. Both love money, both hoard their wealth, both starve their servants to save expense, both defend their religion as well as their usury, both love to despoil the Christians and taunt them with their lack of fairness. Of course, every good critic admits that there are two sides to an argument. Even Sir Walter Scott, when reviewing a book, confesses to his son-in-law that his criticism might have been very different were the mandate _dechirer_. And those who want to defame Shylock's character will not find it a difficult thing to do. The following illustration of the character is given after the manner of a schoolboy's paraphrase:

Shylock thinks it folly to lend money without interest. Jacob was
blessed for thriving, even if he prospered by cunning means, and to
thrive by any means short of stealing is to deserve God's blessing.
Shylock can make money as quickly as ewes and rams can breed. He will
show how generous he can be towards Christians by lending Antonio
money without asking a farthing of interest, provided Antonio
consents, by way of a joke, to lose a pound of his flesh if he should
fail to repay the money on a special day; and this pound to be taken
from any part of his body which Shylock may choose, meaning, no
doubt, nearest to the heart, so as to ensure death. Yet Bassanio need
have no anxiety about the safety of his friend's life, because human
flesh is not a marketable commodity like mutton or beef.

Shylock has a servant who eats too much, and is so lazy that the Jew
is glad to part with him to the impecunious Bassanio, in the hope
that Launcelot will help to squander his new master's "borrowed
purse." For a similar reason he will himself go to Bassanio's feast,
although his religion forbids him to eat with Christians. His
daughter is not to have any pleasure from the masque, but to shut
herself up in the house so that no sound of Christian masquerading
may reach her ears. His last words to her are in praise of thrift.

The Jew's first exclamation on hearing that Jessica cannot be found
is that he has lost a diamond worth 2,000 ducats. He would like to
see his daughter dead at his feet if only he can have again the
jewels that are in her ears, and find the ducats in her coffin. It is
heartrending to think how Jessica has been squandering his treasures,
and of the additional loss to him in having to pay Tubal for trying
to find the girl; yet it is gratifying to hear of Antonio's
misfortunes; and since the merchant is likely to become bankrupt it
will be well to fee an officer in readiness to arrest him the moment
the time of the bond expires. If only Antonio can be got out of the
way, Shylock will be able to make as much money as ever he likes.
With this thought to console him he goes to the synagogue to say his
prayers.

When Antonio is arrested, Shylock demands the utmost penalty of the
law because of a "lodged hate and a certain loathing" he bears the
bankrupt. No amount of money will tempt him to forgo his rights, and
the letter of the law must be observed in every detail; not even a
surgeon must be allowed on the spot in the hope of saving this
lend-you-money-for-nothing merchant's life. When Portia frustrates
his purpose and he finds the law against him, he can still ask that
the loan be repaid "thrice" (Portia and Bassanio thought "twice" a
sufficiently tempting offer). And when Portia points out that, as an
alien, who has deliberately plotted to take the life of a Christian,
Shylock's own life is forfeited, as well as the whole of his wealth,
he still demands the return of his principal.

Now if we go back to the Latin Comedies and consider the origin of the moneylender, we find a type of character similar to that of Shylock. Moliere's Harpagon, who is modelled on the miser of Plautus, has a strong resemblance to Barabas and to Shylock, although Shylock is undoubtedly the most human. Reference has already been made to the likeness between Barabas and Shylock, and it needs but a few illustrations to show the resemblance between the English and French miser. Both are moneylenders, who when asked for a loan declare that it is necessary for them to borrow the sum required from a friend. Sheridan makes little Moses do the same. Harpagon exclaims to his servant: "Ah, wretch, you are eating up all my wealth," and Shylock says the same thing to Launcelot. Harpagon's, "It is out of Christian charity that he covets my money," is not unlike the reproach of Shylock, "He was wont to lend out money for a Christian courtesy!" And "justice, impudent rascal, will soon give me satisfaction!" is with Shylock "the Duke shall grant me justice!" While if we compare the words which Moliere puts into the mouths of those who revile the miser, they suggest the taunts thrown at Shylock. "I tell you frankly that you are the laughing-stock of everybody, and that nothing delights people more than to make game of you"; has its equivalent in the speech "Why, all the boys in Venice follow him," etc. And "never does anyone mention you, but under the name of Jew and usurer," tallies with Launcelot's "My master is a very Jew." Other instances might be quoted.

Of course it cannot be overlooked that Shakespeare has given Shylock one speech of undoubted power which silences all his opponents. For while the Christians are unconscious of any wrongdoing on their side towards the Jew, Shylock complains loudly and bitterly of the indignities thrust upon him by the Christians, and in that often-quoted speech beginning "Hath not a Jew eyes" he complains with an insistence which certainly claims consideration. Now in so far as Shylock resents the want of tolerance shown him by the Christians, he is in the right and Shakespeare is with him; but when he tries to justify his method of retaliation and schemes to take Antonio's life, not simply in order to revenge the indignities thrust upon him, but also that he may put more money into his purse, Shylock is in the wrong and Shakespeare is against him. For it is obvious that Shylock does not seek the lives of Gratiano, Solanio, or Salarino, the men who called him the "dog Jew," or the life of the man who ran away with his daughter, but of the merchant who lends out money gratis, who helps the unfortunate debtors, and who exercises generosity and charity. Whatever blame attaches to the Christians on the score of intolerance, Antonio is the least offender, except in so far as it touches Shylock's pocket. And when Shylock the usurer asserts that a Christian is no better than a Jew, he forgets that Christianity, in its original conception and purpose, forbade the individual to prey on his fellow-creatures; and this is the Christianity which Antonio practises.

Finally it is the intention of the comedy, as Shakespeare has designed it, to illustrate the consequence of a too rigid adherence to the letter of the law. The terms of the bond to which Shylock clings so tenaciously, and for which he demands unquestioning obedience, ultimately endanger his own life and with it the whole of his property. Shylock falls a victim to his own plot in the same way that Barabas tumbles into his own burning caldron; but the Christians spare the Jew's life and half his wealth is restored to him, and restored to him by Antonio "the bankrupt," who is still himself greatly in need of money. That Shylock must in return for this mercy deny his faith is not in the eyes of the Christian a punishment or even an act of malice, but a means of salvation.

The basis, then, of Shakespeare's comedy, it is contended, is a romantic story of love and adventure. It shows us a lovable and high-minded heroine, her adventurous and fervent lover, and his unselfish friend, together with their merry companions and sweethearts. And into this happy throng, for the purpose of having a villain, the dramatist thrusts the morose and malicious usurer, who is intended to be laughed at and defeated, not primarily because he is a Jew, but because he is a curmudgeon; thus the prodigal defeats the miser.

* * * * *

If we look more closely into the two plays of Marlowe and Shakespeare, and compare not only Barabas with Shylock, but also Marlowe's Christians with those of Shakespeare, we find a dissimilarity in the portraiture of the Christians so marked that it is impossible to ignore the idea that Shakespeare, perhaps, wished to protest not against Marlowe's "inhuman Jew," but against his pagan Christians. The variance, in fact, is too striking to be accidental, as the following table will show:

THE FAMOUS TRAGEDY OF THE THE MOST EXCELLENT
RICH JEW OF MALTA. HISTORY OF THE MERCHANT
OF VENICE.

The play is named after the The play is named after the
Jew who owns the argosies. Christian who owns the
argosies.

The Christians take forcible The Christians ask a loan of
possession of all the Jew's the Jew on business terms.
wealth.

The Jew upbraids the Christians The Christian upbraids the
for quoting Scripture to Jew for quoting Scripture to
defend their roguery. defend his roguery.

The Christians break faith A Christian Court upholds
with the Turks, and also with the Jew's claim to his bond.
the Jew.

The Jew's daughter Abigail Jessica gives away her father's
rescues her father's money money to the Christians.
from the Christians.

The Jew's servant helps his Launcelot leaves his master
master to cheat the Christians. to join the Christians.

Two Christians try to cajole Lorenzo elopes with Jessica,
the Jew of his daughter, and die and finally inherits the Jew's
victims to his treachery. wealth.

Abigail becomes a Christian Jessica becomes a Christian
and is poisoned by her father. and is happy ever after.

The Jew is the means of Portia saves the Christian
saving the Christians from the from the Jew.
Turks.

The Christians are accessory The Christians spare the
to the Jew's death, which is an Jew's life, which is an act of
act of treachery on their part. mercy on their part.

It might be objected that the interval of seven years between the production of the two plays renders it improbable that Shakespeare would have intentionally contrasted his play with Marlowe's. But the popularity of "The Jew of Malta" exceeded that of any other contemporary play. Although it was not printed till 1604, it was produced in 1588, and references to it in contemporary plays continue to be found until 1609. Owing, besides, to Alleyne's extraordinary success as Barabas, the play continued to be acted at intervals until 1594, between which date and 1598 Shakespeare had written his own comedy. The setting-off, too, of play against play was a common practice, especially among the early Elizabethan dramatists, and Greene did not hesitate to avail himself of the success of Marlowe's "Doctor Faustus" to write his "Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay."

Now in so far as "The Jew of Malta" makes fun of friars and nuns, it would be considered legitimate amusement by a Protestant audience. We have a similar record on the French stage of revolutionary times when as M. Fleury remarks: "All the convents in France were shown up at the theatres, and the surest mode of drawing money to the treasury was to raise a laugh at the expense of the Veil." But Marlowe goes further than this. He attacks Christianity wantonly and aggressively, not only by portraying Barabas's contempt for the Christians, but by making the Christians contemptible in themselves, and wanting in all those virtues which were upheld in the newly accessible Gospels. They are without honour and chivalry or any sense of justice or loyalty. They are false and treacherous to Jew and Turk alike, and Barabas can well say of them:

"For I can see no fruits in all their faith,
But malice, falsehood, and excessive pride,
Which methinks fits not their profession."

Further, the Christians take by force the Jew's money to pay the city's tribute to the Turks, which after all is not paid, the Christians keeping the money for themselves. It is but the bare truth that Barabas states when he mutters:

"Who, of mere charity and Christian truth,
To bring me to religious purity,
And as it were in catechising sort,
To make me mindful of my mortal sins,
Against my will, and whether I would or no,
Seized all I had, and thrust me out o' doors."

And Marlowe also makes Barabas say, indignant at the Christians' hypocrisy:

"Is theft the ground of your religion?

* * * * *

What, bring you scripture to confirm your wrongs?
Preach me not out of my possessions."

Scepticism is rampant throughout "The Jew of Malta," and Marlowe flaunts his opinions before a theatre full of Christians. Not that it is contended that Marlowe was himself an atheist, but in "The Jew of Malta" he seems, perhaps out of a spirit of retaliation for the wanton attacks made upon him, to be bent on exposing to ridicule the upholders of the orthodox faith. In Marlowe's "Faustus" the good angel, the aged pilgrim, and the final repentance satisfy the religious conscience, but his later play has no such compensations. The boast of Barabas that, "some Jews are wicked as _all_ Christians are," passes unchallenged.

Now it is unlikely that any member of Elizabeth's Court, any Protestant nobleman who was responsible for upholding the reformed faith, much less that any Catholic, could have been present at the performance of this play without protesting against the poet's attitude towards Christianity. Nor is it probable that the Lord Chamberlain's servants would overlook Marlowe's taunts at the national religion spoken from the citizens' playhouse. So that the poet-player whose sonnets were being circulated in the houses of the nobility, whose patron was the Earl of Southampton, the friend of Essex, and who had begun to be talked about at Court, might with advantage to himself expose the other side of the picture, and defend the abused Christians.

It remained then for Shakespeare to show that Christians, if they hated the infidel, were not in themselves contemptible. In addition to her many fascinations of mind and person, Portia possesses in an eminent degree a sense of honour and a love of mercy. The obligations imposed upon her by her father are religiously observed. Even when her lover is choosing the caskets, and a glance would have put him out of his misery, her attitude towards him is uncompromising. Later on she upholds the Jew's plea for justice, while at the same time she urges the more divine attribute of mercy.

Where Shakespeare, however, differs from Marlowe most strikingly is in the character of the Merchant after whom the comedy is named. Barabas has boasted that--

"he from whom my most advantage comes
Shall be my friend.
This is the life we Jews are used to lead."

Then he naively adds:

"And reason, too, for Christians do the like."

Now the dearest object of affection in the world for Antonio is Bassanio, and it is the knowledge that his beloved friend has a rival for his love in Portia, which causes Antonio's sadness; yet he not only gives up his companion ungrudgingly to the enjoyment of greater happiness, but provides him with the necessary means; and for this purpose he signs a perilous bond with his bitterest foe. Of necessity he dislikes Shylock, whose debtors he has so often saved from ruin. With Jessica's flight he had nothing to do. He certainly never sanctioned it. Moreover, when misfortune comes upon him he has no desire to escape from the penalty of the bond, and when he himself is in poverty he saves from a similar calamity a man who hates him. In face of these facts it is difficult to understand why Heine should consider Antonio unworthy to tie Shylock's shoelaces!

Again, Bassanio is often called a fortune-hunter, but without justification. He knew that he enjoyed the esteem and affection of Portia while her father was yet alive. The "speechless messages" of her eyes invited his return to Belmont. On his arrival he finds that she can no longer dispose of herself, and yet, unlike most of the other suitors, he does not on that account withdraw: he wins her because he loves her and knows that love is worth more than gold or silver. When he hears of Antonio's danger he rushes to his friend's side to offer his own life to save him. It is to be noticed also that Portia's esteem for Antonio's openly proclaimed virtues is drawn from a comparison with those of Bassanio. They are by no means contemptible.

Jessica, again, who must be counted among the Christians, finds life at home too hopelessly rigid to be longer endured. There is not a word in the text to justify the belief that her father loves her, apart from his own needs. She is expected to guard his gold and silver and to listen to his discussions with Tubal and Chus about the hated Antonio and his bond. So the girl must look after herself if she is to enjoy happiness in the future. Lorenzo knows that to allow Jessica to forsake her father and to rob him is a sin towards Heaven. He prays for punishment to be withheld because she has married a Christian, and, to his credit, it must be acknowledged that he is unconscious of any hypocrisy. As for the "braggart" Gratiano and the remaining Christians, we tolerate them because they love Antonio, the man who of all others most deserves our respect. Perhaps as Christians they insist too much on their moral superiority, but this is natural after Marlowe's play had been seen on the stage.

Of course, there are critics who will hold that Marlowe's Christians, in some respects, are more life-like than Shakespeare's. Perhaps if "The Merchant of Venice" had been written while Marlowe was alive, he would have challenged Shakespeare to uphold that in matters of conduct where money interests were involved there was any marked distinction between the morals of the believer and the unbeliever. Marlowe might have contended that out of one hundred Christians ninety-nine would act as his Governor of Malta had done, though he was a Knight of St. John. It might not be impossible for a Christian to persuade himself that money taken forcibly from the infidel Jew, as a tribute, could justly be withheld from the infidel Turk to whom it was due, and that it was folly to hesitate in cutting the cord that would let the infidel Jew into the burning cauldron, instead of the infidel Turk for whom it was designed, especially when one hundred thousand pounds of the citizens' money would in that way be saved. As a mere worldly truism the words that Barabas utters, when his daughter changes her faith, have a deeper significance than the "noble platitudes" of Lorenzo and Jessica:

"She that varies from me in belief,
Gives great presumption that she loves me not;
Or loving, does mislike of something done."

Shakespeare, probably, would have answered Marlowe's objection with the assurance that there still remained the odd Christian out of every hundred to be reckoned with, and that he himself was more interested in showing the world what men ought to be like than what they actually were. But if Shakespeare preferred to live outside the walls of reality, he did so only in imagination, for he must have had a very practical knowledge of men's dealings with each other. No doubt our great dramatist was not eager to break with conventions or to imitate Marlowe by saying unpalatable truths about the Christians at a time when he himself was still seeking the favour of Elizabeth's Court.

THE AUTHORS OF "KING HENRY THE EIGHTH."[8]

The play of "Henry VIII." first appeared in print in 1623, seven years after Shakespeare's death. It was published in the first collected edition of the poet's dramas, and so became known to the world as his play. For two centuries the genuineness of the drama was not called in question. The earliest commentators never expressed misgivings on the subject, nor is there evidence to show that Shakespeare's contemporaries disputed the authorship. Choice extracts from the play have appeared in collections of poetry, which compare favourably with selections from "Hamlet" or "Macbeth." Wolsey's famous soliloquy is universally thought to be Shakespeare's reflections on the vicissitudes of life. At the British Museum will be found versions of the play in French, German, Italian, and even one in Greek. The drama, moreover, is familiar to the playgoer, while eminent actors and actresses, with no intention of impersonating the creations of an inferior dramatist, have won distinction in the characters of the Cardinal and of Queen Katharine. Yet, in the face of evidence that is apparently convincing, it may be safely assumed that "Henry VIII." is not Shakespeare's play in the sense in which we speak of "Hamlet" or "Macbeth" as being his. Indeed, the statement has been put forth that not one line of the play was written by its reputed author.

Now it is always an ungrateful task to defend an argument which no one cares to accept, and the admirers of those scenes which have made actors and actresses famous, and of those speeches which adorn our books of extracts, are still too numerous and too enthusiastic to desire any other dramatist than Shakespeare to be the author of them. Possession is nine points of the law, and while tradition has the prior claim, public opinion will not readily endorse the verdict of a handful of literary sceptics. On the other hand, it must be conceded that even to challenge the genuineness of a play attributed to the world's greatest dramatist does involve, to some extent, a censure upon that play. The doubt implies that the play, as a whole, does not average the work of Shakespeare's later dramas, that it does not bear comparison with the "Winter's Tale," "Cymbeline," and the "Tempest," plays which, in the date of their composition, are contemporary with "Henry VIII.," and which were written at a time when the poet had obtained complete mastery over the resources of his art. If there are precedents of poets living till their once-glowing imaginations become cold, there is no record of a dramatist losing technical skill which has been acquired by the experience of a lifetime. It was but natural, then, that there should exist a feeling of uneasiness in the minds of impartial inquirers in regard to the authorship of this play, and it may be worth while to consider the history of the controversy.

The earliest known mention of the play is by a contemporary, Thomas Lorkin, in a letter of the last day of June, 1613. He writes that the day before, while Burbage and his company were playing "Henry VIII." in the Globe Theatre, the building was burnt down through a discharge of "chambers," that is to say of small pieces of cannon. Early in the month following Sir Henry Wotton writes to his nephew giving particulars of the fire, and describing the pageantry, which was evidently an important feature of the play:

"The King's players had a new play called 'All is True,' representing
some principal pieces of the reign of Henry the Eighth, which was set
forth with many extraordinary circumstances of pomp and majesty, even
to the matting of the stage; the Knights of the Order with their
Georges and Garter, the guards with their embroidered coats, and the
like; sufficient in truth, within a while, to make greatness very
familiar if not ridiculous."

Now, if Sir Henry Wotton is correct in his assertion that the play was a _new_ one in 1613, it was probably the last play written by Shakespeare: although some commentators contend that there is internal evidence to show that the play was written during Elizabeth's reign, and that after her death it was amended by the insertion of speeches complimentary to the new sovereign, King James. In 1623 the play appears in print inserted in the first collected edition of Shakespeare's dramas, by Heminge and Condell, who were the poet's fellow-actors, and who claim to have printed all the plays from the author's manuscripts. If, then, this statement were trustworthy, there could be no reason to doubt the genuineness of the drama. But the copies in the hands of Heminge and Condell were evidently in some cases very imperfect, either in consequence of the burning of the Globe Theatre, or by the necessary wear and tear of years. And it is certain that, in several instances, the editors reprinted the plays from the earlier quarto impressions with but few changes, sometimes for the better, and sometimes for the worse. It has also been ascertained that at least four of the plays in the folio were only partially written by Shakespeare, while no mention is made of his possible share in "Pericles," the play having been omitted altogether. So that it is presumed that if "Henry VIII.," in its present form, was a play rewritten by theatre-hacks to replace a similar play by Shakespeare that was destroyed in the fire, the editors would not be unlikely to insert it in the folio instead of the original.

* * * * *

So long as Shakespeare's authorship was not doubted there seems to have been no desire on the part of commentators to call attention to faults which are obvious to every careful reader of the play. Most of the early criticisms are confined to remarks on single scenes or speeches irrespective of the general character of the drama and its personages. Comments such as the following of Dr. Drake fairly represent those of most writers until the middle of the last century. He writes in 1817: "The entire interest of the tragedy turns upon the characters of Queen Katherine and Cardinal Wolsey, the former being the finest picture of suffering and defenceless virtue, and the latter of disappointed ambition, that poet ever drew." Dr. Johnson, who ranks the play as second class among the historical works, had previously asserted "that the genius of Shakespeare comes in and goes out with Katherine. Every other part may be easily conceived and easily written."

When, however, the play is judged as a work of art in its complete form, the difficulty of writing favourably of its dramatic qualities becomes evident by the apologetic modes of expression used. Schlegel remarks that "Henry VIII." has somewhat "of a prosaic appearance, for Shakespeare, artist-like, adapted himself to the quality of his materials. While others of his works, both in elevation of fancy, and in energy of pathos and character tower far above this, we have here, on the other hand, occasion to admire his nice powers of discrimination and his perfect knowledge of courts and the world." Coleridge is content to define the play as that of "a sort of historical masque or show play"; and Victor Hugo observes that Shakespeare is so far English as to attempt to extenuate the failings of Henry VIII., adding, "it is true that the eye of Elizabeth is fixed upon him!"

In an interesting little volume containing the journal of Emily Shore, who made some valuable contributions to natural history, are to be found some remarks upon the play written in the year 1836. The criticism is the more noteworthy since Miss Shore was only in her sixteenth year when she wrote it, and she then showed no slight appreciation of literature, especially of Shakespeare:

"This evening my uncle finished reading 'King Henry VIII.' I must say
I was mightily disappointed in it. Whether it is that I am not
capable of understanding Shakespeare and cannot distinguish his
beauties, I do not know. There is no effort in Shakespeare's works;
he takes so little pains that what is interesting or noble or sublime
or finely exhibiting the features of the mind, seems to drop from his
pen by chance. One cannot help thinking that every play is executed
with slovenly neglect, that he has done himself injustice and that if
he pleased he might have given to the world works which would throw
into the shade all that he has actually written. To be sure this
gives one a very exalted idea of his intellect, for even if the mere
unavoidable overflowings of his genius excel the depths of other
men's minds, how magnificent must have been the fountain of that
genius whose very bubbles sparkle so beautifully! But to speak of
'Henry VIII.' in particular. Henry himself, Katherine and Wolsey,
though they display a degree of character, are not half so vigorously
drawn as I had expected, or as I would methinks have done myself. The
character of Cranmer exists more in Henry's language about him than
in his own actions."

To come now to the opinion of the German commentators. Gervinus observes:

"No one in this short explanation of the main character of 'Henry
VIII.' will mistake the certain hand of the poet. It is otherwise
when we approach closer to the development of the action and
attentively consider the poetic diction. The impression on the whole
becomes then at once strange and unrefreshing; the mere external
threads seem to be lacking which ought to link the actions to each
other; the interest of the feelings becomes strangely divided, it is
continually drawn into new directions and is nowhere satisfied. At
first it clings to Buckingham, and his designs against Wolsey, but
with the second act he leaves the stage; then Wolsey attracts our
attention in an increased degree, and he, too, disappears in the
third act; in the meanwhile our sympathies are more and more strongly
drawn to Katherine, who then likewise leaves the stage in the fourth
act; and after we have been thus shattered through four acts by
circumstances of a purely tragic character, the fifth act closes with
a merry festivity for which we are in no wise prepared, crowning the
King's loose passion with victory in which we could take no warm
interest."

Ulrici is even more severe in his remarks upon the play:

"The drama of 'Henry VIII.' is poetically untrue, devoid of real
life, defective in symmetry and composition, because wanting in
internal organic construction, _i.e._, in ethical vitality."

So also is Professor Hertzberg:

"A chronicle history with three and a half catastrophes varied by a
marriage and a coronation pageant, ending abruptly with the baptism
of a child in which are combined the elements of a satirical drama
with a prophetic ecstasy, and all this loosely connected by the
nominal hero whom no poet in heaven or earth could ever have formed
into a tragic character."

And Dr. Elze, who is a warm supporter of Shakespeare's authorship, admits that the play--

"measured by the standard of the historical drama is inferior to the
other histories and wants both a grand historical substance and the
unity of strictly defined dramatic structure."

But it is not only with the general design of the play and its feeble characterization that fault is found, but also with the versification. The earliest criticism on the peculiarity of the metre of the play appeared about 1757. It consists of some remarks, published by Mr. Thomas Edwards, which were made by Mr. Roderick on Warburton's edition of Shakespeare. Mr. Roderick, after pointing out that there are in the play many more lines than in any other which end with a redundant syllable, continues:

"This Fact (whatever Shakespeare's design was in it) is undoubtedly
true, and may be demonstrated to Reason, and proved to sense; the
first by comparing any number of lines in this Play, with an equal
number in any other Play, by which it will appear that this Play has
very near _two_ redundant verses to _one_ in any other Play. And to
prove it to sense, let anyone read aloud an hundred lines in any
other Play, and an hundred in this; and if he perceives not the tone
and cadence of his own voice to be involuntarily altered in the
latter case from what it was in the former, I would never advise him
to give much credit to the information of his ears."

Later on we find that Emerson is also struck with the peculiarity of the metre, and in his lecture on "Representative Men," observes:

"In 'Henry VIII.' I think I see plainly the cropping out of the
original rock on which his (Shakespeare's) own finer structure was
laid. The first play was written by a superior thoughtful man, with a
vicious ear. I can mark his lines and know well their cadence. See
Wolsey's soliloquy, and the following scene with Cromwell, where,
instead of the metre of Shakespeare, whose secret is that the thought
constructs the tune, so that reading for the sense will best bring
out the rhythm; here the lines are constructed on a given tune; and
the verse has even a trace of pulpit eloquence."

Now these quotations, it may be urged, were picked out with a view to prejudice a favourable opinion of the play. But disparagements are, none the less, important links in a question of authorship. In fact it was because Shakespearian critics, of undisputed authority, declared that "Henry VIII." was not a play worthy of the poet's genius that a few advanced scholars were encouraged to come forward and pronounce that no part of the play had been written by Shakespeare.

* * * * *

In the autumn of 1850 Mr. Spedding, the able editor of Bacon's works, published a paper in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ in which he stated it to be his belief that a great portion of the play of "Henry VIII." was written by Fletcher; a conjecture that indeed had been anticipated and was at once confirmed by other writers. Tennyson, on Mr. Spedding's authority, had pointed out many years previously the resemblance of the style in some parts of the play to Fletcher's. In fact, the conclusion arrived at by the advanced critics was that the play has two totally different metres which are the work of two different authors. On this point Mr. Spedding wrote:

"A distinction so broad and so uniform running through so large a
portion of the same piece cannot have been accidental, and the more
closely it is examined, the more clearly will it appear that the
metre in these two sets of scenes is managed upon entirely different
principles and bears evidence of different workmen."

This conclusion, however, was not endorsed by all commentators. It was acknowledged that metrical evidence must not be neglected, and that "there is no play of Shakespeare's in which eleven syllable lines are so frequent as they are in "Henry VIII."; and even Swinburne, whose faith in Shakespeare's authorship was unwavering, asserted "that if not the partial work it may certainly be taken as the general model of Fletcher, in some not unimportant passages." It was contended besides that the poet's hand was hampered by a difficulty inherent in the subject, since of all Shakespeare's plays, "Henry VIII." is the nearest in its story to the poet's own time, and that the elliptical construction and the licence of versification, which are peculiar to this play, are necessary in order to bring the dialogue closer to the language of common life. In fact, Mr. Spedding's opponents, while admitting an anonymous hand in the prologue and epilogue, rejected the theory as to the manner in which the collaboration was carried out, and asserted that the structure of the play, the development of the action and the characters showed it to be the work of one hand, and that Shakespeare's.

Another challenger of the metre was Mr. Robert Boyle, who endeavoured to show, from a careful and elaborate study of Elizabethan blank verse, that Shakespeare had no share whatever in the composition of the play, and that whoever was the author who collaborated with Fletcher (in Mr. Boyle's opinion it was Massinger) he certainly did not write before 1612, for the metrical peculiarities of the verse are those of the later dramatic style, of which the earliest characteristics did not make themselves felt in the work of any poet till about 1607. It was after reading this paper that Robert Browning, then the president of the New Shakspere Society, wrote his final judgment on the play which was published in the Society's "Transactions."

"As you desired I have read once again 'Henry the Eighth'; my opinion
about the scanty portion of Shakespeare's authorship in it was formed
about fifty years ago, while ignorant of any evidence external to the
text itself. I have little doubt now that Mr. Boyle's judgment is
right altogether; that the original play, presumably Shakespeare's,
was burnt along with the Globe Theatre; that the present work is a
substitution for it, probably with certain reminiscences of 'All is
true.' In spite of such huff-and-bullying as Charles Knight's for
example, I see little that transcends the power of Massinger and
Fletcher to execute. It is very well to talk of the tediousness of
the Chronicles, which have furnished pretty well whatever is
admirable in the characters of Wolsey and Katherine; as wisely should
we depreciate the bone which holds the marrow we enjoy on a toast.
The versification is nowhere Shakespeare's. But I have said my little
say for what it is worth."

There is yet another peculiarity that is special to this play, and it is one which seems to have escaped the notice of the critics. The stage-directions in it are unlike those of any other play published in the first folio. In no other play are they so full, and so carefully detailed. With the exception of "Henry VIII.," the stage-directions in the folio are so few in number and so abbreviated that they appear to have been written solely for the author's convenience. It is very rare that any reference is made to movement, more than to indicate the entrance or exit of characters, or to note that they fight or that they die. Sometimes the characters are not so much as named, and the direction is simply, "Enter the French Power and the English Lords"; at other times the directions are so concise as to be almost incomprehensible to the modern reader, for example, "Enter Hermione (like a statue)," "Enter Imogene (in her bed)"! The legitimate inference, therefore, is that Shakespeare considered it to be no part of his business to be explicit in these matters. It is startling, then, to find, in the play of "Henry VIII.," a stage-direction so elaborate as the following: "The Queen makes no answer, rises out of her chair, goes about the Court, comes to the King, and kneels at his feet, then speaks." No doubt in Elizabeth's time all stage movement was of the simplest kind, and of a conventional order, so as to be applicable to a great variety of plays, and what was special to any particular play in the way of movement would, in Shakespeare's dramas, be explained at rehearsal by the author. So that the detailed and minute stage-directions that in the first folio are special to "Henry VIII." would seem to suggest that the play was written at a time when the author was absent from the theatre. To the actor, however, who is experienced in the technicalities of the stage, these elaborate directions show that the author was not only very familiar with what in theatrical parlance is known as stage "business," but that he regarded the minute description of the actors' movements as forming an essential part of the dramatist's duty. In fact, the story of the play is made subservient to the "business" or to pageant throughout. A dramatic incident, then a procession, another dramatic incident, and then another procession. This seems to be the sort of effect aimed at. Towards the year 1610 the taste for spectacle created by the genius of Inigo Jones spread from the Court to the public theatre. Perhaps this may account for Shakespeare's early retirement. He wrote plays and not masques, and his genius lay in portraying the drama of human life. Unlike Ben Jonson, he never devoted his talents to the service of the stage carpenter. Seeing the altered condition of the public taste, there would be nothing unnatural in his yielding his place silently and without bitterness to others who were willing to supply the theatrical market with the desired commodity. Had Shakespeare wanted money it would perhaps be difficult to deny that he would have adapted his work to the requirement of the times. But by 1610 he was very well able to live in retirement upon a competent income, and it is difficult to believe that one who had attained his wonderful balance of intellect and heart, of reason and imagination, would have condescended to elaborate the details of baptismal and coronation festivities.

And now in conclusion, what is there to be said for or against the genuineness of the play? The supporters of the Shakespearian authorship dwell upon the beauty of particular passages, and on the general similarity, in many scenes, to Shakespeare's verse in his later plays; the sceptics contend that it is a mistake to leave entirely out of view the most important part of every drama--viz., its action and its characterization; and unreasonable, moreover, to suppose that Shakespeare had no imitators at the close of his successful career. But, say the admirers, this kind of reasoning is no evidence that Shakespeare was not the author of all that is most liked in the play. Here, however, we are met with the argument that the popular scenes of all others in the play, are those the most easily to be identified with the metre peculiar to Fletcher. Then, again, it is hardly possible to accept the opinion of Charles Knight, Professor Delius, and Dr. Elze that all the shortcomings of the play, both in the structure and versification, are due to the fact that the poet was hampered by a "difficulty inherent in the subject." Is genius ever hampered by its subject? Does not history prove the contrary? Have not the shackles put upon musicians, poets, painters, and sculptors by their patrons, instead of checking their genius, elicited the most exquisite products of their imagination? The conscientious inquirer, therefore, who wades through a mass of literary criticism in the hope of obtaining some elucidation of the question, seems only doomed to experience disappointment. Nothing is gained but an unsettling of all preconceived ideas. If expectations of a possible solution are aroused they are not fulfilled because the unprejudiced mind refuses to accept conjectural criticism and to believe more than it is possible to know. Still, it must be admitted that in re-reading the play in the light of all the more modern criticism upon it, the dissatisfaction with the inferior portions becomes more acute, while the finer scenes shine with a lessened glory. It is not only dramatic perception in the development of character that is wanting, but the power which gives words form and meaning is also lacking; the closely packed expression, the lifelike reality and freshness, the rapid and abrupt turnings of thought, so quick that language can hardly follow fast enough; the impatient audacity of intellect and fancy with which we are familiar in Shakespeare's later plays are not to be found in "Henry VIII." We miss even the objections raised by modern grammarians, the idle conceits, the play upon words, the puns, the improbability, the extravagance, the absurdity, the obscenity, the puerility, the bombast, the emphasis, the exaggeration. Therefore it must be admitted that in order to uphold "Henry VIII." as a late play of Shakespeare's, it becomes necessary for his sincere admirers to invent all sorts of apologies for its faults, and to overlook the consistent development of the poet's genius from the close of the great tragedies to the play of the "Tempest," "where we see him shining to the last in a steady, mild, unchanging glory."

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA[9]